"E-ven reb—" Tessie's hurried pen halted, and Tessie looked at Granny. "One l or two in rebels, Granny?" she asked uncertainly.
"It don't make any difference," exclaimed Granny, "so long as there's plenty of courage in the Gilfoolys."
"Perhaps I'd better let Norah Lee write it on the typewriter." Tessie eyed her letter dubiously.
"Don't you do it, dearie! Just sign your name and put it in this envelope. There are some letters that secretaries shouldn't write. You just finish it as good as you begun it, and I guess Mr. Pracht will understand it, no matter how many l's you put in rebels."
Tessie sighed gently. "I often wish I'd finished high school, Granny," she said slowly. "Mr. Bill went to college," she added sadly as she signed her letter "Queen Teresa of the Sunshine Islands." "There!" she slipped the letter into an envelope and ran her pink tongue over the gummed flap. "If you'll give that to Ka-kee-ta and ask him to take it to Mr. Pracht. To Mr. Pracht himself!" she insisted. "When Mr. Pracht sees Ka-kee-ta and his ax, perhaps he won't be so free with his words. And while Ka-kee-ta is out, tell him to buy me some chocolates. He might as well get a five-pound box, and they can put it on the bill," she said with a right royal disregard for payment.
As she went back to her room, she passed a long mirror which flashed her a picture of a slim little girl in a lovely pink negligée, with a tousled head and a flushed face. She went back and looked in the mirror again. Suddenly she remembered that a month ago she had no lovely pink negligée, no pink satin mules, and that at this time of the morning she would have been selling aluminum in the Evergreen basement for hours. How wonderful it was! She smiled radiantly and blew a kiss to the girl in the mirror, who was smiling, too.
"Oh, Granny!" Tessie hugged her Granny. "Can you believe it? Isn't it great to be a queen?"
Granny hugged her. "I wonder," she said absently, "what Mr. Pracht will say when he reads your letter?"
Tessie snapped her fingers. She was a Gilfooly, you know, and the Gilfoolys were a fearless race.
"That for Mr. Pracht!" she exclaimed. "And that for his threats!" She snapped her fingers again. "Isn't there a law, Granny," she asked suddenly, "that protects people from threats? I'm going to ask Mr. Bill!"