The girl addressed retained her hold of the massive plait that she was forming, and, snatching a well-worn hairbrush from the table, reached out as far as she could from the tether of plait that held her to the girl in the chair, when the brush was snatched from her, and sent whizzing through the air, narrowly missing the reader's head, but putting an end to the reflective troubles of the unfortunate toilet-glass, which was struck right in the centre, and shivered into fragments. "Oh!" ejaculated Ruth. "Beast!" cried Marie, leaping up, sending her chair backwards, and dashing the French novel at her sister. "Wretch! devil!" retorted the other, her creamy face flushing, her dark eyes scintillating with passion, and her ruddy lips parting from her regular white teeth, as she retaliated by throwing the book she held, but with a very bad aim. For a moment it seemed as if blows were to follow, but after a short skirmish with a comb, an empty scent-bottle, and a pin-cushion, the beginner of the fight uttered a cry of triumph, and pounced upon the French novel. "I wanted that," she cried. "Ruth, fetch back that book," cried Marie. "Please give me that book back, Clotilde," said the obedient girl, as, crossing the room, she held out her hand to the angry beauty. For answer, the maiden upon the box caught her by the wrist with both hands, bent her head rapidly down, and fixed her white teeth in the soft, round arm. "There, take that, and I wish it was 'Rie's. Now you stop here, and do my hair directly. Hateful little beast! why didn't you come before?" The blood flushed up in Ruth's face, and little troubled lines made their appearance in her forehead as, after a piteous glance at the other sister, she began to brush the great flowing bands of dark hair waiting their turn. "I don't care," said Marie, with all the aggravating petulance of a child. "Mine was just done." "But I've got the book," retorted the other. "Be careful, little beast; don't pull it out by the roots." She turned her face up sharply to the busy toiler, with the effect that she dragged her own hair, and this time she struck the girl so sharply on the cheek with the open hand that the tears started to her eyes. "Nasty, spiteful, malicious wretch!" said Marie, giving the finishing touches to her own hair; "but you'll have a good lecture for breaking the glass. Aunties will be angry." "I shall say Ruth did it," said the girl. "Just like you, Clo," retorted the other. "If you call me Clo again, I'll--I'll poison you." "Shall if I like: Clo, old Clo--Jew--Jew--Jew! There!" As she spoke, Marie turned her mocking countenance to her sister, and finished off by making what children call "a face," by screwing up her mouth and nose; desisting, however, as Clotilde made a dash at the water-glass to throw it at her head, and then made a feint of spitting at her in a feline way.