“Oh!” gasped the startled Terry, the other two echoing her surprise with their own. They had no idea that they had slumbered.
Silently they took their flashlights and crept down the darkened corridor. The kitchen was far below on the same floor with the dining room. The kitchen was bright enough by day, for there were windows on three sides, but it was as dark as a cave at night. A large long table-bench ran the length of one side of the room. On this the plates were served to be carried into the dining hall by waitresses. Above the bench were racks for holding dishes. Gleaming pots, pans, and kettles hung on the wall near the huge stove, its fire now banked for the night. Shining copper tanks for hot water to make tea and boil the coffee caught and reflected the beams from flashlights carried by the marauders.
Unaccustomed to the strange place, the girls all stood still for a few moments to get their bearings. Arden gave a sudden frightened squeal as a startled mouse ran across her foot.
“Oh,” she gasped. “The place is overrun with the little beasts!”
“Hush!” cautioned Jane Randall. “That watchman may hear us. He comes in here on his rounds.”
“Where’s the food, Jane?” whispered Terry, advancing farther into the room which, somehow, had a spooky atmosphere.
“It ought to be around here some place,” Jane replied cautiously.
“Ah-a-a-ah! Pies!” suddenly exclaimed Terry as she opened the door of a large cupboard.
“Let’s take a few. They are for tomorrow, I suppose, and must have been baked late this afternoon. What do they smell like, Terry?” asked Sim.
“They all smell pretty much alike to me. I’ll take four, one off each shelf. We ought to get a variety that way,” suggested Terry.