"Neither do I," said Bettie.
"Would—would a dollar a week be too much?" asked Marjory.
"It wouldn't be enough," said the young woman, promptly. "My father pays five for the room he has, but it's really a larger room than he wanted. I should be very glad to give you two dollars and a half a week—I'm sure I couldn't find a furnished room anywhere for less than that. Can I move in tonight? I've nothing but a small trunk."
"Ye-es," said Bettie, looking inquiringly at Jean. "I think we could get it ready by seven o'clock. It's all perfectly clean, but you see we'll have to change things around a little and fix up the washstand."
"I'm sure," said the visitor, turning to depart, "that it all looks quite lovely just as it is. You may expect me at seven."
"Well," exclaimed Marjory, when the door had closed behind their pleasant visitor, "isn't this too grand for words! It's just like finding a bush with pennies growing on it, or a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Two and a half a week! That's—let me see. Why! that's seven dollars and a half! We can buy Mr. Black's dinner and have enough money left to live on for a long time afterwards."
"Mercy!" cried Mabel. "We never said a word to her about taking her on approval. We didn't even ask her name."
"Pshaw!" said Jean. "She's all right. She couldn't be disagreeable if she wanted to with that dimple and those sparkles in her eyes; but, girls, we've a tremendous lot to do."
"Yes," said Mabel. "If she'd known that the pillows under those ruffled shams were just flour sacks stuffed with excelsior, she wouldn't have thought everything so lovely. Girls, what in the world are we to do for sheets? We haven't even one."
"And blankets?" said Marjory.