It took different shades, from umber to almost golden, this “funny hair” of hers, as she called it.  She thought it was because she had faded it, playing out in the sun when she was a child; but it was more like having got the shine into it.  It did not curl, or wave; but it grew in lovely arches, with roots even set, around her temple and in the curves of her neck; and now, as she combed it up in a long, beautiful mass, over her grasping hand, raising it with each sweep higher toward the crown of her pretty head, all this vigorous, beautiful growth showed itself, and marked with its shadowy outline the dainty shapings.  One twist at the top for the comb to go in, and then she parted it in two, and coiled it like a golden-bronze cable; and laid it round and round till the foremost turn rested like a wreath midway about her head.  She pulled three fresh geranium leaves and a pink-white umbel of blossom from the plant in the window, and tucked the cluster among the soft front locks against the coil above the temple.

Then she took off the loose wrapping-sack she had thrown over her shoulders, washed her fingers at the basin, and came back to her seat under the lamp.

Aunt Blin looked up at her and smiled.  It was like having it all herself,—­this youth and beauty,—­to have it belonging to her, and showing its charming ways and phases, in little Bel.  Why shouldn’t the child, with her fair, sweet freshness, and the deep-green, velvety leaves making her look already like a rose against which they leaned themselves, have on this delicate rose dress?  If things stayed, or came, where they belonged, to whom should it more fittingly fall to wear it than to her?

Bel watched the clock and Aunt Blin’s fingers.

It was ten when the plaits and gathers were laid, and the skirt basted to its band for the trying.  Bel was dilatory one minute, and in a hurry the next.

“It would be done too soon; but he might come in early; and, O dear, they hadn’t thought,—­there was that puffing to put round the corsage, bertha-wise, with the blonde edging.  ’It was all ready; give it to her.’”

“Now!”

The wonderful, glistening, aurora-like robe goes over her head; she stands in the midst, with the tender glowing color sweeping out from her upon the white sheet pinned down above the carpet.

Was that anybody coming?

Aunt Blin left her for an instant to put up the window-top that had been open to cool the lighted and heated room.  Bel might catch cold, standing like this.

“O, it is so warm, Auntie!  We can’t have everything shut up!” And with this swift excuse instantly suggesting itself and making justification to her deceitful little heart that lay in wait for it, Bel sprang to the opposite corner where the doorway opened full toward her, diagonally commanding the room.  She set it hastily just a hand’s length ajar.  “There is no wind in the entry, and nobody will come,” she said.