Tavia brought herself to her feet from the Turkish mat as if she were on springs. Then she opened the door cautiously.
“What is it?” she demanded. “Is it alive?”
“It was once,” replied Edna, “but it isn’t now.”
The giggling at the door was punctuated with a struggle.
“Oh, let us in!” insisted Cologne, and pushed past Tavia.
“Mercy!” exclaimed Dorothy. “Whatever is this?”
The two newcomers were now in a heap on the floor, or rather were in a heap on a feather bed they had dragged into the room with them. Quick to scent fun, Tavia turned the key in the door.
“The old darling!” she murmured. “Where did the naughty girls get you?” and she attempted to caress the feather tick in which Edna and Cologne nestled.
“That’s Miss Mingle’s feather bed!” declared Dorothy. “Wherever did you get it?”
“Mingling with other things getting packed!” replied Edna, “and I haven’t seen a little bundle of the really fluffy-duffy kind since they sent me to grandma’s when I had the measles. Isn’t it lovely?”