"You are the most
generous being!" she said. Then, sobering, she thought of Maggie's
throat--hesitated--and Maggie was lost. For when she opened the
woman's door, and in her sweet, appealing voice declared that Mr.
Pryor had come unexpectedly, and was so hungry--what _should_ they
do?--Maggie, who adored her, insisted upon going down to the kitchen.
"Oh, Maggie, you oughtn't to! I oughtn't to let you. Maggie, look
here: you will be careful, won't you?"
"Now, you go right along back to your brother," the woman commanded
smiling. "I'm goin' to get into my clothes; t'won't do me a bit of
harm."
And Helena, protesting and joyous, fled to her room and to her mirror.
She flung off her cambric morning dress and ran to hunt in her
wardrobe for something pretty. With girlish hurry she pulled her hair
down, braided it afresh, and fastened the burnished plats around her
head like a wreath; then she brushed the soft locks in the nape of her
neck about her finger, and let them fall into loose curls. She dressed
with breathless haste, and when she finished, stood for a minute, her
lip between her teeth, staring at herself in the glass. And as she
stared her face fell; for as the color and sparkle faded a little,
care suddenly looked out of the leaf-brown eyes--care and something
like fright. But instantly drawing in her breath, she flung her head
up as one who prepares for battle.
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