ground. 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. Lilac’s forehead was prettily shaped, and though she had worn her hair “scrattled” off it, there were little waving rings and bits which were too short to be “scrattled”, and these had softened its outline. But now the pure white forehead was covered by a lump of hair which came straight across the middle of it, and the small features below looked insignificant. The expression of intelligent modesty which had made Lilac look different from other girls had gone; she was just an ordinary pale-faced little person with a fringe.

“There!” exclaimed Agnetta triumphantly as she drew a small hand-glass from her pocket; “now you’ll see as how I was right. You won’t hardly know yerself.”

Lilac took it, longing yet fearing to see herself. From the surface of the glass a stranger seemed to return her glance—someone she had never seen before, with quite a different look in her eyes. Certainly she was altered. Was it for the better? She did not know, and before she could tell she must get more used to this new Lilac White. At present she had more fear than admiration for her.

“Clump! clump!” came the sound of heavy feet up the loft ladder. Lilac let the glass fall at her side, and turned a terrified gaze on Agnetta.

“Oh, what’s that?” she cried. “Let me hide—don’t let anyone see me!”

Agnetta burst into a loud laugh.

“Well, you are a ninny, Lilac White. Are you goin’ to hide from everyone now you’ve got a fringe? You as are goin’ to have your picture took. An’ after all,” she added, as a face and shoulders appeared at the top of the ladder. “It’s only Peter.”

Peter’s rough head and blunt, uncouth features were framed by the square opening in the floor of the loft. There they remained motionless, for the sight of Agnetta and Lilac where he had been prepared to find only hay and straw brought him to a standstill. His face and the tips of his large ears got very red as he saw Lilac’s confusion, and he went a step lower down the ladder, but his eyes were still above the level of the floor.

“Well,” said Agnetta, still giggling, “we’ll hear what Peter thinks of it. Don’t she look a deal better with her hair cut so, Peter?”

Peter’s grey-green eyes, not unkindly in expression, fixed themselves on his cousin’s face. In her turn Lilac gazed back at them, half-frightened, yet beseeching mutely for a favourable opinion; it was like looking into a second mirror. She waited anxiously for his answer. It came at last, slowly, from Peter’s invisible mouth.

“No,” he said, “I liked it best as it wur afore.” As he spoke the head disappeared, and they heard him go clumping down the ladder again. The words fell heavily on Lilac’s ears. “Best as it wur afore.” Perhaps everyone would think so too. She looked dismally first at the locks of hair on the ground and then at Agnetta’s unconcerned face.

“Well, you’ve no call to mind what he says anyhow,” said the latter cheerfully. “He don’t know what’s what.”

“I most wish,” said Lilac, as she turned to leave the loft, “that I hadn’t done it.”

As she spoke, the distant sound of the church clock was heard. There was only just time to get to the foot of the hill, and she said a hurried good-bye to Agnetta, tying on her bonnet as she ran across the fields. She generally hated the sun-bonnet, but to-day for the first time she found a comfort in its deep brim, which sheltered this new Lilac White a little from the world. She almost hoped that the artist would change his mind and let her keep it on, instead of holding it in her hand.