“Well, perhaps you’re not the nicest, but you’ve got the longest eyelashes. It’s a good thing they aren’t as light as your hair, isn’t it?”
“Well, I don’t know. Fives into—”
“Yes, you do, you know you’d cry your eyes out if your winkers were as nearly white as your hair is. What do you do to make your eyelashes so long?”
“Nothing. Now pay attention. You reduce thirty-three and a third to thirds and—”
“Did your mother keep them cut when you were a baby?”
“No, silly.”
“I believe she did.” The next day Miss Bella appeared without eyelashes. Every individual hair snipped close to the lid.
“I mean to have mine just like Miss Mar’s,” she told the group gathered about Hildegarde’s desk. “Hers are so immense they trail. I’m sure they must get awfully in the way sometimes.”
“Then I wonder you run such a risk. You’d better have left yours as they were.”