CHAPTER VI
FINE FEATHERS
Betty Gordon had always, foolishly perhaps, associated courtesy andgood-breeding with beautiful clothes. This strange girl, who could speakso on such slight provocation (none at all, to be exact) wore a handsomesuit, and if her jewelry was too conspicuous it had the merit of beinggenuine. Betty herself had a lively temper, but she was altogether freefrom snappishness and when she "blew up" the cause was sure to beunmistakable and significant.
Bob jumped when the girl fired her question at him. There had beennothing in his limited experience with girls to prepare him for such anoutburst. Betty half expected him to acquiesce and leave the stranger inpossession of his seat, but to her surprise he simply turned on his heeland walked away. Not, however, before Betty had seen something borderingon contempt in his eyes.
"I'd hate to have Bob look at me like that," she thought. "It wasn't asif he didn't like her, or was mad at her--what is it I am trying tosay? Bob looked as if--as if--Oh, bother, I know what I mean, but Ican't say it."
The little spitfire in the seat beside her wriggled uneasily as if she,too, were not as comfortable as she would pretend. Bob's silent receptionof her discourtesy had infuriated her, and she knew better than Bettywhere she stood in the boy's estimation. She had instantly forfeited hisrespect and probably his admiration forever.
In a few minutes Bob was back, and with him the conductor.
"Young lady, you're in the wrong seat," that official announced in a tonethat admitted of no trifling. "You were in eighteen in the other car andI had to move you to twenty-three in here. Just follow me, please."
He reached in and took one of the suitcases, and Bob matter-of-factlytook the other two. The girl opened her mouth, glanced at the conductor,and thought better of whatever she was going to say. Meekly she followedhim to another section on the other side of the car and found herselfcompelled to share a seat with a severe-looking gray-haired woman,evidently a sufferer from hay fever, as she sneezed incessantly.
Bob dropped down in his old place and shot a quizzical look at Betty.
"Flame City may be tough," he observed, "and I'd be the last one to claimthat it possessed one grain of culture; but at that, I can't rememberhaving a pitched battle with a girl during my care-free existence there."
"She's used to having her own way," said Betty, with a laudable ambitionto be charitable, an intention which she inadvertently destroyed byadding vigorously: "She'd get that knocked out of her if she lived West alittle while."
"Guess the East can be trusted to smooth her down," commented Bob grimly."Unless she's planning to live in seclusion, she won't get far in peaceor happiness unless she behaves a bit more like a human being."
The girl was more or less in evidence during the rest of the trip andincurred the cordial enmity of every woman in the car by the coolnesswith which she appropriated the dressing room in the morning and curledher hair and made an elaborate toilet in perfect indifference to theother feminine travelers who were shut out till she had the last hairpinadjusted to her satisfaction.
She was met at the Chicago terminal by a party of gay friends who whiskedher off in a palatial car, and Bob and Betty who, acting on Mr. Gordon'sadvice, spent their two-hour wait between trains driving along the LakeShore Drive, forgot her completely.
But first Betty fell victim to the charms of a hat displayed in a smartlittle millinery shop, and had an argument with Bob in which she cameoff victor.
"Oh, Bob, what a darling hat!" she had exclaimed, drawing him over to thewindow as they turned down the first street from the station. "I musthave it; I want to look nice when I meet the girls in Washington."
"You look nice now," declared Bob sturdily. "But if you want to buy it,go ahead," he encouraged her. "Ask 'em how much it is, though," he added,with a sudden recollection of the fabulous prices said to be charged fora yard of ribbon and a bit of lace.
The hat in question was a soft brown beaver that rolled slightly awayfrom the face and boasted as trimming a single scarlet quill. It wasundeniably becoming, and Bob gave it his unqualified approval.
"And you will want a veil?" insinuated the clever young Frenchsaleswoman. "See--it is charming!"
She threw over the hat a cobwebby pattern of brown silk net embroideredheavily with chenille dots and deftly draped it back from Betty'sglowing face.
"You don't want a veil!" said Bob bluntly.
Now the mirror told Betty that the veil looked very well indeed, and madeher, she was sure of it, prettier. Betty was a good traveler and thejourney had not tired her. The excitement and pleasure of choosing a newhat had brought a flush to her cheeks, and the shining brown eyes thatgazed back at her from the glass assured her that a veil was somethinggreatly to be desired.
"You don't want it," repeated Bob. "You're only thirteen and you'll looksilly. Do you want to dress like that girl on the train?"
If Bob had stopped to think he would have realized that his remarks werenot exactly tactful. Especially the reference to Betty's age, just whenshe fancied that she looked very grown up indeed. She was fond ofbraiding her heavy thick hair and wrapping it around her head so thatthere were no hair-ribbons to betray her. In Betty's experience theborder line between a young lady and a little girl was determined by theabsence or presence of hair-ribbons.
"How much is it?" she asked the saleswoman.
"Oh, but six dollars," answered that young person with a wave of onejeweled hand as though six dollars were a mere nothing.
"I'll take it," said Betty decisively. "And I'll wear it and the hat,too, please; you can wrap up my old one."
Bob was silent until the transaction had been completed and they were outof the shop.
"You wait here and I'll see about getting a car to take us along theDrive," he said then.
"You're--you're not mad at me, are you Bob?" faltered Betty, putting anappealing hand on his arm. "I haven't had any fun with clothes allsummer long."
"No, I'm not mad. But I think you're an awful chump," replied Bob withhis characteristic frankness.
Before the drive was over, Betty was inclined to agree with him.
The car was an open one, and while the day was warm and sunny, there wasa lively breeze blowing straight off the lake. The veil persisted inblowing first into Betty's eyes, then into Bob's, and interfered to anamazing degree with their enjoyment of the scenery. Finally, as theyrounded a curve and caught the full breath of the breeze, the veil blewaway entirely.
"Let it go," said Betty resignedly. "It's cost me six dollars to learn Idon't want to wear a veil."
Bob privately decided he liked her much better without the flimsy netaffair, but he wisely determined not to air his opinion. There was nouse, he told himself, in "rubbing it in."
They had lunch in a cozy little tea-room and went back to the train likeseasoned travelers. Bob was an ideal companion for such journeys, for henever lost his head and never missed connections, while nervous haste wasunknown to him.
"Won't I be glad to see the Littells!" exclaimed Betty, watching theporter make up their berths.
"So shall I," agreed Bob. "Did you ever know such hospitable people,asking a whole raft of us to spend the week at Fairfields? How many didBobby write would be there?"
"Let's see," said Betty, checking off on her fingers. "There'll be Bobbyand Louise, of course; and Esther who is too young to go away to school,but who will want to do everything we do; Libbie Littell and anotherVermont girl we don't know--Frances Martin; you and I; and the five boysMr. Littell wrote you about--the Tucker twins, Timothy Derby, SydneyCooke and Winifred Marion Brown. Twelve of us! Won't it be fun! I do wishthe Guerin girls could be there, but we'll see them at the school."
"I'd like to see that Winifred Marion chap," declared Bob. "A boy with agirl's name has his troubles cut out for him, I should say."
"Lots of 'em have girls' names--in history," contributed Betty absently."What time do we get into Washington, Bob?"
"Around five, probably six p
.m., for we're likely to be a bit late,"replied Bob. "Let's go to bed now, Betty, and get an early start inthe morning."
The day spent on the train was uneventful, and, contrary to Bob'sexpectations, they were on time at every station. Betty's heart beatfaster as the hands of her little wrist watch pointed to 5:45 and thepassengers began to gather up their wraps. The porter came through andbrushed them thoroughly and Betty adjusted her new hat carefully.
The long train slid into the Union Station. With what differentemotions both Bob and Betty had seen the beautiful, brilliantly lightedbuilding on the occasion of their first trip to Washington! Then eachhad been without a friend in the great city, and now they were to bewelcomed by a host.
Betty's cheeks flushed rose-red, but her lovely eyes filled with a suddenrush of tears.
"I'm so happy!" she whispered to the bewildered Bob.
"Want my handkerchief?" he asked anxiously, at which Betty triednot to laugh.