"Oh, it is such fun to make them run!" said one fair creature delightedly. "I just kept Mr. Dunkirk fooling along after the first drum; and there he goes, for all he is worth."
"Too late?" queried a quiet lady in a dark dress.
"Not too late to get to bed," said Miss Saucy. "They won't make him walk post to-night, poor boy. But he'll be on the black list to-morrow."
"Then you won't have him to walk with on Saturday," said another girl.
"Have somebody else, ma chère. One gets tired of the same man too often. If I didn't trip him up now and then I should die of a surfeit of honey, and never have a chance at treacle and lumps of sugar."
"But do you mean to say," said the lady in black, "do you really mean to say that you get these young men into difficulty wilfully? That you are responsible for their being late?"
"Well, I do everything wilfully," said the girl—"and I am never responsible for anything. So I don't know how you'll fix it."
"I shall tell the Commandant to-morrow!" said the lady excitedly.
"No good." said the girl. "He can't skin me—and he will skin him. It don't hurt much: he don't care. Says he don't."
"He ought to care!"