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One day while Von Barwig was labouring hard to beat time and other musical values into the head of a square-browed, freckle-faced youth of nineteen, whom nature had ordained for the carpenter's bench and not for the piano, a knock came at the door, and on invitation to enter, in came a little fellow not more than nine years of age, black-haired, dark-eyed, of olive complexion, his features plainly bearing the stamp of his Hebraic origin.
I saw him sitting under a tree, wearing that big flap- brimmed hat, and sitting beside him was a great, black-haired, red-faced man, a most evil-looking fellow, too." "Skelly! Bill Skelly, beyond a doubt!" said Dick. "That's him! From what you said Skelly started out by being for the Union. Now, as we believed before, he's joined hands with Slade who's for the South."
She was black-haired, as had been her mother's, and almost swarthy in her complexion, and there was a squareness about her chin which robbed her face of much of its feminine softness.
Along the pavement two men walked slowly with guitar and flageolet. They walked turning in opposite directions, their heads thrown back, their feet keeping step, two black-haired, supple vagabonds of gypsy breed, who had come down to the city from their mountain home on the heights of Montserrat.
Tim was drifting slowly, but surely, toward a hole in the back fence. "Yous can stay, if ye wanter, but you bet I don't!" He wagged his head ominously. "Why, what'll he do?" The black-haired twin balanced herself miraculously on the edge of the water-barrel and stared. "He'll ast ye" Tim's voice was sepulchral "he'll ast ye if ye're saved." "If ye're what?" cried the twins, in alarm.
The entire force of the Acropolis, from the owner, who lived in Vienna, down to the head porter, who had been bedridden for sixteen years, would have sprung to her defence in a moment. One day I walked past Miss Bates's little sanctum Remingtorium, and saw in her place a black-haired unit unmistakably a person pounding with each of her forefingers upon the keys.
Pip or Piper Peckham, aged eight, was a big-eyed, black-haired, little fellow with a peaked face. Timid, sensitive to neglect, very fond of notice, he was sometimes a subject for the tricks of his playmates. Then there was Tony or Antonio Blanco, a late arrival at Seamont. He was an olive-faced, black-haired, shy little fellow. When he spoke, he used English, but his accent was Italian.
The subject, black-haired Molly Dale, rested the point of her hand-fork between two rows of ragged sailors and Johnny-jump-ups and lifted a pair of the clearest, softest blue eyes in the world in greeting to Racey Dawson. "This is a fine time for you to be traipsing in," she told him, with a smile that revealed a deep dimple in each cheek. "I thought you promised to help me weed my garden to-day."
It was evident to me, therefore, that this sudden order meant that the regiment was about to see service once more, and that Lasalle understood how incomplete my squadron would be without me. It is true that it came at an inconvenient moment, for the keeper of the post-house had a daughter one of those ivory-skinned, black-haired Polish girls with whom I had hoped to have some further talk.
A calf was by her side, and the mother had already sunk on her knees and was licking it in mortal terror. I pitied the poor thing, and as Boemund Altrosen, the black-haired knight who entered your house with the rest after the ride to Kadolzburg, had just come there, I told him to save the calf. Of course he obeyed my wish, and as it struggled he dragged it out of the stable with his strong arms.
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