Sim Westover was sitting on a suitcase that refused to close and bouncing up and down in an effort to bring the yawning leather jaws together.
“Oh—Terry—help! I’ll never get this old suitcase fastened, and we won’t get down till after dark, and your mother will be worried and——” Sim’s list of worries and trials was ended by Terry, a smiling, sandy-haired creature, thrusting Sim aside and putting a silk-covered knee on the offending luggage, which closed obediently under such superior pressure.
“There, little one, it’s shut. Are you all packed now?” Terry Landry asked, patting Sim maternally on her fair head.
Sim ducked. “Don’t do that!” she wailed. “You act like a maiden aunt.”
“Phew!” A black-haired, blue-eyed girl crawled out from under a bed. “How did that shoe ever get under there in the first place? I suppose you threw it at a mouse, Sim. I should have made you crawl after it.” Arden Blake straightened her smart tan-wool dress as she rose from the floor.
“No,” answered Terry before Sim could reply, “you did it yourself three nights ago, I remember. And, incidentally, I seem to be the only one ready, even though you two say I’m always late.”
Terry stood surveying the jumbled scene with amused eyes. Her two roommates at once renewed their activity. Arden thrust the recovered shoe into a bag with its fellow and announced that she too was finished. Sim, powdering an uptilted nose, declared that if Arden was ready there was nothing to wait for, so, opening the door of their room, called the porter to take their bags.
Down the long corridor they went, calling “goodbyes” at each open door and gayly knocking at those closed, as they marched down the hall.
For the last time that year they descended the five flights of stairs up which they had so often raced. At the outer door of the building they cast a quick look behind them, then piled into the waiting car. A five-passenger touring car, it was, belonging to Arden’s father. In it the three girls were to drive down to Oceanedge, on the coast, where they would spend a month or two visiting Terry and her mother in a seaside cottage. Oceanedge was the development name of the resort. Natives called it Marshlands.
It was the first time the three girls had been permitted to take such a long drive alone, and they were anxious to conduct themselves creditably. Early as the start was, and it was not yet nine o’clock, the girls would not reach the shore until nearly evening, so they were anxious to get going.