Jane and Dozia could not remain longer silent. Evidently Judith had been educated in the absurd proceedings before they came. Janet was now in from the telephone booth and stood beside her companions, while Jane attempted to interrupt.
"May I speak?" she called out in the most musical tone her voice would accept.
"Certainly, miss," replied the chief. He evidently did not share the opinion of his subordinate on Wellington girls' character.
"This arrest is an outrage—a frame-up," declared Jane, glad to recall the vernacular. "There are three witnesses here who saw the trouble and we'll find others if you want them. The fact is Officer Jamison is always cross with us students" (she put it mildly), "and he was, perhaps, too willing to listen to our enemies. The proprietor of the beauty shop is a former Wellington student who was asked to withdraw last spring" (again the modification), "and this afternoon she saw her chance to retaliate—to get even." Jane made sure of being understood and now suddenly ceased speaking. She had learned the maxim, "When you say a good thing, stop."
The chief stroked his beard lines (no beard showed just now), then pushed his cap back officially. Judith slid her white hands along the brass rail playfully and even smiled at the man behind it. He was a man if also an officer, and he must know by her manner that Judith Stearns was just a very nice little girl being dreadfully imposed upon.
"Sit down, young lady. We'll be through in a few minutes," said the considerate chief; and Judith dropped to the bench beside Jane, Janet and Dozia. All three could not squeeze her hands at once, but all three managed to do something affectionate, if Janet did have to be content with a mere pluck at the white sweater sleeve.
"Now see here," spoke the chief in a tone of irritated finality.
"Sandy, what do you mean by disturbin' and loiterin'?"
"By loiterin' I mean that racin' after them little boys who was going about their business, and by disturbin' I mean—I mean that— that them college girls is allus raisin' a rumpus."
"Discharged!" sang out the chief and he did sing it. The tune of that single word embraced at least three whole tones and suggested several more.
A tumult followed the announcement but the chief rapped again for order.