"Oh—Tush!" said the Blinded Lady.
She pushed Carol away. She thumped her cane on the braided rug.
"There's one here, isn't there," she said, "that hasn't got anything to be sensitive about? Let the Young Lassie come forward," she said, "so I can touch her face!"
It made Rosalee very pink to have her face explored.
The Blinded Lady laughed as she explored it.
"Ha!" she said. "Age about seventeen? Gold hair? Sky-blue eyes? Complexion like peaches and cream?—Not much cause here," laughed the Blinded Lady, "for this Young Lassie ever to worry when she looks in the glass!"
"Oh but she does!" I cried. "She worries herself most to death every time she looks!—She's afraid her hair will turn gray before Derry comes!"
"S-s-h!" said everybody.
The Blinded Lady cocked her head. She ruffled herself. It looked like feathers.
"Derry?" said the Blinded Lady. "Who's Derry?—A beau?"