inhabitant of Big House.
“She must be crazy!” declared Jack, as she finished her story. “You’d better not have anything to do with her. Say, what does she look like?” as a sudden idea occurred to him.
Patricia described her as well as she could.
“The very same!” ejaculated the boy, when Patricia paused.
“The same—what do you mean?” inquired the girl, looking at him with a puzzled expression.
“I was walking along Craig Street, right back of the campus, you know, one day about two weeks ago, when I noticed a little woman ahead of me drop a small bag. Apparently, she didn’t notice her loss; for she kept right on. I picked up the pocketbook, hurried on, and gave it to her. She looked at me sharply with the most piercing brown eyes I have ever seen—”
“That’s she!” interrupted Patricia. “Those eyes fasten themselves on you just like tiny crabs.”
“I presented the bag and told her where I found it. She said curtly: ‘So you’re really honest. I didn’t think anybody was, any more.’ It made me mad, so I merely said: ‘That is one of the things upon which I pride myself,’ bowed and hurried on. I wouldn’t swear to it, but I thought I heard her laugh. Must be cuckoo.”
“She’s certainly queer, to say the least,” agreed Patricia. “I think I’d better go in, now. Thanks for the movie; I enjoyed it.”
“Wait a minute,” urged the boy, laying a hand on her arm. “You’re going to see the Greystone game; aren’t you?”
“Yes; Frances and I are going to drive down together.”
“I’ll get your tickets, then. I’d like you to be where you can get a good view, since you’ve never been to a real big game before.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Patricia gratefully, as she started up the steps. “Good night.”
“Bring them to you in Shakespeare class Friday,” called Jack, just as Norman and Clarice came out onto the porch.
Shortly after the street was again deserted, a masculine figure slipped out of a thick clump of shrubbery near the dormitory, and, keeping well in the heavy shadows which edged Arnold Hall on one side, slunk off into the darkness.
CHAPTER VIII
JACK OR TUT?
“Will somebody stop that bell!” called Patricia frantically one afternoon a week later.
She and Anne were in their room, trying to cram for a test in French.
“No!” shouted Clarice and Hazel simultaneously. “We want to wear out the battery before tonight; and the coast is clear now.”
Patricia gave her door a shove which made it close with a bang, and stuffed her fingers into her ears, while Anne did likewise. Presently the door flew open again to admit Mary.
“What’s the idea?” she exclaimed, viewing the two girls with alarm.
“That awful bell!” replied Anne briefly, withdrawing her fingers from ears. “What do you suppose Clarice and Hazel are up to?”
“I’m not sure, but I think they’re planning to step out tonight.”
“Rose Troy?” queried Anne.
“I suppose so,” said Mary anxiously.
Rose Troy was not a student at Granard, but at one of the college affairs to which outsiders were admitted, she had met Hazel and Clarice, taken a fancy to them, and subsequently invited them to her home several times. She entertained lavishly, and some of the girls were frankly envious of the favored two; others strongly disapproved of the growing intimacy.
“But what’s the bell got to do with it?” inquired Patricia.
“You poor innocent!” retorted Mary. “If the bell won’t ring when the back door is opened—and they find some way to have said back door opened for them—Doll can never tell what time the girls come home.”
“I wish Hazel hadn’t gotten so intimate with Clarice all of a sudden,” mused Anne. “I wonder how it happened.”
“Birds of a feather,” began Mary.
“Don’t say that. Hazel is just like Clarice!” protested Anne vehemently.
“Wait till I finish,” countered Mary calmly. “I was going to say that they both love a good time, and both let their studying go until the eleventh hour; furthermore, Hazel is terribly restless this year. I can’t make out just what is the matter with her, and Clarice is a kind of outlet.”
“Rose Troy’s attentions are very bad for both of them, I think; and perhaps partly explains their intimacy,” said Anne.
“How?” inquired Mary bluntly.
“Well, they have a common interest in which the rest of us have no part, and Rose’s parties are somewhat stimulating, I imagine; more sophisticated than ours. Rose has lots of boy friends, you know.”
“Ought we to do anything, about tonight, I wonder,” mused Anne.
“No!” replied Mary promptly. “What right have we to object if those two silly kids want to run the risk of getting into trouble?”
Suddenly the bell stopped ringing, and quiet settled down upon the house, just as Mrs. Vincent entered the front door, with her shadow, Ivan Zahn.
“But,” persisted Patricia, still puzzled, “how will they manage to get in without Dolly’s knowledge?”
“Oh, Clarice, on some pretext or other—she’ll know how—will ask for permission for both of them to stay out an hour later than usual. Doll will give it, and go to bed at the regular time. Then, with the back door key, which I suppose they will secure during the early evening, they will be able to get in and go to bed without anyone being the wiser.”
“Clarice certainly has some stand-in with Dolly,” observed Anne.
“She works hard enough for it,” retorted Mary.
“What do you mean?” inquired Patricia.
“Oh, Clarice is always sending Doll flowers, or candy, and naturally it makes an ‘imprint’; as of course it’s intended to.”
About two o’clock next morning, Patricia was suddenly wakened by a flash of light. Wide awake in an instant, she waited tensely for the peal of thunder which she expected would accompany it—forgetting that the season for such storms was over. Electric storms were Patricia’s chief phobia; but no sound disturbed the stillness. Then the flash was repeated; again she waited, but again perfect quiet reigned. Just as she decided that one of the street lights must be blinking, a third time the light played on the wall, this time more slowly. With a fast-beating heart, she sat up, reached for her bathrobe, and stole softly to the window. On the path below, in the faint light from the street lamp, she could distinguish Clarice and Hazel. Evidently they could not get in, and had used a flash light to attract her attention. How to let them know
