"Mercy! Don't jerk about like that. Am I to put in this rose?—There—you ARE lovely!" Mrs. Heeny sighed, as the pink petals sank into the hair above the girl's forehead. Undine pushed her chair back, and sat supporting her chin on her clasped hands while she studied the result of Mrs. Heeny's manipulations.
"Yes—that's the way Mrs. Peter Van Degen's flower was put in the other night; only hers was a camellia.—Do you think I'd look better with a camellia?"
"I guess if Mrs. Van Degen looked like a rose she'd 'a worn a rose,"
Mrs. Heeny rejoined poetically. "Sit still a minute longer," she added.
"Your hair's so heavy I'd feel easier if I was to put in another pin."
Undine remained motionless, and the manicure, suddenly laying both hands on the girl's shoulders, and bending over to peer at her reflection, said playfully: "Ever been engaged before, Undine?"
A blush rose to the face in the mirror, spreading from chin to brow, and running rosily over the white shoulders from which their covering had slipped down.
"My! If he could see you now!" Mrs. Heeny jested.
Mrs. Spragg, rising noiselessly, glided across the room and became lost in a minute examination of the dress laid out on the bed.
With a supple twist Undine slipped from Mrs. Heeny's hold.
"Engaged? Mercy, yes! Didn't you know? To the Prince of Wales. I broke it off because I wouldn't live in the Tower."
Mrs. Spragg, lifting the dress cautiously over her arm, advanced with a reassured smile.