"That's my safety-pin!"
"Where'd you put the burnt cork?"
"Is my hair a perfect sight?"
"Fasten me up—please!"
"Does my petticoat show?"
Everybody babbled at once, and nobody listened.
"I say, let's get out of this—I'm simply roasting!"
St. Laurence seized the Gypsies by the shoulder and shoved them into the vacant gallery. They squeezed themselves, with a sigh of relief, onto a shaky flight of six narrow stairs before the breezes of an open window.
"I know exactly what ails Jelly!" Patty spoke with the air of carrying on a conversation.