Nancy pointed silently to the telephone.
“You’re a mind reader, Nancy-Bell,” exclaimed the other in admiration.
“It isn’t much to read your mind,” answered her friend, not intending to be uncomplimentary. “Your eyes have been glued to the reflection of the telephone in the mirror for the last five minutes.”
“What shall I say to her, Nancy, dearest?”
Before Nancy could reply, she carefully removed her best frock and laid it away. Then she stretched herself on the bed. Nothing would induce her to lie down in that cherished garment.
“Say?” she began, stretching herself out comfortably. “Say—well—say ‘have you forgotten Fontainebleau?’”
“The very thing,” replied Billie. “She doesn’t know my name, of course. I might say—‘have you forgotten Prairie Inn? That was where we met her, and it wouldn’t involve Daniel. I think she’s down on him, Nancy. It’s a shame, poor fellow.”
“I imagine,” continued Nancy reflectively, “that she will go to her room early. She didn’t look as if she cared to linger in the company of Ebenezer. Perhaps they will stay down and smoke some of those big black cigars like that stony man was smoking when we first saw him. If you want to catch her alone, you’d better try her now, Billie.”
Billie rose and moved slowly toward the telephone.
“It’s against orders,” she said at last, with an expression not unlike a bad little boy’s.