“But your hair!” he objected again, as if he were reaching for straws of argument for support, “Aunt Elinor will throw a fit when she sees you minus your hair.” “Pooh—what do I care for Aunt Elinor? And anyway, it’ll grow out again. I can have typhoid fever or something for an excuse. Come on!” “But, gosh, Leona—you don’t know what you’re getting into.” He was just arguing for the sake of having something to say. “There’s an awful gang in that headquarters barracks—swearing all the time, smoking and chewing, telling dirty rotten stories that’ll make your stomach turn somersaults. Really, we’d better not——” “Oh—hush!” I exclaimed. “My stomach’s stronger than yours, old dear, so if you can stand it, I guess I can for a couple of days anyway. Besides, I think it will be kinda fun, hearing a lot of things a girl never has a chance to hear when she’s in dresses.” He capitulated. “Well, I would like to see Vyvy, and it does sound fool-proof.” “Come on, then!” “Well, you’re making the bed, remember!” So we set off for his barracks, where he showed me his bunk and explained about the rules. Then we proceeded to his Colonel’s office where he obtained a two-hour pass to leave the camp. It was while he was getting this that I had my first worry. And I didn’t know just how to ask about it, either, since it’s one of those things that even brother and sister wouldn’t ordinarily discuss. Finally, however, I said, “You’re sure there’s nothing that could embarrass me?” “Not a thing, as long as you use your head and stay out of trouble.” That didn’t satisfy my curiosity, so I had to blurt out exactly what I meant. “How about those ‘inspections’ you have to go through every now and then?” “What inspections?” he wanted to know. Which convinced me that he is dumber than I am. “Why—don’t you have some kind of physical exam every few weeks?” I insisted. I was really surprised that he could laugh at such a thing, but he did. He thought it was a huge joke and kept on smiling about it even after he told me that there was nothing to worry about from that quarter as they had just had one of those intimate inspections two days before. I was very much relieved—and the idea is rather funny, at that, when you stop to think of it: just imagine me standing in line with a bunch of men and stepping up to let a doctor look me over! And imagine the look on the doctor’s face when he saw before him a woman instead of a man! I guess Leon has a sense of humor after all. Anyway, we went out to the car then and left the camp, driving way over to the other side of town to find a little barber shop where no one’s suspicions might be aroused. I went in, and I admit that I felt rather foolish for a moment. But there was only one barber there and he was an Italian that could only understand English when it was accompanied by very clear gestures. And I told him I had had typhoid fever and therefore wanted my hair cut short like a boy’s.