"I dare say folks with no taste may need your advice; but as I am blessed with the power of knowing what I like—and with the will to have it, too—I insist on the top-knot being at least two inches higher."
"Very good—very good, my lady. What is it, Samuel?"—for the assistant now approached.
"Shall I proceed to Sydney Place, sir? I have finished this young lady's coiffure."
"Finished!—impossible! Why, child, come here; let me see! Why, you are not made up!—no rouge, nor a touch to your eyebrows!"
"I do not desire it, madam; I do not desire to be painted. I have requested the hairdresser to refrain——"
"Well, you will look a fright for your pains by night! Nonsense, child! powder must have paint. However, take your own way, you wilful puss! I have no more to say."
"I have done my best to persuade the lady," Sam said; "but it is useless—it is in vain;" and, with a sigh, he began to gather together the cosmetics and the little pots and bottles, and prepared for departure.
Mr. Perkyns turned from the contemplation of the top-knots to give a passing glance at Mistress Mainwaring. He shrugged his shoulders, and murmured:
"A pity that what is so fair should not be made still fairer! But do not stand wasting precious time, Samuel; proceed to Sydney Place, and announce my speedy arrival. You can leave me what is needful, and I will follow and bring the smaller bag. Be quick, Samuel; and do not go to sleep—on a day like this, of all days!"
Samuel obeyed, and took leave; while Griselda, after a passing glance at her head and shoulders in the mirror, retired to her own room on the upper story, and, taking a violin from a case, began to draw the bow over the strings.