the lady of the house said cheerily, "send Joan in here. I'd like to meet
Two double beds
dominated the room and Babe Didrikson Zaharias was in the far one.
had passed since her portrait had been painted, but her pillowed head looked
much the same. Her brown hair was longer, softer. Time and laughter had etched
lines around her eyes, but the same spark, the intensity and alertness burned
in them still.
Only her body,
thinner, frailer, was more dormant.
At our entrance,
Bebe, the poodle, jumped on the bed, a black fluff snuggled protectively
against her mistress' red silk pajamas.
rascal plays right here all the time," Babe Zaharias said. She raised her
knees under the coverlet, providing a back brace for the dog and propped her in
front of her like a live doll.
up there and chew a bone, but she'll hold it in her paws so dainty-like,"
she praised. Then apologetically, "I'm sorry I slept so late, but I had a
matter-of-factly, quickly, crisply.
were a lot, going to the women's tournament. My legs ache. They don't hurt, but