“Not at all!” agreed Anne. “But I’d trust Belle with anything. She’s a mighty fine little girl, Belle is.” Then rising and stretching languidly—“Well, so long, guess you’ve changed your mind about coming out with your plan.”
Kathryn made an impatient gesture. “Sit down. Since you’ve been so frank with me, telling me just what I am, at least I’ll ask your advice.”
Anne dropped into her chair again as she said, “You flatter me, old dear, but make it snappy. I do want to get in half an hour at the piano.”
Kathryn was still looking in the fire. “I thought,” she began, “that when you two girls handed in such poor compositions it would be too late to get others for this month’s Manuscript Magazine, but today I hear that a new pupil has arrived who has submitted three stories and two poems and that Miss Torrence is delighted with them.”
“Well, what next? You didn’t call a meeting merely to tell us that.” Anne glanced at her wrist watch.
“No, of course not.” Kathryn’s dark eyes searched her friend’s face.
“This is the night the teachers assemble in Mrs. Martin’s office for their Faculty Meetings.”
“Yes, so it is. But I’m still in the dark.” Anne looked somewhat interested, and even more curious.
“Dark? That’s what it will be, for there isn’t a moon, and, what’s more, the clouds are so heavy, it will probably snow.”
“Which means?” Anne couldn’t imagine what Kathryn was planning. “Which means that you and I could slip over to Pine Cabin while Miss Torrence is here and—well—it wouldn’t be hard to get in her study window. I heard her say last week that the lock is broken but that she wasn’t afraid.”