“Excuse me,” said Hinpoha in a flustered tone, “I really didn’t see you. I was thinking about something.”
Hinpoha looked at Mr. Knoblock with an air of expectancy when she entered the room the next morning, looking for some sign of gratitude for the lock of hair, but he said, “Good morning, Miss Bradford,” in his usual tone and made no further remarks. But before the hour was over he took occasion to borrow her book for a moment, and directly after he returned it a note fell from its pages into her lap. With starry eyes she unfolded it and read:
“O Morning Star that smilest in the blue,
O star, my morning dream hath proven true,
Smile sweetly, thou! my love hath smiled on me.”
The lines were from “Gareth and Lynette.” The universe turned into song. It was getting altogether too much for Hinpoha to hold and that afternoon before the fire in the Open Door Lodge she revealed the progress of her romance to the other Winnebagos.
“Did you really give him a lock of your hair?” asked Gladys.
Hinpoha nodded. “Just a tiny curl. It doesn’t show much at all where I cut it out.”
“Collecting locks of hair doesn’t mean so terribly much,” said Katherine dryly. “I read about a boy once who begged a lock of hair from every girl he met and then had his sister embroider a sofa cushion with them. And another one used them for paint brushes.”
“Oh, but this is—different,” said Hinpoha with lofty pity. It had just dawned on her that Katherine was jealous. The same miracle that had dropped the scales from her eyes and revealed to her the fact that she was beautiful had also made her realize that Katherine was hopelessly plain.