Her mother had gone to
bed early with one of her tired-out headaches, and she only half woke
to see that her little girl was safely in. Mollie kissed her softly
(for boys may kiss their mothers softly) and took the lamp into the
little room beyond, where she always slept.
The first thing that she did was to look in the glass. What a girlish
little face it was! How foolishly its dimples came and went with its
smiles! In what an effeminate manner the hair crinkled above it, and
then went rambling off into half a yard of stylish disorder! Mollie
lifted the hair in her hand and surveyed it thoughtfully. Then she
took a thoughtful survey of the scissors in her work-basket. Then
she reached them. She allowed herself a moment of conscientious
reflection; then the boy's naughty spirit crept down through her
fingers and set the scissors flying, and the deed was done.
It was not easy to satisfy her mother's amazement and vexation in the
morning; but Mollie stumbled through it and went to school.
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