Jane Allen, Junior eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 165 pages of information about Jane Allen, Junior.

“I believe I’ll sleep here,” declared Judith, one end of the international carpet sample was bunched up under her ear.  “Never was so tired on any other first or last day.”  The long legs shot out straight again.  “And if your secret is really thrilling Janie, pray keep it for a more auspicious occasion.  I am apt to snore when I should groan, or even sneeze when I should——­” A choking spasm interrupted.  “Don’t tell me to take quinine, Janie.  This is the end.  I have had it since August and it is due to depart now, exactly now.”  A couple of sneezes added punctuation to this.

“But get up from that floor instantly,” ordered the girl on the divan.  “Nothing worse for colds than rag carpet rugs.  There’s plenty of room up here out of drafts.  Come, lovey.  Do try to curl up some.  I always fear you will break up in splinters when I see you go wooden.”

“Too comfy, Dinks, I can’t move.”

“Sneeze then and I’ll catch you.  You have just got to get up off that chilly floor somehow.  Besides the oil may be contagious.  It still smells gooey.”

“Anything for peace.  Give me a lift.  There,” Judith hung over the edge but Jane held on to the black head.  “It’s not so safe as the floor but I suppose it is more prophylactic.  Now I will sleep.  The girls seem to have died down.  Strange”—­yawn and groan—­“how they do love to fuss up the rooms.”

“Temperment, my dear.  Dozia wouldn’t sleep a wink with her photograph gallery unhung.  What do you think of the crowd this year?  Spot any stars?”

“A couple.  Did you see that beauty with the shiny gold hair?  The one who stood under the hemlock alone during the cheering?  Isn’t she tragically pretty?”

“Exactly that.  One couldn’t help seeing her, although she struck me as being shy.”

“Scared to death, and so unconscious of her charms.  There Janie, my brain is sound asleep this moment.  If I say real words they must be coming from another world.  This is gone.”  Judith ducked deeper into the pillowless couch.  She plainly was sleepy.

“Why Judith Stearns,” called Jane severely, “you are giving me as much trouble as a baby.  Don’t you dare fall asleep.  We have got to make beds yet.  That comes of your notion not to have ready-to-wear beds in our suite.  And you can just see how much fun it is to drag things out on tired nights.”  Jane sprang up from the divan and tried to yank the sleepy girl after her.  “Come on, Pally,” she implored.  “I’ll do most all the fixing, only I really demur at the disrobing.  You know my hatred for buttons and fastenings.  I wouldn’t leave one snap to meet its partner.  Come on Judy,” the feet were again on the rug, “we will be simply dead in the morning, and we have got to be very much alive.  We do miss the Weatherbee.  I don’t see why we let her go.  Dear, prim, prompt Weatherbee!  Now we know we loved her.  Her successor is too young to be motherly.”

“Jane Allen, you’re a pest,” groaned Judith.  “I can’t hear a thing but words, and I suppose you are calling me names.  Who’s this guy Bed, I heard you mention?  Lead me to her,” and whether the collapse was assumed or real Judith rolled over twice and once more stretched out on the long runner at Jane’s feet.

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Project Gutenberg
Jane Allen, Junior from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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