Just as they stepped out into the hall, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll bet that’s Dolly’s boy friend,” whispered Anne, pausing to peer around one of the pillars, and catching sight of the top of a man’s hat showing in the door pane. “Wait a minute, I want you to get a look at him. He’s a special student here, and years younger than Doll.”
The door leading to the cellar opened suddenly, and a black-gowned maid appeared and hurried down the hall to answer the bell.
“Apparently Rhoda has arrived. Isn’t she pretty?” breathed Anne softly.
When the door was opened, a low-toned conversation ensued, of which the eavesdroppers could hear nothing. Then Rhoda admitted the blond youth, who stood waiting while the maid came down the hall toward the two girls.
“Some one to see Miss Randall,” she announced.
Patricia clutched Anne’s arm in a frenzy. “You’ve got to come with me,” she whispered.
“Are you expecting a bag?” inquired the boy gravely, fixing his great grey eyes upon Patricia when she reached the door.
“Yes,” she faltered; “I left it on the bus.”
“The driver was going to bring it down on the six,” volunteered Anne irrelevantly.