“How?” from Chloe.
“Right after lunch.” from Betsy.
“Disguised and out the servant’s entrance.” from Mimi.
“Well blow us down!” from Sue and Chloe.
“Don’t stand there paralyzed,” Mimi ordered. Now that the decision was made she was eager for action. “Y’all will have to help us borrow our disguises but first, cross your hearts and promise not to tell a soul.”
The promise was given. They wished they had courage to join in but they were ruled out at the first suggestion. Four people would be too conspicuous. Two might prove too many.
Mimi could hardly swallow her lunch. The fated hour of two o’clock would never come. This was the hour washwomen waited for girls to claim laundry and to pay.
As soon as the bread pudding dishes were empty and every possible taste of chocolate sauce scraped up, the four occupants of Tumble Inn hastened to their suite and closed the door.
“Shall we lock it?” Chloe asked.
“No,” Betsy answered promptly. “Pile things against it so that it would take a minute or two to get in but don’t lock it. If Mrs. Cole tried it and it didn’t open she’d ‘smell a mouse’ sure enough.”