Madame Perceval smiled as Erna stumbled over Flip's name, and Flip said, "Oh, the way you are now looking over the back of your chair is fine, if you're comfortable."
She took up the charcoal and sketched quickly and then she laughed because the girl on her paper was so out of proportion and funny-looking and at the same time she was Erna. In trying to get a likeness Flip had over-accentuated and the braces on Erna's teeth were ridiculous and her chin jutted out and the barette pulled the hair back far too tightly from the forehead.
"What are you laughing at?" Erna demanded.
Flip looked at her drawing and thought,—oh, dear, now Erna will be mad.
But Madame Perceval had come over and was laughing, too, and showing the paper with Erna on it to the class, and everybody was laughing.
"I think you have a flair for caricature, Flip," Madame said.
And Jackie bounced up and down on her chair, crying, "Draw me, Flip, draw me!"
"Hold still, then, Jackie," Madame said, handing Flip another sheet of paper.
Flip's hand holding the charcoal made Jackie's curly hair fly wildly about the paper; the enormous, long lashed black eyes took up half the page, and the mouth was a tiny bud above the pointed little chin. Erna had been watching and as Flip laid down the charcoal for a moment she grabbed the paper and held it up, shouting,
"Look at Jackie! She looks just like a cat!"