A ripple of laughter started down the three tables, but was quickly suppressed.
"Number 207," said the much-tried and long-suffering sister, "you have broken the rule when under discipline. Go up to the dormitory and don't come down again to-night." This was precisely what Freckles wanted. She continued to sniff, however, as she left the room with seemingly reluctant steps. Once the door had closed upon her, she flew up the two long flights of stairs after Flibbertigibbet whom she found at the lavatory in the upper dormitory, cleansing the inside of her apron from molasses.
Oh, but those cakes were good, eaten on the broad window sill where the two children curled themselves to play at their favorite game of "making believe about the Marchioness"!
"But it's hot they be!" Freckles' utterance was thick owing to a large mouthful of cake with which she was occupied.
"I kept 'em so squeezin' 'em against my stommick."
"Where the pain was?"
"M-m," her chum answered abstractedly. Her face was flattened against the window in order to see what was going on below, for the electric arc-light at the corner made the street visible for the distance of a block.
"I've dropped a crumb," said Freckles ruefully.
"Pick it up then, or yer'll catch it—Oh, my!"
"Wot?" said Freckles who was on her hands and knees beneath the window searching for the crumb that might betray them if found by one of the sisters.