“I don’t know as I care much,” she answered; “let’s sit down here a bit.”
They sat down one each side of a stile, with their faces turned towards each other, and Agnetta again fixed her direct gaze critically on her cousin’s figure. Lilac twirled her sunbonnet round somewhat confusedly under these searching glances.
“It’s a pity you wear your hair scrattled right off your face like that,” said Agnetta at last; “it makes you look for all the world like Daisy’s white calf.”
“Does it?” said Lilac meekly; “Mother likes it done so.”
“I know something as would improve you wonderful, and give you a bit of style—something as would make the picture look a deal better.”
“Oh, what, Agnetta?”
“Well, it’s just as simple as can be. It’s only to take a pair of scissors and cut yer hair like mine in front so as it comes down over yer face a bit. It ’ud alter you ever so. You’d be surprised.”
Lilac started to her feet, struck with the immensity of the idea. A fringe! It was a form of elegance not unknown amongst the school-children, but one which she had never thought of as possible for herself.
There was Agnetta’s stolid rosy face close to her, as unmoved and unexcited as if she had said nothing unusual.
“Oh, Agnetta, could I?” gasped Lilac.