“You might pin up the letter and the price-list on the black-board by the door, so that the stall-holders can take advantage of any item that may be of use to them.”
Betty moved to the table and rummaged amid her multifarious correspondence. She was chatting all the while to a Miss Cozens, a thin, wiry little woman, alert as a Scotch-terrier in following up the scent of favor.
“What a lot of work the bazaar has given you, Mrs. Steel!”
“Yes, quite enough,” and she divided her attention between Miss Cozens and the pile of papers.
“When is the next rehearsal?”
“Tuesday, I believe.”
“I hear you are the genius of the play.”
“Am I?” and Betty smiled like an ingenuous girl. “I am most horribly nervous. I always feel that I am spoiling the part. Oh, here’s Jennings’s letter, and the list, I think.”
She left the two papers lying unheeded for the moment, while she answered Miss Cozens’s interested questions on costume.
“Primrose and leaf green, that will be lovely.”