“Let me fix your face,” offered Peggy. “I promise to touch your face as lightly as a butterfly touches a flower.”
“Listen to the poet!” scoffed Jo Ann.
“Poet and artist,” added Peggy, smiling widely. “Watch how skillfully this artist works on her canvas now.”
Lightly brushing most of the powder off Jo Ann’s face, she applied a generous amount of vanishing cream, then dusted it with just the right amount of powder so that enough of the red in her cheeks would show through to look natural.
When she had finished, she waved her powder puff with a flourish. “Behold the transformation from Indian to a member of the white race!”
“You really don’t look bad at all now, Jo Ann,” smiled Florence. “If you stay out of the bright light, I don’t believe anyone—not even Daddy—will notice how sunburned you are.”
“Is that the best you can say—to tell me I won’t look bad if I stay in the dark?” put in Jo Ann. “How’re you going to manage to keep me in the dark? If I stay in my room and don’t go to dinner tonight, your father’ll be sure to dose me with pills and tonics.”
“I’ll use candles on the dinner table tonight—I often do—and in their soft light your sunburn won’t be noticeable.”
To Jo Ann’s vast relief Dr. Blackwell did not make any comment about her complexion at dinner, even though Peggy teasingly hinted that she had taken unusual pains with her toilet this evening.
Unconscious of anything amiss, Dr. Blackwell asked pleasantly, “Are you girls going over to the Plaza tonight to join in the promenade?”