Dorothy went to the corridor door and held it ajar, listening. Sometimes she heard girls’ laughter in the upper stories. A teacher passed, but did not see the girl behind the door. By and by there was another stealthy tread.
Miss Olaine? No! It was a girl with her arms full.
“Oh, Tavia!”
“It’s me! Lemme in,” exclaimed the raider, in a whisper. “Quick, now! We must get that door on its hinges again. And such a scrumptious lay-out, Doro! Mm-m-m!”
They did not light the gas. Tavia “unloaded” upon the table. “Mercy on us! the butter’s flatter than a pancake,” she breathed. “And the mayonnaise is all over the napkin. But never mind. We can lick it off!” chuckled this reckless bandit.
“Let’s get the door back,” urged Dorothy.
“Right!” Tavia came to her assistance. They lifted it back into place; only Tavia turned the key which had been left in the lock, and put the key on the inside of the door.
“What for?” demanded the anxious Dorothy.
“We won’t run the risk of having the ogress get in and spoil our supper,” declared Tavia. “Then—the door goes on easier.”
They got it hung in half a minute; then Tavia turned the key in the lock.