“Gone to ‘step-an’-fetch’ her fiddle—or Mr. Gilpin’s, maybe!” suggested Winifred, with a mischievous glance at the old man who sat on the floor in the midst of the girls, gay now as any of them and still urging them to take “just a han’ful more” of the nuts he had been at such pains to crack for them.
But neither Dorothy nor “fiddle” appeared; and the festivities came to a close without her.
“Queer where Queenie went to!” said Florita, walking along the hall toward her dormitory, “and as queer, too, where that goat came from.”
“Seemed to be an old acquaintance of the farmer’s, didn’t it? He called it ‘Baal,’ as if that was its name; and wasn’t it too funny for words? to see him chasing after it, catching it and letting it slip away so, till Jack caught it and led it away. From the way he acted I believe he was the one who owns it and rigged it up so,” said Ernesta, beside her.
“Well, no matter. I’m so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open! But what a glorious time we’ve had; and what a mess Assembly Hall is in.”
“Who cares? We’re had the fun and now Jack and the scullery boy will have to put it in order for us. Matron’ll see to that. Good night.”
They parted, each entering her own cubicle and each wondering somewhat why Dorothy did not come to hers. Commonly she was the most prompt of all in retiring and this was long past the usual hour. Could they have seen her at that moment their surprise would have been even greater.
Long before, while the feast was at its height, the girl had quietly slipped away.
Despite the fun she had so heartily enjoyed, thoughts of the visit to Gwendolyn’s sick room, which she had made just before it, kept coming into her mind: and her thoughts running thus:
“Gwen was ill, she really was, although Lady Jane seemed to think her only whimsical. She looked so unhappy and maybe partly because she couldn’t be in this first Hallowe’en party. It was too bad. I felt as if she must come and when I said so to Winnie she just laughed and answered: ‘Serves her right. Gwendolyn has always felt herself the top of the heap, that nothing could go on just right if she didn’t boss the job. Now she’ll find out that a little “Commoner” like you can do what no “Peer” ever did. Don’t go worrying over that girl, Queen Baltimore. A lesson or two like this will do her good. She’d be as nice as anybody if it wasn’t for her wretched stuck-up-ness. Miss Muriel says it’s no harm to be proud if it’s pride of the right sort. But pride of rank—Huh! How can anybody help where they’re born or who their parents are? Don’t you be silly, too, Dorothy Calvert, and pity somebody who’d resent the pity. I never knew a girl like you. You make me provoked. Never have a really, truly good time because you happen to know of somebody else that isn’t having it. I say again: If the Honorable Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard feels bad because she isn’t in this racket I’m downright glad of it. She has spoiled lots of good times for other girls and ‘turn about’s fair play.’”