“Probably because you all take after your own people,” Dorothy said. “Now, don’t let me get this too near your eyes.”
The gardener’s wife, attracted by the conversation, now joined them before the looking-glass.
“Well, I do de-clare!” she exclaimed. “If that is the same girl! Why, Miss Dorothy, you are quite an artist!”
“Yes, I always loved painting,” answered Dorothy, putting a good dab on Urania’s cheek. “There! I guess that will do.”
“Perfect!” declared the gardener’s wife. “I never saw anything better outside of a—show.”
“Now for the clothes,” said Dorothy, hurrying on with her work. “We must get the ten o’clock train, you know.”
Tavia’s pretty brown dress was then brought out. Over fresh underskirts (a perfect delight to Urania), the gown was arranged on the gypsy girl. It fit her “perfect” the gardener’s wife declared, and Dorothy was pleased, too, that the clothes went on so nicely.
How wonderfully Urania was changed! And how pretty she really looked.
“Guess you ain’t used to good things,” said the gardener’s wife, kindly. “It’s a pity you don’t give up the gypsy life and be like these girls. See how becoming it all is?”
“Oh, yes, but they have money,” demurred the girl. “I am so poor!”