“Why didn’t you show me any of them?”
“They weren’t good enough. I’d never have let those wild Indians see them. Just as I was packing, my notebook fell out of my desk, and a lot of papers I had in it, scattered to the floor. And, of course, Sally pounced on them.”
“Poor Prue,” Janet sympathized.
They were walking slowly down the hall carrying the drawer between them.
“Oh, that’s not the worst of it; as I told you, they are eating my food and laughing at my most beautiful thoughts, and to think I’m going to room with Glad and Ann. I suppose I’ll have no peace.”
“Better start writing poetry about them and their pet failings,” Janet suggested. “If you wrote an ode to the freckles on Glad’s nose, she’d probably keep very still in the future.”
“Oh, good idea! I’ll do that very thing!” Prue exclaimed.
They reached the room at the end of the hall and Prue paused to open the door.
“The Countess’s Room,” she announced.
“Oh, what a nice name. I didn’t know you called it that.”