Eloise, on the couch, hugged her knees and surveyed her gold slippers. “They are putting my picture in the paper and Adelaide’s. They saw one on my desk——”
Mrs. Laramore cried out, “Benny, why did you let her do it?” and there was a great uproar—in which Eloise could be heard saying:
“And they are going to have a picture of the Inn, and one of your brother if they can get it, Miss Barnes.”
Jane began to feel uncomfortable. She was, she told herself, as much out of place as a pussy-cat in a Zoo. These women and these men reminded her somehow of the great sleek animals who snarled at each other in the Rock Creek cages. Frederick did not snarl. But she had a feeling he might if Eloise kept at him much longer.
It was in the midst of the hubbub that Edith entered. She walked in among them as composedly as she had faced them at the Inn.
“Hello,” she said, “you sound like a jazz band.” She went straight up to Frederick and kissed him. “I suppose Eloise is shouting the news to the world.” She tucked her hand in his arm. “There are more than a million reporters outside. Mr. Barnes is keeping them at bay.”
“Where did they find you?”
“Heard of us, I suppose, at the Alexandria hotel. We didn’t realize it until we reached here, and then they piled out and began to ask questions.”
Frederick lifted her hand from his arm. “I’ll go and send them away.”
Eloise jumped up. “I’ll go with you.”