aring a refutation of their confident prophecies. Under these average boyish physiognomies that she seems to turn off by the gross, she conceals some of her most rigid inflexible purposes, some of her most unmodifiable characters, and the dark-eyed, demonstrative, rebellious girl may after all turn out to be a passive being compared with this pink and white bit of masculinity with the indeterminate features. 'Maggie,' said Tom, confidentially, taking her into a corner, as soon as his mother was gone out to examine his box, and the warm parlour had taken off the chill he had felt from the long drive, 'you don't know what I've got in my pockets' - nodding his head up and down as a means of rousing her sense of mystery. 'No,' said Maggie. 'How stodgy they look, Tom! Is it marls (marbles) - or cobnuts?' Maggie's heart sank a little, because Tom always said it was "no good" playing with her at those games - she played so badly. 'Marls! no - I've swopped all my marls with little fellows. a And cobnuts are no fun, you silly, only when the nuts are green. But see here!' He drew something half out of his right-hand pocket. 'What is it?' said Maggie, in a whisper. 'I can see nothing but a bit of yellow.' 'Why it's . . . a . . . new . . . guess, Maggie!' 'O, I can't guess, Tom,' said Maggie, impatiently. 'Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you,' said Tom, thrusting his hand back into his pocket, and looking determined. 'No, Tom,' said Maggie, imploringly, laying hold of the arm that was held stiffly in the pocket. 'I'm not cross, Tom - it was only because I can't bear guessing. Please, be good to me.' Tom's arm slowly relaxed, and he said, 'Well, then; it's a new fish-line - two new uns - one for you, Maggie, all to yourself. I wouldn't go halves in the toffee and gingerbread --------------------------------------------------------------------------------page 86 o' purpose to save the money; and Gibson and Spouncer fought with me because I wou...
