"I simply can't study till they take Irene McCullough out of my room," Conny echoed. "She's just like a lump of sticky dough."
"Wait till you get acquainted with Mae Mertelle!" Patty sat on the floor in the midst of the chaos, and gazed up at the other two with wide, solemn eyes. "She brought five evening gowns cut low, and all her shoes have French heels. And she laces—my dears! She just holds in her breath and pulls. But that isn't the worst." She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. "She's got some red stuff in a bottle. She says it's for her finger nails, but I saw her putting it on her face."
"Oh!—not really?" in a horrified whisper from Conny and Priscilla.
Patty shut her lips and nodded.
"Isn't it dreadful?"
"Awful!" Conny shuddered.
"I say, let's mutiny!" cried Priscilla. "Let's make the Dowager give us back our old rooms in Paradise Alley."
"But how?" inquired Patty, two parallel wrinkles appearing on her forehead.
"Tell her that unless she does, we won't stay."
"That would be sensible!" Patty jeered. "She'd ring the bell and order Martin to hitch up the hearse and drive us to the station for the six-thirty train. I should think you'd know by this time that you can't bluff the Dowager."