She's been
there three years, in the same spot,--went in with the lath and
plaster,--and it's _time_ she started. Besides, haven't I got manifest
destiny on my side? Ain't I a Saxon?" Sin Saxon tossed up a merry,
bewitching, saucy glance out of her blue, starlike eyes, that shone
under a fair, low brow touched and crowned lightly with the soft haze
of gold-brown locks frizzed into a delicate mistiness after the ruling
fashion of the hour.
"What a pretty thing she is!" said Mrs. Linceford, when, seeing her busy
with her boxes, and the master of the house approaching to show the new
arrivals to their rooms, Sin Saxon and her companions flitted away as
they had come, with a few more sentences of bright girl-nonsense flung
back at parting. "And a witty little minx as well. Where did you know
her, Jeannie? And what sort of a satanic name is that you call her by?"
"Just suits such a mischief, doesn't it? Short for Asenath,--it was
always her school-name. She's just finished her last year at Madam
Routh's; she came there soon after we did.
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