“Oh, yes,” she said, and opened it wider. The girls filed in and sat down in the square hall, which was as littered as usual with clothes and paper bags and everything else that places are usually littered with.
“Look at that hole!” whispered Louise, forgetting her politeness as Vicky stood near them, not intending, evidently, to sit down and entertain them if she could help it. “There’s more hole than stocking!”
It was quite true, but unfortunately Vicky had sharp ears.
“They’re my own stockings,” she said crossly, “and I like ’em with holes in.”
“Oh, all right!” said Louise dryly. “Only they aren’t usually worn that way.”
“Can we speak to your uncle?” interposed Helen, for the air was becoming stormy.
“Isn’t home,” announced Vicky. “He had a cross fit and went out walking.”
“Is anybody home?” asked Winona. “We came on business.”
“You can do it with me, whatever it is,” said Vicky, sitting down with the torn-stockinged leg under her.
Helen plunged straight into the business at hand.