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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Me in a picture with a fringe!" she said to herself; "how I do hope as Mother won't mind!" That afternoon, when she sat quietly down to her sewing, this great idea weighed heavily upon her. It would be the very first step she had ever taken without her mother's approval, and away from the influence of Agnetta's decided opinion it seemed doubly alarming a desperate and yet an attractive deed.
Still holding the hair, she drew her cousin towards the wide open doors of the loft. "Now," she said, "I can see what I'm at, an' I shan't be a minute." The steel scissors struck coldly against Lilac's forehead. It was too late to resist now. She held her breath. Grind, grind, snip! they went in Agnetta's remorseless fingers, and some soft waving lengths of hair fell on the ground.
"And won't he just be surprised!" she added with a chuckle. "I don't expect he'll hardly know you." "You're quite sure it'll make me look better?" said Lilac wistfully. She had the utmost faith in her cousin, but the step seemed to her such a terribly large one. "Ain't I?" was Agnetta's scornful reply. "Why, Gusta says all the ladies in London wears their hair like that now."
It was an anxious process, needing the greatest attention; for Lilac prided herself on her toast, and it was a matter of deep importance that it should be a fine even brown all over neither burnt, nor smoked, nor the least blackened. While she was making it she was happy again, and quite unconscious of the fringe, for the first time since she had felt Agnetta's cold scissors on her brow.
Agnetta's idea of excellence was to get through her work quickly, to make it look well outside, to polish the part that showed and leave the rest undone. Speed and show had always been the things desired in the household at Orchards Farm not what was good but what looked good, and could be had at small expense and labour.
It made her uncomfortable, and almost afraid to say anything; and yet, she remembered, Lilac was very low down in the world now there was less reason than ever to stand in awe of her. She was only poor little Lilac White, with nothing in the world she could call her own, an orphan, and dependent for a home on Agnetta's father.
As he stood there, ill at ease, with his enormous hands opening and shutting nervously, Lilac thought of Agnetta's speech: "Peter's so common."
This was very much Agnetta's own view of the case; but nevertheless there were occasions when she was glad of this insignificant creature's assistance, for she was slow and stupid at her lessons, books were grief and pain to her, and Lilac, who was intelligent and fond of learning, was always ready to help and explain.
It certainly did not take long; after a few more short clips and snips Agnetta had finished, and there stood Lilac fashionably shorn, with the poor discarded locks lying at her feet. It was curious to see how much Agnetta's handiwork had altered her cousin's face.
"What's the use of Bella and Agnetta, I should like to know?" Bella tossed her head and smiled. "Lor', Pa, how you talk!" she said mincingly. "They've never been taught nothing of such things," said Mrs Greenways; "and besides, Agnetta's got her schooling yet awhile." "Fancy me," said Bella with a giggle, "making the butter with my sleeves tucked up like Molly. I hope I'm above that sort of thing.
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