“Bess Snider is a perfect baby!” Isabel was saying as she swung her heels. “At first she was homesick. I did not blame her for that, still when there are girls that would almost give their heads to come up here it does seem so silly.”
“You can’t help homesickness, they say, Isabel.”
“I bet I could,—just think about something else.”
“That is what I did,” assented Cathalina.
“The next thing, Bess wanted to get out of dip and games and things and got up headaches and pains of all sorts?”
“Are you sure she was pretending?”
“No, and I’m not telling it around, but it was awfully funny how she could always do the things she wanted to do! But she could never take her turn about sweeping, and we were always hanging up her bathing suit to dry for her. If she could get anybody to do anything for her she would. If anybody even started to the club house it was ‘O won’t you please take this, that or the other thing for me.’ I’ve carried up her laundry and brought her a drink of water and brought stamps for her and mailed her letters till I’m tired of it. She is getting over some things, but when she takes off her clothes at night she drops them right on the floor, even her good things, and she makes us have a bad inspection every time the camp mother comes around, unless we watch her up.”
“She is just spoiled,” laughed Cathalina, with memories of a time not so far back when she had hated to do anything for herself.
“There are several girls here who have maids at home,” said Isabel, “and they don’t do that way; they think it’s fun.”
“I’d like to be spoiled once,” said Virginia, glowing beneath her second layer of freckles. She dropped from the trunk, sank upon the nearest cot, limply fell over on the pillow, and with a drawl, remarked, “Izzy, would you mind bringing me my comb? I left it on your trunk. And Cathie, do bring the water for me, that’s a dear. My head aches so this morning. I think it’s a mistake about its being my turn, anyway. My, I’m hot after games!” and Virginia fanned herself with the end of her middy tie.