I just touched my roses, with a cautious finger-tip.
"June has been here, you prosaic person," I said. "Witness these, and then deny it if you can."
Father, relieved, leaned back in my comfortable armchair. At least, I know it looks comfortable.
"I did not see her," he said. "That is, not until I entered this room, and found her wearing my daughter's most becoming face."
Father is so satisfactory! I'm sure I bridled.
"Bring me a mirror, immediately!" I demanded.
Father rose obediently to his lean height, and fumbled among the things on my dresser for the fat silver mirror, adorned with its charmingly ugly cupids, which had been my mother's.
"There, Miss Vanity!" he said. And while I studied my reflection, he studied me from under his bushy brows.
Finally, in silence, I gave him back the glass.
"Well?" asked father.