He took refuge in indignation. “What has happened?” he said sharply. “The fool tried to kiss me!” she said simply. “And I--I--let out at him--like mother!” Nevertheless, she gave him one of those shy, timid glances he had noticed before, and began coiling something around her fingers, with a suggestion of coy embarrassment, indescribably inconsistent with her previous masculine independence. “You might have killed him,” said Peter angrily. “Perhaps I might! OUGHT I have killed him, Peter?” she said anxiously, yet with the same winning, timid smile. If she had not been his sister, he would have thought her quite handsome. “As it is,” he said impetuously, “you have made a frightful scandal here.” “HE won't say anything about it--will he?” she inquired shyly, still twisting the something around her finger. Peter did not reply; perhaps the young lawyer really loved her and would keep her secret! But he was vexed, and there was something maniacal in her twisting fingers. “What have you got there?” he said sharply. She shook the object in the air before her with a laugh. “Only a lock of his hair,” she said gayly; “but I didn't CUT it off!” “Throw it away, and come here!” he said angrily. But she only tucked the little blond curl into her waist belt and shook her head. He urged his horse forward, but she turned and fled, laughing as he pursued her. Being the better rider she could easily evade him whenever he got too near, and in this way they eventually reached the town and their house long before their companions. But she was far enough ahead of her brother to be able to dismount and hide her trophy with childish glee before he arrived.