Six pairs of curious eyes were fixed upon her, as she sat sewing on some queer bits of crash, and six lively fancies vainly tried to guess what the articles were, for no one was rude enough to ask. Presently she tried on a pair of mittens, and surveyed them with satisfaction, saying as she caught Kitty staring with uncontrollable interest:—
"These are my beautifiers, and I never like to be without them."
"Are they to keep your hands white?" asked Maud, who spent a good deal of time in caring for her own. "I wear old kid gloves at night after cold-creaming mine."
"I wear these for five minutes night and morning, for a good rub, after dipping them in cold water. Thanks to these rough friends, I seldom feel the cold, get a good color, and keep well," answered Miss Orne, polishing up her smooth cheek till it looked like a rosy apple.
"I'd like the color, but not the crash. Must it be so rough, and with cold water?" asked Maud, who often privately rubbed her pale face with a bit of red flannel, rouge being forbidden except for theatricals.
"Best so; but there are other ways to get a color. Run up and down the avenue three or four times a day, eat no pastry, and go to bed early," said Miss Orne, whose sharp eye had spied out the little weaknesses of the girls, and whose kind heart longed to help them at once.
"It makes my back ache to run, and Madame says we are too old now."
"Never too old to care for one's health, my dear. Better run now than lie on a sofa by and by, with a back that never stops aching."
"Do you cure your headaches in that way?" asked Nelly, rubbing her forehead wearily.
"I never have them;" and Miss Orne's bright eyes were full of pity for all pain.