“But isn’t Des Moines interesting?” Norma asked in surprise.
“Sure it is,” a bright-eyed girl from Texas exclaimed. “Beth is just lazy, that’s all. Des Moines is a nice big overgrown town, all full of nice, friendly people. It has the grandest eating spots! Yes, and halls where you can dance—really nice places.”
“And boys to dance with! Umm!” exclaimed a girl from Indiana. “There are soldiers and sailors who come in from their camps and all sorts of college boys.”
“A nice big, overgrown town, all full of nice friendly people.” Norma recalled these words later. Truth was, she found herself a little homesick. At that moment she would have loved a good romp with her dog Spark, and after that a quiet talk with her dad.
“I know what I’ll do!” she thought. “And I won’t tell a soul! They’d laugh at me.”
Betty, who more than any girl at camp had begun to seem Norma’s chum, had decided to stay in camp. When the day came, Norma too remained until four o’clock. Part of the time she spent having her hair washed and set. It was no accident that she took the chair of the Spanish hairdresser who served her before.
“I’ll bring up the subject of the Interceptor Control. If she asks questions I’ll tell her things I read in that little book called ‘The Battle of Britain.’ Anything that’s been published. Then perhaps I’ll string her a little.”
The hairdresser fell for the bait. Norma loaded her up with commonly known facts, then drew pictures from her fertile imagination. In the end she was hearing planes at unbelievable distances.
“But why are you so interested in all this?” she asked at last.
The girl shot her a swift look. “Oh! Miss Kent!” she exclaimed—there was a shrill note in her voice—“It is all so very interesting! Everything you WACs do is thrilling! It is a great organization!”