Forcing one eye open, she saw the room filled with sunlight, and Florence and Peggy already almost dressed.
“O-oh, I’m so sleepy!” she mumbled between yawns. “I’ll get up in a minute.”
“That’s what you get for keeping us awake half the night,” scolded Peggy. “Now hurry up. We’ve got to get breakfast.”
“What d’you say?” she asked lazily.
“Come on, Florence, let’s pull her out,” put in Peggy. “We’ll get even with her for last night.”
Without another word Peggy made a grab for Jo Ann’s feet. But Jo Ann was wide awake in an instant. Like a flash she reached out, and catching Peggy around the neck, pulled her down on the bed beside her. Laughing and shrieking, the tussle continued while Florence dropped in a chair, convulsed with laughter. Over and over the two rolled, first this way, then that, till they finally landed on the floor, panting for breath.
“Well—you’re awake—now!” gasped Peggy.
“Did I dream it or did I hear you say something about Juana not coming today?” Jo Ann asked when she could get her breath.
“I’m sorry to inform you that you were not dreaming,” replied Florence. “No, she’s not coming, and if we eat today we’ll have to cook. Her husband’s sister’s child died, and she went over there till after the funeral. Juana’s so good I hate to say anything when she misses a day now and then. The Mexicans have such large families, someone is always dying. That’s why black is almost a uniform with the peon women. They’re always in mourning for someone.”
“Gracious! I’d hate to wear black all the time,” shuddered Peggy.