Jane obeyed.  And waltzed up to the bill-board.  “Say! what’s the price of that big braid?” she called—­between her tortoise-shell teeth.  She had spied the red coronet, and was admiring its plaited beauty.

From under those long, square brows, the little old gentleman frowned across the table at her.  “I’ll quote you no prices,” he answered.  “You haven’t paid me yet for your extra face.”

Jane’s reply was an impudent double-laugh.  She was examining the different things on the bill-board, and hopping sillily from foot to foot.

Gwendolyn tugged gently at a coat-tail.  “Can’t we run now?” she asked; “and hide?”

Boom-er-oom-er-oom!

“Sh!” warned the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, not stirring.  “What was that!”

“I don’t know.”

Both held their breath.  And Gwendolyn took a more firm hold of the lip-case.

After a moment the little old gentleman began to speak very low:  “We shan’t be able to steal away.  She’s watching us out of the back of her head!”

“Yes.  I can see ’em shine!”

“I believe that when she rolled her eyes from one face to the other it made that rumbley sound.”

“Scares me,” whispered Gwendolyn.

“Ump!” he grunted.  “Ought to cheer you up.  For it’s my opinion that her eyes rumble because her head’s empty.”

“If it was hollow I think I’d know,” she answered doubtfully.  “You see she’s been my nurse a long time.  But—­would it help?”

“Find out,” he advised.  “And if it’s a fact, your mother ought to know.”

Boom-er-oom-er-oom!

Gwendolyn, watching, saw two shining spots in Jane’s back face grow suddenly small—­to the size of glinting pin-points; then disappear.  The nurse turned, and came dancing back.

“You’d better let me have that braid, old man,” she cried rudely.

“I’ll smooth down your saucy tongue,” he threatened.

“Tee! hee! hee! hee!” she tittered.  “Ha! ha! ha!”

Gwendolyn had heard her laugh before.  But it was the first time she had seen her laugh.  The Man-Who-Makes-Faces, too.  Now, at the same moment, both witnessed an extraordinary thing:  As Jane chuckled, she lifted one stout arm so that a black sateen cuff was close to the mouth of the front face.  And holding it there, actually laughed in her sleeve!

Laughed in her sleeve—­and a great deal more! For with each chuckle, from the top of her red head to her very feet, she grew a trifle more plump!

The little old gentleman warned her with one long finger.  “You look out, young lady!” said he.  “One of these days you’ll laugh on the other side of your face.” (Which made Gwendolyn wish that it was not impolite to correct those older than herself; for it was plain that he meant “you’ll laugh on your other face.”)

Jane put out a tongue-tip at him insolently.  Then dancing near, “Come!” she bade Gwendolyn.  “Come away with Nurse.”