"We'll do it up all over your head, for the Wedding," she said,
gently brushing the full length of the fine, silvery-brown strands.
"And let it hang in loose curls."

At the conjectured vision, Missy's eyes began to sparkle.

"And I think a ribbon band the colour of your dress would be
pretty," mother went on, parting off a section and wrapping it round
a "curler." A sudden remembrance clutched at Missy's ecstatic reply;
the shine faded from her eyes. But mother, engrossed, didn't
observe; more deeply she sank her unintentional barb. "No," she
mused aloud, "a garland of little rosebuds would be better, I
believe-tiny delicate little buds, tied with a pink bow."

At that, the prospective flower-girl, to have saved her life, could
not have repressed the sigh which rose like a tidal wave from her
overcharged heart. Mother caught the sigh, and looked at her
anxiously. "Don't you think it would look pretty?" she asked.

Missy nodded mutely. So complex were her emotions that, fearing for
self-control, she was glad, just then, that the Baby cried.

As soon as mother had kissed her good night and left her, she pulled
out the paper rustling importantly within her blouse, and laid it in
the celluloid "treasure box" which sat on the high-boy. Then soberly
she finished the operation on her hair, and undressed herself.

Before getting into bed, after her regular prayer was said, she
stayed awhile on her knees and put the whole of her seething dilemma