g the world, with a fence
around it.) And partly it was seeing an advertisement in a
newspaper.

Mamma didn't mention the advertisement to me at first. But when she'd
been away one morning alone on a secret errand she stammered and
fidgetted a little, and said she had something to explain to me. Then it
all came out.

She'd been to call on a wonderful French madame who could make a woman
of thirty-eight (that's Mamma's Bible age) look twenty-five, and she
hoped I wouldn't lose respect for her as my mother or think her
frivolous and horrid if she put herself into the madame's hands for a
few weeks. I couldn't help laughing, but Mamma cried, and said that
she'd never had a real good time since she was grown up. She did long to
have one at last, very much, if only I'd let her do it in peace.

I stopped laughing and almost cried, myself; but I didn't let her see
that I wanted to. Instead, I asked what would be the sense of _looking_
twenty-five, anyhow, when everybody would know she _must_ be more, with
a daughter going on seventeen.

Mamma hadn't thought of that. She seemed years older than ever for a
minute; and then she put her hand in mine. Hers was as cold as ice.
"Would you mind going back a little, darling?" she asked. "It would be
_so_ kind and sweet of you, and it would make all the difference to me."

"Going back?" I repeated. "Whatever _do_ you mean?"

It made her dreadfully nervous to explain, because she was afraid I'd
poke fun at her, but she did get out the idea finally. "Going back" was
to bring on my second childhood prematurely. Thirteen was a nice age,
she thought, because many girls get their full growth then; and if I
wasn't more than thirteen she could begin life over again at
twenty-nine.

"What, let down my hair and wear my dresses short?" I asked.

She admitted that was what I'd have to do.

I thought for a whole minute, and at last I just couldn't bear to
disappoint her. But all the same, I reminded myself, I might as well
make a good bargain while I was about it.

"If I do what you want," said I, "you'll have to be mighty nice to me. I
must be given my way about important things. If you ever refuse to do
what I like, after I've done so much for you, I'll just turn up my hair
and put on a long frock. Then everybody'll see how old I am."

She would have promised anything, I guess; and that very afternoon she
gave me three lovely rings, and a ducky little bracelet-watch, when we
were ou