well have been scouring its original red. The peddler had
certainly
spoken the truth when he declared that the dye wouldn't
wash off, however his veracity might be impeached in other
respects.
"Oh, Marilla, what shall I do?" questioned Anne in tears.
"I can never live this down. People have pretty well forgotten
my other mistakes--the liniment cake and
setting Diana drunk and
flying into a
temper with Mrs. Lynde. But they'll never forget this.
They will think I am not
respectable. Oh, Marilla, `what a tangled
web we weave when first we practice to deceive.' That is poetry,
but it is true. And oh, how Josie Pye will laugh! Marilla, I CANNOT
face Josie Pye. I am the unhappiest girl in Prince Edward Island."
Anne's unhappiness continued for a week. During that time she
went
nowhere and shampooed her hair every day. Diana alone of
outsiders knew the fatal secret, but she promised
solemnly never
to tell, and it may be stated here and now that she kept her
word. At the end of the week Marilla said
decidedly:
"It's no use, Anne. That is fast dye if ever there was any.
Your hair must be cut off; there is no other way. You can't go
out with it looking like that."
Anne's lips quivered, but she realized the bitter truth of
Marilla's remarks. With a
dismal sigh she went for the scissors.
"Please cut it off at once, Marilla, and have it over. Oh, I
feel that my heart is broken. This is such an un
romanticaffliction. The girls in books lose their hair in fevers or sell
it to get money for some good deed, and I'm sure I wouldn't mind
losing my hair in some such fashion half so much. But there is
nothing comforting in having your hair cut off because you've
dyed it a
dreadful color, is there? I'm going to weep all the
time you're cutting it off, if it won't
interfere. It seems such
a
tragic thing."
Anne wept then, but later on, when she went
upstairs and looked
in the glass, she was calm with
despair. Marilla had done her work
thoroughly and it had been necessary to
shingle the hair as closely
as possible. The result was not becoming, to state the case as mildly
as may be. Anne
promptly turned her glass to the wall.
"I'll never, never look at myself again until my hair grows," she
exclaimed passionately.
Then she suddenly righted the glass.
"Yes, I will, too. I'd do
penance for being
wicked that way.
I'll look at myself every time I come to my room and see how ugly
I am. And I won't try to imagine it away, either. I never
thought I was vain about my hair, of all things, but now I know I
was, in spite of its being red, because it was so long and thick
and curly. I expect something will happen to my nose next."
Anne's clipped head made a
sensation in school on the following
Monday, but to her
relief nobody guessed the real reason for it,
not even Josie Pye, who, however, did not fail to inform Anne
that she looked like a perfect scarecrow.
"I didn't say anything when Josie said that to me," Anne confided
that evening to Marilla, who was lying on the sofa after one of
her headaches, "because I thought it was part of my punishment
and I ought to bear it
patiently. It's hard to be told you look
like a scarecrow and I wanted to say something back. But I didn't.
I just swept her one
scornful look and then I forgave her.
It makes you feel very
virtuous when you
forgive people,
doesn't it? I mean to devote all my energies to being good after
this and I shall never try to be beautiful again. Of course it's
better to be good. I know it is, but it's sometimes so hard to
believe a thing even when you know it. I do really want to be
good, Marilla, like you and Mrs. Allan and Miss Stacy, and grow
up to be a credit to you. Diana says when my hair begins to grow
to tie a black
velvetribbon around my head with a bow at one
side. She says she thinks it will be very becoming. I will call
it a snood--that sounds so
romantic. But am I talking too much,
Marilla? Does it hurt your head?"
"My head is better now. It was terrible bad this afternoon,
though. These headaches of mine are getting worse and worse.
I'll have to see a doctor about them. As for your
chatter, I
don't know that I mind it--I've got so used to it."
Which was Marilla's way of
saying that she liked to hear it.
CHAPTER XXVIII
An Unfortunate Lily Maid
OF course you must be Elaine, Anne," said Diana. "I could never
have the courage to float down there."
"Nor I," said Ruby Gillis, with a
shiver. "I don't mind floating