The face upturned to his flamed crimson at the wonder and admiration in his eyes, but the dimple was sparkling at the corner of her mouth as she turned obediently before him and stepped slowly across the room. There is at the heart of every woman, however virginal and innocent, a subtle delight in knowing that men find her beautiful, and there could be no question of what Stewart thought at this moment. At last she came to a stop facing him. "Well?" she asked. "Will I do?" "Will you do?" Stewart echoed, and Meredith's phrase recurred to him--"an imp in porcelain"--how perfectly it described her! "You are entirely, absolutely, impeccably--oh, I haven't adjectives enough! Only I wish I had a hundred candles instead of one!" "But the clothes," she said, and looked doubtfully down at them. "Do I look like a boy?" "Not in the least!" he answered, promptly. Her face fell. "But then----" "Perhaps it is just because I know you're not one," he reassured her. "Let me see if I can improve matters. The trousers are too large, especially about the waist. They seem in danger of--hum!" and indeed she was clutching them desperately with one hand. "We will make another hole in that belt about three inches back," and he got out his knife and suited the action to the word. "There--that's better--you can let go of them now! And we'll turn up the legs about four inches--no, we'd better cut them off." He set the candle on the floor, picked up the scissors, and carefully trimmed each leg. "But those feet are ridiculous," he added, severely. "No real boy ever had feet like that!" She stared down at them ruefully. "They will seem larger when I get them full of mud," she pointed out. "I thought of putting on a pair of your shoes, but gave it up, for I am afraid I could not travel very far in them. Fortunately these are very strong!" He sniffed skeptically, but had to agree with her that his shoes were impossible. "There is one thing more," and she lifted her cap and let her tucked-up hair fall about her shoulders. "This must be cut off." "Oh, no," protested Stewart, drawing back in horror. "That would be desecration--why, it's the most beautiful hair in the world!" "Nonsense! In any case, it will grow again." "Why not just tie it up under your cap?" But she shook her head. "No--it must come off. I might lose the cap--you see it is too large--and my hair would betray us. Cut it off, my friend--be quick." She was right, of course, and Stewart, with a heavy heart, snipped away the long tresses. Then he trimmed the hair as well as he was able--which was very badly indeed. Finally he parted it rakishly on one side--and only by a supreme effort restrained himself from taking her in his arms and kissing her. "Really," he said, "you're so ridiculously lovely that I'm in great danger of violating our treaty. I warn you it is extremely dangerous to look at me like that!"