“I understand, Madame,” Marie beamed. “And oh, I am so glad—you are ze very pretty woman, and when Marie feenish you—oh—la—la— You will be lovely!”
“Thank you, Marie, but I haven’t a thing except a little powder—I want to be dressed when Mr. Benton comes home for dinner—just to—just to—surprise him. My dresses are all so—well, so——”
“Nevair mind—you leave everything to me. Go to your room—I bring all ze things you need—and your dress—well—a needle, ze thread, a scissair—and zere you are, Madame!”
“All right, I shall remember you for this, Marie,” and Marjorie returned to her room, her heart beating like a trip hammer.
“Here we are,” Marie announced, entering a few minutes later, carrying a small box filled with an array of bottles and jars which she plumped down rattling on Marjorie’s dresser. Then, with her small head cocked birdlike on one side, she surveyed her prospect.
“First of all, Madame,” she declared with authority, “you must have ze nice warm bath.”
“Everything is in your hands, Marie.” And Marjorie, smiling so brightly that it transformed her expression, started for the bathroom.
“No, no, Madame,” Marie gently forced her back to the chaise longue. “I do everything—draw ze watair—put in ze perfume—just like I do for Mees Elinor. You rest here, and be comfortable—so.” She proceeded to remove Marjorie’s gown and shoes, and arrange the cushions at her head.
Marjorie closed her eyes and nestled down contentedly. She really believed she was enjoying this new experiment of being waited upon. Only yesterday she had been quite disgusted with Elinor, when upon entering her room, she had discovered her stretched lazily in an easy chair, with Marie on her knees lacing her boots. Surely, she had thought, a healthy young girl like Elinor should be able to do such things for herself. It was all right to have a maid, if you desired one to dress your hair, or fasten an intricately arranged frock, but to lace your boots—that was a different matter. And here she was, the following day, permitting Marie to fill her bath and actually remove her shoes.
Marjorie, emerging from her bath, tingling and greatly refreshed, placed herself completely in the maid’s willing hands. After a delightful massage, the array of jars and bottles came into play. Then a tiny tweezer came into view. At the first pluck of an eyebrow, Marjorie almost jumped out of her chair: “Oh—that hurts! What are you doing?” she demanded.