“Cora Kimball!”
“Only an hour!”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Thus the three girls exclaimed in startled tones as they fairly leaped from their chairs in their respective corners, and caught up various garments.
Then, as the apparent hopelessness of the situation overcame them again, they looked at one another, at the trunks and suitcases that already held their fair share of articles, at the accumulation on the floor, and then they sighed in concert.
“It’s no use,” spoke Bess Robinson. “I’m not going at all—at least not now. I’m going to take another day to sort out the things I really don’t need.”
“You can’t!” exclaimed Cora. “Our tickets are bought, the bungalow is engaged, and we leave for Crystal Bay on the morning train, if we have to ship this whole room by freight—just as it is!”
“Perhaps that would be the easiest way,” suggested timid Marita Osborne.
“It certainly would create a sensation in Chelton,” murmured Belle, as she looked at her plump sister. “But come, we really must help you, Cora. It’s too bad we took advantage of your good nature, and brought our things here to pack. We might better have done it at our own homes.”
“No, I think you’ll find my way best in the end,” said Cora, with a smile, as she looked about for a place in which to pack her sweater. “By doing this we won’t duplicate on the extras. Now, girls, try once more. Marita, let’s begin on your suitcase, for that seems to be the smallest. Oh, dear, Bess, what are you doing now?” she called, as she noted an unusual activity on the part of the plump girl.