got on just as much war paint as Daughter--maybe a little more. Also
they've dug up a blond transformation somewhere, which covers up all
the brown hair, and they've fitted her out with long jet earrings, and
touched up her eyebrows--and, believe me, with all that yellow hair
down over her eyes, and the rouged lips, she looks just like she'd
strayed in from the White Light district!

You wouldn't think just a little store hair and face calcimine could
make such a change in anybody. Honest, when I tumbles to the fact that
this sporty lookin' female is only Mother fixed up I almost falls out
of the swing! That's nothin' to the jolt that gets to Gladys.

"Mother!" she gasps. "Wha--what have you been doing?"

"Why, I've been getting ready for the tea, Gladys," says she.

"But--but, Mother," says Gladys, "you're never going to let people see
you like that, are you?"

"Why not, my dear?" says Mother.

"But your face--ugh!" says Gladys.

"Oh, bother!" says Mother. "I suppose you'd like to have me look like
Aunt Martha?"

Gladys stares at her for awhile with her eyes wide and set, like she
was watchin' somethin' horrible that she couldn't turn away from, and
then she goes to pieces in a weepin' fit of her own. Nobody
interferes, and right in the midst of it she breaks off, marches over