“It is very soft,” Tamea protested. “And very warm, for such a cold country.”
“Wait till Sooey Wan—bad cess to him!—puts the furnace out. Ye’d be froze shtiff in the mornin’, Tammy——”
“My name is Tamea Oluolu Larrieau. You may call me Tamea, but to others I must be Mademoiselle Larrieau.”
“Oh, sure, why not lave me call ye Tammy? Not a one but me will use that name.”
“Your desire is granted because you are kind to me, Julia.”
“Thank you, Tammy. Here, sit you down in this chair and I’ll take off your shlippers. . . . Now, thin, here’s your nightgown. Take off your clothes and put the nightgown on whilst I fix the bed for you and get you a dhrink of wather.”
Tamea held up Mrs. Pippy’s nightgown and looked it over critically. “The wife of the missionary in Riva had several such as this,” she commented. “It is not pretty. I had prettier ones than this aboard ship, but—for a reason—I brought no baggage ashore with me. I do not like this garment.” She tossed it through the open bathroom door into the tub.
“Now, Tammy,” began Julia, mildly expostulating.
“I will not wear it, Julia.”
“Sure, why not, Tammy, you little ninny, you?”