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"Have you ricked yourself?" asked Jane, sympathetically.

"No, thank you," said Mrs. Morland. "It's only this. It's always happening."

She held up her unlucky face-à-main, the glass bent at an angle to the handle, so that it looked rather like the Quangle-Wangle when he sat with his head in his slipper.

"It is useless like this," said its owner, tragically. "And if I try to straighten it, it usually snaps or else the spring breaks."

She pushed the hairpins further into her head in a despairing way.

A perfect babel of advice arose. Some said have a longer ribbon, some a shorter. Others again said stick it down your front and chance it, while yet a further opinion was that it would be much safer to have one of those little ones that fold up and become a clip, only then it would cost about a hundred pounds with the purchase tax.

Robin stepped lightly to Mrs. Morland, took the corpse, straightened it carefully and returned it to her.

"Oh, thank you," said Mrs. Morland. "How you do it with your false foot I cannot think."