"CURFEW SHALL NOT RING TONIGHT"
In Corridor Four had always been centered most of Lakeview Hall's
"high jinks," to quote Laura Polk. Although Procrastination Boggs,
Nan Sherwood, Bess Harley, and several other dwellers on this
corridor stood well up in their classes, Mrs. Cupp was inclined to
locate most infractions of the school rules in the confines of
Corridor Four.
"Our overflowing an-i-mile spirits, young ladies, are our bane,"
quoted Laura, talking through her nose. "Dr. Beulah has been
away--has not arrived home yet--and we unfortunate orphans have
been driven to bed with the chickens. I, for one, have revolted."
"You don't look very revolting, Laura," drawled Amelia Boggs, "even
with that red necktie on crooked."
"Just the same, I have anarchistic tendencies. I feel 'em,"
declared the red-haired girl.
"That is not anarchism you feel," scoffed Bess. "If I had eaten
what you did for supper--"
"Oh, say not so!" begged Laura. "Don't tell me that all this
disturbance within me is from merely what I ate. Why, I feel that I
might lead an assault on Cupp's office, take her by force, and
immure her in--"
"The old secret passage to the boathouse," put in Nan.
"Oh, goodness--gracious--Agnes!" said Amelia, looking at one of her
watches, "if we are going to do anything to that wild Western
mustang to-night--"
"Hush! Have no fear," interrupted Laura. "There is time enough."
"Procrastination should know that," giggled Bess, "with all the
watches and clocks she owns."
"While we gab here," went on Amelia, "curfew time approaches."
Laura struck an attitude. "Listen, girls!" she cried. "'Curfew
shall not ring to-night!'"
"Now, don't begin reciting old chestnuts like that," sniffed Bess.
"It is an announcement of revolt, not a recitation, I'd have you
know," declared the red-haired girl.
"What do you mean, Laura?" Nan asked, suddenly seeing that Laura
really had some meaning underneath her raillery.
"Hush, children!" crooned the red-haired girl. "What is our
greatest trial--our most implacable enemy--in this fair Garden of
Eves? Tell me!"
"Mrs. Cupp," sighed Nan.
"Nay, nay! She is but the slave of the lamp," responded Laura,
still in flowery fashion. "The _bete noire_ of the girls of Lakeview
Hall is the half-past nine o'clock curfew. And I vow it shall not ring
to-night!"
"Why won't it?" asked Nan, finally grown suspicious.
"Because," hissed Laura, her eyes dancing, "I climbed up into the
tower this forenoon and unhooked and hid the bell-clapper. They
won't find it for one while, now you mark my word!"
"Oh, Laura!" gasped Nan; but then she, too, had to join in the peal
of laughter that the other girls in Room Seven, Corridor Four,
emitted.
"What a joke!" exclaimed Bess.
"It's one of those jokes best kept secret," advised Amelia Boggs,
who, after all, possessed a fund of caution. "Mrs. Cupp will be
desperately moved when she finds it out."
"At least," Nan agreed, "Laura is right. Curfew will not ring
to-night. But Mrs. Cupp will find some other way of making it known
that retiring hour has arrived. We'd best get to work if we are
going to have a procession of the sawneys."
"Girls," suddenly asked Bess, "who ever started that lumberman's
slang of 'sawney' for 'greenhorn' up in this hall of acquired good
English?"
"Oh, come, Bess!" groaned Amelia, "the term hasn't really opened
yet. Don't make us delve into the past for the roots of our
language. It's us for the procession now!"
Nan Sherwood entered into the plan for the evening's hazing of
newcomers for a special reason. She had liked the girl from the
West, Rhoda Hammond, at first sight. Not for her beautiful
clothing, but for something Nan had seen in her countenance.
The former purposed to take an active part in whatever was done to
the newcomer because she believed she could influence the more
thoughtless girls to the extent that nothing very harsh would be
done to Rhoda.
"I'll stir up the animals," cried Bess, hopping off her bed, where
she had been perching. "We want a big crowd to help worry that
Hammond girl."
She was gone in a flash to get together the other girls of Corridor
Four. Laura yawned:
"I wonder if we'll be able to worry that wild Western young person
much, after all?" she said. "She looked to me like a cool sort of
person."
"I don't know," said Amelia. "I think she's stuck up."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," cried Nan.
"She's dressed to kill, just the same. I'd like to take her for a
good long tramp in that outfit she came in."
"Procrastination means this Riotous Rhoda has got too much
money--like Linda Riggs," put in Laura.
"I wonder if that Rose Ranch she comes from is a nice place," said
Nan. "Just think! A real cattle ranch!"
"Pooh!" said Amelia. "My uncle owns a dairy farm. What's the
difference whether you have muley cows or long-horned Texas
steers?"
Laura was still chuckling at this when Bess returned with several
girls who crowded into the room behind her. There was a busy time
for a few minutes as the girls dressed Amelia in an old pillow-slip
with eye-holes burned in it, and placed in her hand the staff of a
broom, over the brush-end of which was drawn another bag, on which,
in charcoal, Grace Mason deftly drew a very wise looking owl in
outline.
Thus arrayed, Amelia was to lead the procession and be Mistress of
Ceremonies. They were about to start when Laura Polk was suddenly
missed.
"Now, where has she gone?" demanded Bess. "She's just like a flea!
You put your hand on her, and there she isn't!"
But Laura was back in a moment. She brought with her, and dangled
before their wondering gaze, a suit of paint-stained overalls,
jumper and all, that evidently by their size belonged to Henry, the
boatkeeper and man of all work of Lakeview Hall.
"I hid 'em the other day," declared the red-haired girl. "You never
know what may happen, or how such garments as these may come in
use."
"But, for pity's sake, Laura!" gasped Nan, "what are they for?"
"Don't they make just the uniform needed for a cowgirl? What say? I
bet she rides astride, and these old overalls will remind her of
home, at Rustlers' Roost, and all that, you know."
The shrieks of laughter that answered this proposal threatened to
bring some of the teachers and so spoil the fun altogether.
Finally, however, Amelia Boggs got the crowd into line, and the
parade marched out of Room Seven into the corridor.
Room Eight was almost directly opposite the one occupied by Nan and
Bess; but Amelia led the procession the full length of the hall and
returned again before rapping a summons on Rhoda Hammond's door.
"Oh, yes! In a minute," cried a small voice from inside.
But Amelia waited on no appeal of this character. She found on
turning the knob that the door was unlocked. She flung it open and
stalked in, the other girls trailing two by two behind her.
"Oh, dear me! what do you want?" gasped Rhoda.
She had removed and hung up in the clothes-closet the beautiful
furs, dress, and hat. Her bag was open on the couch, but it seemed
to contain no kimono, and the Western girl remained half hidden
behind the portiere that hung before the closet.
"What do you want?" she repeated, gazing in wonder at the tall
figure of the Mistress of Ceremonies.
"We are just in time," said Amelia behind her mask, and in a
supposed-to-be-sepulchral voice. "The sawney is all prepared to don
her costume. Hither, slave! and see that she dons the costume
quickly, for we must haste."
"The slave hithers," said Laura jovially. "Here you are,
Rambunctious Rhoda from Rawhide Springs. Put 'em on."
She held out the overalls and jumper to the surprised new girl, who
hesitated to take them.
"_Hic jacet!_ The varlet refuses 'em!" hissed the red-haired girl.
"Goodness, Laura," whispered Nan. "That means 'here lies'--and
nobody is telling stories."
"She's got her Latin and Shakesperean English most awfully mixed,"
giggled one of the other girls.
"And 'varlet' is the wrong gender, anyway," observed Bess.
"Silence!" commanded the Mistress of Ceremonies. "Silence in the
ranks. Will she not don the costume?"
"Put 'em on!" commanded Laura again, shaking the painter's suit
before the hesitating Western girl.
"She would better," said Amelia threateningly, "or I will call to
your aid all these, my faithful followers, who have already been
through the fiery trial."
"I don't want to go through any fiery trial," said Rhoda. "But if
you insist, I'll put on that jacket and the pants."
"'Pants' is truly Western, isn't it, Laura?" asked Amelia Boggs.
"Civilized folk say trousers."
"I see I have much to learn," said Rhoda, too meekly, perhaps.
She slipped quickly into the roomy overalls behind the curtain, and
then came forth, putting on the jumper. Her bare arms and shoulders
were brown and firm. Nan thought Rhoda's figure was as attractive
as her face was pretty. She caught the new girl's glance and smiled
encouragingly.
"Doesn't she make a darling boy!" whispered Bess Harley to her
chum.
But the other girls--at least, some of them--meant to make the
newcomer feel keenly her position as a "sawney."
"She wears 'em just as though she was at home in them," said Laura
drawlingly. "I tell you she is a regular cowgirl at home on the Hot
Dog Mesa. Isn't that so, Miss Rhoda?"
"You seem to know," replied the Western girl bruskly.
Laura suddenly whispered to the hooded Amelia. The latter cleared
her throat portentously and said:
"Sawney, it is evident that you must be taught your place. Meekness
becomes you lambkins when you first come to Lakeview Hall. Slave,
prepare the bandage."
"What's that?" demanded Rhoda. "Do you know, I don't like this
foolishness much."
"The fiery trial all right for yours!" exclaimed Laura, who had
caught up a towel and was folding it dexterously. "Turn around!"
"I won't!" declared Rhoda flatly.
"Mutiny!" exclaimed Amelia. "Seize the captive and bandage her eyes
at once," and she pounded on the floor with the broom handle.
Nan was one of those who grabbed the Western girl. But she did so
to whisper swiftly in Rhoda's ear:
"Don't fight against it. It's only fun."
"Fun!" repeated Rhoda in disgust.
But she gave over struggling. Laura blindfolded her quickly and
securely. Of course she might have torn the bandage off, for her
hands were free. But she waited more calmly now for what might come
next.