“That’s nize. How can I keep this hat on. It falls off if I move.”
“You must pin it on,” suggested Plum Blossom, “for so the fashion-books say. There, take one of your hair-pins.” She adjusted the hat back to front on Summer’s head, and fixed it firmly in place with a long hair-dagger she took from the girl’s coiffure.
Summer found a seat and began to fan herself languidly. “My sleeves feel very heavy to-day,” said she.
“Why?”
“They are much weighted,” declared Summer; “I carry in them five love-letters.”
“Oh! Oh-h! From our Gozo? Why, has he already written to you, Summer?”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” said Summer, giggling. “No, you must not listen, Iris. You are too young.” She whispered into Plum Blossom’s ear. Suddenly the latter thrust out her little, plump hands.
“Go away. You are not good girl. Only my brother should write you love-letters!”
Plaintively Summer made a gesture of annoyance.
“I must spend a lifetime with Gozo,” said she. “Therefore, is it not better to have a little fun first of all?”