"Amn't I Irish, then?" she decided gloomily. "Of course he'll want to talk to me."
"I'm going to see how Molly's getting on," Nell said.
In Molly's room chaos greeted her. On the floor stood a drawer, its contents scattered everywhere. The bed was strewn with blouses, hats, a pair of shoes, collars, while Molly herself, red-faced, dishevelled, attired in skirt and petticoat-bodice, was wildly turning out another drawer.
"Ready, Mol?" inquired Nell, blandly.
"Oh, don't, Nell! I can't help it! I can't find my grey blouse—the one with the white piping—I've hunted everywhere!"
"In the box?"
"N-no! I forgot!" making a dash at the dress basket. "Oh, don't laugh, Nell. I looked everywhere else!"
"Of course you did, when we decided to keep all our nicer blouses in there! Do hurry up. Here, I'd better do you up now. Fancy all this fuss just to go next door! I was going in my blue flannel that I had on this morning, but Aunt Kezia gave such stringent orders. Isn't it absurd?"
"Ridiculous. Oh, you're pinching a bit of neck in!"
Nell, at the door, looked back.