The lady began to wiggle.
“Carry me away,” said Roark.
“It’s to the Land of Nod for me,” exclaimed Sanford.
“The baggage room for me,” said the third observer.
Ten more rats, six rolls, two curls and a small knot were the last to go down. Piled on the floor, in the shape of a cone, was a peck measure full of all sorts of hair dressing. Yellow prevailed, but there was anything from a drab to a chemical blonde.
The owner, one time possessor, waked in the course of time, and, on feeling curious about the head, ran her hand back to see if she had lost anything.
“What about that?” said she to herself, realizing the extent of her loss.
“Ghnarr!” snorted Sanford, snoring.
“Whee-oo!” retorted Roark, who had fallen suddenly asleep in a seat, just captured.