broke the envelope of the summons, enjoying the warmth and comfort of her surroundings and very happy and contented, just having accomplished satisfactory results with four hairpins and a net.
"Why, what in the world have I gone and done anyhow?" she whispered aghast. "I must have been mad! I'm not really made of the right stuff for France." One of the items in the list of equipment which the letter contained, stood out and grinned at her. "I can't wear wool against my skin! Never could. Makes me creep." And as she continued with her dressing, first pushing the letter far out of sight in her top bureau drawer, it seemed to her that such things as hot water and a porcelain tub, and linen towels, and a piece of soft chamois and powder, and sheets (she glanced towards Adelaide's and her luxurious beds), and pillow-cases and down comforters, and a hot water-bottle for cold feet at night, had become necessities to her. Surely it was absurd for her to consider roughing it in France—or roughing it anywhere. She would simply hate it! She must have been in a queer abnormal state of mind when she had volunteered. The truth was, she guessed, she hadn't really believed she would be accepted. So many friends of hers were not.
