y enough.

"Come upstairs with me, Tom," she whispered, when they were outside the
door. "There's something I want to do before dinner."

"There's no time to play at anything before dinner," said Tom.

"Oh yes, there is time for this. Do come, Tom."

Tom followed Maggie upstairs into her mother's room, and saw her go at
once to a drawer, from which she took a large pair of scissors.

"What are they for, Maggie?" said Tom.

Maggie answered by seizing her front locks and cutting them straight
across the middle of her forehead.

"Oh, my buttons, Maggie, you'll catch it!" exclaimed Tom; "you'd better
not cut any more off."

Snip went the great scissors again while Tom was speaking; and he
couldn't help feeling it was rather good fun--Maggie would look so
queer.

"Here, Tom, cut it behind for me," said Maggie, much excited.

"You'll catch it, you know," said Tom as he took the scissors.

"Never mind; make haste!" said Maggie, giving a little stamp with her
foot. Her cheeks were quite flushed.

One delicious grinding snip, and then another and another. The hinder
locks fell heavily on the floor, and soon Maggie stood cropped in a
jagged, uneven manner.

"O Maggie!" said Tom, jumping round her, and slapping his knees as he
laughed--"oh, my buttons, what a queer thing you look! Look at
yourself in the glass."

Maggie felt an unexpected pang. She didn't want her hair to look
pretty--she only wanted people to think her a clever little girl, and
not to find fault with her untidy head. But now, when Tom began to
laugh at her, the affair had quite a new aspect. She looked in the
glass, and still Tom laughed and clapped his hands, while Maggie's
flushed cheeks began to pale and her lips to tremble a little.

"O Maggie, you'll have to go down to dinner directly," said Tom. "Oh
my!"

"Don't laugh at me, Tom," said Maggie, with an outburst of angry tears,
stamping, and giving him a push.

"Now, then, spitfire!" said Tom. "What did you cut it off for, then?
I shall go down; I can smell the dinner going in."

He hurried downstairs at once. Maggie could see clearly enough, now
the thing was done, that it was very foolish, and that she should have
to hear and think more about her hair than ever. As she stood crying
before the glass she felt it impossible to go down to dinner and endure
the severe eyes and severe words of her aunts, while Tom, and Lucy, and
Martha, who waited at table, and perhaps her fathe