"Where is your hat?" she demanded.
Deena fetched a plain black straw, rusty from the sun and dust of two summers, and shook her head as she tried to pinch the bows into shape.
"I shall be like a peacock turned topsy-turvy," she laughed-"ashamed of my head instead of my feet!"
Polly took it out of her hand.
"Of course, you cannot wear _that_ with your hair done in the new way-besides, it spoils your whole costume. I saw quite a decent hat in a shop window in the next street. I'll get it for you!" and she was out of the room like a flash of lightning.
Deena ran to the window and caught her mercurial sister issuing from the door below.
"Stop, Polly!" she called. "I cannot afford a new hat, and I cannot accept anything more-please come back.
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