Tennyson.
Linnæa’s first waking thoughts carried with them the conviction that life was different—why was it? Ah, she remembered! Last night’s scene came back to her with a rush of feeling that brought the warm colour to her face. Then came the colder and more prosaic feelings which so often come with the morning. Gwendoline would soon be like the others—she would go over to the popular opinion, and Linnæa would be thrust upon her own companionship as before. These thoughts were passing through her mind when she heard a tap at the door, and a voice called, “May I come in?”
Linnæa opened the door, and there stood Gwendoline, her arms full of knick-knacks of all sorts.
“You are only dressing! I have been dressed for an hour. I awoke early and thought I would rise and deck my cubicle; but I haven’t room for half the things I brought. As you haven’t many things in yours, I thought perhaps you might like a few. Would you care for them?”
“Very much indeed! It was very kind of you to think of me!”
“Oh, not at all, if you will let me help you to put them up, for that is the best fun! Here is rather a pretty picture we might hang opposite the bed. It has no frame, but I suppose you won’t mind. This is a bracket which you might find convenient within reach of your bed; I brought a pair, but will only need one. I did wish I had had it up last night. I lay awake a long time during the night, and rose to get my bon-bon box. First of all I could find no matches to light my candle, then I searched my trunk in the dark for my box. I only found it after sticking my fingers in a box of ointment and nearly swallowing some pills. This morning, as you may imagine, my trunk was a sight to behold. The ointment has spoiled a pair of new gloves, and I found a pill reposing restfully in the toe of my slipper. Lisette, my maid, never forgets to pack anything; but she puts things in the most unlikely places. I possess two bon-bon boxes—one she has filled with sweets, the other with pills.”
Linnæa scarcely knew her cubicle when Gwendoline’s things were arranged in it. She could not have believed that a few knick-knacks would make such a difference.
“Now there is one thing more I want you to let me do.”
“What is that?”
“Let me dress your hair for you. Why do you take it back so tightly from your face? It is such a pretty colour, and, I believe, might be quite wavy if you would allow it.”