ishes her work, then combs my hair and twists and pins it into a knot. Then they make me stand, so they might survey me. They look expectant, tilt their heads; but their faces fall. Dainty rubs her nose. Mrs Sucksby drums her fingers across her lips, and frowns.
There is a square of glass upon the chimney-piece, with plaster hearts about it: I turn, and see what I can of my face and figure, in that. I barely recognise myself. My mouth is white. My eyes are swollen and red, my cheeks the texture and colour of yellowing flannel. My unwashed hair is dark with grease at the scalp. The neck of the gown is low, and shows the lines and points of the bones about my throat.
''Perhaps violet, after all,'' says Mrs Sucksby, ''ain''t the colour for you, dear girl. Brings out the shadows under your eyes and makes ''em seem rather too like bruises. And as for your cheek—what say you give it a bit of a pinch, put the roses back in it? No? Let Dainty try for you then. She''s got a grip like thunder, she has.''
Dainty comes and seizes my cheek, and I cry out and twist from her grasp.
''All right, you cat!'' she says, tossing her head and stamping. ''I''m sure, you can keep your yellow face!''
''Hi! Hi!'' says Mrs Sucksby. ''Miss Lilly is a lady! I want her spoke to like one. You put that lip in.'' Dainty has begun to pout. ''That''s better. Miss Lilly, how about we take the gown off and try the green and silver? Only a touch of arsenic in that green—won''t harm you at all, so long as you keep from sweating too hard in the bodice.''