“Ideals I suppose,” said Nancy, herself recovering the good humored mood. “Well, never mind, Rosa. Just so long as you don’t run away any more, or break any more ankles, I won’t mind,” and she wound the lately despised scarf around Rosa’s plump shoulders, with great affectation.
It was turning out to be a rainy day, so that the girls’ enforced idleness was not a real hardship. They were having a splendid time, especially Nancy, who, being just a normal girl, delighted in seeing beautiful clothes. And Rosa did have them—stacks of them. Not only was she the possessor of gowns by the dozen, but the finest of silk underthings, some of them so cob-webby that Nancy frankly questioned their utility.
“Please don’t give me anything else, Rosa,” she pleaded. “I shan’t know what to do with such finery.”
“Don’t worry, love,” replied Rosa. “Nobody knows exactly what to do with them until they’ve been worn a time or two. That’s dad’s joke about the man’s boots, you know. He couldn’t get them on until after he had worn them a time or two!”
“Pretty good!” agreed Nancy. “I’ll remember that. But Rosa—oh, here comes the car!”
“With Betty and dad. Let me get into bed. I must look sick enough to ward off a scolding!”
She dropped such bits of clothing as she had been draping herself in, and scuttled into bed. Nancy felt quite nervous enough at the prospect of meeting the pretty Lady Betty, but with Rosa’s condition to be explained, the home-coming seemed rather exciting.
Margot rushed into the bedroom. “Your father is coming, my dear child,” she pronounced, “and Mrs. Betty. Now please don’t get them all worried and anxious—” she paused as she patted the innumerable pillows.
“Get them worried! Indeed! And my poor foot—Hello, Daddy!” called out Rosalind. “My leg’s broke!”
The bombastic greeting was taken up by her daddy who promptly and lustily shouted: