“I think,” said she—“it is time to bury the refuse.” And the two of them, laughing, soon had the litter thrust under the bed. A silk hanging descended over it, and it was gone. Order was everywhere.
“I’ll finish the coffee,” said Betty—“you go and tidy yourself, Moll.”
Betty made herself tidy, and, flushed with the exertion, sat down on the lounge:
“Heigho!” sighed she.
Moll Davenant came to her, and nestled on the rug at her knee.
“Now, Moll, what is it? But we had better unlock the door—all’s clear.”
She rose to go to the door.
Moll drew her down by the skirt:
“No, Betty—not yet.”
Betty sat down and drew the dainty head into her lap: