Without a word, Olga prepared the food and handed it to her sister; then she set about getting supper; but when it was ready she felt suddenly too tired to eat. Sonia ate heartily, however, remarking with a glance at Olga’s empty plate, “I suppose you got a good dinner down town.”
“I haven’t eaten a mouthful since breakfast,” Olga told her wearily.
“O well,” Sonia returned, “some folks don’t need much food, but I do. If I don’t have three solid meals a day I’m not fit for anything.” Then looking at the baby lying on a pillow in a chair beside her, she added, “Really she seems to like that malted stuff. You’d better bring back another bottle to-morrow. There isn’t much left in this one.”
“Isn’t that my dress you have on?” Olga asked suddenly.
“Yes, I had to have something fresh—mine was so mussed and dirty,” Sonia replied lightly. “Lucky for me we’re about the same size.”
“But not lucky for me,” was Olga’s thought.
For a week things went on so—Sonia occasionally offering to wash the dishes, but leaving her sister to do everything else. Then one night Olga found her best suit in a heap on the closet floor. Picking it up she spoke sharply. “Sonia, have you been wearing this suit of mine?”
“Well, what if I have? You needn’t look so savage about it!” Sonia retorted. “I have to have something decent to wear on the street, don’t I?”
“Not if you have nothing decent of your own,” Olga flashed back. “Sonia, you have no right to wear my things so—without asking!”
With a provoking smile Sonia responded, “I knew better than to ask. I knew you’d make a fuss about it. If you don’t want me to wear your clothes why don’t you give me money to buy something decent for myself? Then I wouldn’t need to borrow.”