I had it in my hands, brushing it out as she spoke; and murmured softly to myself, looking graciously down at it: 'It is long and thick, and a nice colour too, I think.'
This was something quite new to Becky, who was in the habit of taking me to task for not making the most of myself. I fancy she thought that I was at last becoming alive to the importance of looking well.
'To be sure it is! I call it lovely—the colour of the mahogany chairs. O Miss Haddon dear, do let me run and fetch some flowers to stick in, like Miss Farrar does, and then they'll see!'
But to Becky's astonishment, I did not want them to see. My mood had changed; I hastily put up my hair, and turned away from the glass. 'No; I think I will depend upon the smiling inside, Becky.'
'But you are not smiling. O Miss, I haven't said anything to vex you, have I?'
'You, Becky!' I turned, and kissed the face Tom despised, astounding her still more by the unusual demonstration. 'Foolish Becky!' I added, as with a heightened colour she bent down and kissed the shawl she was folding up, 'to waste a kiss in that improvident fashion!'
'I've often seen you kiss that little locket that hangs to your watch-chain when you thought I wasn't looking,' sharply returned Becky.
An idea suddenly suggested itself to me, and I acted upon it without trying to analyse my reason for so doing.
'Would you like to see what is inside that locket, Becky?'
'Yes; that I should, Miss! I have wondered about it so.' And she added gravely, understanding that it was to be a confidence: 'You may trust me never to tell nobody.'