She's had it in a trunk for years and years."
"I don't see how you and Aunt Faith could wear the same clothes, she's so
much taller than you are," said Bob, obviously trying to put two and two
together in his mind. "But it looks fine on you, Betty."
Betty smiled at him compassionately.
"Oh, Bob, you're so funny!" she sighed. "I made this blouse all
myself--that is," she corrected, "Mrs. Watterby helped me cut it out and
she sewed the sleeves in after I had basted them in wrong twice, but I
did everything else. There wasn't a scrap of goods left over, either. I
put it on to-day because I wanted you to see me in it."
She was worth seeing, Bob acknowledged to himself. The over-blouse of
blue and white checked silk, slashed at the throat for the crisp black
tie, and the gray corduroy riding skirt and smart tan shoes were at once
suitable and becoming.
"I'll have to have some new clothes for school," declared Betty, who had
a healthy interest in this topic. "We can't wear very fussy things,
though--Bobby sent me the catalogue. Sailor suits for every day, and a
cloth frock for best. And not more than one party dress."
"I asked her when she started," Bob confided to the blank eye of the
white horse now turned dully toward him.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25