“Then why have you so long delayed coming to me?” The eyes were very searching.
“I was afraid—afraid—I might be mistaken. That after all it really didn’t mean anything. The girls often play jokes upon one another, you know.”
“Not such senseless jokes as this one I trust. What caused you to alter your opinion?”
The professional stage certainly missed a star when it failed to discover Eleanor. She hesitated, looked down, then up with appealing eyes. She twisted her fingers together and untwisted them. She shifted from one foot to the other, all of which was maddeningly irritating to Miss Woodhull.
“This is no time for hesitation,—speak!”
“This afternoon,” whispered Eleanor.
“Sit in that chair and tell me everything without further circumlocution.” The tone was final.
With appropriate hesitancy the events of the afternoon were graphically pictured for the Empress. When they were completely drawn she said with the grimness of Fate: “You may go, but remember, not one word to your companions.” A most superfluous admonition, for Eleanor was nearly petrified with fear as it was. She retreated to her room with all possible speed and her room-mate wondered what had taken place to make her look so pale, but refrained from asking questions. Eleanor and her room-mate were not entirely congenial.
It was close to nine-thirty when she entered her room which was on the floor above Beverly’s. Down in hospitable Suite 10 the social spirit was rampant. The Basket-ball victory was being celebrated by a spread. Light bell did not ring until ten Saturday nights. Beverly was in the act of biting into a chocolate eclair when Miss Stetson came to the door. Beverly was sitting back to it and supposed it was one of her companions.
As all will concede, an eclair is, to say the least, an uncertain quantity. Even upon a plate and carefully manipulated with a fork, it is given to erratic performances. When held between a thumb and forefinger, and bitten into, its possibilities are beyond conjecture. Miss Stetson appeared at a most inopportune moment (she usually did) and each girl rose to her feet, Beverly under the circumstances being the last to do so because she had no idea that Miss Stetson was anywhere near No. 10. Her tardy uprising brought about the inevitable result. Her teeth came together upon her eclair and the filling escaped its bounds, landing in many places that it should not have landed. When Miss Stetson had removed about a tablespoonful of cream filling from her bosom, she said icily: “Miss Ashby, you are to report at Miss Woodhull’s study at once,” and utterly ignored Beverly’s apologies.