"I don't care," mourned Heavy, shaking her head. "It isn't what I get to eat at Briarwood that makes me fat—that's sure."
"No," chuckled Ruth. "You grow plump on the remembrance of what you have already eaten, dear. Who was it ate three plates of floating island last night for supper?"
"Well!" cried Heavy, with wide open eyes, "you wouldn't want me to leave them and let them go to waste, would you? Both you and Helen left your shares, and the cook would have been hurt, if the pudding had come back untouched."
"Kind-hearted girl!" said The Fox, with a sniff.
After-hour parties were frowned upon by Mrs. Tellingham and the teachers, of course; not for the mild breaking of the school rules entailed, but because the girls' stomachs were apt to suffer.
In the West Dormitory, too, Miss Picolet was known to be very sharp-eyed and sharp-eared for such occasions. It took some wit to circumvent Miss Picolet; perhaps that is why the girls on Ruth's corridor so delighted in holding orgies unbeknown to the little French teacher.
Miss Scrimp, the matron, was a heavy sleeper. The girls did not worry about her.
Nettie Parsons' room was at the very end of the cross-corridor, and farthest from the stairway. The stairway went up through the middle of the big brick dormitory building, and perhaps that was not the best arrangement in case of fire; but there were plenty of fire escapes on the outside.
The question which at once arose, when the sixteen girls Nettie chose had been invited to the feast, was who should stand guard?
This was always a matter for discussion—sometimes for heart burnings, too. It was no pleasant task to sit out upon the cold stairway and watch for the opening of Miss Picolet's door below.