Sis opens the door a little and peers in. She is dressed for the street. Dawn, dear, I'm going to the dressmaker's. See that it doesn't burn, and that there's plenty of gravy. The tickets are on the kitchen shelf, back of the clock.
Sis shuts the door, but opens it again almost immediately.
Don't let the Infants bother you. But if Frieda's upstairs and they come to you for something to eat, don't let them have any cookies before dinner. If they're really hungry they'll eat bread and butter. I promise, dreamily, my last typewritten sentence still running through my head. The gravy seems to have got into the heroine's calm gray eyes.