“I hate housework, abhor it,” admitted Ruth, dimpling prettily, “but mother says we just have to get used to it, so we won’t know we’re doing it. You would be surprised, Nancy, how easy it is to wash dishes and dream of babbling brooks.”
“Really!” That was Vera again. “I adore dishes, but I won’t dream of bobbling brooks, ever.”
“Bobbling,” repeated Ruth. “That’s good, Vera. I suppose they bobble more than they babble. But I guess you’re not much of a dreamer, Vera,” she finished, in a doubtful compliment.
Nancy was amused. Ruth was going to be “good fun” and Vera was already proving a pretty good joke. Their acquaintance was surely promising, and Nancy responded fittingly.
She had time to notice in detail each of these new friends. Ruth was dimply and just fat enough to be happily plump. She also was correspondingly sunny in her disposition. She wore her hair twisted into three or four “Spring Maids” and it gave her the effect of short, curled hair. Her summer dress was a simple blue ratine, and Nancy admired it frankly.
Vera was affected in manner, in style, in dress and every way. Her hair was so arranged Nancy couldn’t be sure just how it was done, but it looked like a model in a hairdresser’s window. Also, she wore, bound around it a Roman ribbon, with a wonderful assortment of rainbow colors. Her costume was sport, with a very fancy jacket and a light silk and wool plaid skirt. That she had plenty of money was rather too obviously apparent, and Nancy wondered just how she and Ruth were connected.
They were inspecting the newly acquired little store.
“And you are the manager, the proprietor—”
“The clerk and the cashier,” Nancy interrupted Ruth. “I’ve always loved to play store, so now, mother says, she hopes I’ll be satisfied. But this is a very old-timey place. I don’t see how the Townsends ever made it pay.”
“Miss Townsend is a queer old lady,” replied Ruth. “I guess of late years they didn’t have to worry about making things pay in the store.”