Read A Drowned Maiden's Hair for Free Online

and held them two inches from her nose. “I’ve missed you, too, but I do have such dreadful headaches — and Victoria gets cross with me because I don’t eat anything.” She waved her hand toward the untouched tray beside her bed. “I hope you don’t miss me too terribly badly.”
    “I do,” vowed Maud.
    Hyacinth laughed, and then sighed. “That’s a pity, really. I shall have to go away soon. I have a friend in Cape Calypso who is very low-spirited. She expects me to come for a visit. But never mind. You’ll soon grow fond of Judith and Victoria.”
    Maud wrinkled her nose. “I like them,” she conceded, “but they aren’t you. Can’t you take me with you?”
    “Certainly not,” reproved Hyacinth. “For one thing, you haven’t been invited, and for another, you ought to settle down here. Besides, Mrs. Lambert . . .” She broke off as if she had just lost interest in Mrs. Lambert. Her smile shone out, bright as a diamond. “What about your bedroom — do you like it? Do you like having your own room, or are you lonely, sleeping all by yourself?”
    “I like it,” Maud asserted. “I never had wallpaper before.”
    “And Muffet.” Hyacinth’s eyes danced. “What do you think about Muffet?”
    Maud decided to take a risk. “She has a mustache,” she said cautiously, and was rewarded with a ripple of laughter from Hyacinth.
    “Yes, hasn’t she? She looks like a blacksmith in petticoats. She really is a terrible-looking old thing — but such a good cook, and so devoted to Victoria.” Hyacinth fetched an exaggerated sigh. “And our modern improvements — do you like using them? Do you like pulling the chain in the water closet?”
    Maud giggled uncontrollably. Imagine a grown-up who knew that water closets were funny and admitted it. “I love pulling the chain,” she said. “And the bathtub with the lion’s mouth.”
    “I knew you would be happy here,” Hyacinth said triumphantly. “Come and sit on the bed and let me look at you. Gracious, how pretty you look! We were quite right to choose that dress.”
    Maud sat down sidesaddle. “It’s good, isn’t it?” she said earnestly. “And look at my boots.” She pointed her toes. “They’re shiny.”
    “Lovely,” agreed Hyacinth. “You have dear little feet. Only you must have your hair cut. Are Judith and Victoria taking good care of you?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” responded Maud. “They’ve been teaching me the secret things — like going upstairs when the doorbell rings. And Victoria changed the curtains in my room for thicker ones; they’re called brocade and they’re pinkish red.” She paused for a moment. “I guess if the curtains were too thin, people might be able to see someone moving around inside . . . or if I lit a candle. Judith warned me about that. She says I can have all the blankets I want, but no fire.”
    She waited for Hyacinth to answer. Perhaps Hyacinth would drop some hint as to why it would be so bad if light shone from the third-floor window.
    “Maud!” Hyacinth squeezed her hand. “Have you ever seen my jewel box?”
    “No,” replied Maud. “How would I have seen your jewel box? I’ve only known you five days.”
    Hyacinth pinched her so that she yelped. “It’s over there on the chest of drawers — the red Chinese box. Go and get it, and we’ll dress ourselves up in every jewel in the box. We’ll play at being queens.”
    Maud giggled with happiness. She ran to the chest of drawers and scooped up the jewel box, eager to be a queen.

Dear Hyacinth Hawthorne,
Aunt Victoria said since I was missing you so much, I ought to write you a letter. When I say Aunt Victoria, I mean your sister. She said from now on I should say Aunt Victoria and Aunt Judith —
    Maud leaned her chin on her fist and thought about her two new aunts. In the past two weeks, she had learned that Aunt Judith was the sort of adult who wanted to be left alone and that Aunt Victoria was inclined to preach. Aunt Victoria