Finally her hair softened sufficiently to be disentangled from the
curl papers; and then Aunt Janet subjected it to a merciless
shampoo. Eventually they got all the mucilage washed out of it
and Cecily spent the remainder of the forenoon sitting before the
open oven door in the hot kitchen drying her ill-used tresses.
She felt very down-hearted; her hair was of that order which,
glossy and smooth normally, is dry and harsh and lustreless for
several days after being shampooed.
"I'll look like a fright tonight," said the poor child to me with
trembling voice. "The ends will be sticking out all over my
head."
"Sara Ray is a perfect idiot," I said wrathfully
"Qh, don't be hard on poor Sara. She didn't mean to bring me
mucilage. It's really all my own fault, I know. I made a solemn
vow when Peter was dying that I would never curl my hair again,
and I should have kept it. It isn't right to break solemn vows.
But my hair will look like dried hay tonight."
Poor Sara Ray was quite overwhelmed when she came up and found
what she had done. Felicity was very hard on her, and Aunt Janet
was coldly disapproving, but sweet Cecily forgave her
unreservedly, and they walked to the school that night with their
arms about each other's waists as usual.
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