This plan, which was really the fulfillment of Nancy’s written suggestion to Lady Betty, brought the dove of peace to Fernlode, in so far as Rosa’s conduct was concerned. For in the first week of her trial of it she actually lost three and one half pounds.
“And no barked paws nor skinned shins,” she gayly announced to everyone, including, of course, the Durands.
“I can’t see why you didn’t know that insistent exercise and cut-down rations was the real cure,” argued Nancy, reasonably enough. “Even at grammar school, and in the lower grades, babes, fat dimply little ones, are walking miles to school and turning their backs on lollipops.”
“But I hate to walk and I love lollipops,” explained the shameless Rosa.
“And you loved the excitement of a woodland mystery?”
“Yes; I could just see myself in a movie cutting down trees and falling away into skeleton lines. It was romantic now, Nance, wasn’t it, really?”
“Very. Especially when we brought you back on a tray. All carved up like a tatooed injun—”
They yelled at this, and Nancy was so relieved at Rosa’s change of disposition that she, Nancy, began to get fat! Just as Lady Betty had hoped!
Everything was so happy and cheerful; Rosa’s friends came almost every afternoon and evening, numbers of them, girls and boys, and at last the summer had opened up into a real vacation for Nancy.
They finally went to a dance at Sunset Hotel, and Rosa wore the blue cape. It was a perfect evening and everyone was so happy that even the sight of the cape upon Rosa’s shoulders failed to bring regret to Nancy. Four car loads of young folks from their summer homes paraded down the hillside road at nine o’clock. It seemed late to Nancy, but she knew better than to say so.