"Well, come see us; we've got a room with two beds on the third floor." And Phyllis noticed, as they nodded good night, that each wore two buttons bearing photographs of the other two members of their trio.
"Very likely they are nice in their way—poor things!" she thought; "and share comforts and sorrows—but, oh, dear!" And she followed her family sadly up the stairs.
Their own rooms looked very peaceful and refined to the Wyndhams when they got back to them, and Phyllis and Barbara felt comforted when the door was closed behind them; but Jessamy sank into a chair in blank despondency, and her mother could not smile at Bab's wildest sallies.
"First aid to the injured!" cried a cheery voice, and Ruth Wells burst into the gloom—"like an arc-light," Barbara said, jumping up to hug her rapturously.
"No, don't; I've tacks and a hammer here," said Ruth, struggling free. "I knew you had no closets, or none worth calling one, so I came to show you how to make a charity."
"A what?" asked Jessamy.
"A charity; it covers a multitude of things, you see," laughed Ruth. "You take a board—we can get one down-stairs, probably—saw it off to the right length, and put it in a corner. Then you drive hooks—"
"In the under side—we know," interrupted Phyllis. "Only Doctor Leighton says it is a wigwam."
"Mama, let me call that boy; we'll have a bee—a be-autiful time, too," cried Bab, springing up. "I wonder if I could get him." And she looked wistfully out of the door.