Her mother shrugged her shoulders. She knew it was useless to argue, but she couldn’t resist saying, “I think you’re more appropriately dressed as you are now, for a warm summer day. As for that skirt which you chose against my better judgment, all I can say is that it rivals the crazy quilt on your grandmother’s Colonial bed.”
An impatient honk of the horn ended the argument as Judy and her mother hurried to the walk just as the dusty blue sedan pulled up in front of the door.
Judy sat in the back seat next to a pale, freckled-faced girl with straight honey-colored hair. Her large hazel eyes were continuously fastened on her mother.
“This is Anne,” Mrs. Lurie smiled at both girls. “I know you’re going to like each other.”
Mrs. Freiborg, a slight, distinguished-looking woman whose manner reflected the importance her husband had achieved in the music world, also turned and said affably, “I’m glad, Judy, you and Anne will get acquainted at last.” Immediately both mothers were engaged in an animated conversation and promptly forgot the existence of their daughters.
The girls sat in strained silence. Judy wondered why her mother was so sure she would like this girl. With an effort she broke the silence.
“I’ve never been in the pool as yet, have you?”
“Yes,” Anne said in a flat voice, reluctantly shifting her eyes from her mother’s back to Judy’s face. “I take swimming lessons.”
“I’ve been swimming for ages,” Judy said with a slightly superior air, “but I would love to learn how to dive.”
“I used to be so scared of the water,” Anne confided, “but I’m not anymore. Mother says lots of girls are afraid—”