RYE’S FRITTERS. : 117

store, among the flowers — held her burning tongs a little
too near a little too long, and Rye cried out in real pain,
both the girls grew miserable. Rye sat and cried. Prim sat
and looked.

“ Are n’t you ’most through ?”’ asked Rye, faintly.

“ Yes, yes, miss, just through,” said the ready curlers;
but they were not just through at all. It took them an hour
to twist and curl and scorch and untwist and recurl and comb
and smooth poor little Rye. Tears of pain and fright dropped
on her great apron.

“Never mind,” said Prim, soothingly. ‘It will be so
pretty when it’s brushed out. And your mother ’ll be so
surprised !”

Rye revived and looked hopefully in the glass when the
brushing-out began. One little pinched curl after another
fell out, and flopped upon her forehead. They were not
quite so becoming as she had expected, but she kept up her
courage till the first quarter of her head was done. Then
she saw Prim’s mouth twitch.

“You look like a griddle-cake!” said Prim. This was
not as pleasant as might have been in Prim; but Rye was
funny!

Half the head, three quarters, the whole, stood finished
at last. The curlers put away their brushes. Rye got out
of her apron and stood solemnly up before the glass. It was
horrible! fairly horrible! Rye turned around with a ghastly
smile to Prim.