Then silence fell again—that is, human voices ceased. But the visiting girls marked instantly the peculiar fact that the room sounded like a clock-shop, with all the clocks going.
There was an alarm clock hung by a ribbon right beside the head of one of the two beds in the room. A little ormolu clock was ticking busily on the bureau, and an easel clock stood upon the work table. In the corner hung an old-fashioned cuckoo clock in one of the elaborately carved cases made in the Black Forest, and just at this moment the door at the top flew open and the Cuckoo jerked her head out and announced the time—nine o’clock.
This was too much for the risibility of the girls crowding in at the door, and no pounding of the broom handle could entirely quell the giggles.
“And she’s wearing a watch!” gasped one girl. “And there’s another hanging on the side of the mirror.”
“Why, girls!” burst out Laura Polk. “We’ve certainly caught Miss Procrastination herself. You know, ‘procrastination is the thief of time,’ and this Wau—what-again girl must have stolen all these timepieces.”
“Didn’t either!” declared the occupant of the room. “Pop and I took ’em for a debt.”
“Hush!” commanded the girl in the pillow case. “What is your name, sawney?”
“Amelia Boggs,” was the prompt reply.
“Amelia, you must come with us,” commanded the leader of the sawney procession.
“Oh! I haven’t time,” objected the victim.