"shadowy look" under the eyes; of the latter, moistened, to lend a
"rosy flush" to cheek and lip.

Missy was at first averse to these unfamiliar aids to beauty.

"Won't it make your face feel sort of queer--like it needed
washing?" she demurred.

"Don't talk like a bourgeois," said Tess.

Missy applied the wet poppy.

At the barn, "the coachman" was luckily absent, so Tess could
harness up her steed without embarrassing questions. At the sight of
the steed of the occasion, Missy's spirits for a moment sagged a
bit; nor did old Ben present a more impressive appearance when,
finally, he began to turkey-trot down Maple Avenue. His right haunch
lifted--fell--lifted--fell, in irritating rhythm as his bulky feet
clumped heavily on the macadam. Tess had insisted that Missy should
occupy the driver's seat with her, though Missy wanted to recline
luxuriously behind, perhaps going by home to pick up Poppy--that is,
Fifine--to hold warm and perdu in her lap. But practical Tess
pointed out that such an act might attract the attention of Mrs.
Merriam and bring the adventure to an end. They proceeded down Maple
Avenue. It was Tess's intention to turn off at Silver Street, to
leave the first carte d'invitation at the home of Mr. Raymond
Bonner. These documents were proudly scented (and incidentally
spotted) from Mrs. O'Neill's cologne bottle.

Young Mr. Bonner resided in one of the handsomest houses in