The smattering of raindrops on the windowpanes that February afternoon matched Mary’s mood. She sat before her mother, facing an oval mirror propped upon a small mahogany dressing table as she twisted her hair into braids. The candles on either side of the mirror flickered in the draft.
“You’ll have to make a braid and pin it under your cap,” Mary’s mother—who was known to everybody else strictly as Mrs. Hodges—pulled Mary’s hair straight back. “Perhaps like this?”
“Don’t pull so hard. You’re hurting me.”
Mrs. Hodges ignored her daughter, made a tight braid, and secured it with several long silver hairpins.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish