“I brought you size eighteen and I guess you don’t take any more than a sixteen,” said she. “Well, we can try these on anyway, and see how you like the style.”
Over Edina’s dark, sleek head, the saleswoman slipped a one-piece sports frock, beige in color and elaborately simple in design.
It was too big for the girl, but one glance was sufficient to assure both Billie and the saleswoman that color and design were just right.
“I’ll get her size in that,” said the saleswoman to Billie, and disappeared.
Edina turned this way and that before the long mirror. She glanced appealingly at Billie.
“It looks grand—but it ain’t me. Seems like I got to live with a stranger before I git used to myself.”
“A mighty nice stranger, though. In that get-up, you’re stunning, Edina—no other word to describe you.”
Edina’s pleasure in the praise was almost pathetic.
“You really think I look nice?”
“Stunning was the word I used,” cried Billie gaily. “And wait till you see the rest of the things we are going to get for you, Edina Tooker. Why, you don’t know the half of it!”