Зима тревоги нашей

           "Why,they’relovely,"Marysaid."WaittillIgetapin,I’llwearthem."

           "They’rethefirst—theveryfirst,mycreamyfowl.Iamyourslave.Christisrisen.All’srightwiththeworld."

           "Pleasedon’tbesillyaboutsacredthings,dear."

           "Whatintheworldhaveyoudonewithyourhair?"

           "Doyoulikeit?"

           "Iloveit.Alwayswearitthatway."

           "Iwasn’tsureyou’dlikeit.Margiesaidyou’dnevernotice.WaittillItellheryoudid."Shesetabowlofflowersonherhead,theyearlyvernalofferingtoEostre."Likeit?"

           "Iloveit."

           Nowtheyounggottheirinspection,ears,nostrils,shoe-shines,everydetail,andtheyresistedeverymomentofit.Allen’shairwassoplasteredthathecouldhardlyblink.Theheelsofhisshoeswereunpolishedbutwithinfinitecarehehadtrainedalineofhairtorollonhiscrestedbrowlikeasummerwave.

           Ellenwasgirlofagirlness.Allinsightwasinorder.Itriedmyluckagain."Ellen,"Isaid,"you’redoingsomethingdifferentwithyourhair.Itbecomesyou.Mary,darling,don’tyoulikeit?"

           "Oh!She’sbeginningtotakepride,"Marysaid.

           WeformedaprocessiondownourpathtoElmStreet,thenlefttoPorlock,whereourchurchis,ouroldwhite-steepledchurch,stolenintactfromChristopherWren.Andwewerepartofagrowingstream,andeverywomaninpassinghaddelightofotherwomen’shats.

           "IhavedesignedanEasterhat,"Isaid."Asimple,off-the-facecrownofthornsingoldwithrealrubydropletsontheforehead."