"Don't be so good, Anne," she said, with a teasing laugh; "be wicked like I am, just for one day--" "You are not wicked." "Well, I haven't a proper sense of duty." "You have too. You just like to say such things, Judy, just to shock people." Which shows that in two days, wise little Anne had found Judy out! "Well, I'm not going to church, anyhow," and Judy settled back and closed her eyes. Anne's book was open at the fascinating place where Toby Veck eats his dinner on the church steps; the deep rose-cushioned chair opened its wide arms in comfortable invitation. It was the little girl's first taste of the temptation of ease,--and she yielded. But as she picked up her book again, she soothed her conscience with the righteous resolve--"I will go to service this afternoon." As she settled back, the girl reflected in the mirror looked at her. "Your hair looks beautiful," said the reflection. Anne dropped her eyes to her book. Presently she raised them. "If only the people in church could see," said the charming reflection. Anne imagined the sensation she would make as she walked up the aisle. None of the girls in Fairfax or the country around had ever worn their hair puffed over their ears or tied with broad black ribbon. There would be a little flutter, and during church time the girls would look at nothing else, and it would be delightful to feel that for once she, little plain Anne Batcheller, was the center of attraction. She dropped her book. "I think I will go, after all," she said virtuously, and Judy, not knowing her motive, looked at her with envy. "You are a good little thing, Anne," she said, and at the praise Anne's face flamed. She dressed hurriedly, in her one white dress, with a sigh for the becomingness of the blue kimona. When she was ready to tie on her old hat, she went to the mirror. "It is because your hair is so pretty that you are going to church," said the reflection, accusingly. "It is because of my conscience," defended Anne, but she did not dare to meet the eyes in the mirror, and she turned away quickly. "You look awfully nice," Judy assured her, as Anne said "Good-by." "Take my blue parasol. It is on the parlor sofa. Go and be good for both of us, Annekins." Anne ran down-stairs to the great dim room. There were four mirrors in the parlor, and each mirror seemed to say to the little girl as she passed, "It is because of your hair," and when she had picked up the pretty parasol, the mirrors said again, as she passed them going back, "It is because of your hair, oh, Anne, it is because of your hair that you are going to church!" The hands of the big clock in the hall were on eleven as Anne opened the front door--and as she stepped out into the glare of sunshine, the church bell rang for the last time.