Gretchen Bemis was a little plump by some standards, but she was the kind of girl who usually set her own standards, and if she wanted to be noticed by a man — even in a baggy nurse’s uniform — she usually was. In fact, among the internes [sic] at Sibert Memorial Hospital she was affectionately known as “Bemis de Milo.”
Not all of Gretchen’s friends in the hospital were like her. Not the delicate Rosemary Joplin, who resented her stepmother because her face always looked as though her feet hurt, and because she was not charmingly helpless like the playmate-mother who had died when Rosemary was fourteen. Not Nelle Gibson, whose square figure and dun-colored hair had made her decide that, not being beautiful, she’d better be bright.
This is the story of senior year at nursing school, when Gretchen and her friends, realizing that they were now adult human beings, began to come to grips with their problems. It was an exciting time for them, and most of all, perhaps, for Gretchen. For her wish was granted in a way that was as unexpected as it was delightful, and graduation day brought to her more than the stiff organdy graduate cap, so like a cupcake, that was the prize for all her hard work.