Oh, Marilla, what shall I do? questioned Anne in tears. I can never
live this down. People have pretty well forgotten my other mistakes--the
liniment cake and setting Diana drunk and flying into a temper with
Mrs. Lynde. But they ll never forget this. They will think I am not
respectable. Oh, Marilla, what a tangled web we weave when first we
practice to deceive. That is poetry, but it is true. And oh, how Josie
Pye will laugh! Marilla, I _cannot_ face Josie Pye. I am the unhappiest
girl in Prince Edward Island.
Anne s unhappiness continued for a week. During that time she went
nowhere and shampooed her hair every day. Diana alone of outsiders knew
the fatal secret, but she promised solemnly never to tell, and it may
be stated here and now that she kept her word. At the end of the week
Marilla said decidedly:
It s no use, Anne. That is fast dye if ever there was any. Your hair
must be cut off; there is no other way. You can t go out with it looking
like that.
Anne s lips quivered, but she realized the bitter truth of Marilla s
remarks. With a dismal sigh she went for the scissors.
Please cut it off at once, Marilla, and have it over. Oh, I feel that
my heart is broken. This is such an unromantic affliction. The girls in
books lose their hair in fevers or sell it to get money for some good
deed, and I m sure I wouldn t mind losing my hair in some such fashion
half so much. But there is nothing comforting in having your hair cut
off because you ve dyed it a dreadful color, is there? I m going to weep
all the time you re cutting it off, if it won t interfere. It seems such
a tragic thing.
Anne wept then, but later on, when she went upstairs and looked in the
glass, she was calm with despair. Marilla had done her work thoroughly
and it had been necessary to shingle the hair as closely as possible.
The result was not becoming, to state the case as mildly as may be. Anne
promptly turned her glass to the wall.
I ll never, never look at myself again until my hair grows, she
exclaimed passionately.
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