“I know it.” Betsy couldn’t have them think she didn’t know what a suite was. “When father and I were in Memphis at the——”
“I suggest we make this a real suite,” Mimi was not to be interrupted. “Let’s move both double beds in this room, it’s larger, and both dressers and fix the tables and chairs in the other room. We can put pillows on the trunks—that is your trunks—mine is a wardrobe and I will leave it open flat against the wall and hang a cretonne curtain over it, they will be a sort of divan.”
“Grand!” from Sue.
“I don’t care” from Chloe. The opinion of second choices didn’t matter.
“Let’s do it right now!” from Betsy.
The next hour saw 207-209 transformed. Pictures, scrapbooks, pillows, Betsy’s table lamp, Sue’s violin and music cabinet made the sitting room quite livable. Photographs, quite a clutter of them. The best looking one was Jack, Betsy’s grown brother. Mimi’s tennis racquet and Betsy’s tennis racquet were hung crosswise on the wall, the way Mimi had seen in pictures. The closet space was allotted, towel rods and tooth paste spaces designated, the beds made. Lots were drawn for bed fellows and Mimi and Chloe were still together. Then again, numbers 1 to 10 were guessed for the bed nearer the window. Betsy won. Sue was glad because she was a fresh-air fiend.
“Isn’t this much better?” Mimi asked proudly as the four tired girls relaxed in their bright pajamas in the living room.
“It calls for a celebration,” Betsy agreed.
So saying she opened her dresser drawer and pulled out a large square tin box. “My treasure chest,” she informed her suite mates. “Cake—a date cake—I’ve been saving for a very special occasion.”
“Precious! Too precious!” sighed Mimi happily. “Only one thing to make our plan perfect. A name for the suite. 207-209 sounds too ordinary for anything so grand.”