“You just wait till I get you, Jet,” he threatened—Jet being a recent nickname to which he had clung despite Jessie’s vehement protestations that the name would fit a Southern mammy a good deal better than it did her, for the simple reason that a darky was jet, but she wasn’t nor ever would be.
“All right; only see that you pay enough,” she assented. “I’m mercenary.”
“I have always suspected something in your life, woman,” he hissed through the keyhole. “Farewell!” And they heard his retreating footsteps on the stairs.
The girls laughed merrily, just as Evelyn, fully dressed, emerged from the next room—they always drew lots to see 169 who slept together—looking very sweet and dainty in her spotless white.
“Hurry up, you old slow-pokes,” she greeted them, gaily. “I’ve been up for ever so long. It’s a wonderful day.”
“Oh, Evelyn, dear, you look darling in that dress! I’ve never seen it before!” cried Lucile, enthusiastically. “Turn around in the back. Isn’t it cute, Jessie? Goodness! You make me ashamed of myself!” And she began dressing with renewed vigor.
“Will you get dressed for me, too, Evelyn?” begged Jessie. “With so much energy flying around loose, I ought to catch some of it, but I don’t. Oh, for another hour’s sleep!”
“You don’t have to get up,” said Evelyn, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You can sleep till noon if you want to, while Lucy and I have a look at the Capitol and dine at some nice little cafe——”
“Say not another word,” commanded Jessie, bouncing out of bed and winding her long braids about her head. “I’d like to see anybody leave me behind. Lucy, do get out of my way—I have to have the mirror some of the time!”
Lucile laughed. “All right; I’ll fix my hair in Evelyn’s room, now she’s through, and let you have the whole place to yourself,” she said, and gathering up hairpins and ribbons, she ran into the other room to finish up.