“You can play with Sniffy,” she laughingly told Barbara, as once more the little car left the grounds, this time the driver reluctantly turning towards the ocean.
“I’ve got to dress for dinner, you know,” he reminded Cara, as he picked up speed “and——”
“Oh, we just want a whiff of ocean breeze,” she cut him short, while the giggling girls each hoped that her particular friends in Sea Cosset would see her as they flew.
Barbara entered the big house and turned at once to the room assigned her. She felt very dusty and upset and therefore needed freshing up. Also, she welcomed the chance to privately arrange her things, although she was determined not to feel self-conscious about her clothes.
Clothes!
The word was like a stone wall against which she was continually bumping her head. There seemed no escape from it, and to the girl who so lately had positively ignored the word when it loomed up in capital letters, the sudden necessity of taking it seriously was very discomforting. Barbara hated to feel limited by her appearance. Not that she didn’t love pretty things, but because she felt them beyond her reach. She was obliged to build up some other real interest, and that had come to her as she naturally developed an aptitude for helping her father.
Bugs, germs, cultures, and the other symbols of bacteriology meant more to Barbara than frocks, hats, and articles of dainty apparel, dear to the heart of every normal girl.
She was simply sacrificing her natural inclinations to those forced upon her. But being a girl, almost care-free and decidedly courageous, Barbara Hale hardly knew that she was making any sacrifice at all.
In Cara’s lovely green and gold room now, she had no intention of analyzing the situation. But somehow now that she was here she actually felt she liked it.
A little chuckle escaped her as she took from her bag the student’s gown and the black cap. Her best stockings, the new pair called “atmosphere” had been packed into the cap.