"My soul and body!" she exclaimed when she saw the figures. "The good Lord sure has a friendly feeling for the Gilfoolys! We'll be able to board Ka-kee-ta and his ax at the Waloo Hotel. I'll be glad to move. It's mortifying to the Gilfooly pride to have newspaper reporters and newspaper photographers pointing out all the shabby places in the house. You'll let us know, Mr. Marvin, when that special representative comes to town? Tessie and I'll be getting ready for him."
"I'll let you know," promised Mr. Marvin. "And may I say," he took Tessie's little hand, "may I say that, in all my career as a lawyer, I never had a more romantic nor more interesting case than this. Most romantic and most interesting!" he repeated. "If you need any advice or any help, do not hesitate to call on us. Mr. Douglas will be glad to be of service to you at any time." He looked at Mr. Douglas, who had turned a delighted crimson at being assigned to such romantic and interesting service.
"I'll be glad to do anything I can!" he stammered.
"That's real kind," smiled Granny, while Tessie flushed and told him he was real kind, too. "You might go over to the Waloo and pick out a good room for us and one for Ka-kee-ta, while Tessie and I think about clothes. We can't appear in public in what we got. They wouldn't do credit to Pete. And these newspaper men would be sure to photograph us in our worst. We'll have to keep dressed up all the time now."
[VIII]
If she lives to be a thousand, Tessie Gilfooly will never forget the day she spent shopping in the Evergreen. It was so vastly different from the days she had spent in the Evergreen selling aluminum.
"Get everything you want and what a queen should have," Mr. Kingley had said, even before he saw the check Mr. Marvin gave Tessie. "Shoes and hats and everything. Miss Morley will help you." And he sent for Miss Morley, who went to New York every month and had been to Paris twice, and so would know what queens should wear.
Tessie was considerably in awe of Miss Morley with her black hair swirled around her head, her face delicately painted, her black canton crepe—no cheap black sateen for Miss Morley—the latest thing in frocks. But Miss Morley was looking at her with such frank admiration that she dared to smile shyly as she blushed.