That made George alter her face at once. She couldn’t help grinning at the artful Julian.

“I’m coming,” she said. “Goodbye, Berta. When we come back, you’ll be Leslie, haircut and all!”

She and Julian went off. Anne fetched her aunt’s sharpest scissors and draped a big towel round Berta’s shoulders. Berta looked as if she was going to cry.

“Cheer up,” said Dick. “You’re going to look angelic with short hair! Begin, Aunt Fanny. Let’s see what she’s like with shorn locks.”

“Stand quite still,” said Aunt Fanny and began. Clip-clip-clip! The wavy golden hair fell to the floor in big strands and Berta began to weep in earnest. “My hair! I can’t bear this. Oh, my hair!”

Soon most of it was on the floor, and Aunt Fanny began to clip what was left as best she could, to make it look as boyish as possible. She made a very good job of it indeed. Dick and Anne watched with the greatest interest.

“There! It’s done!” said Aunt Fanny at last. “Stop crying, Lesley — and let’s have a look at you!”

Chapter Eight

A transformation

Berta stood in the middle of the floor, blinking her tears away. Anne gave a gasp.

“You know — it’s very odd — but she does look rather like a boy — a very, very good-looking boy!”

“An angelic boy,” said Dick. “A choir boy or something. She looks smashing! Who would have thought it?”

Aunt Fanny was very struck with Berta’s appearance too. “It’s certainly very odd,” she said. “But there’s no doubt about it — when she’s — I mean he’s — dressed in boy’s clothes, he’ll make a fine boy. Better than George, actually, because her hair’s really too curly for a boy.”

Berta went to the looking-glass on the wall. She gave a wail. “I look awful! I don’t know myself! Nobody would EVER recognize me!”

“Splendid!” said Dick, at once. “You’ve hit the nail right on the head. Nobody would recognize you now. Your father was quite right to say, cut your hair off and dress up as a boy. Any prowling kidnapper would never think you were Berta, the pretty little girl.”

“I’d rather be kidnapped than look like this,” wept Berta. “What will the girls at your school say, Anne, when they see me?”

“They don’t say anything to George about her short hair, and they won’t say anything to you,” said Anne.

“Stop crying, Bert — er — Leslie,” said Aunt Fanny. “You make me feel quite miserable. You’ve been very good to stand so still all that time. Now I really must think of a little reward for you.”

Berta stopped crying at once. “Please,” she said, “there’s only one thing I want now. I want Sally-dog to sleep with me.”

“Oh dear, Ber — er Leslie — I really can’t have another dog in that little bedroom,” said poor Aunt Fanny. “And George would make things most unpleasant if I did.”