Barbara’s room at home was old-fashioned, shabby, even cluttered with books and bookish attributes, but it fairly shouted the name and personality of Barbara Hale. Cara’s was the work of an expert decorator; Barbara’s the result of her own individuality.
Shaking out the few garments upon which so much seemed to depend, Barbara hurried now to change for dinner. She would wear the little tub silk, its yellow and black stripes were vivid enough to be especially summery, and although it was home-made, she felt there could be nothing wrong with it. Its simplicity saved it from complications.
“I suppose the other girls will wear more fancy things,” Babs reasoned, “but this is all right.” So the striped tub silk was chosen as a dinner dress, and, just as Barbara had expected, it proved to be all right.
The girls were back from their ride and now made a merry, if somewhat noisy, entrance.
“Easy to tell there is a boy within hearing,” was Barbara’s sly reflection, for the way the girls giggled and chattered indicated an audience. They never would have taken so much trouble merely to amuse themselves.
“Oh, Babs!” called out Cara. “You missed it, we went slumming down the railroad way.”
“Slumming!” repeated Barbara, a sudden fear taking possession of her. Could they have sought out the little Italians to whom she had promised no interference? “Whatever did you go down the railroad for?” she asked breathlessly.
“Just for fun,” prattled Cara. “The girls wanted Dud to take them where he took you, and he bet they wouldn’t enjoy the ride.” Cara was peeling off her things and preparing to put on something pretty for dinner. Barbara hardly knew how to question her without exciting suspicion, but she just had to know whether or not those “giddy things” had bothered poor little Nicky.
“Did you see the—Italian children?” Barbara finally managed to ask in a tone she hoped was natural.
“I should say we did see them!” chanted Cara. “And say, Babs, they’re the funniest kids——”