At the end of the room were several large trunks.
"I wish that we could look inside them," said Haleema.
"Oh, no," and there was real terror in Inez's tone.
"Don't be afraid; they're all out," said Concetta.
"Yes, even Miss Angelina," added Haleema; "she's gone to a lecture."
"Miss Angelina," responded Concetta, mimicking her tone. "She's no Miss Angelina."
"But you always call her that."
"Oh, that only to her face; I should never call her that behind her back. Why, she's only a girl, just like we are; why, she used to live down there at the North End, near where Luisa's mother lives. But there, shut the door, Haleema, so that we can look at these things."
The three little girls bent over the trunk, the lid of which Concetta had boldly opened. On the top lay the pink satin gown that she had described in such glowing terms. Haleema slipped her arms into the sleeves, and strange to say the bodice fitted her very well.
"You oughtn't to touch it," cried Inez.