Nancy laughed.
“I think you have the prettiest dresses I ever saw, Billie, but I am glad Miss Campbell has persuaded you to stop dressing so much like a boy. Lace collars are lots more becoming than those stiff linen ones.”
“They were chokers,” answered Billie, good-naturedly, as the car drew up at the steps of the hotel immediately behind the automobile which had passed it on the road.
Belle and her party were waiting on the piazza, the women in long pongee coats with the very latest motor bonnets and veils.
“Those are her rich friends, the Jordannes,” whispered Nancy, in awed tones. “They used to be just plain Jordan before they made so much money.”
“I think Jordan is a much nicer name. It has such a fine Oriental sound, ‘Where rolls the River Jordan.’”
By this time several porters from the hotel had stepped to the motor car door and assisted Miss Campbell, somewhat stiff from the long ride, to alight. The girls jumped nimbly out after her and their luggage was unstrapped and piled on the ground near the Jordanne luggage. But Billie was careful to keep a firm hold on her own suit case with its precious load.
“Let the man take your bag, dear,” called Miss Campbell. “You will strain your back carrying that heavy thing.”
There was nothing for Billie to do but resign the suit case, although she tried to keep an eye on it as they followed the porter through the lobby to the elevator. Miss Campbell had telegraphed ahead for rooms.
As luck would have it, there was another elevator for luggage, and the bag was temporarily out of Billie’s sight, but her mind was soon at ease when she saw it stacked with the others in the bedroom which she and Nancy were to share.