“Just as simple and fetching as last time you did it, Tilly,” coaxed Frédérique, as Martha handed her the comb, the curling-tongs, or a hairpin, as they were wanted. “Oh! it’s quite cold here! Do wrap something round my shoulders, Martha!”
Martha wrapt a fur cape about her. With deft fingers, Mathilde had soon completed her task.
“There!” said she, and arranged the frizzy fringe in front. “Simple, tasteful, and fetching—are you satisfied?”
Frédérique looked at herself, and with the tips of her fingers she just touched her hair.
“Rather!” she said. “And now—my flot de tulle.”
The fur cape was thrown on the floor, and Martha arranged the confused mass of garments which were spread about the room. Mathilde lifted up the cloud of delicate azure, and light as a sigh she let it glide about Freddie’s shoulders.
“There’s something fairy, something naiad-like about me!” said Freddie, raising her arms, and Tilly and Martha knelt down and drew open the folds of silky gauze. “La, la, la——” and Freddie’s little feet kept time to the tune she hummed.
“Freddie, Freddie, do be quiet now! Martha, a pin; here, that bow is undone.”
“How do I look, Martha?”
“Sweetly pretty, miss.”