Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/22

12 "Hello," said Laurel, smiling tenderly.

"Hello," said her mother, still staring.

"What's the matter? What are you thinking of?" softly Laurel inquired.

"I was thinking what a burning shame you haven't naturally curly hair!" her mother exclaimed. "It makes me about sick to think of you down there for a whole month, with your hair hanging down as straight as a stick."

"Oh, it looks all right."

"I wish now I had had you have a Permanent. Some children are having it, and I don't believe for a minute that it would do good strong hair like yours a mite of harm, the way it's done way down at the ends for long curls, so I'm told. One reason I can keep your hair long like some of the most distinguished children, instead of bobbing it off like an errand girl's in a department store, is because I'm always Johnny-on-the-spot with the curling rags. There's nothing worse than long, straight, Indian hair these days. Oh, I do wish I had had the Permanent, but I simply couldn't afford it and your new trunk, too. It would be pleasant if your father gave you a few things you need once in a while. For goodness' sakes," she broke off, "if your father asks you when you're down there this time, what books you want for Christmas, tell him you can get books for nothing from the Public Library, but there's no public institution where you can get fur coats for nothing, or a wrist-watch, and all the girls you know—or ought to know—have fur coats now, and wrist-watches of their own."

"I'll tell him," Laurel said. "Shan't we get up pretty soon?"