Someone else had told her what was the most important,
but she would not think of him. She just would not. And anyway all he
wanted now was friendship. Men were so constant. Her nose tilted.
She felt so much more scorn than a curled lip could express that her
nose had to tilt. But until she could save a lot of money and go to
New York she would stay right there in the Washington and listen to
Mary Rose's experiences at the Lincoln School.

"It isn't like the school at Mifflin one bit, but I like it just the
same. And I've made a lot of new friends. I never realized how you
needed friends your own age until today. I've managed very well and
been happy until--until," she gulped as she remembered what had
happened to make her unhappy, "the other day, but it's such fun to have
friends your own size. There's that girl at Mrs. Bracken's. She's
older and bigger than I am, but Mrs. Bracken said we could be friends
and there isn't as much difference as there is between me and Grandma
Johnson. And we're friends. There's a boy with only one leg in my
class," importantly. "He's going to tell me how he lost the other one
tomorrow. And a girl, Anna Paulovitch. Isn't that a funny name? She
was born in O-Odessa, Russia. I never knew anyone who was born in
Russia before. It's very interesting. Do you know," her voice dropped
to a whisper, "that two years ago she lost all of her hair. She was
sick and it disappeared until now there isn't even a single solitary
hair on any part of her head. It's as bare, as bare," she looked about
for a comparison but could not find one that would suit her, "as
anything could be bare. It's very strange."

"And does she go to school without any hair?" asked Bob Strahan, trying
to visualize Anna Paulovitch's bare pate.

"Oh, no! You can't go to school without hair. So last summer Anna
picked berries for a farmer and saved every penny and soon she had
enough to buy a wig. Her own hair was black and she hated it. She
always wanted yellow curls and so when she bought her wig she bought
long yellow curls. They're perfectly beautiful. You'd never guess
they didn't grow on her own head. She showed me because I'm her
friend. We're in the same number class."

"Ye gods! Long yellow curls on a swart-faced black-eyed Russian." Bob
Strahan laughed at the combination.

Miss Carter looked at him reproachfully as she swung the conversation
to the safe subject of Mrs. Bracken's niece.