"Whiting," she said, "here are the keys. There is not a soul in this building but ourselves. Be sure that you lock the door after me. It is not to be opened again till it is time to admit the audience. We will come in by the basement, so be on hand to let us in by half-past six. No one is to be admitted at the front door till half-past seven, and then only those who have tickets. Remember this. The performers will all come in a body, so you will know that any one pretending to have a right here after we come, has to be sent away. Not another soul is to come in by the basement, mind."
Whiting grinned and promised to have a sharp eye for intruders.
Meantime the studios were occupied by a body of whispering, giggling girls, who, one by one, had quietly stolen up-stairs, unnoticed, each one bearing an innocent-looking color-box or roll of drawing paper. At six o'clock, each drew forth from one of these receptacles a substantial lunch which was eaten with a relish, and with the satisfied feeling which always follows a deed well done. There was absolute silence in the hall below, and save for the footsteps of Whiting as he went around lighting up, there appeared to be no sound in the building until the fifteen girls trooped up the basement stairs and with bustling excitement crossed over to the green-room.
Cordelia was triumphant. They had outwitted the sophs, she declared, and by their vigilance, the juniors had prevented the threatened intrusion.
At eight o'clock all was ready. Nettie Slingluff was declaring that she had a nervous chill. The king was expostulating with Alphonso because the latter insisted upon turning the royal robes upon their wrong side. Janet was jingling her chains and jeweled girdles as she swept up and down the room. The minstrel was wildly searching for his lute, and Lee was dancing a break-down in one corner in her joy at having circumvented the sophs.
"Almost everybody must have come," said Janet, looking through a peep-hole in the curtain. "There are quantities of the freshmen in their seats and almost all the seniors are there. Shall we ring up?"
"Ring up," returned Cordelia laconically.
Up went the curtain, and the play began. It so happened that the entire company appeared at once, just after the beginning of the first act. As the last one made her entrance, from the upper gallery came a blast of horns. The performers stopped short, aghast at the interruption. Every eye was directed toward the gallery where in smiling array appeared the whole sophomore class, each girl innocently sucking at a lemon stick imbedded in a lemon.
A perfect shout of laughter went up from the audience, and the disconcerted juniors were, for a moment, too confounded to go on. But Janet was the first to gather her self-possession. She whispered something to the minstrel who went forward and began a plaintive ballad which quieted the audience and gave the players a chance to recover themselves, then the performance went on successfully to the end. Yet though there was rage in the hearts of the players, they went through their parts with more spirit because of it, and evoked much applause especially from the uninvited guests who added to the general clapping of hands, many blasts upon their horns. They attempted no other disturbance, and behaved with the utmost propriety throughout.
"How did they get in? How did they?" cried Cordelia when the curtain had fallen on the last act, and the performers, warm and tired, sank into various attitudes about the green-room. "Could they have bribed Whiting?" she asked.