Lulu piled her hair into an impressive coiffure.
"Oh, Loo, you look just like that picture that's on cigar-boxes!"
"You got the littlest waist I ever seen," reciprocated Lulu, regarding Lilly's sylphid figure with admiring eyes.
"You ought to have seen me the first year I was working, Loo. I ain't got such a little waist any more, but I did have some figure then."
They dressed in relays, taking turns about before the splotched mirror.
"Here, Lil, let me pin up them sleeves a little. Mame says all the swell waists up in the ready-to-wears have short sleeves."
"I've had my eye on a swell silver bracelet in Shank's window, Loo, for a long time; they are so pretty with elbow-sleeves."
They pecked at each other like preening birds. At seven Lulu's suitor arrived. They took final dabs at themselves.
"He ain't such a nifty looker, Lil, but he sure knows how to treat a girl swell. He ain't none of your piker kind that runs past a drug store like the soda-fountain was after him. Why, I've known him to treat to as many as three sodas in an evenin'! And say, kid, he is some classy dresser—latest jewelry and black-and-white initials worked on his shirt-sleeves. I met him at a mask, and he give me his card."
"Does he know you work?"