“Anyhow,” said Molly, “there’s only one person who knows we were out to-night and, whoever she is, she can’t tell without giving herself away.”
CHAPTER VIII.
COVERING THEIR TRACKS.
When the dressing bell rang next morning, three heavy-eyed and extremely weary young women felt obliged to pull themselves together and appear at the breakfast table. Judy had caught cold, and to disguise this condition had plastered pink powder on her nose, and now held her breath almost to suffocation to avoid coughing in public.
“Have you heard the news?” demanded Jessie, hurrying in late and sitting next to Nance.
“Why, no. What is it?” asked Nance calmly.
Molly felt the color rising in her cheeks, and Judy buried her snuffles in a long letter from her mother.
“There’s the greatest tale going around the Quadrangle! Everybody is talking about it,” continued Jessie. “One of the chambermaids started it, I think, because she told it to me just now.”
“What is it?” asked Edith Williams impatiently.