you like me. (Imitating Miss Griffin's drawl, and turning about.) Do I sufficiently resemble my respected preceptress?
Gla. Good! There, screw your mouth like that again—more on the other side. (Kittie grimaces, attempting to imitate Miss Griffin's puckered mouth.)
Kit. I haven't quite got the hang of my mouth yet. Mine isn't really big enough. Now, I must have a few more wrinkles, and a more roseate nose. Where's the rouge? (Goes to mirror, and begins lining in wrinkles with a charcoal stick.)
Gla. (crossing to table, R.). Here it is. (Handing rouge-box to Kittie.)
Kit. Mercy! Miss Griffin didn't see that box on the table, did she? She would think her academy was disgraced forever. Heavens! A rouge-box in my young ladies’ room! Help—oh! (She screams affectedly, and drops in a chair as if faint.)
Gla. Nonsense! She didn't see it. Come, you must hurry, Kit, or they will be here. It is time for them now, unless they are looking around for Mabel and Emma. Hurry, dear, and compose your countenance. (Kittie springs up, and begins to smooth her hair before the mirror.)
Kit. There, I am sure Charlie will never know me, he is so near-sighted. And as for your cousin (turns about with rouge box in her hand, rubbing her nose as she speaks), it is three years since I saw him last, and I hardly think he will suspect I have aged quite so fast, even from being deprived of his fascinating company; do you?
Gla. Oh, no. They will never suspect.
Kit. (pausing, with a very red nose). Horrors! You don‘t suppose he will think I have really grown old, do you? (Turns to mirror and surveys herself.)
Gla. Nonsense, you goose! He thinks you are a hard-hearted girl, and don't care anything about him.
Kit. Well, I don't. But—
Gla. They will never recognize you. Any one as stupid as they have been not to suspect us before of being the writers of all that nonsense to them will never dream you are any one but our respected principal, especially as they have never seen her.
Kit. I hope not. Just to have a bit of fun and tense them before showing up our magnificent joke of the past year—that is all I ask. Now, give me my cap. (Gladys helps her put on the cap.) Is it becoming to my antiquated beauty? Te he! (Giggles affectedly.)
Gla. Oh, very! Fred will certainly fall directly in love with Miss Griffin, and forget all his former boyish admiration for you, Kittie.
Kit. As he did for Mabel, eh? (Turning to glass.) Don't you think my nose is a little too red, Gladys? I don't want to look too hideous.
Gla. Well, it is a trifle bibulous. (Kittie rubs it vigorously
