“But, mother, it may seem mean of me to say it, but didn’t you make the big mistake?”
“For you, Hazel.”
“Now, Momsey,” a resounding kiss, “just you wait until I am a great singer, then you won’t regret a single sacrifice. See if I don’t make it all up to you. We understand each other, don’t we, Momsey, if dad is difficult?”
The mother’s sigh was tempered with more embracing, then the tooting of the motor horn by Hazel’s impatient friends outside, made it so imperative that she hurry, there was no further possibility of prolonging the search for the tweed coat.
For some moments after the door was closed Gloria remained in the closet. Then she realized her uncle would soon be searching for her, and she also remembered how difficult it was apt to be to remove make-up.
She pushed the clothes aside and stole out quietly. Once more before the mirror she surveyed her face curiously.
“That was a risky laugh,” she told her reflection, “but it was worth the price. Only, I didn’t see Hazel, and I am sure she looked stunning. Her voice sounded that way.”
Quickly she slipped out of the robe—got the pins and buckles out of her hair, went to the alcove and dipped into the cold cream jar; then she breathed easier.
“If some one calls me now I can appear to have been taking a treatment. Any girl may daub on cold cream,” she decided calmly. In five minutes more she was almost herself again, although the tint of her cheeks was a trifle high, and the lines under her eyes a little crooked. Also she looked a lot prettier than usual.
“I just wonder what it is uncle wants aunt to tell me,” she ruminated, feeling livelier and more like herself than she had since coming out to Sandford. “Well, I’d like to know what happened to Aunt Lottie’s money, of course, but since I’ve stood it this long I guess I can hold out a while longer. And even Hazel is quite human. She kissed Aunt Hattie four times.”