"I fancy it is rather--too-too; and I believe that's what Jim thinks; that's why he keeps calling me a perfect fright. Oh, those brothers! they have such ways of paying a compliment. What do you think of the hat?"
Again Dorothy sighed; but this time it was a sigh of admiration.
"Frances, it's simply sweet!"
"Notice the hair?"
"Rather; and I believe it's the hair which is more responsible for the change which I see in you than anything else. Of course the clothes have something to do with it--you didn't wear frocks and hats like that in the convent."
"My dear! what are you talking about? Fancy the sensation I'd have made! Can't you see the Mother's face?"
"No; and I'd rather not, thank you. But it's the hair which has changed you more than the clothes. I can't think how it's done. I wonder----"
Dorothy stopped; the other finished the sentence for her.
"If I will do yours for you? Come into the house, and then I'll show you. I've discovered I've quite a genius for dressing hair. I'll make a perfect picture of you--you won't know yourself when I've finished. Which room have you got? You don't know? You think that's the window? That's the pink room--we call it the pink room because once upon a time its decorations were pink; and we still call it the pink room, though now they're what I call a symphony in chaste French-grey. Talk about this frock! You wait till you see me this afternoon! I say, you were lucky to drop on us on our day of days! There'll be tons of people here; and, among them, one or two nice ones. Honestly, did you know what day it was?"
"Of course I didn't; and, if you don't mind, I'd--I'd just as soon stay in the house while all those people are here. I--I don't feel in a mood for that kind of thing."