Midnight Mishap
Arden's slippered feet pad-padded up the dark stairs like small, softened
trip-hammers as she hurried away from the telephone to inform Terry of
the good news that Sim was safe and on her way.
She pushed open the door of 513 and shut it quickly behind her, panting
and excited from her swift upward flight.
"Terry! Terry!" she began breathlessly. "It was Sim--on the phone. I
talked to her!"
"Oh--good! Is she--all right?"
"Yes. She didn't have time to talk much. She was 'way up in Larchmont.
Said she'd explain everything later. She is coming back around midnight,
and she wants us to watch for her and let her in."
"What was she doing in Larchmont?" the practical Terry wanted to know.
"I can't guess," replied Arden. "We'll have to wait until we see her. She
said she was all right and nothing had happened. I can hardly wait until
she gets here."
"Midnight," murmured Terry. "We'll have to stand our turns at watch as
they do aboard ships. Now that I know Sim is safe, I'm suddenly very
sleepy. How is she coming--train?"
"No. She's driving. We'll have to listen for a car. She thought she'd
better walk in from the entrance instead of having the car drive right
up, so no one would hear. They'll toot the horn so we'll know." Arden
went to the window and gazed at the black scene below.
"It's absolutely dark out," she continued. "I hope we'll be able to see
the lights of the car as it comes up the road. We'd better get undressed
in case anyone comes in."
"All right," Terry agreed. "I'll take the first watch. Let's make them an
hour each. You sleep until I call you. I'll sit here on the window seat.
If I go to sleep I'll probably fall off, and that will wake me up."
Quickly they got into their pajamas. Terry put on a robe and slippers and
curled herself on the window seat.
"I never remember a blacker or stiller night," she remarked. "I'm glad
Sim isn't alone. She's with friends of her father's."
"Do you suppose we can let her in all right? What if we can't get the
door open?" Arden asked nervously.
"I'll think that possibility out while I'm on watch. You go to sleep as
quickly as you can. Don't worry so much, Arden. You'll be gray by
morning!"
"I'll be exhausted by morning, anyhow. However, toodle-oo--sailor,
beware, and all that sort of thing! I'm going to try to get some rest."
There was not a sound in the room for at least five minutes when Terry
suddenly flung a tennis ball with a thudding crash at a marauding mouse.
The ball, one of a supply of such ammunition kept in readiness for just
this contingency, bounced a few times and rolled under a bed as the
mouse, with a protesting squeak, darted back into a hole beneath the
baseboard.
The college had settled for the night. The appearance of the mouse was
one proof of this.
Terry tried not to be too comfortable and kept shifting her position on
the window seat. It was getting cold, so she pulled a blanket off her bed
and wrapped it around her. The next thing she remembered someone was
shaking her to wakefulness. It was Arden.
"Fine sailor you are! You were sound asleep! Sim might be trying to get
in. You get in bed, Terry. I'll watch."
"No," sleepily.
"Yes," firmly.
"Oh--all right, Captain. Let's see how you make out. Anyhow, she can't be
here yet--it's too early."
Terry rolled herself into the bed, and Arden took her place on the
uncomfortable window seat. After a few minutes there she leaned forward
and pressed the side of her face to the cold, dark glass in order to look
as far as possible to the east, the direction from which the traveling
car would come. But the highway beyond the college grounds showed no
blinking lights, so Arden drew her knees up to her chin under her robe
and stared moodily out into the night.
What was going to come of all this, she wondered?
What might happen if Sim were caught was too disheartening to think of,
so Arden tried to piece together the events of the afternoon in a brave
effort to keep awake.
The whole affair had so many missing links, though. It was just Sim's
usual good luck that she was not missed by Mrs. Malvern when the girls
returned to school.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Arden at the thought of how she and Terry would have
been put to it to explain. But they had not been obliged to do any
explaining--so far.
The mouse, grown bolder in the silent darkness, was conducting a
rustling, rattling search among some papers on a desk for tasty crumbs.
Arden got up quietly and reached for another tennis ball. As she stood up
she looked once more toward the highway and waited in strained tenseness.
Yes, she was sure of it. Far down the road a light bounced about as a
speeding car neared the college.
"Terry! Terry!" Arden whispered. "I think they're coming! Wake up!"
Terry was up in an instant and glided over to the window.
"It's a car, sure enough. But we'd better make certain before we start
down. Keep watch while I fasten the belt of my robe."
"I will," whispered Arden.
"Is it stopping at the far gate?"
"No, it's going on. Oh, no, it isn't, either. It hasn't passed the gate.
It must be Sim! We'll give her a few seconds to get out and walk up the
drive. I hope she knows enough to stay on the grass and not on that
crunchy gravel."
"Trust Sim for that," murmured Terry. "Now I'm ready. But give Sim time
to get to the door. We don't want to wait down in the dark lower hall any
longer than we have to."
"No. Come on! And don't use your flashlight unless you have to."
Cautiously Arden opened the door and, followed by Terry, stepped out into
the dark corridor which seemed to stretch for miles and miles the length
of the building, disappearing into blackness at the end. At the top of
the first flight of stairs leading down from the floor of the 513 room
was a small light bulb doing its little best to dispel the gloom.
Holding hands, Arden and Terry tiptoed down the first flight. Arden's
free hand slid noiselessly along the polished banister rail. Now and then
the stairs creaked and snapped with what seemed to be the noise of a gun.
They stopped to rest at the first landing, not so much from physical
weariness as from the nervous strain. On the first and several other
landings was a large window facing the distant orchard. The orchard was
now only a black blur but Arden and Terry thought they could see the
gnarled trees beneath which they, with Sim, had been so frightened on the
occasion of the hazing.
"I wouldn't go down there now for anything!" whispered Terry.
"Down where? Do you mean to let Sim in?"
"No, I mean that awful orchard. What do you suppose is in there, Arden?"
"I wish I knew. No, I don't. Let's don't talk about it now."
"The subject isn't very heartening in the present circumstances," agreed
Terry in queer little gulps.
They tiptoed down to the next floor. Every now and then they halted,
trembling, waiting for some door to open and lead to their discovery. But
the other students must, indeed have been sleeping the sleep of the just,
for Arden and Terry eventually reached the lower entrance hall without
mishap.
The ground glass of the heavy front doors showed a little lighter than
the surrounding wooden frames. Arden was there, fumbling with the
old-fashioned key. Terry was watching apprehensively.
Suddenly two dark figures were outlined on the glass of the door. One was
that of Sim!
"I'll have it open in a moment, Sim!" Arden panted, working desperately
with the key. "It's turning now!"
"And none too soon!" whispered Terry. "Oh, I'm so frightened!"
The lock clicked. Arden turned the knob and pulled the heavy door inward,
just far enough to admit Sim, who slithered in with the speed of a
wind-blown leaf. Thrusting her gloved hand out through the opening crack
she had slid through, while Arden braced herself to prevent the portal
from swinging too far back, Sim waved to someone unseen and hoarsely
whispered:
"Good-night, Mr. Newman! I'm all right now. Thank you a thousand times!
I'll write to Mrs. Newman. Good-bye!"
With all Arden's care she could not hold the heavy door firmly enough to
prevent a deep though not loud banging sound as it closed.
"Arden!" gasped Terry.
"I couldn't help it. Quick! Help me turn this key back. It's so stiff!"
Terry gave her aid. Then the two turned to the midnight entrant in the
dark precincts of Cedar Ridge.
"Sim!" whispered Arden, flinging her arms about her chum.
"Oh, Arden!" returned the wanderer.
"Come on, you two!" Terry interrupted. "We're not safe yet. Take off your
shoes, Sim, you bad girl!"
Sim bent down to comply with this cautionary advice, but suddenly stood
crouched, frozen with dismay. That noise could be from only one cause.
Someone was coming down the stairs!
Even as the three frightened freshmen realized this, a white face was
outlined by a gleaming electric torch on the landing above them. A voice,
high-pitched in anger, floated down to them.
"What is the meaning of this?"
It was the dean looking like Lady Macbeth, holding an electric candle
above and in front of her, so that the gleam made curious shadows on her
stern face. And above all other possible colors she was wearing a cerise
robe! Perhaps deans were secretly like that.
"Go to your room at once and report to me in the morning!"
Lady Authority turned with all her dignity and swept away, while the
girls, with consternation knocking at their hearts, crept up the stairs
to the harbor of their room.