Jane looked at Angela and Connie.
"Oh, never mind them," Lois said, understanding her hesitation. "What is it?"
"Well," Jane began, desperately, "I've got to tell you first—that Phylis and I were not very nice—"
"We listened behind a door," Phylis confessed, calmly; "we just had to."
"We were in Eleanor Trent's room," Jane took up the story again. "You see, yesterday she borrowed my gym shoes, and I went down to her room to get them. Well, you know her room is next to Fanny Gerard's, and just as we were coming out, we heard some one crying—"
"Fanny doesn't like us much," Phylis went on, "but we stopped to listen, and we heard Dorothy Mead say:
"'Well, don't be a baby about it. Of course, if you want to have Polly boss you, you can, and Fanny—'"
"No, then Dorothy Lansing said, 'you'd only have to coast down the hill once, to show her you wouldn't let her,'" Jane interrupted.
"Fanny was crying and saying she wanted to go home, and that she wouldn't ever speak to anybody again. We left them, and— Well, we thought we'd better tell you." Phylis ended the tale and looked at Polly.
"Poor Fanny," Polly sighed, "she's not very happy. The Dorothys shouldn't talk that way, of course, but it's not very important. Thanks for telling me, though. Don't listen any more. Fanny wouldn't like it." She treated the whole thing so lightly that both the younger girls thought they had attached more importance to the affair than was necessary. After they left, however, Polly sprang out of bed.