“C. C. C., open for me.”
The door opened, and in skipped a figure arrayed like the six already assembled, in a warm dressing-gown and a high peaked paper cap, with white tissue mask and spy-holes.
All spoke in whispers, so it was almost impossible to recognize any one. But this only added to the fun and mystery. “Spread the feast, girls; the others will soon be here. Let’s see, how many are there? Seven! Why don’t the other five hurry? I wonder which ones here aren’t here?” one girl laughingly whispered.
“They’ll come, never fear, but their rooms are nearer ‘headquarters,’” said another.
“What luck! Miss Preston doesn’t suspect a thing. I met her in the hall just before ‘lights’ bell, and she said as innocently as could be, ‘You look as though you were quite ready for the “land o’ dreams,” Elsie, but so long as you do not take a gallop on a “night mare” all will be well,’ and I could hardly help laughing when I thought how soon I might be equipped for one.”
“This fudge is my contribution,” said another.
“Hold on, girls! I’ve a brilliant idea,” said Toinette. “Who’s got a long hairpin? Good! that’s fine. Now prepare for something delectable,” and, straightening out the pin, she stuck a marsh mallow on it and held the white lump of lusciousness over the one candle until it was toasted a golden if rather smoky brown.
Tap, tap, tap.
“It’s the others. Quick! let them in, for it’s half-past ten already.”
The signals were exchanged, and in walked not five but nine more figures.