NETTIE PARSONS' FEAST
Incidentally there was as much fun going on at Briarwood Hall as usual
this fall, but Ruth Fielding did not entirely enjoy any of the frolics
in which she necessarily had a part.
The work of the Sweetbriar organization was all that really interested
her in this line. Several new girls who entered the school in September
who were old enough, joined the association, besides others who were
advanced from the lower classes.
It was an honor--and was so considered by all--to be invited to become a
Sweetbriar. Within the association was much innocent entertainment.
Picnics, musicals, evening parties approved by the school faculty--even
little feasts after curfew--were hatched within the membership.
Nettie Parsons, the daughter of the "sugar king," was destined never to
be very popular in the school. Those girls who hoped to benefit by
Nettie's wealth soon found that money meant as little to Nettie as to
any girl at Briarwood.
On the other hand, she was no brilliant scholar, and she made friends
slowly. Ruth and Helen determined to help the "poor little rich girl,"
as they called her, and they egged her on to give a midnight reception
in the room Nettie occupied with three other girls in the West
Dormitory.
"There's no way so sure to the hearts of these girls than through their
stomachs," Mercy said, when she heard of the plan. "Let poor Net stuff
them full of indigestible 'goodies,' and they will remember her for
life!"
"Why put it that way, Mercy?" drawled Heavy. "You know, you are fond of
a bit of candy, or a pickle, yourself. The 'goodies' which we do not get
at the school table are 'gifts of the gods.' They are unexpected
pleasures. And when eaten after hours, with a blanket for a tablecloth
and candles for lights, they become 'forbidden fruit,' which is known to
be the sweetest of all!"
"Listen to Jen going into rhapsodies over eatables!" sniffed The Fox.
"Give her her way, and every composition she handed in to Miss Gould
would be a menu."
"Bah!" scoffed Heavy. "You eat your share when you get a chance, I
notice."
"When Heavy is free from the scholastic yoke, and bosses her father's
house for good," said Helen, "every dinner will make old Luculus turn in
his grave and groan with envy----"
"Or with indigestion," snapped Mercy. "The girl will positively _burst_
some day!"
"I don't care," mourned Heavy, shaking her head. "It isn't what I get to
eat at Briarwood that makes me fat--that's sure."
"No," chuckled Ruth. "You grow plump on the remembrance of what you have
already eaten, dear. Who was it ate three plates of floating island last
night for supper?"
"Well!" cried Heavy, with wide open eyes, "you wouldn't want me to leave
them and let them go to waste, would you? Both you and Helen left your
shares, and the cook would have been hurt, if the pudding had come back
untouched."
"Kind-hearted girl!" said The Fox, with a sniff.
After-hour parties were frowned upon by Mrs. Tellingham and the
teachers, of course; not for the mild breaking of the school rules
entailed, but because the girls' stomachs were apt to suffer.
In the West Dormitory, too, Miss Picolet was known to be very sharp-eyed
and sharp-eared for such occasions. It took some wit to circumvent Miss
Picolet; perhaps that is why the girls on Ruth's corridor so delighted
in holding orgies unbeknown to the little French teacher.
Miss Scrimp, the matron, was a heavy sleeper. The girls did not worry
about her.
Nettie Parsons' room was at the very end of the cross-corridor, and
farthest from the stairway. The stairway went up through the middle of
the big brick dormitory building, and perhaps _that_ was not the best
arrangement in case of fire; but there were plenty of fire escapes on
the outside.
The question which at once arose, when the sixteen girls Nettie chose
had been invited to the feast, was who should stand guard?
This was always a matter for discussion--sometimes for heart burnings,
too. It was no pleasant task to sit out upon the cold stairway and watch
for the opening of Miss Picolet's door below.
Sometimes they decided by casting lots. Sometimes some girl who was very
good-natured was inveigled into taking her plate of goodies out there in
the dimly lit corridor. And sometimes one had to be bribed to stand
watch for the others.
Miss Picolet was always known to light her candle when she was disturbed
by any sound, or suspicion; then she would come to her door and listen.
She never moved about her room without a light, that was one good thing!
The girl on watch had warning the instant the French teacher opened her
door.
But of the sixteen girls Nettie Parsons had chosen, not one wanted to
play sentinel. Some of them said they would rather not attend the
jamboree at all!
The season was far enough advanced for the nights to be cold, and the
corridors were not warm after the steam went down. The party was called
for ten o'clock. By that time frost would most likely be gathering on
the window panes.
"Catch _me_ bundling up in a fur coat and mittens and stopping out there
in that draughty place!" cried The Fox, "while the rest of you are
stuffing yourself to repletion in a nice warm room."
"Thought you didn't care for the goodies?" demanded Heavy, slily.
"I don't care for catching my death of cold, Miss!" snapped Mary Cox.
Neither Lluella, nor Belle, would "be the goat." Of course, it was
understood that Heavy herself could never be out of reach of the cake
plates! Nettie would not hear of Ruth being on watch.
"I have it!" said Ruth, at last. "Leave it to me. I'll find a new guard,
and I know he will not fail us."
"Who is that?" demanded her chum.
"Roberto."
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Nettie. "Not that boy who helps Foyle?"
"That's the one. And he'll do anything for Ruth," declared Helen,
promptly.
"Anything but talk!" thought Ruth, to herself, but she did not say it
aloud.
"I don't see how _he_ can help us," Ann Hicks said. "He can't come into
the dormitory."
"I--guess--not!" cried Helen.
"But he won't mind watching outside," Ruth explained. "At least, I'll
ask him----"
"But what good will _that_ do?" demanded Heavy. "If Miss Picolet gets up
out of her warm nest, _he_ won't know it."
"Yes, he will," said Ruth, nodding.
The Fox began to laugh. "Don't let _her_ hear you say that, Fielding.
Picolet is an awful old maid. She would be horrified, if she thought a
male person even imagined her in bed!"
"But how will he know?" demanded Ann.
"That's easy," laughed Ruth. "He will stand where he can watch her
window. If he sees her candle lit, he will give the alarm."
"How?" asked Nettie.
"We'll rig a 'tick-tack'--you know what I mean?"
"Oh, don't I!" giggled Heavy.
"Roberto can pull the string below, and that will make a tick-tack rap
on Nettie's window."
"Splendid!" cried the giver of the feast. "You just see if he will do
it, Miss Fielding. And I'll give him a dollar--or more, if he wants
it."
"A dollar will be a lot of money for Roberto," laughed Helen. "But he
won't do it for that."
"No?"
"Of course not. He'll only do it because Ruth asks him."
Which was really the fact. Roberto understood well enough what was
desired of him. Ruth pointed out the French teacher's window, and the
windows of Nettie Parsons' quartette room. From one of them would hang a
weighted string on that night. Everything was agreed, and the feast
planned.
It was a starlight night, when it arrived, but Roberto could find a
place to hide in the shrubbery, where he could watch both windows, as
agreed. He slept in a little back room of Tony Foyle's suite in the
basement of the main building, and could get out and in without
disturbing Mr. and Mrs. Foyle.
If he were caught out of his room after hours, Ruth knew that Tony would
be angry, but she had great influence with the little Irishman and
promised Roberto that she would "make it all right" for him, if he were
caught.
The hour of the party came. The West Dormitory had apparently been "in
the arms of Morpheus" for half an hour, at least.
"But Mr. Murphy didn't get a strangle hold on us to-night," giggled
Heavy, as she led the procession from her room.
The girls were all in their kimonas, and many brought plates, knives and
forks, cups, and other paraphernalia for the feast. There was to be hot
chocolate and there were two alcohol lamps and two pots.
The Fox presided over one lamp and Heavy bossed the other one. There was
something wrong with the plump girl's lamp; either it had been filled
too full, or it leaked. From the start it kept flaring and frightening
the girls.
"I really wish you would not use that old contraption!" exclaimed Ann
Hicks. "It's just as uncertain as a pinto pony."
"Never you mind," snapped Heavy. "I guess I know----"
Pouf!
The flames flared suddenly. Heavy leaped back, stumbled over another
girl, and went sprawling. The flames did not touch her, but they _did_
ignite the curtain at the window.
There was a great squealing as the girls ran. Nobody dared tear down the
blazing curtain, and the flames leaped higher and higher each instant.
Then one of the most frightened of the company jerked open the door, put
her head out into the corridor, and shrieked "Fire!"