“What’s up?” demanded Sally, who was inclined to dawdle from very perversity.
“Springing another one on us, Bev?” asked Aileen, laughing softly but hastily complying with orders.
Beverly vouchsafed no answer beyond a significant little jerk of her head.
In five minutes the lights were out in A, B, and C and Study 10 was in darkness also. Miss Stetson, ever suspicious, tiptoed back to peep in but found nothing amiss. Then a new outbreak far down the corridor summoned her to that end and Number 10 was for the time being left in peace. This was the cue. Beverly let about five minutes pass, then slipped out of bed and into her bathrobe and bedroom slippers in a jiffy. Sally and Aileen needed no hint to follow suit.
“Come quick,” whispered Beverly.
Number 10 was fortunately, (or unfortunately) nearer the door leading to the gym gallery than some other suites. The corridor was now conveniently dark, the lights having been extinguished by Miss Stetson. Only the patches of moonlight shining through the windows showed the prowlers which way to turn. In two seconds the gallery door was reached and the three were upon the gym side of it.
Now Miss Woodhull’s pet economy was lights, and woe betide the luckless inmate of Leslie Manor who needlessly used electricity. The girls often said that if the house ever caught fire Miss Woodhull would pause in rushing from it to switch off any electric bulb left burning. From sheer force of habit she had switched off the lights in the gym as she hurried from it, a key happening to be at the side of the door through which she led her brood. That the tail-end of the crowd might have stumbled over something was a trifling consideration.
Beverly’s quick wits which had grasped many details of Miss Woodhull’s idiosyncrasies, had taken in this one. It served her turn now. The gym was lighted only by moonlight, and silent as silence itself. The girls tittered.
“Isn’t the joke on you, Bev?” asked Aileen.
“Oh look! Quick!” whispered Sally.