“There would seem a certain amount of er—er—one might say—attractiveness in your suggestion to an outsider, Dorothy, my child, one, let us say, not familiar with your ability as a cook. For me, however, the invitation holds no charms. Last time, if you’ll remember, you put hair oil in the taffy in place of the vanilla. I need hardly refer to the disastrous results.” And clasping her hands behind her back, the wicked little mimic walked off down the corridor, adding over her shoulder: “Good afternoon, my dear young ladies, good afternoon.”
By this time the girls were holding their sides with laughter. Finally Dorothy managed to ask very weakly:
“Then what are you going to do?”
“There’s not the slightest use in telling you, for you’d never believe it,” Polly answered. “Still, as you’ve asked, I’ll tell you. We are going to study.”
This startling announcement was too much for
the Dorothys, and when Lois and Polly left them, to follow Betty, they were lying in mock faints on the corridor floor.
The three girls proceeded to English room and knocked gently on the door.
“Come in,” called Miss Porter’s voice from the other side.
She was a short, dark, little lady, with glowing black eyes and unlimited enthusiasm. She was very bashful out of the classroom and the girls, as a whole, knew very little of her. Just now she was correcting Senior papers and was a little surprised at being interrupted.
As the three girls entered the room Lois, ever the spokesman in serious matters, began: