Very soon after dinner Betty got tired of being a heroine, and when Georgia Ames appeared and announced that a lot of freshmen were making fudge in her room and wished Betty would come and have some and tell them all about her experiences, she looked anxiously at Helen Adams, who was the only person in the room just then.
“It’s awfully good fudge—got marshmallows in it, and nuts,” urged Georgia. “They want Miss Adams too.”
“Can I come in a kimono?” asked Betty. “I’m too tired to dress.”
“Of course. Only——” Georgia hesitated.
“There’s a man in the parlor, calling on Polly Eastman. And the folding doors are stuck open. I wish my room wasn’t down on that floor. You have to be so careful of your appearance.”
Betty frowned. “I want awfully to come. Can’t you two think of a way?”
“Why of course,” cried Georgia gleefully, after a moment’s consideration. “We’ll hold a screen around you. The man will know that something queer is inside it, but he can’t see what.”
So the procession started, Helen and Georgia carrying the screen. At the top of the last flight, they adjusted it around Betty, and began slowly to make the descent. At the curve Georgia looked down into the hall and stopped, in consternation.
“They’ve moved out into the hall,” she whispered. “No—this is Lucile Merrifield and another man. We’ve got to go right past them.”
“Let’s go back,” whispered Betty.