Trif and Trixy. Habberton John

but a few hours later, while Trif was sewing busily and Fenie was talking volubly and aimlessly about Harry Trewman, a light step was heard in the room, and Fenie dropped her subject for a moment, and exclaimed:

      "Tryphosa Wardlow Highwood, will you look at your daughter—this instant?"

      Trixy was evidently expecting to be looked at, and was pleased at the effect of her appearance. Over each ear was a great dark ball or wad of something, her mother could not imagine what, until examination showed that the outside of each was a rubber tobacco pouch, two or three of which Phil had discarded when he gave up smoking pipes. Inside of each was a mass of raw cotton, and the mouth of each bag was tied tightly around a juvenile ear.

      "I can't hear hardly a thing," shouted Trixy. "A little bit of cotton in each ear didn't make much difference, but a whole lot on the outside made lots, and the bags made more, beside keeping the cotton on. Now go on talkin' all you like; I'm goin' to read."

      "She shan't wear those dreadful things," exclaimed Fenie, untying the bags, despite Trixy's remonstrances. "She shan't keep cotton in her ears, either. The idea of the darling little thing being——"

      "Let her have her way a little while," said Trif. "It will amuse her, without harming any one else. Besides, you may accidentally mention Harry Trewman in the course of the afternoon, and——"

      There must have been a note of sarcasm in Trif's voice, for Fenie retorted sharply:

      "Tryphosa, this is your house, and if you dislike that young man so much that you object to the child hearing the sound of his name, why I——"

      "Fenie! Fenie, dear!" interrupted Trif, scarcely able to control her voice and not daring to lift her eyes from the work which she had resumed. "Whatever you like to talk about, you know I like to hear about. Aren't you my only sister, and my——"

      "I didn't suppose that I talked much about Harry Trewman," said Fenie, making a pretense of sewing industriously.

      "You mean nothing but what is entirely right, dear girl."

      "Then why do you object to that innocent child hearing what I say? I'm sure that I say nothing which any one might not listen to—do I?"

      "Certainly not; still, don't you remember what happened a night or two ago, dear, through a certain child hearing something and repeating it?"

      "Yes, but—" here Fenie looked cautiously toward Trixy, who was reading, with an air of utter absorption—"but I'm not likely to speak so foolishly again. Trif, do let me take the cotton from that child's ears. It is making her uncomfortable. See. She is rubbing one of her ears now."

      "She is sensible enough to complain when it really hurts. You don't imagine that her mother will let her suffer, do you?"

      "No, but—well as I was saying, I don't really talk much about Harry Trewman, do I?"

      Trif looked up so intently and roguishly that Fenie blushed deeply, and the blush remained while Trif said softly:

      "Really, dear, you don't talk much about anything else."

      "I don't see how you can say that," replied Fenie with uncertain voice, "when you know that I don't care anything—or not much, for him or about him. I don't suppose I would have spoken his name a single time this week if he hadn't come here last week, and if Trixy hadn't made that dreadful blunder. You certainly don't think me in love with him, I hope?"

      "I hope not, dear. There are many gradations of feeling that a true woman must go through before she can say honestly that she is in love. But you—well, you like him a little better than you like any other of your admirers, don't you?"

      "Ye—es, I suppose I do," replied Fenie, her voice not entirely under control. "He is gentlemanly, and honest-looking, and never brings the odor of liquor or tobacco with him. He doesn't make silly attempts at flattery, and he talks a great deal about his sisters, who are very nice girls, and he knows when to go home, instead of dawdling here until midnight, and we like the same books and pictures, so——"

      "And so he is a pleasant acquaintance to have—too pleasant to lose entirely?"

      "Yes, indeed, and if it hadn't been for that dreadful child—there, Trif, she's rubbing that ear again. I'm sure she's in pain. Do let me remove that ridiculous cotton."

      "Tut, tut. Go on. You were saying——"

      "Oh, what was I saying? What were we talking about?" asked Fenie, with charming but entirely transparent hypocrisy. "Oh, I was merely going to say that if Trixy hadn't made that dreadful speech to him the other night, I wouldn't have missed one delightful party—perhaps two, to which he and his oldest sister would have taken me."

      "Oh, I see. 'Tis only the parties that trouble you."

      "Tryphosa," exclaimed Fenie indignantly, as she arose from her chair, "I think you're real unkind—real tormenting. First you make fun of me for talking a lot about him, and then you make me talk about him a great deal more. I wasn't going to say a word about him this afternoon, but you've kept me at it in spite of myself. Perhaps you don't want me to like him. Well, I shan't oblige you. I do like him. I'm not a bit in love with him, but I do like him ever so much, and I'm not a bit ashamed to say so. There!"

      "Bravo!" exclaimed Trif, springing from her chair and throwing her arms about her sister. "I'm glad that at last you know your own mind. Now stop acting like a child, and be the woman you have the right to be. I'm proud of you, my darling sister—proud of your honesty and spirit. But—why, my dear girl, what is the matter?"

      "Harry's been driven away from here," sobbed Fenie, "and I'm dreadful unhappy about it, and I want him to come back."

      "Hurrah," sounded a high childish treble. The sisters looked in the direction of the sound, and there stood Trixy, with glowing cheeks and dancing eyes as she continued:

      "I want him to come back, too, for he promised to bring me a doll."

      "Trixy," exclaimed Fenie severely. Trixy understood at once and looked guilty, but she explained:

      "One of the cottons dropped out, and I didn't know a thing about it till you boo-hoo'd."

      CHAPTER III.

       UNAPPRECIATED.

       Table of Contents

      "PHIL," said Trif from her pillow one morning very early, "are you awake?"

      Phil half wished he wasn't, for he was just sinking into the morning's final doze, but loyalty compelled him to admit that he was not asleep.

      "I'm so glad," responded Trif, "for I've thought out a plan for making matters right once more between Fenie and Harry."

      "So have I, my dear, so between us we'll be sure to succeed. Now let's drop asleep again; if we talk much we'll get Trixy awake far too long before breakfast, which won't be good for her."

      "There's no danger. The dear little thing sleeps soundly nowadays. What is your plan?"

      "'Tis simply to invite him and his sister Kate to dinner."

      "How stupid! You don't suppose he'll come after what he heard the last time he was here?"

      "Won't come? Why not?"

      "Because he was rudely driven away."

      "Nonsense! Did you ever drive flies from sugar or sweetmeats? Didn't they return as soon as they saw a ghost of a chance?"

      "I don't think the comparison is complimentary, either to my sister or to Harry."

      "Why not? Fenie is the sweetest creature that I know of, except you, and if Harry can or will keep away from her he's not half the man I take him to be."

      "But he certainly has some self-respect?"

      "Yes, far too much to be discouraged by a single rebuff. Do you suppose I'd have