Black serge, grey tweed, violet ninon; two evening frocks, and the one white satin which was the piece de resistance of the whole. A cloth coat, a mackintosh, an art serge cloak for evening wear—how could one manufacture a fancy dress from garments so ordinary as these?
In despair, Darsie betook herself to Margaret France’s room and found that young woman seated before her dressing-table engaged in staring fixedly at her own reflection in the mirror. She betrayed no embarrassment at being discovered in so compromising a position, but smiled a broad smile of welcome out of the mirror, the while she continued to turn and to twist, and hold up a hand-glass to scrutinise more closely unknown aspects of face and head.
“I know what you’ve come for! I’ve had two Freshers already. Bowled over at the thought of inventing a costume—that’s it, isn’t it? Oh, you’ll rise to it yet. The only difficulty is to hit on an idea—the rest’s as easy as pie. That’s what I’m doing now—studying my phiz to see what it suggests. My nose, now! What d’you think of my nose? Seems to me that nose wasn’t given me for nothing. And the width between the eyes! It’s borne in upon me that I must be either a turnip lantern or a Dutch doll. The doll would probably be the most becoming, so I’ll plump for that. Don’t breathe a word, for it must be a secret to the last. As for you—it would be easy to suggest a dozen pretty-pretties.”
Margaret wheeled round in her chair, and sat nursing her knees, regarding Darsie with a twinkling eye. “Big eyes, long neck, neat little feet—you’d make an adorable Alice in Wonderland, with ankle-strap slippers, and a comb, and a dear little pinny over a blue frock! And your friend can be the Mad Hatter. Look well, wouldn’t she, with a hat on one side? There are only the girls to see you, and the more comic you can make yourself the better they’ll be pleased. You are about to be introduced to a new side of Newnham life, and will see how mad the students can be when they let themselves go. You’ll laugh yourself ill before the evening’s over. Well, think it over, and come back to me if you want any properties. My dress will be easy enough—braided hair, short white frock (butter-muslin at a penny the yard), white stockings with sandals, another pair of stockings to cover my arms, chalked face and neck, with peaked eyebrows and neat little spots of red on the cheekbones and tip of the chin. If you feel inclined to be angelic, you might run up with your paint-box at the last minute, and dab on my joints.”
“Joints!”
Darsie gaped in bewilderment, whereupon Margaret cried resentfully—
“Well, I must have joints, mustn’t I? How do you expect me to move? A paint-box is invaluable on these occasions, as you’ll find before you are through. Now, my love, I’ll bid you a fond adieu, for work presses. By the by, one word in your ear! Don’t ask a third-year girl to dance with you if you value your nose!”
“What will happen to it if I do?”
“Snapped off! Never mind I look pretty and meek, and perhaps she’ll ask you. Now be off—be off—I must to work!”
Darsie descended to Hannah’s study and proposed the idea of the Mad Hatter, the which was instantly and scornfully declined. Hannah explained at length that though her head might be plain, it yet contained more brains than other heads she could mention, and that to play the part of idiot for a whole night long was a feat beyond the powers of a mathematical student reading for honours. She then explained with a dignity which seemed somewhat misplaced that she had set her heart upon representing a pillar-box, and was even now on the point of sallying forth to purchase a trio of hat-boxes, which, being of fashionable dimensions, would comfortably encircle her body. Fastened together so as to form a tube, covered with red sateen, and supported by scarlet-stockinged legs, the effect would be pleasingly true to life.