“‘Yes, my child,’ he said, ‘I saw you take it.’”

“Oh, oh!” moaned the two girls.  “Poor Bell! oh, poor Bell!”

“Then I broke down and cried, and told him all about it, and how I had taken him for the janitor’s boy, and all.  Girls, he was perfectly angelic!  He made me sit down on the bank to rest, and talked to me, oh, so kindly! and was glad I had taken the barrow, and all.  And—­it is too dreadful to tell, but—­I had dropped my handkerchief, and he gave me his, about three square yards of finest cambric,—­I shall never smell orris again without thinking of that moment,—­and said—­you won’t think me vain to repeat this, Hildegarde?—­said that he could not have his best pupil spoil her eyes, as it would interfere with her Greek.  And then we came to the campus, and the girls standing in the door of the Gym saw Professor Thunder wheeling the wheelbarrow fall of greens, and me walking meekly by his side.  I shall never forget their faces; one moment, and then they turned and fled.  It was base, but I could not blame them; the sight was not one to induce composure, as the Professor himself would say.  So I thanked him as well as I could for the dumbness and heat that were on me; and he took off his hat and made a grand bow, and then he shook hands—­oh, so cordially! and begged to present me with the freedom of the wheelbarrow; and then he went away.  There, Hildegarde!  You wanted a college story, and you have had one.”

The girls laughed heartily at Bell’s adventures, and Hildegarde declared that she should never fear a college girl again, as it was evident that they were girls of like passions, getting into scrapes like their sisters.

While talking, the girls had been busily plaiting garlands of oak leaves, and now they proceeded to crown each other, and hang long wreaths on neck and arm.

“Hildegarde shall be the fairy queen,” said Gertrude “and we her attendant fays.  Hail, Queen!”

“Oh yes, that is all very well for you!” said Bell; “you don’t weigh one hundred and thirty pounds.  A fine sylph I should make!  Hilda is perfect for the queen, however.”

Certainly Hilda did look very lovely, with the green chaplet crowning her fair locks, and the afternoon sunlight sifting through the leaves, checkering her white dress with light and shade.  Roger Merryweather, coming through the wood in his quiet way, with his tin plant-box slung over his shoulder, thought he had never seen a fairer sight, and paused to enjoy it before announcing his presence to the girls.  As he stood there, motionless, and screened by the broad leaves of a great chestnut-tree, a frightful scream was heard, a ferocious yell, which made the whole wood vibrate with horrid sound.  The girls sprang to their feet in terror; little Kitty ran to Bell and hid in her gown, while the older girls with one accord turned at bay, ready to face they knew not what peril.  Even Roger was startled for the moment, and was about to step hastily forward, when a second shriek rang out.  He recognized the voice, and stood still, unwilling to spoil sport.  And now from the thicket burst two wild forms, blanketed and feathered, uttering hideous yells, and brandishing glittering weapons over their heads.  Kitty shrieked, but after one moment Bell burst into laughter.