“Sausage-rolls and bath-buns”—these were decided upon by Stella and Gretta together; the former acting as adviser-in-chief in a most unselfish manner considering that no bite of the feast was to pass her lips; “and half a pound of mixed cream sweets, and some Velma chocolate.”
“But we’ve forgotten drinks!” said the head of the dormitory gravely; “and really with all those things we shall need them.”
“A good dose of Gregory’s Powder’ll be enough,” remarked the grim voice of nurse, who had entered the room unnoticed, and now stood looking over Josy’s shoulder. “If I had my way there’d be an end of these feasts, as you call them—a lot of silly rubbish!”
But nurse’s words were laughed to scorn, for this was a privileged occasion. “Two bottles of ginger champagne and one of raspberry syrup,” were added to the list; “and some apples,” wrote Josy, “so long as they’re nice and green; if not, then Brazil nuts!”
This completed the list, and the hearts of that dormitory were at rest on the subject of the feast, at least. “You’ll be lucky if Miss Read lets you have a quarter of this!” laughed Helen, reading the list aloud. “Everybody—listen! Sausage-rolls, meringues, sardines, Brazil nuts!”
She was interrupted by a howl of misery from Sybil—poor Sybil of the sweet tooth!
“I think it’s just hateful for everyone to have a dormitory feast but us; and such lovely, lovely things! And I’ve got such lots of pocket-money that auntie gave me!”
“Do be quiet, Sybil,” adjured Gretta, feeling very sorry for her little sister, but knowing from old experience that sympathetic treatment was of little use at such a time. “Perhaps Miss Read will let me keep something for you; I’ll ask her, if you’ll stop crying.”
“She won’t, she won’t,” sobbed Sybil. “They’re all just the hor——!”
“Cheero, Sybil!” interposed Josy; “there’s the match to watch on Saturday, anyway!”