Chapter Twenty-Four
One evening after supper, Miss Pompeii and Pepper came to our room. There was an elderly lady with them I’d never seen before.
“This is Mrs. Davis,” Miss Pompeii said. “She is our seamstress.”
“Oh,” Liz said as she took Mrs. Davis’s hands in hers. “I’m Elizabeth, and she is Rajiani.”
“How do you do,” I said. “We love our uniforms. You made them fit so perfectly.”
“Well, thank you,” Mrs. Davis said. “It was a pleasure to sew young ladies’ clothing for a change.”
“We’ve asked Mrs. Davis to work on your tennis dresses,” Miss Pompeii said.
“Can you describe the dresses Miss Pompeii mentioned to me?” Mrs. Davis asked.
“They were white, made of brilliantine,” I said.
“They were two-piece,” Liz said. “And the blouse had short sleeves, coming to about here.” She placed
