"Depend upon it," said Mrs. Raeburn, "her Aunt Mabel will come and see us this very day and ask what I've been doing."
"What about it?" said Jenny defiantly. "Who's she? Surely I can do what I like with my own hair without asking her."
"Now, what 'ud you say if I went and dyed my hair?" asked Charlie, "and come down with it the color of an acid drop. That's what I'd like to know."
A silence of pent-up laughter held the breakfast party, while, under the mirthful glances of her mother and sister, Jenny began to regret the change. At last she volunteered:
"Oh, well, it's done now."
"Done in, I should say," corrected Charlie.
It was a gusty morning of clouds in early June, and the Hagworth Street kitchen was dark. The sun, however, streamed in for a moment in the wake of Charlie's correction, and Jenny's new hair was lighted up.
"Why, it's worse than I thought," said Mrs. Raeburn.
"You look like a funny turn."
"It looks like that ginger-beer we had on Whit-Monday," said her father.