“That’s the object of the treatment,” answered Nance sternly. “Whatever is left of you after the melting process is over is quite well of the cold.”
Molly could have laughed if she had not been thinking of something else very hard.
The two girls sat down on the divan and began a subdued and earnest conversation.
“What are we to do with these things, Molly? We can’t leave them in the piano because the moment some one sits down to play we’ll be discovered.”
“Murderers take up the planks in the floor and hide their bloodstained clothing underneath,” observed Molly. “But we can’t do that, of course.”
They took the bundle from its hiding place and looked over the garments.
“I have an idea,” announced Nance, who had many practical notions on the subject of clothes. “Suppose we take the dress to the cleaner’s in the village and have it steamed.”
“Why can’t we steam it ourselves over the tea kettle?” demanded Molly. “We can and we’ll do it right now and press it on the wrong side. If it hadn’t been so much admired, it wouldn’t matter so very much, but some one’s sure to ask to see it or borrow it or something. How about the underclothes? Can’t we smooth them out with a hot iron before they go to the laundry?”
They set to work at once to heat water and irons, and presently were engaged in restoring the old rose velvet to a semblance of its former beauty.
“What are we going to do about that slipper?” demanded Molly, pausing in her labors.