"Child, you'll kill me, if you look so solemn. Can't you take a joke? Oh, what a trial it is for an Irish girl to live in England! you English are so painfully prosaic. Do believe one thing about Kate O'Connor, my dear little Molly: it is her fashion to talk at random. She would not be Irish if she were not always propounding the most impossible theories, and saying the most impossible things. But when she does the queer things and says the queer words, just make up your mind that she is in fun, and doesn't mean them to be taken seriously. Of course, when she says sensible things she means them, and that reminds me that we are here on a very sensible matter. Now to business."
As Kate spoke, she leaped lightly into the center of her bed, and sat there, tailor fashion, with her legs tucked under her. She immediately invited Molly and Amy to follow her example.
"I don't think there is anyone in the next cubicle," she said, "but I must find out. Hi, Julia, are you there?"
As no answer came from Julia, Kate nodded her head brightly.
"Empty on that side—so far, so good; now, then, for the other. Mary Jane, love, are you at home?"
Mary Jane being also silent, Kate clapped her hands, and looked demurely at her companions.
"Now, then," she said, "this delicious little plan wants explaining. Are you all attention, girls?"
"I am," said Amy. "The fact is, I'm more than attention—I'm devoured by curiosity."
Molly nodded, but did not speak.