What I could see of her was dressed as a Pierrot. Her hair was concealed under a black silk cap, and the familiar white felt conical hat sat jauntily over one ear. A straight, white nose, and a delicate chin, red lips parted and smiling a little, such a smile as goes always with eyebrows just raised, very alluring—so much only I saw. For the rest, a strip of black velvet made an irritating mask.
I made her a low bow.
"I can see this is going to be a big thing," I said. "Won't you come down?"
"I haven't even said I'll take you,"
"Please."
"You're sure to be recognized, and then, what about me?"
"Oh, no, I shan't. If necessary, I'll wear a false nose. I've got one somewhere."
"Here's my milk."
I looked round and beheld a small boy approaching with a jug.
"Was that the best you could do in the native line?"