"A looking-glass, or with brandy and things in it?"
"Both ... Thank you. Promise me I don't look like this."
"You don't," she said soothingly.
"Then why didn't you tell the artist so and ask him to rub it out and do it again?"
Celia sighed.
"He has. The last was his third rubbige."
Then another thing struck me.
"I thought you weren't going to have it in uniform?"
"I didn't at first. But we've been trying it in different costumes since to—to ease the face a little. It looked awful in mufti. Like a—a—"
"Go on," I said, nerving myself to it.