“No’m, I don’t think so.” Tom shook his head.
“It was away last summer—or early in the fall, Tom. You looked in the mirror and frowned and then you took off your hat and smoothed your hair. And then you nodded at yourself quite satisfied and looked up and caught me smiling at you. Don’t you remember now?”
“Yes’m.” Tom laughed shamefacedly.
“You scowled at me terrifically,” went on Mrs. Morris. “It amused me because I thought I knew just how you felt at being caught primping. And then when I saw you in Cummings and Wright’s that time I recognised you at once and thought I’d have a little fun with you. So I asked about your hair. That’s all there is to it. As to your hair being red, why, it isn’t; not really red, you know. It’s a perfectly wonderful shade and I wish I had it, Tom!”
Tom thought her own soft brown hair infinitely more lovely and becoming, but he didn’t say so. He only grinned.
“Are you terribly angry with me?” she went on smilingly.
“No’m.” Tom shook his head again. “I—I guess I sort of liked it!”
Then Sidney burst in, laden with packages, and dragged Tom upstairs to witness the installation of a new detector.