"My dears! what new play have you got now? Are you wild
Indians? or letters that have gone round the world before finding
the right address?" she asked, laughing at the ridiculous sight, for
both were as sober as judges and deeply absorbed in some doubtful
specimen.

"Oh, we just stuck them there to keep them safe; they get lost if we
leave them lying round. It's very handy, for I can see in a minute
what I want on Jill's face and she on mine, and put our fingers on
the right chap at once," answered Jack, adding, with an anxious
gaze at his friend's variegated countenance, "Where the dickens _is_
my New Granada? It's rare, and I wouldn't lose it for a dollar."

"Why, there it is on your own nose. Don't you remember you put it
there because you said mine was not big enough to hold it?"
laughed Jill, tweaking a large orange square off the round nose of
her neighbor, causing it to wrinkle up in a droll way, as the gum
made the operation slightly painful.

"So I did, and gave you Little Bolivar on yours. Now I'll have
Alsace and Lorraine, 1870. There are seven of them, so hold still
and see how you like it," returned Jack, picking the large, pale
stamps one by one from Jill's forehead, which they crossed like a
band.

She bore it without flinching, saying to herself with a secret smile,
as she glanced at the hot fire, which scorched her if she kept near
enough to Jack to help him, "This really is being like a missionary,
with a tattooed savage to look after. I have to suffer a little, as the
good folks did who got speared and roasted sometimes; but I won't