"—like they kept us three weeks grading and packing tomatoes last autumn, and called it 'study'——"
"—and the bruised ones for us——"
"—not even fit for ketchup——"
"—Dothegirls Hall this establishment ought to be called!——"
Another momentary pause: then:
"—let's all sign a petition——"
"—no, a what-d'you-call-it—an ultimatum——"
"—just telling them straight——"
"Your bath, Earle——"
From the bathroom had come the gurgle of escaping water. Boiled pink, turbaned with her towel, smelling of somebody else's scented soap and radiating unrepentance that Earle's bath must be a tepid one, Burnett Minor bounced in.