"What about 'an'?" asked Syb.
"Couldn't she be a German girl, called Anne, Anna really, who is pretending to be a schoolgirl, and really plotting and spying?" Joey said.
"My word, Joey, you're coming on. I'm less surprised you got the scholarship," Noreen cried. "We—Gabrielle and Joey and I—settled this afternoon that someone ought to look into the matter of the Professor's hatefulness, and it's us that are going to," she added cheerfully and ungrammatically, for the benefit of Syb and Barbara. "If he's all right our charade won't hurt him—he'll like it; if he's not...."
The gong sounded.
"Soufflez! Regardez glissant, mes enfants," Noreen cried, tying her hair-ribbon with desperate speed. "We must fix up our charade after supper; and look here! we must get some of the others to perform first, while we're fixing it. Ingrid might recite,—she's awfully good,—and we'll get Gabrielle to fiddle. Joey, you'd better do the asking Miss Craigie—oh, and of course you'll have to go to the Head first, as we want all the Staff. Point out it's an occasion."
"Oh, I say, won't one of you?" asked poor Joey; but Noreen was adamant.
"You're rather in favour with the Head, I believe, and anyhow you've swanked enough about Miss Craigie. It's clearly your duty to get leave for the show. We'll do the rest."
"All right," Joey agreed resignedly, and then the inhabitants of Blue Dorm tore downstairs at a record pace, only just escaping an order mark for lateness by the skin of their teeth.
Miss Conyngham received Joey's request very graciously, and promised to invite the Staff to witness the performance and bring them with her to Queen's Hall in half an hour's time. Joey flew back, very satisfied to find Noreen, Barbara, and Sybil in one of the small classrooms, opening from the Hall, distractedly considering the all-important charade. But they were cheerful too, for it appeared that Ingrid had consented to recite, and Gabrielle and the musical genius of Remove II., Clare Estcome, to play.