Farther up the corridor two others listened. Not a sound was heard in the hall, and Betty Chase cautiously opened the door a few inches. A board in the floor creaked, and she shut the door so quickly that she forgot to be careful, and one might have heard it the length of the hall.
"Oo-oo!" whispered Valerie. "You let me manage that door, please, the next time it's opened."
"When'll the next time be?" whispered Betty with a chuckle.
"Now!" whispered Valerie, and stepping out into the hall, they carefully closed the door, then ran softly along to Vera's door, and tapped upon the panel with a hat-pin for a knocker. The door opened and they were only too glad to have it close behind them. Yet a bit longer they waited before lighting up, and while they waited, they sat upon the bed and talked in whispers.
The street lamp threw a band of light across the room.
Five minutes later, the blankets were taken from the bed and hung over the door, that no ray of light from the room might be visible in the hall, through either crack or keyhole.
A second blanket was pinned to the curtains, that neither coachman nor maid returning from the town might catch a glimpse of light.
Then the fun began.
They had become bolder, and forgetting to whisper, talked in undertones. Vera, mounted on a cushioned stool, was holding the can over the gas jet, and watching eagerly for some sign of boiling.
"The milk is steaming," she announced. "S'pose it's done?"