he paused to listen. Hope was coming up the stairs. She recognized the
slow, gentle footfall. It came nearer the door. Theodora took a quick
step to the table and caught up the scissors from her little
work-basket.

"Come, Teddy," Hope called; "don't be silly and get cross about a little
thing like that."

Theodora clashed her scissors ominously. Even in her anger, there came a
sudden wonder how Marianne would meet such a crisis, and her voice took
a higher, more incisive note, as she said,--

"Hope, unless you let me alone, I'm going to cut it off."

"But, Teddy--"

There came a snip and a long, grinding cut, followed by a light thud, as
one heavy braid fell to the floor. Startled at what she had done,
Theodora turned to the mirror. One side of her head was covered with
loose, shaggy locks standing out in wild disorder. As she looked, she
grew white and her lips quivered. She hesitated for a moment; then,
shutting her teeth, she sheared away the other braid. For a moment
longer, she stood staring at the white face and wide, terrified eyes
reflected in the mirror. Then, throwing aside the scissors, she cast
herself down on her bed and pulled the pillows over her head to smother
the sound of her sobs.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MY DEAR TEDDY,--If you haven't entirely forsaken us, can't you come
over and spend the afternoon and dine here? We both of us miss your
calls, Will especially, since he hasn't been so well; and we can't
think why you have turned the cold shoulder to us. I wanted to send
for you, yesterday; but Will wouldn't let me, for fear you had
something else to do. To-day, I haven't told him, so he won't be
disappointed.

Come if you can, dear, and stay to dinner with us. Will is so blue
that he needs you to brighten him up, now he is on his back again.

Sincerely,
JESSIE FARRINGTON.

This was the note which Patrick had brought over, that morning, and
which Theodora now sat twisting in her fingers, while she anxiously
wondered what it all meant. She had not heard that Billy was worse, and
it was a week since she had seen him, for she still lacked courage to
show him her shorn head. She dreaded his teasing; most of all she
dreaded the questions he must inevitably ask. Her own family was bad
enough; she felt that she could not face him, if once he knew the secret
of her missing locks.

Never was a hasty, hot-tempered act more thoroughly punished than