“Good!” the French girl cried. “You don’t look like an Amee! I’m Gaby, wheech ees short for Gabrielle. I leeve ’ere. Maman Berriman she ees out shopping, mais les autres girls sont ici. Pardon. I meex too much French een with my talk. Parlez-vous Français?”
“Un peu,” Peggy said. “A very little peu, I’m afraid. But I understood you. You said the other girls are here, right?”
“Parfait!” Gaby grinned. “Maybee I can teach you how to speak, if you would like that?”
“I would,” Peggy agreed enthusiastically, but added quickly, “not starting right now, though!”
“Okay,” Gaby shrugged. “Come on! I first introduce you.”
Four girls waited in the large, comfortable living room, all looking expectantly at the door. As Peggy entered, a pert-faced redhead bounced out of her chair to say hello.
“I’m Dot,” she announced. “Are you Peggy or Amy?”
“Peggee, of course!” Gaby cut in, before Peggy could answer. “Does she look like an Amee to you?”
“No, I guess she doesn’t,” Dot said reflectively. “Well, welcome!”
“Thank you,” Peggy said. “Now will somebody tell me who Amy is?”