That took down Lily’s cheek a bit; but her luxurious ideas returned, nevertheless. For instance, from admiring the Three Graces or the Gilson girl, who looked like Venuses in their silk tights and whose entrance on the stage caused every opera-glass to glint upon them, the wish to appear in tights began to grow on Lily. Oh, not the plain tights of living statues; no, but with flowers and leaves embroidered here and there and jet braid laced about the right arm. She was tired of bloomers and told Pa so, straight out, when the apprentices had left the room and Pa, stretched in his easy-chair, seemed in a good temper. Pa thought this notion about tights, silly:
“They’re very nice, those bloomers; those little shirts. Ask your mother.”
“Oh, yes,” said Ma sarcastically, “but bloomers are made at home, in the afternoon; you have to stitch them yourself, dear. Tights, which you buy ready-made and which cost just ten times as much and last only half as long, are much more convenient, aren’t they, Lily? To say nothing of the absurdity of an ugly girl like you showing yourself in tights!”
“And the troupe,” said Pa. “What would the troupe look like? Might as well not have a troupe; there’d be no one but you!”
“Well, what harm would that do? I am the troupe!” said Lily, tossing her obstinate forehead. “And all the money you give them you could give me!”
“Lily,” said Pa, alarmed, “you deserve to be smacked for that!”
“Oh, Pa, what an idea!” said Lily, who was just arranging her fringe before the glass. “A Pa to beat his Lily for a little thing like that, away from work!” And, darting a bright smile at Pa, “You never would, Pa, would you?” she ventured.
Clifton, taken aback, looked at his Lily, as if to say that she was right, damn it! But Ma, in her fury, cried:
“Wait a bit! You shall see if I would!”
Bang! A box on the ears, followed by an order to go to her room, on dry bread and water, impudence! And practise her banjo till the evening!