She pounded a cork in a bottle of hair tonic she was getting ready to pack. The cork refused to stay in the bottle. Mary gave it another jab—the bottle broke and the contents spilled over the dresser. She tried to rescue an ivory-handled brush and mirror, but it was too late.
"There," she cried, the tears springing to her eyes; "see what I've done—perfectly ruined Peggy Austin's brush! Well, she shouldn't have left it in here."
Blue Bonnet took the brush and tried to wipe off the spots. She pushed Mary into a chair and drew one up for herself.
"Now," she said, "tell me all about it. What has Fraulein done?"
At first Mary was silent.
"Tell me," urged Blue Bonnet.
"Well, we were having a party in here last night—a sort of feast. It was Peggy's birthday and her mother sent her a box. Peggy's room is so near Fraulein's she never can have anything there, so we had it here. We waited till all the lights were out, and it was as still as could be. We were having a dandy time, when Peggy said she'd forgotten a box of candy in her room and went to get it. We waited for her, and after a while there was a knock on the door—just a little timid knock, as if Peggy were trying to fool us. She knew a knock like that would scare us to death, so we thought we'd fool her. I happened to have a pitcher of water on the stand there, so we opened the door a little way—it was pitch dark—and let her have it, full force!"
"Well?"
"Well—it wasn't Peggy—it was Fraulein! Didn't you hear her scream? It was enough to wake the dead. Miss North came running and Miss Martin—she's on this floor too, now, and—"
Carita's grief had suddenly turned to mirth. She rocked back and forth in her chair shaking with laughter.