killing her because she wasn't genteel.

Somewhat solaced by these gloomy reflections, she took the hairpin
Annie had loaned her to pin up a lock of her heavy hair, and began
tracing out pictures on the window-pane. There was already a magic
tapestry there, woven by the frost-fairies; ferns, and sea-weed and
tropical flowers of fantastic shapes, and wonderful palm branches all
exquisitely intertwined. To these Elizabeth added the product of her
imagination. Lords and ladies rode through the sea-weed, and Joan of
Arc stood surrounded by palms. She had almost forgotten her woes in
their icy beauty, and had quite forgotten the task her aunt had set,
when Annie came flitting into the room. Annie's step was lighter than
ever and her eyes were radiant. "Come down to breakfast, Lizzie," she
whispered. "We're nearly through, and I've saved some toast for you.
Aunt said if you said the verses before school-time it would do."

Elizabeth sprang up joyously, and hand-in-hand the two ran downstairs.

"Annie," said her little sister, gazing up at the glowing countenance,
"you make me think of a girl in a story book. You look like Lady
Evelina."

Annie laughed. "Why?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know. But I guess it's because your eyes are so shiny.
It says in that story in the _Chronicle_ that Lady Evelina's lover rode
past, and she looked out of her something or other, casement, I think,
but I guess it was just a window, and it says her face flushed like a
wild rose and her eyes shined like twin stars. Say, what are twin
stars, Annie?"

"Oh, Lizzie," whispered her sister, her face flushing deeper than a
wild rose, "for pity's sake don't let aunt hear you saying things like
that. You know she doesn't like you to read that continued story."
With which wise counsel, and an appreciative pat of her little sister's
arm, Annie led the way to breakfast.

The night before the concert Elizabeth and Mary could scarcely go to
sleep. There was another source of insomnia beside the prospect ahead.
They had both cajoled Annie into putting their hair up in curl papers,
because all the girls, even to Becky Davis, were going to do something
new and wonderful with their hair. So the two victims of fashion slept
in half-wakeful discomfort, until Elizabeth's heavy locks overcame
their bounds and gave her relief and rest. But there was great
disappointment in the morning, for while Mary's short, flaxen hair
stood out round her head in