“I know,” answered Terry, “but I’d like to see what the place looks like now that the danger is removed and the mystery solved.”
“I guess you’re one of those persons who go around gathering souvenirs from houses where murders have been committed,” laughed Arden.
“The sort who sneaks up on the Sphinx and knocks a chip off the nose for an Egyptian tidbit,” suggested Sim.
“Come on,” urged Terry. “We haven’t anything else to do, and we can’t go anywhere, as we’re still campused, and it’s a nice day.”
“All right,” assented Sim.
The girls were in a jovial mood as they started toward the orchard, which had been bereft of some of its peril and mystery by the dean’s announcement and by Arden’s rather perilous adventure.
This was several days after the night of the kitchen raid, the ringing of the bell (which was as yet unexplained), and the attack on the aged chaplain by the vicious black ram. During those days the college had buzzed with talk and rumor, and among the chums of Arden and her two friends considerable was known about the midnight taking of the chickens, milk, and pies.
But the bottles had surreptitiously been restored to the kitchen, the bones of the chickens had been successfully disposed of, and there was nothing left of the pies save a few grease spots on several sweaters. Whether the dean knew about the raid and chose to ignore it or whether she was still in blissful ignorance, Arden and her friends neither knew nor cared.
“Sometimes I think she knows all about it but doesn’t say anything because of what we did for Henny,” said Sim.
“Anyhow, she hasn’t piled any more punishment on us, so why should we care?” asked Terry.