She squeezed the teacher’s hand, flashed one triumphant look at the group of curious, half-envious girls, and darted out into the street.
In the fitting room at the department store, Billie found a transformed Edina impatiently awaiting her. Billie paused in the doorway and stared at the wholly unfamiliar apparition.
“Turn yourself about, Edina,” she breathed. “Slowly—that’s right. My dear, you are a triumph! I’m proud of you—and me! Come along now and we’ll get something to eat. I’m starving. Besides, I’ve got to show you off!”
Edina Tooker would never be beautiful. Nor could she even be spoken of as a pretty girl. But Billie realized as she looked at this new, tastefully dressed Edina that the girl possessed a native dignity and poise that was more compelling than mere prettiness. Her own prophecy was being fulfilled. The girl had become a personage.
Perhaps Edina read something of this in Billie’s prolonged scrutiny.
“I’m just tryin’ to live up to my clothes,” she said, with a wistful smile. “They’re the first things I ever owned in all my life that seemed to—to belong to me. I know I look different and, somehow, I begin to feel different.”
“You will feel differenter and differenter as time goes on,” Billie prophesied gaily. “You’re a knockout, Edina. I can’t wait for the girls to see you.”
Into the eyes of Edina came a provocative gleam that was as new as her new clothes.
“Neither can I!” she confessed. “Mebbe they won’t laugh at me now.”
“They will be simply green with envy,” prophesied Billie. “I am, myself. Just think of having all those perfectly gorgeous new frocks all at once!”