So now Della’s beautiful hair fell about her, shining like a falling stream of brown water. It reached below her knee. It almost made itself into a dress for her
|And then she put it up on her head again, nervously and quickly. Once she stopped for a moment and stood still
|She put on her old brown coat. She put on her old brown hat. With the bright light still in her eyes, she moved quickly out the door and down to the street.
Where she stopped, the sign said: “Mrs. Sofronie. Hair Articles of all Kinds.”
Up
to the second floor Della ran, and stopped to get her breath |Mrs. Sofronie, large, too white, cold-eyed, looked at her.
“Will you buy my hair?” asked Della.
“I buy hair,” said Mrs. Sofronie. “Take your hat off and let me look at it.”
Down fell the brown waterfall
|“Twenty dollars,” said Mrs. Sofronie, lifting the hair to feel its weight.
“Give it to me quick,” said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours seemed to fly. She was going from one shop to another, to find a gift for Jim.
She found it at last
|It was a gold watch chain, very simply made. Its value was in its rich and pure material. Because it was so plain and simple, you knew that it was very valuable. All good things are like this.
It was good enough for The Watch.
As soon as she saw it, she knew that Jim must have it. It was like him
|With that chain on his watch, Jim could look at his watch and learn the time anywhere he might be. Though the watch was so fine, it had never had
a fine chain |When Della arrived home, her mind quieted a little
|Within
forty minutes her head looked a little better“If Jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he looks at me a second time, he’ll say I look like a girl who sings and dances for money. But what could I do—oh! What could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?”
At seven, Jim’s dinner was ready for him.
Jim was never late. Della held the watch chain in her hand and sat near the door where he always entered. Then she heard his step in the hall and her face lost color for a moment. She often said little prayers quietly, about simple everyday things. And now she said: “Please God, make him think I’m still pretty.”