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This is Placid Pond we're coming to! You see that sheet o' water, don't you? Well, that's it!" The Talentless One buttoned her jacket and clutched her little black bag. Her thin cheeks bloomed suddenly with tiny red spots of excitement.
"Of course we're going to find the right place," she said convincingly. "You wait and see. I see it now" this dreamily; it was odd for the Talentless One to be dreaming. "It looks this way: Green, grassy and pine-woodsy and roomy. And cornfields think of it!" "'Woods and cornfields the picture must not be over-done," quoted softly and a little accusingly Laura Ann.
To Placid Pond she would go, and, if there were barns and cornfields and a blue-painted pump the thrill of expectancy ran through her veins, and she forgot the Wicked Compact. The Talentless One had never glided through green places like this before, between slow, clear little streams, by country children waving their hats.
It looked like the face of an old friend to the poor, little Talentless One. "There, there, poor dear! Never mind where you be, or who I be you 'tend right to gettin' out o' your faint! Sniff this bottle there! You'll be all right in a minute. It's your foot, ain't it? It's all swollen up how'd you sprain it?" She had the injured foot in her tremulous old hands, gently loosening the shoe.
The woman ahead of her was flourishing a dainty, embroidered handkerchief, and she wondered idly if it had come from her counter at Torrey's. If so, why was it not a little white flag of truce that gave her a right to say "How do you do?" to the woman? The Talentless One suddenly felt a little lonely. "Ticket to Placid Pond, please," she said, when her turn came.
It was the loveliest place! There weren't any pianos or schools or photograph salons or handkerchiefs in it!" "Then we'll go there!" the Talentless One cried. Loraine was busy cutting strips of paper. She cut four of varying lengths and dropped them into an empty cracker-box. "Somebody shake them up, everyone shut her eyes and draw one," she ordered.
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