“Hush,” whispered Jessie, who alone had escaped the tumble, “here comes the house matron.”
Softly she closed the door, and the girls waited until the danger was over. Then Margaret hastened to examine the keyhole.
“There’s no key in it,” she whispered, speaking with difficulty, because her tongue was bleeding from the marks of two teeth.
Whoever played the trick must have unlocked the door, jerked the key out and fled the instant the matron appeared at the end of the corridor. There was no time to discuss the mystery, however. She would be coming back in two minutes. Again they waited in silence until they heard the swish of her dress as she went past the door, now left open a crack in order that Judy, lying flat on her stomach on the floor, and enjoying herself immensely, might be on the lookout.
“Come on,” she hissed, as the large, rotund figure of Mrs. Pelham was lost in the darkness, and out they scuttled like a lot of mice loosed from the trap.
But the evening’s adventures were not over.
As Judy, in advance of Molly and Nance, pushed open their door, already ajar, a small pail of water, placed on the top of the door by the arch-imp, whoever she was, fell on Judy’s head and deluged her. It contained hardly a quart of water, but it might have been a gallon for the wreck it made of Judy’s clothes and the room.
“Oh, but I’ll get even with somebody,” exclaimed that enraged young woman.
They turned on the green-shaded student’s lamp and drew the blinds, the night watchman being very vigilant at the dormitories, and began silently mopping up the floor with towels.
Judy removed her wet clothes, and unbound her long hair, light in color and fine as silk in quality.