“I’d rather,” said Lilac hastily. “I’ve always been used to.”
She looked round the room. It was very like her old one at the cottage, and its sloping ceiling and bare white walls seemed familiar and homelike; it was a comfort, too, to see that its tiny window looked towards the hills. As she observed all this she took off her bonnet, and was immediately startled by a loud laugh from Agnetta.
“Well!” she exclaimed, “You have made a pretty guy of yourself.”
Lilac put her hand quickly up to her head.
“Oh, I forgot—my hair,” she said.
“Whatever made you do it?” asked Agnetta, planting herself full in front of her cousin and staring at her.
“It’s neater,” said Lilac, avoiding the hard gaze. “I shall wear it so till it gets longer. I’m not agoin’ to have a fringe no more.”
“Well!” repeated Agnetta, lost in astonishment; then she added:
“You do look comical! Just like a general servant. If I was you I’d wear a cap!”
With this parting thrust she clattered downstairs giggling. So this was Lilac’s welcome. She went to the window, leant her arms on the broad sill, and looked forlornly up at the hill. There was not a single person who wanted her here, or who had taken the trouble to say a kind word. How could she bear to live here always?