“Oh, Nora, they are just terrible,” said Jane, almost in tears. “I know I will just squat down if Larry looks at me.”
“Why should he look at you? Don't you ever let on but that you have worn them often, and he will never think of looking at you.”
In face of many protests Jane was at length arrayed in her riding apparel.
“Why, you look perfectly stunning,” said Nora. “You have got just the shape for them. Pull them up a little. There, that is better. Now step out and let me see you.”
Jane walked across the room and Nora rocked in laughter. “Oh, Nora, I will just take them off. You are as mean as you can be. I will pull them off.”
“Not a bit,” said Nora, still laughing, “only stretch your legs a bit when you walk. Don't mince along. Stride like a man. These men have had all the fun in the matter of clothes. I tell you it was one of the proudest moments of my life when I saw my own legs walking. Now step out and swing your arms. There, you are fine, a fine little chap, Jane, round as a barrel, and neat as a ballet dancer, although I never saw one except in magazines.”
Trim and neat Jane looked, the riding suit showing off the beautiful lines of her round, shapely figure. Shrinking, blushing, and horribly conscious of her pants, Jane followed Nora from her bedroom. A swift glance she threw around the room. To her joy it was empty but for Mrs. Gwynne, who was ready with a big glass of rich milk and a slice of home-made bread and delicious butter.
“Good morning, my dear,” said Mrs. Gwynne, kissing her. “You will need something before you ride. You will have breakfast after your return.”
Jane went close to her and stood beside her, still blushing. “Oh, thank you,” she cried, “I am really hungry already. I hope I won't get killed. I never was on a horse before, you know.”
“Oh, never fear, Lawrence is very careful. If it were Nora now I would not be so sure about you, but Lawrence is quite safe.”