“They have locked me in the Cloisters,
They have fastened up the gate!
Oh, let me out; Oh, let me out.
It’s getting very late.
’Tis said the ghosts of classes gone
Do wander here at night.
Oh, let me out; Oh, let me out,
Before I die of fright!
And then there rang a clarion voice.
It’s tone was loud and clear.
‘Oh, dry your eyes and cease your cries,
For help, I ween, is near.
But promise me one little thing
Before I ope the gate:
Oh, never pass the coffee tray,
If I am sitting nigh;
Or, if you pass the coffee tray,
Oh, then, just pass me by!’”
It was all very jolly and delightful, and for the first time the girls felt that they were really a part of the college life.
Mary Stewart was very sweet to Molly when she took her home that night, and the young freshman never realized until long afterwards, when she was a senior herself, what a nice thing her friend had done; for sophomore-freshman receptions were an old story to Mary Stewart.
CHAPTER XI.
EXMOOR COLLEGE.
Busy days followed the sophomore-freshman ball. The girls were “getting into line,” as Judy variously expressed it; “showing their mettle; and putting on steam for the winter’s work.” The story of the incendiary had been reported exaggerated and had gradually died out altogether. Frances Andrews had returned to college, more brazenly facetious than ever, breaking into conversations, loudly interrupting, making jokes which no one laughed at except Molly and Judy out of charity. She was a strange girl and led a lonely life, but she was too much like the crater of a sleeping volcano, which might shoot off unexpectedly at any moment, and most of the girls gave her a wide berth.