A little later, the two girls went quietly down-stairs, and slipped out of the front door.
“Will mamma be anxious, do you think?” asked Eunice, suddenly, feeling very guilty, for the girls never thought of going out for a whole afternoon without asking permission.
“Guess not. She’ll think we’ve gone to Emily Drayton’s. She said this morning we might go, you know. There’s our car.”
The two girls, with fluttering hearts and excited faces, got on the car, feeling as if they were bound for Japan or the North Pole. Cricket’s buoyant, hopeful nature was serenely confident of gaining her end, while Eunice’s more apprehensive temperament made her quake at the process.
“What shall we say, Cricket?” said Eunice, doubtfully.
“Just tell the President all about it,” answered Cricket, easily. “I hope we can get him to let the other boys off, too. Perhaps he could just rusty-coat them for just a week or two. They ought to be willing to stand that; for, after all, what could you expect of Freshmen?” with a tolerant air and accent that amused some ladies sitting by them immensely.
“We change here. Come on,” and Cricket jumped up briskly. Eunice followed more slowly. Generally, she was the leader in their joint doings, even if Cricket was, as usually happened, the originator. To-day both felt that Cricket was in command of the expedition.
They reached the house at last. Eunice quaked more and more, but Cricket, though in a quiver of excitement, was as bold as a lion. The feeling that she was going to rescue her beloved brother from the clutches of that hawklike Faculty, who always hovered about, lying in wait to tear unsuspecting Freshmen to bits, gave her unbounded courage. Donald was in difficulty, and some curious code of honour kept him from saving himself. Somebody else must do it, then. That was very simple; and she was the person to do it. With this small maiden, as we know, to think and to act were always in close connection,—so close that often there was some apparent confusion of precedent. But now she was sure she was right, and she valiantly went ahead.
Eunice was white with excitement. She, forming the rank and file of the attacking army, had less to sustain her courage than General Cricket had. Definite action is always easier than to await an issue. Then, also, Cricket’s sublime unconsciousness that any one was particularly interested or concerned in what she did, saved her from the wonder, “What will people think?” which so often nips one’s finest projects in the bud.
“What shall we do if the President is out?” it suddenly occurred to Eunice to wonder, as they rang the bell.