It looked more real. I don’t like to look at you when you get your mouth all red and kind of pointed like that and so white around your nose. You look like one of those false faces you see at Halloween. I don’t feel like kissing you when you look like that.”

“Well, there’s others that do,” preened Frances self-consciously, with a little unholy laugh her sister did not understand. “Oh, if you aren’t a scream, Wilanna! Wait another year till you grow up, if I won’t have piles of fun telling you how silly you were! Why, baby, I shouldn’t be considered dressed if I didn’t have on powder and rouge. Your teacher probably does it, too, when she really goes out to parties and things. She didn’t bother to waste it on us, that’s all. You can see by her clothes there’s some class to her. But I don’t think she has very good taste, myself. If I could dress like her, I’d go to a real beauty parlor every day of my life and get my face done and a wave. Her hair looked almost like natural curls. I don’t think it looks neat all irregular like that. If I had hair like that, I’d get a bob—that’s what I’d do.”

“Oh, Frannie, I thought her hair was lovely!” There were signs of tears once more.

“There, baby! I guess it was all right, only she probably gets it fixed up when she goes to dances and things.”

Frances was arraying herself in a flimsy apricot-colored crepe de chine dress with an apron of flimsy yellow lace and a scarf going around her throat and over one shoulder, surmounted by a bright red silk rose where it crossed. She was very busy smoothing down her skirt and plastering a half moon of dark, slick hair out over each cheek as far as the cheekbones.

The little girl surveyed her half in admiration, half in trouble.

“My, but you look pretty, Frannie! But I can’t think you oughtta go t’night, with Papa in jail. It don’t seem right!”

Frances wheeled about upon her.

“Well, I gotta, Willie! What I gonta tell Larry when he comes? Say I can’t go to the dance and the movies and take a car ride because my papa’s in jail fer murdering a woman getting drunk? Would you like to tell a young man that? And such a classy young fella as Larry? Why, Willie, he ain’t like the other fellas. He’s polite and handsome, and he has just rolls of money. He’s free with it, too. I’m going to get him to get a whole box of chocolates for me tonight, and I’ll bring them home to you, all except one or two pieces I have to eat for politeness, you know. Say, Wilanna, can you shift yerself a little farther over on the other side of the bed? I wantta get out my hat, and these springs sag so in the middle that the box won’t budge. That’s it. Now I have it. I hope it ain’t mashed!”

Frances pulled out a tiny hat of silver, faced with a dash of flame of color. It did not hurt the hat for her that it was a bargain on account of a slight spot of tarnish on one side. It was what she called a “classy” hat. She fitted it carefully on before the unflattering mirror and then sat down at the front window to watch for signs of her escort.

“He’s coming in a car,” she told her sister over her shoulder. “It’s a car he’s thinking of buying. Just think of me going out with a young man to try a car! Wilanna, wouldn’t it be great if we’d have a car someday?”

“I’d rather have Papa out of jail!” wailed Wilanna, and she buried her face in her limp little pillow.

“Well, nat’ally, baby, we all would. Disgrace isn’t the pleasantest thing in the world, but I’m going to forget it for one night. I’m going to have the time of my life tonight. But I hope it won’t be the last time either.