And going with Aunt Isabel! Aunt Isabel was young, beautiful, and delightful. Aunt Isabel went to Colorado every summer!
But a whole year! That is, in truth, a long time and can bring forth much that is unforeseen, amazing, revolutionizing. Especially when one is sixteen and beginning really to know life.
Missy had always found life in Cherryvale absorbing. The past had been predominantly tinged with the rainbow hues of dreams; with the fine, vague, beautiful thoughts that “reading” brings, and with such delicious plays of fancy as lend witchery to a high white moon, an arched blue sky, or rolling prairies-even to the tranquil town and the happenings of every day. Nothing could put magic into the humdrum life of school, and here she must struggle through another whole year of it before she might reach Colorado. That was a cloud, indeed, for one who wasn't “smart” like Beulah Crosswhite. Mathematics Missy found an inexplicable, unalloyed torture; history for all its pleasingly suggestive glimpses of a spacious past, laid heavy taxes on one not good at remembering dates. But Missy was about to learn to take a more modern view of high school possibilities. Shortly before school opened Cousin Pete came to see his grandparents in Cherryvale. Perhaps Pete's filial devotion was due to the fact that Polly Currier resided in Cherryvale; Polly was attending the State University where Pete was a “Post-Grad.” Missy listened to Cousin Pete's talk of college life with respect, admiration, and some unconscious envy. There was one word that rose, like cream on milk, or oil on water, or fat on soup, inevitably to the surface of his conversation. “Does Polly Currier like college?” once inquired Missy, moved by politeness to broach what Pete must find an agreeable subject. “Naturally,” replied Pete, with the languor of an admittedly superior being. “She's prominent.” The word, “prominent,” as uttered by him had more than impressiveness and finality. It was magnificent. It was as though one might remark languidly: “She? Oh, she's the Queen of Sheba”—or, “Oh, she's Mary Pickford.”
Missy pondered a second, then asked:
“Prominent? How is a-what makes a person prominent?”
Pete elucidated in the large, patronizing manner of a kindly-disposed elder.
“Oh, being pretty—if you're a girl—and a good sport, and active in some line. A leader.”
Missy didn't yet exactly see. She decided to make the problem specific.
“What makes Polly prominent?”
“Because she's the prettiest girl on the hill,” Pete replied indulgently. “And some dancer. And crack basket-ball forward—Glee Club—Dramatic Club. Polly's got it over 'em forty ways running.”