“You’re wha-a-at?”
Very simply Selina Jo made known her intentions.
“But you’ll be caught, sure as shootin’,” one of the girls objected. “In the first place you’ve got no uniform.”
Naturally, Selina Jo expected to be discovered sooner or later; but she had prepared for this eventuality—as she thought.
“Maybe we can fix that,” the other girl broke in eagerly. “There’s that old blouse of mine and your extra skirt. Gee! I wish we could put it over! Wouldn’t old Iron Jaw be wild?”
Between them they rigged a uniform for Selina Jo. At the nightly inspection she crept under the bed. Later, she slept on a pallet.
The fortunate indisposition of a girl across the hall solved the breakfast problem. Selina Jo, taking the vacant place in the formation, passed undiscovered for the moment.
Among the many contingencies which she could not have provided against, though, were the sharp eyes and keen memory for faces possessed by Mary Shane, the matron in charge. As the girls were forming for certain duties shortly after breakfast, Selina Jo felt a heavy hand upon her shoulder. She looked up into the stern face of the matron.
“What are you doing here?” was the curt inquiry.
“Me?” Selina Jo’s attempt at surprise was ludicrous. “I—I b’long here, ma’am.”