“We don’t, but Miss Hull does,” Prue corrected. “You see the beautiful Countess de Something Something, Camier, I think it was, came to visit Colonel Hull, and she had this room; so it’s been called her room ever since.
“Oh, I think that’s awfully nice; Phyllis will be crazy about it. Wonder who slept in our room?”
Janet looked around the big room with interest. It was plenty large enough to accommodate three beds. Two of them were cots, the third was an enormous four-poster. It looked worthy indeed to be the couch of a Countess. She was so busy exclaiming over the tester, with its glazed chintz ruffle, that she did not see the sudden gleam in Prue’s eye. She even forgot to make any more inquiries about the possible celebrity that had slept in her own room.
They dumped the contents of the drawer onto the bed and then carried it empty back to Sally’s room.
As they paused at the door, a shout of laughter greeted them, and they heard Glad exclaim:
“Oh, do listen to this,” she cried: “‘The smoky darkness of a rich Egyptian night.’”
Prue walked into the room, followed by Janet.
“Prue, dear, didn’t you mean a Pittsburgh night?” Ann asked provokingly as she finished spreading a cracker with as much peanut butter as it could hold.
Prue did not deign a reply. Instead she swooped down upon the unsuspecting Ann and took her carefully spread cracker away from her.
“Peanut butter is bad for freckles, darling,” she said without a trace of ill-humor in her voice. “Prue will eat it.”