Peggy and Florence burst into giggles at the funny sight of Jo Ann holding the iron in midair.
“Stop giggling, sillies, and do something, quick. This iron’s getting hot, and I’m getting tired holding it. Get that table over there and put it up here on the bed. Hurry!”
The two girls rushed over to the table, jerked off the water pitcher and glasses, and then carried it over and lifted it on top of the bed. The iron still hung at least two feet above the table.
“Oh gee!” wailed Jo Ann. “Get something else to put on top of the table. Step on it! Don’t run around in circles like a puppy after its tail, Peg.”
“Thanks for the beautiful comparison,” Peggy grinned. “You’re equally funny looking yourself, springing up and down on that bed every time you move.”
“Can’t help springing. It’s the springiest bed in all Texas.”
By that time Florence had brought over the low luggage stool and placed it on top of the table. But even with its added height there were several inches between it and the iron.
“There’s nothing else to put on top of that—except the dresser,” called out Peggy between giggles. “Oh yes, maybe the telephone book’ll help.” She ran over with it and several magazines and piled them on top of the luggage stand.
“Attaboy!” Jo Ann ejaculated triumphantly as she set the iron down on the magazines. “Now bring me something for an ironing-board cover and the dresses.”
In a few more minutes she was ironing away energetically, swaying back and forth in her efforts to keep her balance on the springy bed. “Stop staring at me and giggling and get dressed, you sillies. What’s so funny now?”