Poor Mrs. Langley! Her shoulders were shaking. Anna went closer and put her arm about her gently.
“Don’t cry. Don’t feel badly about me, Mrs. Langley,” she begged softly. “It’ll grow out again. I’m awfully sorry, but honest and true, I couldn’t help it.”
Mrs. Langley uncovered her face.
“Couldn’t help it?” she repeated wonderingly, adding with more spirit than she had ever exhibited before since Anna had known her. “Do you mean that someone cut it off by force and stole it? O, Anna, if they did that, I’ll have Mr. Langley put them in prison right away!”
Anna couldn’t help laughing. But she said to herself it wasn’t bad for Mrs. Langley to believe her husband was Charley-on-the-spot, whether he really was or not.
“Well, no’m, not just that,” she said, “but——”
“But what?” demanded the invalid rather sharply.
“I haven’t told anyone yet,” replied Anna softly. “I just let them think that I—just did it, you know, and that I like it better. I thought they wouldn’t mind so much as if they really knew. But I’ll tell you if you want me to.”
Mrs. Langley gazed at the girl wonderingly. Anna was pale and there were bluish shadows under her eyes which looked very big and rather wistful to-day. Already Mrs. Langley began to feel that if she could but forget that shimmering mass of gold about her shoulders of a week since, she might like her even better as she was now. The short locks curled so gracefully and stood out so picturesquely about her little face and slender throat that her head was like a bright, loose-petalled flower upon its stem.
“Do tell me about it, Anna, if you’re not too tired,” she said wistfully, endeavoring rather vainly to soften her harsh voice. “No, don’t sit there, poor child. You shall have this soft rocking chair for your sharp little bones.” And before Anna realised what she was doing, she had risen and forced the girl into her own padded rocker.