"Sometimes I like it even better than 'Poulter's'; you know, when you've got a waltz in your 'ead, and 'ate it, and 'ave to play it over and over again. But every bit of this here furniture is mine and paid for."
"Really?" asked Mavis, feigning surprise to please her friend.
"I can show you the receipts if you don't b'lieve me."
"But I do."
"Being at the academy makes me business-like. But there! if I haven't forgotten something; reelly I 'ave."
"What?"
"One moment: let me bring the light."
Miss Nippett led the way to the landing immediately outside her door, where she unlocked a roomy cupboard, crammed to its utmost capacity with odds and ends of cheap feminine adornment. Mangy evening boas, flimsy wraps, down-at-heel dancing shoes, handkerchiefs, gloves, powder puffs, and odd bits of ribbon were jumbled together in heaped disorder.
"D'ye know what they is?" asked Miss Nippett.
"Give it up," replied Mavis.