So long as the platform remained in sight Mildred’s head was out of the window; then she sat down to find herself confronted by the mild-faced old lady into whose charge she had been committed.
She was an ideal old lady so far as appearances went. Her hair was white as snow; her chin nestled upon bows of lavender ribbon, and her face beamed with good nature; nevertheless Mildred found her fixed scrutiny a trifle discomposing, and stared out of the window by way of escape. For ten minutes on end the old lady gazed away with unblushing composure, then suddenly burst into conversation.
“Dear me, my love, you have a great deal of it! Are you not afraid that it may injure your health?”
Mildred fairly jumped with astonishment.
“Afraid? Of what? I beg your pardon—I don’t understand—”
“Your hair, my dear!—so much of it. They say, you know, that it saps the strength. A young friend of mine had hair just like yours—you remind me very much of her—and she died! Consumption, they called it. The doctors said all her strength went into her hair!”
Mildred laughed merrily.
“Oh, well! it’s quite different with me, I have plenty of strength left over for myself. I am as strong as a horse, and have hardly been ill a day in my life.”
“Dear! Dear!” ejaculated the old lady. “And with that complexion too—pink and white. Now I should have been afraid—”
She fell to shaking her head in lugubrious fashion, and watched the girl’s movements with anxious scrutiny.