rself. You look terrible."

"What do you mean?" asked Jenny. "Here, give me hold of the hand-glass."

Her reflection upset her. She must have put on too much in the uncertain
light.

"It's like milk," cried May.

"Don't annoy me."

"Oh, Jenny, it's awful. It's like that canary of Alfie's who died so
sudden. It's shocking. What _will_ all my friends say?"

"Who cares about your friends? _They're_ nobody. Besides, it'll be quite
all right soon. It's bound to sink in."

"What will Alfie say?"

"Oh, damn Alfie!"

"There's a lady. Now swear."

"Well, you annoy me. It's my own hair, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's your own hair right enough. Nobody else wouldn't own it."

"I don't think I'll come down to breakfast this morning. Say I've got a
most shocking headache, and fetch me up a cup of tea, there's a little
love."

"Mother'll only come up and see what's the matter, so _don't_ be silly.
You've got to go downstairs some time."

"Oo-er, May, I wish I hadn't done it now. It's going whiter all the
time. Look at it. Oh, what unnatural stuff. It can't go lighter than
white, can it?"

Mrs. Raeburn, in the act of pouring out tea, held the pot suspended,
and, shaking with laughter, looked at her daughter. Charlie, too,
happened to be at home.

"Good gracious alive!" cried the mother.

"I thought I'd see how it looked," Jenny explained, with apologetic
notes in her voice.

"You'll think your head right off next time," said Charlie profoundly.

Jenny was seized with an idea.

"I had to do it for the theater. At least, I thought--oh, well--_don't_
all stare as if you'd never seen a girl with fair hair. You'll get used
to it."

"I sha'n't," said Charlie hopelessly. "I shouldn't never get used to
that, not if I lived till I was a hundred. Not if I never died at all."

"Depend upon it," said Mrs. Raeburn, "her Aunt Mabel will come and see
us this very day and ask what I've been doing."

"What about it?" said Jenny defiantly. "Who's she? Surely I can do what
I like with my own hair without asking _her_."

"Now, what 'ud you say if I went and dyed my hair?" asked Charlie, "and
come down with it the color of an acid drop. That's what I'd like to
know."

A silence of pent-up laughter held the breakfast party, while, under the
mirthful glances of her mother and sister, Jenny began to regret the
change. At last she volunteered:

"Oh, well, it's done now."

"Done in, I should say," corrected Charlie.

It was a gust