“I wouldn’t do her hair till you’re sure we’re going to keep her,” objected Winona. “Her people mightn’t like it.”
“A dissipated father and a poor little overworked elder sister—Vicky is your sister, isn’t she, Sandy?—and a home where they don’t even wash or feed her? Poor people haven’t time to take care of hair like this. Anyway, they haven’t done it, for it was tangled awfully,” she finished conclusively.
“But it’s so pretty!” protested Winona. “Just look at it, nearly to her waist, and thick and curly, and such a lovely gold color!”
“So much the worse for her health,” said Louise as promptly as Red-Riding-Hood’s wolf. “Sandy, wouldn’t you like your hair cut nice and short, so it wouldn’t get tangled any more?”
“An’ twousers?” demanded Sandy hopefully. “Gee, zat’s gweat!”
“I’ll have to stop her using slang,” said Louise. “No, dear, not exactly twousers, but—I could get her some overalls, couldn’t I, Win?”
“I suppose so,” said Winona.
“Then I will,” said Louise.
“You’re gweat, too,” said Sandy, turning around where she sat on Louise’s lap, and throwing both little bare arms around her neck and kissing her. Louise kissed her back warmly.
“Isn’t she a dear?” she said. “Winnie, will you please hand me the scissors?”