“Nice night to go canoeing in, cold and dark. Strange notion of pleasure,” remarked Edith.
“Well, there’s more still to come,” announced Jessie, when they had finished commenting on this remarkable escapade.
“For heaven’s sake, Jessie, you’re like a serial story of adventure—a thriller in every chapter. What now?”
“Well,” said Jessie, “you may well prepare for a thriller this time. The watchman found something.”
“What? What?” they cried, and Nance, Judy and Molly joined in the chorus with as much excitement as any of the others.
“He found a slipper.”
Judy made an enormous effort to keep her hand from trembling, as she raised her coffee cup to her dry, feverish lips. Molly, as usual under excitement, changed from white to red and red to white. Nance alone seemed perfectly calm.
“I don’t see how they can prove anything by that,” she observed. “There are probably fifty girls or even a hundred who wear the same size shoes here. Molly is the only girl I know of who wears a peculiar size, six and a half triple A.”
“Well, ‘one thing is certain and the rest is lies,’ as old Omar remarked,” said Margaret, rising from the table, “and that is, all juniors can prove an alibi last night. No junior would ever go gallivanting on the night of the junior play.”
“Hardly,” answered Nance, who had risen to the occasion with fine spirit and tact. Molly’s face resumed its normal color and Judy looked relieved.