Indeed, the knob into which it was twisted at the back was much of the colour as well as of the size of a tangled reel of dirty white cotton.

But Mrs.Wood's hair was far more abundant than our mother's, and it was darker underneath than on the top--a fact which was more obvious when the knot into which it was gathered in her neck was no longer hidden.

Deep brown streaks were mingled with the grey in the twists of this, and I could see them quite well, for the outline of her head was dark against the white-washed mullion of the window, and framed by ivy-leaves.

As she leaned out to lower the basket we could see her better and better, and, as it touched the ground, the jerk pulled her forward, and the knot of her hair uncoiled and rolled heavily over the window-sill.
By this time the rays of the sun were level with the windows, and shone full upon Mrs.Wood's face.

I was very much absorbed in looking at her, but I could not forget our peculiar position, and I had an important question to put, which I did without more ado.
"Please, madam, shall you tell Father ?" "We only want to know," added Jem.
She hesitated a minute, and then smiled.