Page:What Maisie Knew (Chicago & New York, Herbert S. Stone & Co., 1897).djvu/44

30 saying, and Maisie, all in a tremor of curiosity and compassion, addressed from that moment a particular piety to the small infectious sentiment. Somehow she wasn't a real sister, but that only made her the more romantic. It contributed to this view of her that she was never to be spoken of in that character to any one else—least of all to Mrs. Farange, who wouldn't care for her nor recognize the relationship. It was to be just an unutterable and inexhaustible little secret with Mrs. Wix. Maisie knew everything about her that could be known, everything she had said or done in her little mutilated life, exactly how lovely she was, exactly how her hair was curled and her frocks were trimmed. Her hair came down far below her waist; it was of the most wonderful gold brightness, just as Mrs. Wix's own had been a long time before. Mrs. Wix's own was indeed very remarkable still, and Maisie had felt at first that she should never get on with it. It played a large part in the sad and strange appearance, the air as of a greasy grayness, which Mrs. Wix had presented on the child's arrival. It had originally been yellow, but time had turned its glow to ashes, to a turbid, sallow,