“Well, I think there’s a nut in this, but I’m not sure.” She popped a chocolate into the open mouth and watched anxiously while he bit into it. After a moment of suspense he nodded his head vigorously. “Right,” he said, returning to his palette. “That was a good guess. Do you know, I think they ought to mark the pieces that have nuts in them so we could tell, don’t you?” Harry said she thought that was a very good plan, the while she cuddled the big four-pound box to her and munched happily at a nougat. It was very interesting to see the paint come squirming out of the tubes. Each succeeding tube was a new surprise. She wondered why he needed so many, many colors to paint her since she was all in white save for the tan shoes and stockings and the dainty blue ribbon at her waist. Then, as a flash of orange vermilion joined the other mounds of color, she wondered in consternation whether that was for her hair! Presently the palette was set, the canvas on the easel and all in readiness. Then the artist stood up and looked at his model. Harry began to feel nervous. Maybe she wasn’t as pret--well, as nice looking this morning! Maybe he was disappointed in her! Oh, he was, for he was frowning! “My dear child,” he said, “what have you done to your hair?” “N-nothing,” faltered Harry. “At least, I just put it up in a different way. Mama thought it would look nicer. She says I always have my hair so untidy. So I--I made it neat. Don’t you like it?” “Yes, indeed,” he answered heartily, “it looks very nice that way, but for my purpose the other way was the better. You know, artists are strange persons with unaccountable tastes. I don’t suppose you could rearrange it, could you, as you wore it yesterday?” “Oh, yes, I can; that is, I could if I had another ribbon. I guess you wouldn’t have one, would you?” “What kind of a ribbon?” he asked. “Oh, just any old ribbon would do; just to tie around the end, you know.” “Well, now you run down and skirmish around. Maybe you’ll find something. How would a ribbon off one of the curtains in the sitting-room do? They’re white, but that wouldn’t matter to me.” So Harry disappeared for a few minutes, and when she returned her beautiful coronet was gone and her hair was once more down her back in two shimmering red-gold braids.