unruly curls that would take untiring patience to unravel. Desperate at the delay, Rebecca grabbed the scissors again and cut the braid close up to the buttonholes in the bonnet.
"The Gordian knot!" she cried as she tossed the bonnet and braid onto the bed and without looking in the glass to view the havoc she had made, she flew down the steps and slid into her place at the table.
Spottswood, being the carver, usually helped Rebecca to whatever meat he was serving without addressing her and without even glancing at her, but on that day he could not resist a curiosity he felt to look at the young person who had succeeded in breaking through the dignity of his dog. It came to his mind, too, that perhaps, being a child, Rebecca might like a gizzard. He started to put one on her plate, but changed his mind. He helped her plentifully, however, and then raised his eyes and for the first time since the girl had come to Mill House he looked at her fairly and squarely. Then a strange thing came to pass: Spottswood Taylor burst out into uncontrollable laughter.
The Misses Taylor were astonished. They had never heard Spot laugh so heartily. An occasional grim smile was about all they had ever known him indulge in. They, too, had
