If Henrietta had a passion in this world, it was for her red curls, and even short curls were better than none at all. Mrs. Faithful put the girl into the care of the same kind-looking woman who had brought up her breakfast.
"Dinah," she said, "do what you can for Miss Henrietta. Get all that sticky stuff out of her hair, and keep her with you afterwards, Dinah. I shall have a little room prepared for her to-night to sleep in next my own."
"The Chamber of Love, madam?"
"Yes, Dinah, that is the room."
"Well, of all the wonderful things," muttered Dinah. "Come, Henrietta."
So Henrietta went obediently, and the sticky stuff was removed from her hair, which, released from its bondage, curled and fuzzed all over her head.
She looked at herself in the glass, and instantly skipped and danced for joy.
"Hurrah, hurrah," she said. "Dinah, old duck, I must hug you."
Dinah was decidedly prim and a Quaker. She said, "Thee wilt keep thy praises and thy embraces for those who require them. For me, I like not to be embraced."