Regina, all unconscious of the gossip that with her for its central figure was floating about the Park, went slowly down the road in the direction of Ye Dene. Truth to tell, she was a little shy of facing her family in her new guise. It was then after six o'clock; in fact, it was fast approaching the hour of seven. Now it happened that Julia had been off on an expedition to town with one of the Marksby girls, and had only arrived home about ten minutes previously, and being tired had gone into the pleasant sitting-room which she and Maudie had hitherto shared between them. When Mrs. Whittaker came up the covered way Julia saw her from where she was sitting, for both the sitting-room door and the front door were wide open. "Hullo, mother, are you back?" she called out. Regina with a certain accession of color and a certain acceleration of heart beating, replied with a pleasant word and walked into Julia's sitting-room. "Oh, you've not been back long?" she said. Julia did not reply. It was not perhaps a remark that called for any special attention in the way of answer, but if it had it would have been all the same. "Why, _mother_--" and she stared at Regina as if she were indeed fitted for the padded room which had been mentioned a few minutes previously. "I have got a new toque," said Regina. "Oh, the toque is all right--a little big--" "I don't think so. It was chosen for me by a Frenchwoman whose taste is indisputable." "I have not always found French taste indisputable," said Julia, remembering with a certain shame some of the purchases that she and Maudie had made in days gone by. "Your toque's all right, but what have you been doing to your hair?" "I have had my hair shampooed and brushed, and I intend to wear it in another mode." "It looks horrid!" said Julia. "I don't think so," answered Regina, her color still heightened and a great accession of dignity in her manner. "You do not always wear your hair the same, why should I? I have got to that time of life when what suited me at thirty does not still suit me at fifty, and my hair showed signs of wearing off the forehead, and I do not like a bald forehead either in a man or a woman." "Oh, I daresay you are right. Of course, you are at liberty to make whatever sort of a guy you like of yourself, only don't ask me to admire it, that's all." The tone was rude, and Regina felt stabbed to the heart. "I do not always admire your taste in dress, Julia," she said very quietly. "I sometimes think that if a mother had all her life had a frightful wart on her nose, her children would resent its removal because they had grown accustomed to it. I have chosen, my dear, to do my hair in a new fashion, and I am not to be turned from my purpose by even your wishes. I have come to the conclusion that I have paid too little attention in the past to the details which most women think of paramount importance. I am going to change all that and I have begun with my hair and my toque."