Our friends went to many studio teas during their stay in Paris, but the first one with their erratic neighbor, Miss Jo Bill, they never forgot. Her studio was the size of their own but had no apartment attached. The hostess slept in a balcony, similar to the one Judy and Molly occupied, and her housekeeping and sleeping arrangements were much in evidence. Molly, going over ahead of the others to take the three tea cups requested, found Miss Williams washing her own five cups with their varied assortment of saucers and clearing off a table littered with papers and magazines, preparatory to placing the alcohol lamp, kettle and teapot thereon.
"Do let me help you," begged Molly. "Where is your tea towel? I can wipe the cups."
"Tea towel!" exclaimed Miss Williams. "Why, I don't possess such a thing! If the water is good and hot and clean, you don't need a towel. Just let the dishes drain. It is much more sanitary. Towels are awful germ harborers. But if you want to help, you might straighten up this table. Don't ask for a cloth or you will embarrass me."
Molly accordingly went to work and got order out of chaos in a short while. She piled the papers and magazines neatly on a shelf; emptied the teapot of its former drawing of leaves; washed and rinsed it; filled the kettle with fresh water; and replenished the alcohol lamp from a bottle of wood alcohol she found on the shelf.
"Well, if you aren't a peach, Miss Brown!" said the admiring Jo Bill. "I bet you are dying to go up on my roost and clear it out some. I was going to let it alone hoping to make it so interesting en bas that no one would glance up; but if you feel a calling to go up there and stir around a little, you are welcome."
Molly was itching to get her hands on the balcony, which reminded her of Mrs. Jellyby's closet, full to overflowing with every conceivable and inconceivable thing. The floor was strewn with coats, dresses and hats while the shoes were neatly hung on a row of hooks. Very pretty, well-shaped shoes they were, too, as it seemed Jo's feet were her one vanity.
"I never make up my bed, but just kick the covers over the dash board and let it air all day. Much more sanitary than tucking the germs in, giving them chance to multiply. You can make it up if you want to, though, since we are by the way of giving a party. Yes, hang up the dresses if you think it will improve the looks of things. I keep my shoes on the hooks so they can dry well and not be losing themselves all the time. I don't often need the dresses as I usually wear these painting togs. By Jove, speaking of dresses, I fancy I ought to put on one this afternoon! I wonder if your mother would think I was not showing her proper respect if I just put on a clean blouse and didn't try to get into one of those pesky dresses."
"Oh, don't dress up for mother, please! She would feel bad if she thought her coming would make any trouble for you, and besides, you hardly have time to do much; it is after five now," laughed Molly.
So Jo pulled off her workman's blouse and donned a clean one.
"Please tell me what makes you wipe your paint brushes on your back and how you manage it," asked Molly.