the fence and start down the road toward college.
“Wasn’t that just terrible?” gasped Patricia “I’m certainly done for with him now. Next time I do any climbing for specimens, you’ll know it.”
“Whatever do you suppose he was doing out there?” demanded Ruth.
“You heard him say it was his roof, didn’t you?” retorted Jane. “Clarice said once that he had an old place where he raises all kinds of truck for the lab, but I didn’t pay much attention to her. She talks so much that half the time I don’t listen very attentively; and I haven’t given it a thought since.”
“Just wait until the girls hear about it!”
“We’re going to have a spread tonight; did you know it?” asked Jane. “Doll’s going out with one of her boy friends.”
“The dark youth who’s a ‘special’ in some year or other?” asked Patricia.
“Yes.”
“She’ll have to keep better tabs on him,” commented Ruth; “he’s a born flirt. I was at the Black Book the other night when he came in, and he tried to make a date with me.”
“Did he succeed?” asked Jane mischievously.
“He did not! I can’t bear him.”
“Do you realize, girls,” inquired Ruth, “that we are still moss-less?”
“Yes, and we’ll continue to be, so far as I am concerned,” retorted Patricia.
“Oh, somebody in the lab will be sure to have some,” said Jane easily, “and we’ll just borrow a little of it. I don’t feel equal to hunting any longer.”
The spread was about to get under way at eight-thirty that evening. Mrs. Vincent and her youthful escort, Ivan Zahn, had departed for a concert which the college was giving to entertain the Freshman Class. Rhoda was looking after the Black Book and the telephone; so the girls were quite free to enjoy themselves, without responsibility. The new maid had quickly become as much of a favorite as her predecessor; for she was accommodating and good-tempered, and the inhabitants of Arnold Hall, especially those on the first floor, treated her almost as one of themselves.
“Did anybody telephone the Varsity Coffee Shoppe for the eats?” demanded Hazel, coming out into the hall in a suit of bright red lounging pajamas.
“Yes,” answered Jane from her room, where she was putting frantic last minute lines on a poster which was due the next morning.
“Who took the order?” asked Frances, rushing in to borrow some thread to run up a rip in her coolie coat.
“Al, and he said he’d send them right down,” contributed Ruth from her bed, where she lay on her back trying to fix an important bit of psychology in her mind.
“Oh, cut the study!” ordered Anne, entering with Lucile, Betty, and Patricia.
“Got to get this tonight,” cried Ruth, hanging onto the book which Anne tried to take out of her hands.
“No, you haven’t; get up early in the morning and do it. Then it will be all the fresher in your mind.”
“Yes, you like early rising,” laughed Betty.
Anne continued to pull, and finally got Ruth off the bed. Katharine, who came in at that moment, attracted by the noise, slipped past Ruth and Anne, flopped into the recently vacated bed, and pulled up the covers.
“Of all things!” exclaimed Ruth indignantly, jerking away from Anne. “Get out of my bed!”
Katharine extended a long, strong arm and pulled Betty in beside her, while Frances piled in on the other side.
“Safety in numbers,” laughed Katharine impishly. “Get us out if you can!”
“I’ll help you, Ruth!” shouted Clarice, dashing in with a glass of water which she sprinkled freely on the three girls in the bed. With a cry of protest they sprang up and chased Clarice the length of the hall where she barricaded herself with a heavy chair in the corner beside the telephone booth. At the other end of the hall, on a couple of well-stuffed white laundry bags which were ready for the collector in the morning, perched Hazel, swinging her red-clad legs and singing: “I want a drink! Kathy wants a drink! Francy wants a drink!”
“Here’s Al, girls!” called Clarice from her vantage point, where she could see out onto the street.
The feud was forgotten, as they all trooped forward to relieve Rhoda of the basket which the boy had brought. Sitting down on the runner which extended the length of the hall, the girls quickly disposed of orangeade, sandwiches, cakes, and ice cream, not forgetting to give Rhoda a share. A songfest followed, and a general romp the length of the alley was in full swing when the front door opened suddenly and Mrs. Vincent walked in, alone.
“Girls!” she cried sharply. “Stop that noise at once! You sound like a lot of hyenas! I could hear you up to the corner!”
“What brought her home so early?” muttered Betty to Patricia.
“Must have had a scrap with Ivan,” whispered Anne. “She’s so cross.”
Just then the telephone rang, and Mrs. Vincent paused to gaze hopefully at Rhoda who answered it.
“Yes,” said Rhoda, in a low tone. “Yes, I’ll call her.”
With an oddly excited expression on her usually calm face, Rhoda turned to Mrs. Vincent, saying, “Someone wants to speak with you.”
CHAPTER VI
A MEDDLER
“Yes, this is Mrs. Vincent talking. What? I’m very sorry. The girls were having a little party, and didn’t realize, I’m afraid, how much noise they were making. What did you say, please? Oh, we—ll, I’ll see what they think about it. Of course, you realize that they are not children to be ordered about.”
“She didn’t think so a minute ago,” giggled Anne under her breath to Patricia.
“All right. Goodbye.”
Mrs. Vincent hung up the receiver and turned to face the girls.
“We’re in a nice fix now!” she snapped. “Mrs. Brock, who lives back of us, has been greatly disturbed by the noise you have been making all the evening, and feels that an apology is due her—”
“What utter nonsense!” cried Anne.
“She must be cuckoo!” exclaimed Clarice hotly.
The rest of the girls stood looking at one another in astonishment, while Rhoda turned her back quickly and bent her head low over the open Black Book.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” continued Mrs. Vincent.
“Just nothing at all,” replied Jane; “her demand is absurd.”
“Of course it is unreasonable; but the trouble is,” pursued Mrs. Vincent,
