And then she added anxiously, "And, please 'm, I'm tryin' hard to fasten my hair up. I've a-been lookin' at the girls in Nelson Street. They mostly has a curled fringe, but I can't make mine curl nohow. I've tried curl-papers, but I don't seem to manage 'em right, and them curlin'-tongs cost money."
"Now, Peggy, you take my word, and brush your hair smooth. Ladies will like it much better. Plait it neatly behind; them fringes be traps for dirt and dust, and take a lot o' time fussin' over."
"But," said Peggy, "I want to look proper 'm; I don't want to look like a Noah's Ark servant. Mrs. Jones says girls must make the most o' theirselves. And a fringe makes a cap look first class!"
"You try my way first. I know good service, and 'tis the best servant-maids wear the plainest heads."
So reluctantly Peggy gave up all idea of a fringe. She appeared in Nelson Street one morning and spoke to her red-haired friend.
"I'm ready for my place," she said, with much pride.
"No. 9 is wantin' a general," said Eliza.
"Who lives there?"
"A widder and six children."
"Oh my! I couldn't do for 'em. What does a general do, Liza?"