“Oh, yes, I was coming to that. But what do I know about——” Mollie stopped short and caught her breath. Her eyes turned towards the door, which was opened softly. There stood Frances Andrews.
She had evidently just come in, for she still wore her sweater and tam o’ shanter, and brought with her the smell of the fresh piney air.
“It’s all right about your escort for to-night, Miss Brown. You are to go with Miss Stewart, who has got special privilege from the sophomore president to take you. Good-bye. I hope you’ll have a ripping time. I shan’t see you at supper. I’m going off on the 6.15 train and won’t be back until Sunday night.”
There was such a tense feeling in the circle of freshmen as Frances stood there, that, as Judy remarked afterwards, they almost crackled with electricity.
It was quite late, and as most of the girls intended to dress for the party before supper, they took their departure immediately without any comment.
“Is anything special the matter?” asked Molly, after they had gone and she was left alone with her friends.
They told her the strange story which Mabel Hinton had reported to them a little while before.
“But that is the work of a lunatic,” exclaimed Molly, horrified.
“And I suppose,” went on Nance, “that the reason Prexy sent for you was that she suspected a certain person, who shall be nameless, and she was told that you were the only person who had ever been nice to her, and furthermore that you were going to the dance with her.”
“Of course that must be the reason,” said Molly, “and of course it’s absurd, I mean suspecting Frances Andrews. She might be accused of many things, but she is certainly in her right mind. She’s much cleverer than lots of the girls in her class.”