This trait of Cora’s was beginning to lead to embarrassing consequences. Cora’s wild statements in school were always taken with a grain of salt. Worse than that, her own people wouldn’t believe her. Even when she outgrew her shoes and wrote home for larger ones, they were sure she only meant more stylish ones; so poor Cora limped about in short shoes and acquired a corn. And now she had a new trouble. Whether it was basketball or the extra pie that she ate under the porch with Maude, no one knew, but Cora began suddenly to grow very rapidly. Her sleeves and her skirts were visibly retreating and she was showing more wrist and more stocking than was considered becoming.
“My folks won’t believe me,” wailed Cora, reading her letter from home. “I’ve told them that my knees show and my sleeves are up to my elbows and they won’t believe me.”
“But your skirts aren’t up to your knees,” laughed Marjory.
“Anyway, they’re getting there and I have to stay up nights letting out hems.”
“Never mind,” consoled Jean, “your folks will see for themselves, when you go home for Christmas. Of course you may have to go in a paper bag—”
“That’s just the trouble. I don’t go home for Christmas—I live too far away. I’m going to visit Maude in Chicago—and it’s her folks that will see for themselves how many miles of legs and wrists I’m showing.”
“That’s what you get for stretching things,” laughed Henrietta. “Your arms and legs have caught it.”
“I didn’t get any letter at all,” grumbled Mabel. “Anybody gets more than I do.”
“Cheer up,” said Jean. “Perhaps you’ll have two tomorrow. In the meantime you can read mine—there’s quite a lot of Lakeville news in it.”
“Wait a minute, girls,” called Helen Miller, climbing up on the platform beside Sallie. “Have any of you seen my amethyst pendant? I thought I left it in a little box on my dresser, but I may have worn it out and dropped it. Anyway, if you find one, it’s mine.”