"
Although Miss Rachel ruffled and annoyed him at every second
word--"rubbed him up the wrong way," as her maid Stimson would have
said--the doctor had a real regard for her in his heart, and respected
her as a woman of sterling principle, and one whose worst faults were
all upon the surface.
"There is no need to talk about hotels," and Miss Harley drew herself
up, half-offended in her turn. "It's a pity if I can't find houseroom
for my own brother, let him stay as long as he will. Now, Edith, if that
is your name, go along with Stimson, and she will show you your room,
where you can take off your hat and things. And be sure, mind you brush
your hair, child, and tie it up, or something. Don't come down with it
hanging all wild about your shoulders like that."
Poor Edith's heart sank. She was rather proud of her luxuriant brown
tresses, which her mother had always allowed her to wear in all their
length and beauty, and she did not even know how to tie them up herself.
"This way, miss," said the prim, elderly servant. "I knew as soon as I
saw you that your hair would never do for Miss Harley. I'll fix it
neatly for you."
"Oh, thank you!" said Edith, much relieved; and in a few minutes all the
flowing locks were gathered into one stiff braid, and tied at the end
with a piece of black ribbon.
"There, now you look more like a young lady should!" cried Stimson,
surveying her handiwork with pleasure.
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