"So have you--and you must have changed more than I have, because I didn't know you, and you did know me."
"That's true. Now, Dorothy, no flummery, and no fibs--in what respect do you consider I have altered?"
"Well--for one thing you seem to be so much more of a woman."
"I don't know; it isn't so very long since I saw you last."
"A great many things may happen in a very short time."
Dorothy sighed; but Miss Vernon was smiling. Then she said, with an air which would be grave, but was not:
"There are women and women. I have heard people say that when one becomes a woman one should show a consciousness of the responsibilities of womanhood. I hope I don't show too much of that kind of thing."
"Sha'n't I? You never can tell. A man I danced with last week--he was quite old, over thirty--said that it bursts upon you all at once, what it means to be a woman. I don't know what he knows about it, as he's only a man; but I've noticed that some men, when they're old, do seem to know a good deal about women--or they pretend to. What do you think of this dress?"
"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.
"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?"