“I saw the orders myself,” she asseverated.
“Of course you did! Elizabeth intended you should!”
“But if there was not going to be a banquet, why should they take all the trouble to make us believe there was?”
“Because, while you were hunting on the wrong scent, they could go on with their plans. You poor Seniors,” compassionately, “how you did work to stop that banquet! Landis had her trip to the city for nothing. Do you know, I don’t believe you could have had it served in the laundry! It gets chilly and damp there in the evening.”
“I’ll get out of this! I won’t stay locked up,” cried Mary. “Come, girls, let’s all yell together and pound on the floor.”
Pandemonium reigned for a few moments. Miss Bowman, exasperatingly cool, sat smiling. When the clamor ceased, she said, “Really, you are very childish. Why not accept this with the spirit of philosophers? You are here—you cannot get out until the Middlers see fit. Why not sit down and converse sweetly? There’s the weather. It’s a safe subject. Nothing personal about it. Or if you wish—”
“Shut up!” cried Mary, stamping her feet, and wholly losing her temper. “If you had that key we’d fall upon you tooth and nail.”
“And take it from you!” It was Landis who finished the remark.
“So I thought!” responded Miss Bowman complacently. “That’s why I haven’t it.”
It was Min Kean who first showed the spirit of a philosopher. “Oh, what’s the use of fussing about it? We’re here, and I suppose we shall stay here until those Middlers see fit to let us out. The more fuss we make, the more fun for them.”