The girl must at last have dozed; for she shortly experienced a vigorous shaking from her companion.
“Here, here, hustle!” exclaimed Miss Hickey, not unkindly. Rosalie opened her eyes with such bewilderment that her companion laughed.
“Come on, blue eyes. You look like a baby. Get into your duds. We’re off for Norris Basin, worse luck.”
The sight of Miss Hickey’s readjusted pompadour gave Rosalie a realizing sense of the situation.
“Oh, Miss Hickey,” she exclaimed, as she hurried to the washstand, “are many people lay-overs?”
“Oh, you’ve got them on the brain, have you?” asked the other, proceeding with her own toilet. “Not many, ’cause it costs too much.”
“I saw some people here last night who have lots of money—oh, lots and lots! Shouldn’t you think they’d stay?”
“H’m. I only hope they will,” rejoined Miss Hickey, “as long as we’re going. The crowds are fierce.”
“I do hope they will!” Rosalie’s echo was fervent. She almost summoned courage to tell her aggressive companion the situation; but one glance at the young woman’s coiffure, which was now receiving the addition of a bunch of curls, arrested her.