("Well!" gasped Phoebe. "It is really too bad of you. Nothing could induce me to have my hair cut off. I have never mentioned such a thing." "_I_ mentioned it," said Fanny, with a little laugh. "Trust me for managing these affairs. He will be overjoyed when he comes home and finds your hair just as beautiful as when he left. He will say something about it, to which you will reply--exposing me, of course--and then he will pay you no end of compliments.") "With her hair cut short. Are you serious? I know what a quiz you are, and I suspect you are amusing yourself at my expense. I can hardly believe that Miss Farebrother has any such intention. I never saw such beautiful hair as hers--" ("Thank you, sir," said Fanny.) "Such beautiful hair as hers, and she will be doing very wrong if she allows herself to be persuaded to adopt what I consider an odious fashion. You know my opinion about mannish women; I would banish them to some distant island if I had my way, where, as there would be no men among them, there might be a chance of their recovering their right senses. When I was in Milan I bought three lace handkerchiefs: one for Miss Farebrother, one for yourself, and one for your kind mother. I have something also for Uncle Leth and Bob. Please give them all my very kindest regards, and tell Aunt Leth I am longing to have tea with her, and to taste her wonderful gooseberry jam again." (Fanny had to stop here to laugh, and then she said: "Look, Phoebe, here are a lot of dots. His recollection of the gooseberry jam overcame him, and he went out to the Dead Lake to see the ghosts.") "I threw down my pen, and went out for a stroll. It is a beautiful night. The Dead Lake does not sustain its reputation when the stars are shining on it. I tried to conjure up the ghosts, but they would not come. Instead of ghosts, all sorts of pleasant memories took shape, for the chief of which I have to thank your happy home. I thought of you all, and of the many acts of hospitality for which I am indebted to you. There is in such scenes as this a spirit of peace inexpressibly soothing, forming a reminiscence to be long remembered. The reflection of the stars in the still waters rendered it impossible to credit their evil reputation. The lake was a fairy lake, and as such I shall always think of it. Upon entering the hospice I heard the monks praying in low voices. Now I must to bed. Convey my kindest remembrances to Miss Farebrother, and receive the same yourself, from "Yours very sincerely, FREDERICK CORNWALL." "That is something like a letter," said Fanny. "Fred is quite a poet. Don't you think so?" "He writes beautifully," replied Phoebe. "Lace handkerchiefs," said Fanny. "I wonder whose will be the prettiest? Mine, I should say." "You deserve the best."