CHAPTER IV.
MY ROOMMATES.
They made such a racket that a sad, crooked face was poked into the door.—Page 48.
"Heavens, I'm tired of tears!" I thought as my conductor left me with a significant smile. "I'm actually damp from all of the weeping going on around me."
A stormy voice was raised in the room that I was about to enter, and I stopped in the hall, not knowing just what to do.
"Now what did I tell you?" said the stormy, sobbing voice. "Didn't I tell you all along I was going to make myself just as disagreeable as I could if you would put someone in with us? Aren't we going to be miserable enough without you, without having some old stick-in-the-mud hoisted on us from the country, to sleep in the room with us; and just as like as not want the window shut at night; and rub her chapped face all over with mutton-suet? Paugh, I can smell it now, the horrid stuff."
"Now, Dum, cut it out. You don't even know that your roommate gets chapped," said a whimsical voice.
"The Tuckers!" I exclaimed, but naturally had a delicacy in entering, after what I had heard Dum say about a roommate from the country. "Could she know that I am the one?" I asked myself.