There came a modest knock at the room door, and Petite, got up in truly French fashion, entered. She was a rosy-cheeked, round-faced girl, with sparkling black eyes, and rolls of black hair, picturesquely arranged on the top of her head.
"I hope she understands English," thought Ermengarde. "French is not my strong point, and I really must get her to dress my hair in some grown-up fashion to-night."
Petite soon, however, relieved Ermengarde's fear.
"I have come to help you, ma'mselle," she said in her cheerful tones. "Will you let me brush out your hair?"
"Thank you," said Ermie. "I want you to dress it on the top of my head, please—high—something like an old picture—you understand?"
Petite's eyes sparkled.
"I know what you mean," she said. "Pouffed, ever so—like the pictures of the ancient ladies in the picture-gallery."
"Yes," said Ermengarde. "I want my hair to be arranged like a young grown-up lady. You understand?"
"Perfectly, ma'mselle. I will go and fetch hair-pins. But we haven't too much time; Ma'mselle Lilias is dressed. She wears her hair straight down her back."
Ermengarde said nothing. The mysteries of the toilet proceeded, and at the end of half an hour Lilias knocked at her friend's door.