A further survey of the room revealed new wonders at every turn. On the toilette table, which, like the bed, had a canopy of silken gauze draped above it, was an array of brushes, bottles, round and square boxes, all made of the same lapis lazuli glass.
She took out stoppers and lifted covers enviously. In one of the boxes she found a powder-puff. It was the first time in all her young life that she had held a powder-puff in her hand.
"May you powder too?" she asked.
Meta shook her head, laughing. "I might if I liked," she said, "but I don't."
Hertha felt a burning desire to guide the white soft ball of down over her face, but forebore from exposing her vanity before her friend.
"I suppose that you are very, very happy?" she asked.
"Thank God, yes," replied her friend, in a tone of solemn seriousness which Hertha couldn't understand, because she had always thought happiness was a laughing matter, and only unhappiness a subject that required to be treated seriously.
Her eyes began to wander round the room again, for she was keenly anxious to discover all the curiosities it contained. Suddenly she gave a start, for there in a corner she alighted on a row of high button-boots, of dimensions so enormous that no woman's feet could have filled them.
"How do they come there?" she asked timidly.
"They are Hans's Wellingtons," replied Meta, in a matter-of-course tone, which crushed her afresh.