They were not very deep depths. The place was filled with rubbish, mostly old papers and broken pasteboard boxes; but it was perfectly dry, and clean except for a thick layer of dust.
"Let's clean it out," said Mabel, recklessly grasping an armful of dusty papers and dragging them forth.
"Phew!" exclaimed Jean, tumbling back from the hole. "Er—er—er hash!"
"Oh, ki—hash! Hoo!" blubbered Bettie, likewise tumbling backwards.
"Who-is-she, who-is-she," sneezed Marjory.
"Kerchoo, kerchoo, kerchoo!" sneezed Rosa Marie, her head bobbing with each sneeze. "Kerchoo, kerchoo!"
"It's pepper," explained Mabel, when she had finished her sneeze. "I spilled a lot of it the day of Mr. Black's dinner party. I didn't know what else to do with it, so I swept it down that biggest crack."
"Goodness! What a housekeeper!" rebuked Jean, wiping her eyes.
"It's good for moths," consoled Bettie. "At any rate, Rosa Marie won't get moth-eaten."