"The fringe for me!" exclaimed Sahwah, when she saw them. She seized a
whole pile of them at once, using only the fringe for drying, and
putting on affected aristocratic airs that made us shriek with
laughter. We had been dressing all over the two rooms and the floor was
strewn with towels and articles of clothing. Suddenly the door of the
bedroom opened and a woman stood in the room. She was a gray-haired
woman of about fifty, very handsome and proud-looking, and dressed in a
gown of plum-colored satin. She said nothing; just looked at us. I
glanced around at the others. There was Sahwah, her kimono wrapped
loosely around her, patting her feet dry with the fringe of a dozen
towels; Nyoda stood in front of the dressing-table with a towel wrapped
around her, combing her hair: I was sitting on the floor putting my
shoes on, while through the bathroom door came the sounds of the shower
turned on full force, with an occasional shriek from Nakwisi when she
got it too cold. Suddenly I felt unaccountably foolish. Nyoda and
Sahwah looked up and saw the woman the next instant. She stood looking
at us, her eyes nearly popping out of her head, her face purple,
leaning against the foot of the bed for support. Nobody said a word. As
Sahwah expressed it afterward, "Silence reigned, and we stood there in
the rain."

"How did--how did you get in?" the woman gasped faintly, after a
silence of a full minute. We knew something was wrong. We could feel it
in the marrow of our bones.

Nyoda, holding her towel closely around her, answered in as dignified a
manner as possible. "We were directed to your house from the hotel as a
place where we could spend the night, and your maid admitted us and
brought us in here. Is there anything the matter?"