"For a little while, then," so Jan salved her conscience. "Just till we all shake down ... and your hair begins to grow."
Meg stood up very straight and shook her finger at Jan. "Remember, I'm to be a real, proper nurse with authority, and a clinical thermometer ... and a uniform."
"If you like, and it's a pretty uniform."
Meg danced gleefully round the table.
"It will be lovely, it is lovely. I've got it all ready; green linen frocks, big well-fitting aprons, and such beautiful caps."
"Not caps, Meg!" Jan expostulated. "Please not caps."
"Certainly caps. How otherwise am I to cover up my head? I can't wear hats all the time. And how could I ever inspire those children with respect with a head like this? When I get into my uniform you'll see what a very superior nurse I look."
"You'll look much more like musical comedy than sober service."
"You mistake the situation altogether," Meg said loftily. "I take my position very seriously."
"But you can't go about Wren's End in caps. Everybody knows you down there."