Chapter 9: Mary

I got back to the room Friday after lunch. Anne was there, looking at her notes.

"Mary, did your Humanities teacher say anything about going to the University museum?"

"Yeah. Said we should go see it. Want to go this afternoon? I haven't anything going; I just told Tom to meet me for supper at the Union."

"That's what I was hoping. I'm going to change first, though."

"Into what? Should I, too? Is this formal?"

"No, I just feel like wearing something pretty. Oh, and Alex asked me about dinner, too. Why don't we eat together?"

Anne was down to her panties in the bedroom. I followed in and sat down to take my boots off. Anne pulled out a long, blue, cotton dress with a gazillion tiny white flowers, half a million little buttons down the front and a deep scoop neck. She left the skirt buttons open up to mid-thigh.

"That's pretty, all right. Guess I'll be the homely one."

I dug out a silk print blouse that has this design of red and blue lines and blocks on a white background. I put on a blue worsted kilt that's mid-thigh with a funny-looking bronze clasp pin Aunt Bessie gave me. I love good things.

We both hit the long mirror on the back of the bedroom door at the same time. Anne's neckline showed the beginning of her cleavage. I undid the first three buttons of my shirt and let my braid fall down the front. We looked terrific.

The museum wasn't too far across the campus, so we walked. We were supposed to tour the permanent exhibition and get a good idea of what's there. I suppose we'll have to write a paper on it eventually.

We spent about an hour walking through the galleries. I like the Impressionists and the stuff just before them, but the Gothic stuff leaves me cold. So do most of the Romantics.

There were quite a few people in the galleries. The guys looked at Anne's cleavage and my long legs. None of them was particularly interesting.

We walked into another gallery and sat down on a bench. There was a guy there, too, looking the other way, sketching in a big pad. I looked at what he was drawing, and turned around fast. On the wall was this huge painting of a simply beautiful horse. The guy was drawing a copy of it, trying to get the muscles right.

"Holy Moses! Will you look at that horse. What a beauty!"

I got up and walked over to look at it more closely. The guy put his pencil down until I realized I was in his way. I went back to the bench and sat next to him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to block your view. Can I see it, what you've done?"

He showed me the pad. "I'm trying to see how Stubbs does this leg. I can't seem to get it right."

"Who's Stubbs?"