"I wish you wouldn't, Caroline," Mrs. Beaufort told her, "your hair is nice enough without it."
Caroline Paine took off her hat, "I couldn't get it up to look like this, could I?"
The Judge surveyed the undulations critically. "Caroline," he said, "you are too pretty to need it."
"I want to keep young for Randolph's sake," Mrs. Paine told him, "then he'll like me better than any other girl."
"You needn't think you have to get your hair curled to make me love you," said her tall son; "you are ducky enough as you are."
Major Prime, delighting in their lack of self-consciousness, made a diplomatic contribution. "Why quarrel with such a charming coiffure?"
Mrs. Paine smiled at him, comfortably. "I feel much better," she said; "they are always trying to hold me back."
She was a woman of ample proportions and of leisurely habit. Life had of late hurried her a bit, but she still gave the effect of restful calm. She was of the same generation as Aunt Claudia, and a widow. But she wore her widowhood with a difference. She had on to-day a purple hat. Her hair was white, her dress was white, and her shoes. She was prettier than Aunt Claudia but she lacked her distinction of manner and of carriage.
"They always want to hold me back when I try to be up-to-date," she repeated.