Marjorie's feathers began to fall. She was not quite as clever as she had thought.
"Here, I'll do it," said Betty, snatching the tin. "Take down a picture and pull the nail out of the wall, and give me a boot to hammer with. You've to go through this arrow point and then the thing prises up. Steady! Here we are!"
"Cave! Renie's coming. Stick the things away!"
Marjorie hastily seized the feast, and bestowed it inside her wardrobe. Thanks to the drawn curtains of her cubicle Irene had not obtained even a glimpse.
"What are you three doing inside there?" she asked curiously, but no one would tell. The secret was not to be given away too soon.
The conspirators had decided that it would be wiser not to ask any other girls to join the party, but to keep the affair entirely to their own dormitory.
"They'll make such a noise if we have them in, and it will wake the Acid Drop and bring her down upon us," said Sylvia.
"Besides which, it's only a small cake and wouldn't go round," stated Betty practically.
Irene went to bed in a fit of the blues. Only half her presents had turned up, and two of her aunts had not written to her.
"It's been a rotten birthday," she groaned. "I knew it would be hateful having it at school. Why wasn't I born in the holidays? There ought to be a law regulating births to certain times of the year. If I were head of a school I'd let every girl go home for her birthday. Don't speak to me! I feel scratchy!"