“Her son, she said, who was in the army. How friendly such things make strangers feel, don’t they? She talked away all the time the man clipped, and diverted my mind nicely.”

“Didn’t you feel dreadfully when the first cut came?” asked Meg, with a shiver.

“I took a last look at my hair while the man got his things, and that was the end of it. I never snivel over trifles like that; I will confess, though, I felt queer when I saw the dear old hair laid out on the table, and felt only the short, rough ends on my head. It almost seemed as if I’d an arm or a leg off. The woman saw me look at it, and picked out a long lock for me to keep. I’ll give it to you, Marmee, just to remember past glories by; for a crop is so comfortable I don’t think I shall ever have a mane again.”