“Mary looks like Liberty enlightening the world,” said Elizabeth. “The drumstick answers very well for a torch.”
“Liberty frightening the world,” said Mame Welch. “Whatever made her do it—get a red kimono with her hair that shade?”
“Nearest thing I could get to match,” said Mary, laughing. “I got it at a bargain. I didn’t need it. I have more lounging robes than I can possibly wear; but this piece was reduced from twenty-five cents to fifteen. I saved one-twenty by buying it. We—”
As she was speaking her voice ascended the scale until it might have been audible half-way down the hall. She was called to a halt by a most decided rap upon the door. An awesome silence fell upon the room. Instantly every girl except the rightful owners of the room disappeared. No word had been spoken. Only the moving of the couch draperies, the gentle swaying of the portieres, or the closing of the wardrobe door gave hint as to the places of disappearance. Again came the knock. Mary Wilson with suspicious haste opened the door. “He-he,” giggled Azzie, entering. “You thought it was Mrs. Smiles. Come, girls. Come out. Mrs. Schuyler will not appear this night, or to-morrow either, if I am not mistaken.”
At her invitation the girls came forth. Azzie was too tall, too long to seat herself with any grace of body. She had the effect of sprawling. That she did now. Her purple kimono, resplendent with green roses and bands, caused her to look like a great rag-doll with most of the sawdust missing. The others of the party arranged themselves on cushions and chairs about her, ready to fall, tooth and nail, upon the remains of the roast chicken. Azzie would not eat, but kept her hand hidden in the folds of her gown.
“You needn’t be talking in stage whispers,” she began, with a fine touch of Irish in her voice. “Smiles won’t hear you—or at least she won’t be coming here. Yell, if you choose, or dance a clog. You’re as safe as though Smiles was in Halifax.”
“Don’t be too sure. I never like to run a risk,” said Landis. “I should not like to be called into the office to-morrow.”
“I have found it this way with Mrs. Schuyler,” explained Mary Wilson. “The moment you are sure she isn’t about, that is the moment you can be sure she is ready to pounce on you.”
“But she won’t be here now. I’ll yell and see.” She yelled—a yell that must have have reached to the end of the dormitory and pierced any number of closed doors. The girls suppressed their half-frightened giggles, and waited. Azzie was right. Mrs. Schuyler did not appear.
“Why doesn’t she come?” asked Min Kean in a whisper. “She surely heard that.”