CHAPTER III
A MODERN CINDERELLA
"Let's take a cab to the station. The roads are awfully wet still, and I'll ruin my shoes," suggested Alma. The little family were at breakfast, Nancy and Alma hastily swallowing their coffee so that they could hurry off to the station. After the fit of autumn wind and rain, another summer day had come, with a glistening sunlight which was doing its best to cheer up the drooping flowers in the tiny garden.
"We don't need a cab. What are you talking about?" replied Nancy, glancing out of the window. "It's a wonderful day, and we don't have to make for all the puddles on the way to the station like ducks. By the way, don't let me forget to stop at the bank. I dare say I ought to take some money with me in case we can't get just what we want at Frelinghuysen's. How much do you think we should have, Mother?"
"Seventy-five dollars ought to be enough," said Mrs. Prescott vaguely, after a moment's calculation. Nancy whooped.
"Seventy-five! Good gracious—why, if I spend a cent over forty, we'll have to live on bread and water for the rest of the month!"
"Well, just as you think, dear—you know best, of course," Mrs. Prescott answered absently. "You two had better be starting. I wish you would get Alma a new hat while you're in town, Nancy. I don't quite like that one she has—it doesn't go with her suit."
Nancy pushed her chair back from the table.
"I'll trot out and see Hannah a moment. We have about thirty-five minutes, Alma."
It took them twenty minutes to walk to the station. Alma was in high spirits, Nancy still thoughtful. But the wind was up and out, tossing the trees, rippling the puddles, which reflected a clear, sparkling sky, and the riotous, care-free mood of the morning was infectious.