“The wretch!” she thought. “I believe he knows something about it.” Then, with her ready tact, she replied, “I didn’t lose my head, but I did a switch which I sometimes wear. It was made from my hair cut when I had fever and it began to come out. Did you see it? It does not matter, though, for I only cared for it because it was a part of myself.” Rena had never heard of the fever and looked astonished, while Tom whistled softly and turned away to keep from laughing. Reginald, however, felt relieved. In his ignorance of a lady’s toilet anything false struck him unpleasantly. He had heard of powder and paint and false hair, but had always associated them with actresses and second class people, and never with people like Irene, who might, perhaps, be his wife. This case, however, was different. The lost braid was a part of Irene. It had once grown on her head and not on that of some frowsy foreigner. He could forgive the falseness, especially as Irene had been so frank about it, but inwardly he was glad that the thing was riding the waves of the Atlantic. He was very attentive and insisted upon going home with her, and made her take his arm, as he was sure she must feel weak and the road was not very smooth, and he was so kind and thoughtful that Irene would have felt repaid for her fright, if it were not for the loss of her hair and wishing to know where it was. That troubled her, and when they reached the house and Reginald stepped into the garden to see a species of hibiscus just in blossom, of which Mrs. Parks was very proud, she turned to Tom and said: “Where is my hair? I am sure you know by your looks. Is it in your pocket?” “No, madam,” Tom answered, with a comical smile. “The last I saw it was drifting out to sea. It is miles away by this time, if some mermaid has not appropriated it.” CHAPTER XII TOM AND RENA AT THE WELL In spite of her assertion that she could not take cold, Irene took one, which, with the nervous shock, confined her to the house for a few days, greatly to her annoyance and the discomfort of the family generally. She was not the most amiable of invalids and was very exacting in her demands upon Rena, who was kept going up and down stairs after things Irene wanted or fancied she did. Every day inquiries for her had come from the McPhersons, with flowers; and every day Tom had called in person to ask after her, and to talk with Rena when she could be spared from her office as nurse; and it was Tom who saw Irene first on the piazza, looking a little pale from her recent illness. He had received a letter from one of his clients which made it necessary for him to go home for a week or so, and as he was to leave that night he had come to say good-by to his cousins. I told him Rena had gone for a walk, adding that I thought she was down in the pine-grove, by Nannie’s Well, as that was her favorite resort.