His hair was still yellow and curly.
The dimples still dodged into his cheeks unexpectedly; he was still much like a stick of dynamite wrapped in white tissue and tied with a ribbon.
He looked an angel of innocence, and in reality he was a little devil.
Andy introduced him, and Pink bowed and had all the appearance of blushing--though you will have to ask Pink how he managed to create that optical illusion.

"What did you want ?" he asked in his soft, girlish voice, turning to Andy bashfully.

But from the corner of his eye Pink saw that a little smile of remembrance had come to soften Miss Hallman's angry features, and that the other girl was smiling also.

Pink hated that attitude of pleasant patronage which women were so apt to take toward him, but for the present it suited his purpose to encourage it.
"Pink, what time was it when we went to bed last night ?" Andy asked him in the tone of one who wished to eliminate all doubt of his virtue.
"Why--it was pretty early.

We didn't light the lamp at all, you remember.