She had done up her fair hair compactly; her chin had its usual proud lift.
Sylvia, shrinking as if before some unseen enemy as she moved about, her face all wan and weary, glanced at her half resentfully.

"I guess she 'ain't had any such night as I have," she thought.

"Girls don't know much about it." "No, I don't need any help," she replied, aloud.

"I 'ain't got anything to do but to stir up an Injun cake.

You've got your best dress on.