“I was just wondering what the manager’d say if he’d come in and catch you ironing,” grinned Peggy. “It’s against the rules to iron in a room—at least, it is in all the hotels I’ve ever heard of.”
Jo Ann flushed guiltily. Noticing that the sliding wood panel of the door was down and that someone might be able to peer between the slats of the blinds at the screened top, she implored Peggy to slide the panel up. Peggy obediently pushed the panel up as commanded, but no sooner had she turned away than it slipped down with a crash like a pistol shot.
Both girls jumped in alarm, and Jo Ann almost tumbled off the bed.
“Now we’re in for it!” Jo Ann gasped. “Someone’ll think we’re shooting in here and will come to investigate. Shove that panel up again—quick. Push a chair against it to hold it in place.”
After a few minutes had passed and no one had come to investigate, Jo Ann breathed more freely. Just as she was complimenting herself on coming to the finishing touches of her pressing, there came a sudden knocking at the door. Jo Ann was petrified. Was it the manager? She shook her head vigorously at Peggy, who was starting to open the door.
The next moment the door was rattled violently. Simultaneously the panel banged down again.
From the hall there sounded a woman’s shrill voice.
“Miss Prudence!” the girls gasped.
“Open the door this instant, Peg, and get her inside before someone else comes,” Jo Ann ordered.
The moment Miss Prudence stepped inside and saw Jo Ann perched on top of the bed, ironing, she stared in amazement. As soon as she had recovered from her first surprise, she burst out, “What does this mean? Don’t you know it’s against the rules to iron in your room? I’ve never stayed in a hotel anywhere that allowed ironing in the rooms. We’ll get in trouble yet—besides having to pay extra money. You’d better stop this instant.”