“My hair, mamma?”
“Yes, child. Let me see; you went to Monsieur Launay’s yesterday?”
“Yes, mamma.”
“I have been telling Justine that I shall not go to any further expense over it. I have just sent him a cheque for his account, and your head looks so much better that I think we may be satisfied now.”
Maude’s cheeks turned scarlet, and so did her temple and neck, but her beautiful hair made a magnificent veil, and hid her confusion from her ladyship’s view as she examined the parting, drew it away from the temples and poked it about just at the poll.
“Don’t you think, mamma, I had better keep on for a little longer?”
“No,” said her ladyship, peremptorily. “Your hair is in beautiful condition. I grudged paying that man; but he has saved your hair, and he deserves what he has received. He is very clever.”
“I should like to continue a little longer, mamma.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said her ladyship tartly. “Your hair is perfect.”
“I must go and say that I am not about to continue his course of treatment.”