CHAPTER XX
A SMALL BROWN BAG
And Rosa was getting thin! In this simple, easy, pleasant way—just long walks, daily. That meant rain or shine and “long” meant all the way to the village, clear down to the post office, two miles each way. At first Rosa objected; she found her feet untrained for such tramps, but Nancy knew and insisted.
“Why not try my cure?” she urged. “It’s not near as unpleasant as Orilla’s.”
“Very well,” Rosa would sigh. “But you better tip off the scales. If they don’t mark me low—”
“They will,” Nancy promised, and of course they always did.
Gar proposed tennis. Rosa had never before played—“good reason why,” she explained, but now she was anxious to try the splendid summer game.
“You look wonderful in your sport suit, Rosa,” Nancy encouraged, “and out on the courts—”
“All right. Anything once, but don’t expect me to fly up in the air after the ball, the way you do, Nance. I’m still something of a paper weight, you know.”
So tennis was tried, successfully.