Chrissy, when she arrived, turned out to be a little lady. She was a tiny duplicate of her mother, soft pink, and blonde, with waist length hair and in inate daintiness about her that indicated the type of young woman that she was to become. We had many pleasant hours together, and I had almost stopped worrying about any possible problems, when suddenly one popped up from another quarter.

I had only myself to blame for this one. Although I got on well with her, I still had a lot to learn about little girls. I had no idea that they were as michievous as little boys, in their own way. As all girls Chrissie liked to play grown-up and would enjoy wearing my skirts, dragging on the floor or one of her mother's floppy hats, evidently she was as much enraptured with the procedure of make up as I was, and by imitation she was trying to learn.

One rainy afternoon, I had left her in her playroom while she was play- ing with her dolls. I was sitting down to a cup of tea with Julia when suddenly she ran into the room.

"Look, Alicia. look Mommie, don't I look pretty!"

We both looked over, and then gasped. Chrissie had somehow decided that she wanted to have different color hair too, and solved the problem in her own little six year old mind. She stood before us with her lovely waist length hair painted bright green. Somehow she had gotten into the outdoor oil base paint that had been put up on the third floor, to paint the shutters. She hesitated a little, when we didn't compliment her quickly and then burst into tears.

"Don't you like it Mommie? I did it just like you do yours!”

In one motion Julia and I both grabbed her and rushed her to the sink, trying to wash it off before her hair was completely ruined. Alas, there was no such luck, and the once lovely hair was all green, matted, and ruined for good.

"Alicia, what are we going to do?"

“Well, we can either leave it like that or cut it off. I'm afraid that if we tried to wash it off with paint thinner or turpentine, we would injure her scalp for good."

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