Half-past seven saw Wayland Hall practically emptied of its residents. There were no reserved seats save those on the front row down stairs, which had been given over to the faculty. It was a case of the earlier the arrival the better the seat. The gymnasium doors opened at seven-fifteen.
Quarter to eight saw two dark forms emerge from behind a clump of fast-greening bushes on the lawn of Wayland Hall. Alma and Ida had arrived at twenty minutes to eight and had sought cover until they were assured of a clear coast. After five minutes’ wait, during which time no one left the Hall, they decided it was safe to proceed on their way.
“Hurry and open the door,” whispered Ida in an agony of suspense as Alma fumbled in a small purse for the key. “This porch light is a dead give-away.”
“Ah-h-h!” Alma drew a soft breath of satisfaction as the key turned smoothly in the lock.
First glance showing them an empty hall, they fled up the stairs like true conspirators. Reaching the second floor they made for a door at near the south end. Ere they were half way to it it opened. Quick as a flash they dodged into it.
Three-quarters of an hour later a young woman in evening frock and cape stepped serenely out on the veranda of the Hall. She steered a straight course for the gymnasium. At intervals of ten minutes apart two more young women emerged from the Hall and hurried gymnasiumward. Each one of the trio was securely certain she had not been observed.
The concert came to an end at ten o’clock. It had been as well received as had the other entertainments of the season under the expert management of the good little firm of “Page & Dean.” The usual pleasant hum of enthusiastic voices, uttering remarks congratulatory to those who had taken part, was heard as the large audience streamed out of the gym’s wide doorway and into the star-studded night.
The Bertram freshies had attended in a body, with the exception of Charlotte Robbins. She had been a proud participant in the concert. Possessed of a full, sweet contralto voice, she had been asked to contribute a solo. Her chums were justly elated over “Charlie’s rise.” Augusta had planned a dinner to be given in her honor at Baretti’s the next evening.
“Little old Bertram hasn’t done so badly this year,” exulted Flossie Hart as the merry crowd of chums mounted the steps of the Hall. “Gus made the team. We’ve all had small parts in the two plays the Travelers have given. Now Charlie has had her inning.”
“You sang beautifully, Charlotte, truly you did,” praised Gussie warmly. “Honestly, girls, I’m simply crazy over Marjorie Dean. She is the sweetest girl I ever knew. I want to say it now because I once misjudged her so.”