"No, I can do it myself," he answered, snatching the towel from her hand. "I don't like to have my nose rubbed up the wrong way, and my eyes filled with soapsuds. I can wash my face as much as it wants. It isn't dirty, I should think," and dipping a corner of the towel in the water he began to dab himself all over with it cautiously as if he was afraid of rubbing off his skin. "There, that will do," he said, drying himself much in the same fashion. "I am ready to put on my clothes." "But you have not washed your neck or shoulders at all," said Fanny, "and if you will let me, and bend down your head over the basin, I will pour the water upon it and give you a pleasant shower-bath this warm morning." "I have washed enough, and do not intend to wash any more," answered Norman in a determined tone. "Where is my vest?" Fanny, seeing that it would be useless to contend further on that point, assisted him to dress, and buttoned or tied the clothes which required buttoning or tying. When, however, she brought him his stockings, he took it into his head that he would not put them on. "I can do very well without them," he exclaimed, throwing himself into an arm-chair. "There, you stand by my side, and wait till I want you to help me, just as my ayah used to do--the wicked old thing would not come on with us because I one day spit at her and called her a name she did not like. I can talk Hindostanee as well as English, I suppose you can't," and Master Norman uttered some words which sounded in Fanny's ears very much like gibberish. She waited patiently for some minutes, hoping that her brother would let her finish his toilet. At last, knowing that it was nearly time for her to go down and make the tea, she brought his stockings and attempted to put one of them on. "I told you to wait till I was ready," he exclaimed, and as she determined if possible on this occasion not to be defeated, stooped down to draw on one of his stockings. He seized her by her hair, and began belabouring her with the other which he had snatched out of her hand. Fanny, supposing him to be in play, persevered in her efforts, but he continued to pull and pull at her hair, and to beat her about the shoulders so vehemently that he began to hurt her very much. She at first only laughed and cried out-- "Pray be quiet, Norman, I shall have the stocking on in a moment." But as her brother pulled more savagely, she could with difficulty help shrieking from the pain he inflicted. "My dear Norman, do let go my hair," she exclaimed, "you are really hurting me very much."