Miss Ann looked on her surroundings and smiled peacefully. She thought over the happenings of yesterday and again she realized that it was a pleasant thing to be wanted. There was a knock at the door. Billy, no doubt with hot water and maybe an early cup of coffee.
“Come in!”
It was Judith bearing a tray of breakfast.
“Not a bit of use in your getting up early, Cousin Ann, but every reason for you to have breakfast while it is fresh and hot, so I just brought it in to you. I often make my mother stay in bed for breakfast if she is not feeling very strong. There is nothing like starting the day with something in your tummy. It is a lovely day with a touch of autumn in the air. I do hope you slept.”
Judith chattered on, ignoring the fact that Miss Ann was evidently embarrassed that she had been caught minus her wig. The girl opened wide the shutters, letting the sunlight stream into the room.
“Oh, Cousin Ann, what wonderful hair you have! Why it is like the driven snow and as soft as silk! Please, please let me arrange it for you sometimes. I don’t know whether you ought to wear it piled on your head in coils and puffs, like a French beauty of way back 235 yonder, or parted in the middle and waved on each side and drawn back into a loose knot.”
“Oh, child, you can’t think gray hair pretty.”
“Why, it is the loveliest thing in the world. If I had hair like yours I’d never cover it up. You will let me try to dress it won’t you? I just love to touch it,” and Judith fondled one of the silvered plats.
“Yes,” faltered the old lady. How long had it been since anyone but old Billy had complimented her? And when had anyone said her hair might be soft to the touch? Wigs do not last forever and Miss Ann had begun to realize that before many weeks a new one would be imperative. A new wig meant even greater scrimping than usual for Billy and his mistress. Funds must be very carefully handled when such an outlay became necessary. It was next in importance to a new horse, and greater than renewing a wheel on the coach. She had never dreamed that she might get along without a wig. She had begun wearing a wig many years ago, when her hair turned gray in spots. She had always considered dyed hair rather vulgar and so had resorted to a wig and, true to her character for keeping up a custom, she had never discarded the wig, although her hair had long since turned snow-white from root to end. 236
“Reform number two,” Judith said to herself as she viewed her handiwork on Cousin Ann’s hair. It was decided to part it in the middle and wave it on the sides and sweetly the old lady’s face was framed in the soft, silver locks.