Damaris shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose not. Why don’t you and I open a Beauty Parlor?”
“One reason is that we haven’t any money.”
“Would you if we had?”
Millicent shook her head. “I can’t take any chances, Damaris, you know that. My best plan is not to bob my hair and stick close to Ross-Graham. Grandfather’s pension is so small, and our house is old and we have to keep it in repair, and that costs. Mr. Grimshaw says our rent is so small he can’t do anything; but not a day passes that we don’t remember to be thankful for the ground being big enough for Grandpa’s garden. We’re very happy.”
Damaris looked curiously into the hazel eyes regarding her, so full of the warmth of sincerity.
“You’d be a wonderful partner, Millicent. Even at school I used to feel there was a sort of—well, a sort of perfume around where you were.”
Millicent laughed. “Damaris, is that a compliment?”
“Well, sweetness, anyway. You’d get around the customers every time. You’d really like them. I would, too, if I could make ’em look pretty. I’d like to have Miss Frink come in! Wouldn’t I do her up! Gosh, what she’d look like when she got out of the chair. Leonard, too. Wouldn’t I like to give Leonard scalp massage!” The speaker made a threatening gesture.
“Damaris!”
“Don’t swear, dear. Say, you haven’t told me how snappy I look. ‘Chick’s’ the word, isn’t it?”