The Boy Was Blessed. Blessed My Soul

The boy was blessed. Blessed my soul, said one man. I do believe she's grown. She took off her hat with a quick gesture that had something of defiance in it and her small head appeared with its crop of golden hair cut so close that for a moment made more like a boy than a girl. Her father gave a curler. That's all the fashion in London now, he said. For ladies to cut their hair,. It'll soon grow, some would remark, centenciously. The arrival of Mrs. Mason, the tea tray, the hot butter toast and fresh egg acted like a thaw in the girl's frozen senses. A soft color crept into her