"What's that?" asked somebody, curiously.
"Where?" asked another girl.
"In chapel. Didn't you see me trying to crawl through between the two rows of seats? And I got stuck!"
"Did you have to pay Foyle the fifty cents to pry you out, Heavy?" demanded Ann Hicks.
"No. I dropped the half dollar and tried to find it. I looked for it; that's all I could do. I was too fat to find it."
"Did you look good, Jennie?" asked Ruth, sympathetically.
"Did I look good?" repeated the fleshy girl, with scorn. "I looked as good as a fat girl crawling around on all fours, ever does look. What do you think?"
The laugh at Jennie Stone's sally really cleared the room, for the warning bell for supper sounded almost immediately. Heavy and Nettie, and all who did not belong in the quartette room, departed. Then Mercy went tap, tap, tapping down the corridor with her canes—"just like a silly woodpecker!" as she often said herself; and Ann strode away, trying to hum the marching song, but ignominiously falling into the doleful strains of the "Cowboy's Lament" before she reached the head of the stairway.
"I really would like to know what that thing is you've been writing, Ruth," remarked Helen, when they were alone. "All those sheets of paper—Goodness! it's no composition. I believe you've been writing your valedictory this early."
"Don't be silly," laughed Ruth. "I shall never write the valedictory of this class. Mercy will do that."