"It's my treat," she said; "I'm flush. Gee, ain't it hot! I wish we'd brought our bathing-suits."
Much to Lila's relief the young man who had annoyed her was no longer visible. Fannie talked all the way to Westchester in so loud a voice that nearly everybody in the car could hear her. Lila was shocked and awed by her friend's showiness and indifference.
From Westchester they were to walk the two hot miles to the park. Already Lila's new shoes had blistered her feet. But she did not mention this. It was her own fault. She had deliberately bought shoes that were half a size too small.
In the main street of Westchester they prinked, smoothing each other's rumpled dresses and straightening each other's peach-basket hats.
"Lila," said Fannie, "everybody's looking at you. I say you're too pretty. Lucky for me I've got my young man where I want him, or else you'd take him away from me."
"I would not!" exclaimed Lila, "and it's you they're looking at."
Fannie was delighted. "Do I look nice?" she wheedled.
"You look sweet!"
As a matter of fact, Fannie looked bold and handsome. Her clothes were too expensive for her station in life. Her mother suspected how she came by them, but was so afraid of actually knowing that she never brought the point to an issue; only sighed in secret and tried not to see or understand.
Now and then motors passed through the crowds straggling to the park, and in exchange for gratuitous insults from small boys and girls left behind them long trails of thick dust and the choking smell of burnt gasoline. In the sun the mercury was at one hundred and twenty degrees.