“Oh, there was such a perfectly wild time of it,” replied Judith, “and of course Dol and Shirley had it all their own way—­two to one, you know.”

“But didn’t—­little Sarah try to help you?” pressed Jane.

“Little Sarah was having a fit out in the kitchen, and the black maid wanted to pour water over her, said she was in hysterics, only the word she used was somewhat impaired.”

“What a perfectly rip-roaring time you must have had,” commented Dozia, eyeing the fudge.  “And I suppose you were taken in by Sour Sandy because you seemed easiest to convey to the Town Hall.  Just like the old detective stories, arrest someone, anyone, and depend upon the evidence to do the rest.”

“Yes, I was handiest, nearest the door and dry eyed.  Besides, I kept kicking around on a jog trot all over the place because I could not make any other sort of noise.  Honestly, girls, it was too funny for words!” and Judith doubled up in the pillows like a human jack-knife.

“I am suspicious, Judy Steams, that you tempted old Sour Sandy to do his worst; sort of defied him,” suggested Jane, dragging a Columbia cushion from Judith’s convulsed arms.  “Did you really want to be arrested?”

“I did not!” shouted Judith, springing up straight and almost upsetting the entire scene.  “It was Dol Vin who insisted that we Wellingtons were spoiling her business, interfering with her customers and—­she said this—­’now this creature actually tries to steal my parcels from a messenger boy!’ Can you fancy that accusation on this poor head?”

“But you didn’t have the box?” asked Janet.

“Certainly not.  Dol knew that, but old Sandy didn’t.  I could easily have escaped when he ordered me to ‘come along, girl,’ but I knew to resist arrest might bring real trouble upon us, whereas now the whole thing is a farce, and whisper!” (she put her finger to her lips) “it must never be told of within this campus.  News from the village rarely gets in here unless we bring it, and it would be a shame to worry prexy with that sort of thing.  She would never understand it.”

Applause, silent but visible, followed this.  Heads were wagged, arms waved and even feet waggled in approval, but no unseemly sounds escaped the secret chamber.

“Never a word!” prompted Jane in a whisper with both hands uplifted.

“Never a word!” repeated the conclave in appropriate response.

“And that will be about all,” finished Judith.  “I am too tired to move but I can’t allow you to carry me.  No, don’t, please” (no one had offered).  “I’ll just toddle along—­it’s lots better than keeping step with Sandy.”

“But the treat,” wailed Janet.  “I have fudge and cheese sticks.”

“Please deliver mine,” drawled Judith.  “I am unable to collect in person—­I simply am—­tired.”

“And you should be,” agreed Jane, glad that Judith had been wise enough to break up the party early.  In fact Jane was not sure whether genuine fatigue or possible ghost hunts, had inspired the heroic Judy to leave that buzzing bevy of students.  At any rate Janet counted out four squares of fudge and measured three ink wells of cheese tid-bits (the well was glass and only used for refreshments), all of which was folded in a paper napkin and handed to Jane.