For the fraction of a second there was something like a clash.  Jane’s look was one of indignant question while the other unmistakably showed fear.  Then Shirley Duncan said something to Sarah and the connection was severed.

Hash may have been served or even real lamb chops, but no power of special dishes served to distract the students from their delicious excitement.

“What in the world are you watching that door for?” Jane asked Dozia, who seemed hypnotized by a brass door knob.

“Cops,” replied Dozia cryptically.  “I should hate to go out again tonight.”

“That’s a fork,” Winifred Ayres prompted Judith as the latter pierced her pretty sherbet with a prong.

“I know,” answered Judith, “but this mound is so pretty I don’t want to spoil it at one gulp.  A fork is daintier.”

“And leakier,” finished the critic.

Altogether the air was charged and surcharged with thrills, but it was Maud Leslie who broke the spell.

“Jane,” she whispered as they passed out, “don’t forget tonight at Lenox.  The girls are depending on you.”

“Tonight at Lenox, what for?” puzzled Jane.

“Ghosts,” said Maud.  Then Jane remembered she had promised to raid the ghosts at Lenox Hall and to bring to the frightened freshmen a whole company of braves with their resistless reinforcements.  And she had not yet been able to do a single thing about it!

“We will all be finished with our work by 8:15, Judith,” Dozia Dalton announced authoritatively, “then you may recite the adventure of a Wellington in Distress.  I’ll be prepared to take you down verbatim, in case your counsel should need the confession.”

“Janet, please have plenty of cheese, crackers and a few nuts.  I’m losing weight,” implored Winifred.

“And Jane, will you be so good as to bring a few sample apples that came in that last parcel post from Montana?” suggested Ted Guthrie.  “I missed things this afternoon but I don’t intend to be overlooked this evening.”

Jane clutched Judith’s arm to disentangle her from the others.

“I have got to speak to you alone, Judy,” she whispered.  “It’s about the noises and the ghosts.  The babes are scared blue, threatening to desert the camp.  Get outside the door and we can vanish for a few minutes before study hour.”  They waited at the foot of the stairs until Janet and Winifred ascended, then Judith nearly fell over Jane as they both tried to go through the door at once, but the escape was successful in spite of too much noise from the loose old brass knocker.

Instinctively the two chums turned from the broad stone steps into the left path that ran away from a brilliant arc light into Elm Shadows.  Silently both girls exchanged confidences, for Jane’s arm around Judith’s waist was comprehensive, and each little hug told a story of its own.

“Dear heart!” breathed Judith.  “I would just have died if you hadn’t rescued me when you did.  And I know the others—­ran away.”