"Goodness, if I looked the way I feel, I'd be an awful mess," sighed Amy from the other bed.
"Maybe you do," chuckled Mollie. "Shall I get you a mirror?"
"Well, if you'd been awake almost all night," Amy began, but Mollie cut her short with a bear's hug.
"Forgive me, Amy," she said, with unusual humility. "I do know how awful it is to lie awake nearly all night and just think.
"And I shouldn't blame any one the least bit," she finished, "for calling me a mess, because I know I am. I'm positively afraid to look in the mirror."
"All right, we'll have 'em all draped in black, just for your special benefit," said Grace dryly. "Mollie, where did you put my stockings?"
"Goodness, what do you think I am?" retorted Mollie. "Your little French maid?"
"Nothing half so cute," returned Grace ungraciously, while Betty and Amy exchanged glances which, interpreted, meant: "We'll have our hands full with these two, to-day, all right."
"Anyway, you didn't answer my question," Grace persisted. "I asked you what you did with my stockings."
"Oh, I've got 'em on," replied Mollie sarcastically, smothering a yawn. "I mislaid my slumber shoes and used them instead."