Irene's tears turned to laughing again. When she lifted her head it was to look into the mirror confronting them, where her beauty showed all the more brilliant for the shower that had passed over it. She seemed to gather courage from the sight.
"It must be awful to have to DO," she said, smiling into her own face. "I don't see how they ever can."
"Some of 'em can't--especially when there's such a tearing beauty around."
"Oh, pshaw, Pen! you know that isn't so. You've got a real pretty mouth, Pen," she added thoughtfully, surveying the feature in the glass, and then pouting her own lips for the sake of that effect on them.
"It's a useful mouth," Penelope admitted; "I don't believe I could get along without it now, I've had it so long."
"It's got such a funny expression--just the mate of the look in your eyes; as if you were just going to say something ridiculous. He said, the very first time he saw you, that he knew you were humorous."
"Is it possible? It must be so, if the Grand Mogul said it. Why didn't you tell me so before, and not let me keep on going round just like a common person?"
Irene laughed as if she liked to have her sister take his praises in that way rather than another.
"I've got such a stiff, prim kind of mouth," she said, drawing it down, and then looking anxiously at it.
"I hope you didn't put on that expression when he offered you the shaving. If you did, I don't believe he'll ever give you another splinter."