“Of course, but didn’t you know she’s Abner’s cousin from Redbird?” and Isaac Shackley grasped a big pot of ferns and moved on, leaving Martin staring in astonishment.
Piny was so tall and snappy and altogether loud—such a contrast to Gincy—Martin had taken a special dislike to her the very first time she came to Harmonia. That was at the opening of the spring term and now it was getting pretty well along toward Commencement. But the girl’s voice did not seem to improve—it was still coarse and penetrating—she wore the gayest colours, and Martin couldn’t enumerate all the reasons why he disliked her, but he did.
It was growing dusk when everything was ready for the spread. They were to serve it in the Domestic Science room at eight o’clock. Nancy Jane had the key and was instructed to remain in charge until the ice cream arrived, then hurry over to the Hall to dress. Nancy Jane turned on the lights and surveyed the room with satisfaction; there was a good deal to show for all their work. The cake was delicious, the chicken fried to a turn. There were great plates of rolls and plenty of pickles. The long table down the centre of the room was decorated with Abner’s class colours, while all around, in festoons, were the orange and black of the Mountain Society—the first typifying the brilliant autumn colouring of the hills; the second, the wealth of coal found in their mines.
The building was far from deserted. There was a clatter of feet up and down the bare stairs—fully a dozen boys roomed on the third floor—and Nancy Jane locked the door to secure herself from unceremonious callers. “They’d like to play some game on us—those seniors,” she thought. “They’re pretty sore because a new pupil carried off the honours.”
It was seven o’clock, but the cream had not come, and Nancy Jane was in a quandary. Some one rattled the door knob. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Piny, Piny Twilliger. Let me in; I’ve come to take your place and let you get dressed. Martin had a message that the cream wouldn’t be here for half an hour yet. There wasn’t another soul ready, so Gincy asked me to come.”
Nancy Jane unlocked the door to let in—was it really Piny? The tall figure was attired in a bright red muslin much beruffled. A brilliant bow with generous outstanding loops surmounted the dozen or more puffs of hair, and excitement lent additional colour to cheeks that were always flushed.
Nancy Jane hurried over to the Hall and up to her room. She didn’t even take time to ask Gincy why she had sent Piny Twilliger to guard the precious cream. It wouldn’t do to say much about kinfolk. But all the time she was hurrying into her white dotted lawn, she wondered if anything would happen to their eatables. Surely some of the girls would be ready in a few minutes.
It was almost a quarter of eight when Nancy Jane ran down the front stairs. She rapped lightly at several doors, but there was no response. Evidently everybody who belonged to the Mountain Society had gone. It was only a short distance to the Industrial Building, and she ran across the campus toward the lights. There was the buzzing of excited voices—the front walk seemed thronged with students. What could have happened? Nancy Jane felt an awful premonition of disaster. Of course it was the cream. Piny must have left her post and some of the boys carried it off.
“Is that you, Nancy Jane?” It was Mallie’s voice. “The cake’s gone—every scrap! Some one rapped on the door and Piny went out; it was the boys with the cream, and while they were talking some one tore the screen and jumped in the side window and took every smitch of cake off the table. Piny’s rushing ’round like a hornet and vows she’ll find out who did it before she sleeps a wink to-night. But I don’t believe she can; it’s either eaten up or hidden by this time.”