“I wish you’d come,” she said, following Maggie and Prissie to the door of the theater.  “It will be an awful disappointment if you don’t!  We all reckoned on having you.”

“What do you mean, Rose?”

“We thought you wouldn’t be above a bit of fun.  You never used to be, you know.  You never used to be strict and proper and over-righteous, used you?”

Priscilla was startled to see the queer change these few words made on Maggie.  Her cheeks lost their roses; her eyes grew big, pathetic, miserable.  Then a defiant expression filled them.

“If you put it in that way,” she said, “I’ll go and peep at the thing.  It isn’t my taste nor my style, but goodness knows I’m no better than the rest of you.  Come, Prissie.”

Maggie seized Priscilla’s hand; her clasp was so tight as to be almost painful.  She hurried Prissie along so fast that Rose could scarcely keep up with them.

They entered the hall.  Maggie seized a hat for herself and another for Prissie from the hat-stand; then the three girls crossed the garden to Katharine Hall.  A moment or two later they had reached the scene of the evening’s amusement

Loud voices and laughter greeted them; they entered a large room crowded to overflowing.  The atmosphere here was hot and stifling and chaos reigned supreme.  Pictures, ornaments of all kinds had been removed roughly and hastily from the walls; clothes and even jewels were piled on the tables, and a tall girl, standing on a chair, was declaiming volubly for the benefit of her companions.

When Maggie, Rose and Priscilla entered the room Polly was exhibiting the charms of a yellow silk dress somewhat the worse for wear.  Laughter choked her voice; her bright blue eyes shone with excitement and amusement.

“Who’ll try this?” she began.  “It has a double charm.  Not only has it reposed round this fair and lovely form, but the silk of which it is made was given to me by my mother’s aunt, who had it from her mother before her.  When I part with this, I part with a relic.  Those who purchase it secure for themselves a piece of history.  Who will buy, who will buy, who will buy?  An historical dress going—­ such a bargain!  Who, who will buy?”

“I’ll give you five shillings, Polly,” screamed a darkeyed girl who stood near.

“Five shillings!  This lovely dress going for five shillings!” proceeded Polly.

“And sixpence,” added another voice.

“This beautiful, historical robe going for five-and-sixpence,” said Miss Singleton in her gay voice.  “Oh, it’s a bargain—­ it’s dirt cheap!  Who will buy? who will buy?”

The bids went up, and finally the yellow dress was knocked down to a rosy-faced country girl for the sum of thirteen shillings and ninepence.

Polly’s various other possessions were one by one brought to the hammer, some of them fetching fairly large sums, for they were most of them good and worth having, and there were wealthy girls at the college who were not above securing a bargain when it came in their way.