But, after this convalescence, by the end of the week Dosia emerged, eager, alert, with pink cheeks and gleaming eyes, having passed through some subtle transformation, and bent on pleasure. She was rather silent, indeed, except when carried away by sudden excitement, but she was rapturously happy at the prospect of a concert and a card-party and a large bazaar to be given soon; the concert and the bazaar were both for charity, and she was already engaged to serve at the flower-booth in the latter; there was to be dancing after the closing of both entertainments.
Clothes were the first requisite, after a definite arrangement had been made to begin the music lessons in two weeks’ time. Every little preparation was a source of delight to Dosia, who thought Lois wonderful as a designer and adapter of fashions suitable to her purse, and the older woman threw herself into this work with a sort of fierce ardor.
Zaidee watched Dosia with benignant satisfaction
Dosia had never seen so much ready money spent in her life, and had never heard so much talk about it—why should she, in a place where no one bought anything, where long-outstanding bills for tiny sums were paid for mostly in lumber, or chickens, or cotton? Here the price of daily living and clothing and amusements was one of the stock topics in the intimate round of suburban dwellers. Women came to visit her cousin Lois who at times made it their sole subject of conversation, incidentally submitting the very garments they wore to appraisal, for the pleasure of springing an unexpected price in her face like a jack-in-the-box, at which she was to jump admiringly. Lois declaimed against the habit, even while she sometimes fell a victim to it, and Dosia found herself drawn into the same ways, after a delightful revel in shopping for new clothes with Aunt Theodosia’s money. The chief requisite in any article bought was that it should look to be worth more than was paid for it.
What most impressed Dosia in the big city was, not the size of it, nor the height of the buildings, nor the magnificence of the shops—she accepted these wonders, indeed, with the provoking acquiescence which dwellers in outlying sections of the country display when confronted with the reality they have seen so often depicted. It was the crowd, the rush of the people, the tense expression on the faces, that struck her with amazement; everyone looked in grim haste to get somewhere, and forged ahead untiringly with set and definite purpose, as if there were not a minute to lose. Dosia had been used to sauntering aimlessly, and to seeing everyone else saunter. There was no hurry at Balderville, except in Northern people on their first arrival, and they soon lost it. Dosia clung to Lois’ arm on their first excursion, but the next time she suddenly dropped the arm and forged ahead breathlessly, being caught, as she was crossing a street, by a policeman just in time to escape being run over by an electric car. When Lois came up to her, horrified and indignant, the girl was laughing in wild exhilaration.
“Oh, it’s such fun!” she said. “I’m going to walk like the other people after this; but I’ll stop when I get to the crossings, so you needn’t mind.” People turned around to look at the pretty girl with the hair blown back from her face, standing still in the street and laughing. The excitement was all part of the first intoxication of the new life.