Tom Duffan's Daughter - Page 2

did mamma--I told him in the nicest kind of way that we
must only be dear friends, and so on."

"Then why did he send these tickets?"

"Why do moths fly round a candle? It is my opinion both moths and men
enjoy burning."

"Well, Kitty, I don't pretend to understand this new-fashioned way of
being 'off' and 'on' with a lover at the same time. Did you take me from
papa simply to tell me this?"

"No; I thought perhaps you might like to devote a few moments to papa's
daughter. Papa has no hair to crimp and no braids to make. Here are all
the hair-pins ready, mamma, and I will tell you about Sarah Cooper's
engagement and the ridiculous new dress she is getting."

It is to be supposed the bribe proved attractive enough, for Mrs. Duffan
took in hand the long tresses, and Kitty rattled away about wedding
dresses and traveling suits and bridal gifts with as much interest as if
they were the genuine news of life, and newspaper intelligence a kind of
grown-up fairy lore.

But anyone who saw the hair taken out of crimps would have said it was
worth the trouble of putting it in; and the face was worth the hair, and
the hair was worth the exquisite hat and the rich seal-skins and the
tantalizing effects of glancing silk and beautiful colors. Depend upon
it, Kitty Duffan was just as bright and bewitching a life-sized picture
as anyone could desire to see; and Tom Duff an thought so, as she
tripped up to the great chair in which he was smoking and planning
subjects, for a "good-by" kiss.

"I declare, Kitty! Turn round, will you? Yes, I declare you are dressed
in excellent taste. All the effects are good. I wouldn't have believed
it."

"Complimentary, papa. But 'I told you so.' You just quit the antique,
and take to studying _Harper's Bazar_ for effects; then your women will
look a little more natural."

"Natural? Jehoshaphat! Go way, you little fraud!"

"I appeal to Jack. Jack, just look at the women in that picture of
papa's, with the white sheets draped about them. What do they look
like?"

"Frights, Miss Kitty."

"Of course they do. Now, papa."

"You two young barbarians!" shouted Tom, in a fit of laughter; for Jack
and Kitty were out in the clear frosty air by this time, with the fresh
wind at their backs, and their faces steadily set toward the busy bustle
and light of Broadway. They had not gone far when Jack said, anxiously,
"You haven't thought any better of your decision last Friday night,
Kitty, I am afraid."

"Why, no, Jack. I don't see how I can, unless you could become an Indian
Commissioner or a