from the City isn’t going to be made up till last day of school,” Margaret Amelia informed us. “It’s got pink flowers in and it cost sixty cents a yard.”
“Margaret and I are going to have white shoes before we go visiting,” Betty remembered. “I got two new dresses that ain’t made up yet. Mamma says I got so many I don’t need them,” observed Calista, with an indifferent manner and a soft, triumphant glance. Whereat we all sat silent.
I struggled with the moment, but it was too much for me.
“I got a white silk lining to my new dress,” I let it be known. “It’s made, but I haven’t had it on yet. China silk,” I added conscientiously. Then, moved perhaps by a common discomfort, we all looked toward Mary Elizabeth. I think I loved her from that moment.
“None of you’s got the new style sleeves,” she said serenely, and held aloft the arm whose sleeve was slit from wrist to shoulder.
We all laughed together, but Delia pounced upon the arm. She caught and held it.
“What’s that on your arm?” she cried, and we all looked. From the elbow up the skin was
