Her eyes looked bigger and wider-open than ever; she smiled, showing her even, sound, little white teeth. Under the bright light of the lamp the freckles the day betrayed on her smooth skin were not to be seen.
"Dear me!" thought Miss Ferrol. "How startlingly pretty, in spite of the cotton lace and the dreadful polonaise!"
She touched her lightly on the shoulder.
"Why, you are as tall as I am!" she said.
"Yes," the girl replied, depressedly; "but I'm twice as broad."
"Oh no--no such thing." And then, with a delicate glance down over her, she said--"It is your dress that makes you fancy so. Perhaps your dressmaker does not understand your figure,"--as if such a failing was the most natural and simple thing in the world, and needed only the slightest rectifying.
"I have no dressmaker," the girl answered. "I make my things myself. Perhaps that is it."
"It is a little dangerous, it is true," replied Miss Ferrol. "I have been bold enough to try it mys