"You little idiot! You've tried to plaster it down to suit me, and you
missed it. I liked it away better as Mag fixed it, after I saw it. You
didn't look so peeled."

"Oh mother, mother!" laughed Elnora, with a half sob in her voice.

"Hold still, will you?" cried Mrs. Comstock. "You'll be late, and I
haven't packed your dinner yet."

She untied the string and shook out the hair. It rose with electricity
and clung to her fingers and hands. Mrs. Comstock jumped back as if
bitten. She knew that touch. Her face grew white, and her eyes angry.

"Tie it yourself," she said shortly, "and then I'll put on the ribbon.
But roll it back loose like Mag did. It looked so pretty that way."

Almost fainting Elnora stood before the glass, divided off the front
parts of her hair, and rolled them as Mrs. Sinton had done; tied it at
the nape of her neck, then sat while her mother arranged the ribbon.

"If I pull it down till it comes tight in these creases where she had
it, it will be just right, won't it?" queried Mrs. Comstock, and the
amazed Elnora stammered,

"Yes."

When she looked in the glass the bow was perfectly tied, and how the
gold tone of the brown did match the lustre of the shining hair! "That's
pretty," commented Mrs. Comstock's soul, but her stiff lips had said all
that could be forced from them for once. Just then Wesley Sinton came to