"I'm in a cold sweat. They've gone home alone. Oh, Jack, what shall I do? I don't dare to meet Miss Ryder. She'll send me away to-morrow. It's awful!"
Still holding him by the coat sleeve, she was pulling him toward the door. The lobby was almost empty. The few stragglers were eyeing the tableau curiously.
Masculine common-sense asserted itself. The Lieutenant drew Belinda's hand through his arm and stopped her under the glare of the electric light.
"Don't be an idiot," he said brusquely. "Who is Miss Ryder? Who are the girls?"
The bullying stirred the young woman to intelligence.
"She's principal of the school. I'm teaching there. I brought twelve pupils to the theatre."
Amazement, comprehension, sympathy chased each other across the man's face and were swallowed by wild mirth, but Belinda's eyes filled with tears, and his mirth evaporated.
"Never mind. Buck up, little girl. We'll fix it some way. We'll get a cab. We'll kill a horse. We'll get there before they can. Maybe they won't tell."
"Oh, yes, they will. If they were only boys—but girls will." Still Belinda revived slightly under the suggestion.
"Come on. We must hustle."