Berta’s hand flew to her head. “You sinner! Mine is just as usual.”
“Yes, I know it,” assented Bea innocently, “it’s a negligee style. I’m being a geni——”
“Go away!” Berta snatched up her bottle of red ink. “Fly, villain, depart, withdraw, retreat, abscond, decamp,—in short, go away!”
Bea went, holding her neck stiffly on one side to balance the sensation of unsteadiness above her ears. Berta watched her with a wavering expression that veered from wrathful amusement to uneasy reflectiveness. Was it really true that she dressed so untidily as this little scamp made out? Perhaps she did slight details once in a while, but though not scrupulously dainty like Lila, still she tried to be neat enough on the whole. Could it be possible that the other girls criticised her so severely as this?
The suspicion bothered her so effectually that she left the library five minutes early and hurried to her room for a few renovating touches before luncheon. Her hair caused her such extraordinary pains that she was late in reaching the table. She found that Bea had usurped her place at the head, but forgot to object in the confusion of being greeted with: “Heigho, Berta, what’s happened?” “You’re spick and span enough for a party.” “Are you going to town this afternoon?”
“Young ladies!” Berta ignored the warm color that she felt rising slowly under her dark skin, “I am astonished at your manners. Don’t you know that you should never refer to an individual’s personal appearance? I read that in a book on etiquette. You may allude to my money, to my brains, to the beauty of my soul, but you must not remark upon my looks. I don’t understand the principle of the thing, unless it is that compliments on the other three articles fail to injure the character, whereas flattery with regard to my pulchritude——”
Bea’s hand shot into the air and waved frantically.
“Please, teacher, what is that funny word?”
“Go to the Latin lexicon, thou ignoramus.”
“I can’t,” said Bea, “you borrowed mine and never brought it back. It’s being a——”