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influence and perhaps pick up some information as to her whereabouts and the general household routine. Both the annoying stuffy smell of lavender lingering in the bedding and hearing the maids muted mutterings also meant she was still back in the past. Rats. This was not the way she hoped the day would begin.
    “Look, I know something is odd about her. Did you see the tattoo?” Donna recognized Rose’s voice.
    “Coo! Nobody has tattoos on their bums ‘cept pirates and heathens! Well, my brother has one, too, and he was a sailor.” That would be Annabelle. “I know, I saw it when you did!”
    “Yes, but I saw it clearer. You have weak eyes.”
    At this point, Donna emitted a fake snore and halfway rolled over to face the wall. Let them think she was still asleep and maybe they’d talk more.
    “I wish I could have come up here last night to look at her clothes, but I was so tired from working the party. I wonder where she got them.”
    Donna heard them just fine now, so her feigned sleep was working. They were whispering louder.
    “She’s probably worn out, coming here from Chicago. Royce said he found her in the stable alone! What woman travels alone? Nobody, that’s who!” Once again, it was Rose. The chattering stopped. Donna lay still, hoping they would resume. She assumed they were picking through her clothing.
    “Look at this thing! What do you make of this–this, bust band she had on last night! It looks like a horse girth. And so stretchy!” Annabelle must have been looking at her underwear, Donna assumed now. She heard the maids giggle. When did they invent brassieres, she wondered? She would have to explain that. She heard them snapping the straps, as silly school girls would. She thought perhaps she could start stirring so she could get some breakfast. She had no idea what time it was and wanted to be up before most of the general household. The best idea seemed to be flopping over onto her back and waggling an arm.
    “Shh! Here now, she’s moving. Go get a quick look at her. Some things I couldn’t see good in the candle light last night, you know.” Once again, the bolder Rose spoke. Annabelle seemed to be the one to hold back on nosiness.
    Donna kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut and steadied her breathing to lure them a little closer. She could feel the movement of air as they came closer to the bed.
    “There! I thought so! Her hair has painted streaks in it! What on earth…?” Donna thought about the highlights she had applied on her last visit to the beauty shop. She thought the gold and bronze streaks were glamorous, but now they marked her as unusual and freakish in this time and place.
    “I can’t see anything, you know I have weak eyes,” Annabelle said.
    “They’re there. My God, I don’t know what they are—some kind of paint.” Rose was so close Donna could feel her gentle breath. She knew it was time to pretend to awaken for real. She gave a good long cough and halfway pushed herself up on her elbows.
    “Oh! Miss! We thought we heard you callin’ out from downstairs!” Rose lied through her teeth, but Donna had to admit she had her cover story prepared.
    “While we came up we brought you more clothing—we thought you might want to change into some fresh things!”
    “That’s kind of you.” Donna rubbed her eyes, they were so dry feeling. She saw Rose staring intently at her face. At the same time she remembered her violet contact lenses. Better to remove them or have them question her eye color. They weren’t prescription anyway.
    “Your eyes miss! They’re not the same—the color I mean. One is blue and one is pur—”
    Donna saw Annabelle coming in closer. Quickly—she had to do something. She hoped her hands were halfway clean and while rubbing her eyes, plucked out the lens from her right eye. The left one seemed to be missing, perhaps she had rubbed it out and it was on the bedding. She pretended to squint and blink, all the while pinching the lens and