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ance... as all three stopped talking and smilingly watched my en- trance. My walk was slow and careful, because I did not want to spill anything and also because of the tight skirt and the heels on my shoes. Mrs. Rosalia broke the silence first.

"I always liked those shoes of Carmel's," she said. "They make a girl's feet look so dainty. Do you like them, Christine?"

That was one of her jokes on me. She called me by that name all the time now, always laughing like it was terribly funny. Well it was not. Not to me and certainly not in front of Mrs. Weingarten. And, I should have known, Mrs. Weingarten adopted the new name promptly as if I had been baptized that way. As I approached the coffee table, I was very conscious of my nice legs in the white sculptured panty- hose and the flare of my swinging little navy blue skirt. As I began to distribute the cups and saucers, a blush burning my cheeks, Mrs. Weingarten said:

"Don't the young girls look sweet nowadays in these little out- fits?"

The other women agreed heartily and to my undying shame con- tinued to discuss me as if I was a doll or something.

"We're training her figure ... Mrs. Rosalia said.

the old-fashioned way, you know,"

"You don't say," Lena replied, studying my narrow waist with in- terest.

"She wears it day and night," mother added. "A small waist is so nice for a young girl."

Everybody but me nodded yesses, continuing to study me, making me feel so awfully self-conscious.

"You're old enough now for a little makeup, Christine," Mrs. Wein- garten said. "I'll leave you samples. Avon has lots of pretty beauty things."

Sure enough. They would not even let me take the things back to the kitchen before the lady from Avon had shown me all kinds of

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