"Alice!" The girl's eyes were open. She stretched like a cat and bounced up from the bed. Coils of hair unwound in her wake.

"Good morning, my lady." Alice raised a comb. "Are you ready for your toilette?"

She giggled. "Yes, yes, I'm ready! Make my hair bootiful, Alice!" She grabbed two fistfuls of it, dragging the weight of it across the rug. Alice drew out the stool trimmed in lace and ribbon, waving her mistress to sit.  The lady Susan wrapped herself in a curtain of hair, giggling when the tips brushed her ankles.

Alice looked again in the mirror. Next to Susie's rosy cheeks and red curls, she was pale as a ghost: watery eyes, pale fringe. A bun smaller than the palm of her hand sufficed to capture her hair. Meanwhile, the largest comb in her arsenal shrank like a toy against the wave of red. Alice crouched down, dropping out of sight of the mirror. She had worked harder jobs than this.

At first, Susie hummed to herself, but the sound soon trailed away into mutters and sighs. Alice wasn't surprised when her charge whined, "Allllice. Tell me a story?"

She bit her lip, one hand working away with the comb while the other gripped the hair an inch above the tangle to save Susie's scalp. "A story? Very well... Once upon a time, a witch stole a baby from a farmer and his wife. She locked the girl in a tower, but her hair - "

"I've heard that one." Susie rolled her eyes. "Tell me a different one."

Alice faltered. She hadn't had much time to listen to children's tales, wandering the road alone since she was small. Her thoughts raced, searching for something suitable. "L-long ago, there lived a girl with hair so bright and yellow, they called her 'Goldi--'"

"No! A new story!" Susie kicked her heels, rocking the stool. "I'm tired of those stories!"

"Yes, yes, my lady, a new story," Alice hurried to agree. She smoothed the hair where Susie had mussed it, soothing the girl like an affronted pet. "Once there was ... a girl ..."

Susie watched her expectantly in the mirror.

Alice hooked the comb in another snarl, teasing it loose. "She had no family, no home, and no employment."

Susie's nose wrinkled. "Employment?"

"No work," Alice amended. "Nothing to busy her hands, no way to buy bread for her table. One night in the rain, she knocked on the door of a grand house. Wasn’t there something she could do to earn a coin?"

She snuck a peek at her charge, but Susie gave no signs of interrupting. Her feet had stilled; she listened with her toes digging into the carpet. Encouraged, Alice forged ahead. She could picture each scene as she spoke it, remembering the painted wood hard against her stiff fingers and the relief of the glowing fire when the maid had ushered her into the parlor. Passing over the gentleman's piercing eyes and pointed questions, she assured Susie:

"The master of the house agreed. It was a wet night and windy - he could find no one to carry a message for him to his neighbor. If the girl delivered it before dawn, he would pay her, feed her, even let her sleep with the servants. The girl was happy to accept.

"She meant to take care and please her master, but as she passed the forest, she heard a terrible sound: the wail of a wounded hound."

Susie's eyes grew round as pennies.

"Dawn wasn't due for hours, so the girl turned off the path and searched for the animal. She found him lying among the trees with his foot -- um, bruised." Dark hair streaked with darker blood floated before her mind's eye. White teeth and gleaming eyes had given her pause, but she couldn't leave him alone with a hurt like that. "For a bandage, she tore a strip from her apron. The hound licked her hand in thanks."

Her mistress gave a happy sigh, already confident of the ending. Alice had worked her way level with Susie's shoulders. She fingered the tangles with care as she neared the lady's crown, knowing Susie would protest any pinch or pull.

"He limped away into the woods, and she turned back to the road -- but then she realized: The message was gone!"

Susie's mouth opened. "What?" she demanded. "What happened?"

Alice shook her head. "The girl had no idea. She couldn't return empty-handed to her master, so she went deeper into the forest instead, following--"

"But what happened?" Susie persisted. "What happened to the message?"

"Um..."

"What!  Happened!"

In another moment, her work of the past half hour would be undone. "It was stolen!" Alice raised her voice above Susie's. "By ... a ghost."

The lady stared. "A ghost?"

Alice nodded gravely. "Yes. A ghost stole it as punishment for helping the hound."

"But why?"

"Because ... because the ghost wanted the hound to stay his prisoner." Alice swallowed, thinking of the iron fence, the crooked house, the lit window on the third floor, and a madman's eye pressed to the keyhole.

"What did she do?" Susie whispered. She didn't even notice when the comb caught in her hair; her attention fixed on the tale again.

Alice slid the comb free and reached for a brush. "The girl asked the ghost to make a trade. She would give him anything he wanted, and he would set the hound free."  Bending at the waist, Alice brushed in quick, sweeping arcs, burnishing the hair until it glowed. Susie quieted, her eyes half-closing as the familiar routine lulled her.  Alice was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the lady spoke up again:

"What did the ghost want?"

Alice swallowed. The moment had come. She gripped the brush in both hands, gazing into the mirror. She was hardly visible now as the lady's hair flowed like bed of roses, curling, arcing, and gleaming in the early morning light. "He wanted ... a rope."

Susie looked unimpressed. "What's so special about a rope?"