Part 25 (1/2)
”There are other Seniors somewhere,” cried Mary Wilson. ”If we could make them hear, we 'd soon be out of here. We'd stop the Middlers' banquet.”
Miss Bowman laughed. ”Do you still think it is a banquet? Well, it isn't.
They hadn't the least idea of giving one.”
”But I saw the letter that Elizabeth Hobart sent to Achenbach, the caterer. Isn't that proof enough?” And Mary looked as if, had this been a legal case, she had Blackstone on her side.
”I saw the orders myself,” she a.s.severated.
”Of course you did! Elizabeth intended you should!”
”But if there was not going to be a banquet, why should they take all the trouble to make us believe there was?”
”Because, while you were hunting on the wrong scent, they could go on with their plans. You poor Seniors,” compa.s.sionately, ”how you did work to stop that banquet! Landis had her trip to the city for nothing. Do you know, I don't believe you could have had it served in the laundry! It gets chilly and damp there in the evening.”
”I'll get out of this! I won't stay locked up,” cried Mary. ”Come, girls, let's all yell together and pound on the floor.”
Pandemonium reigned for a few moments. Miss Bowman, exasperatingly cool, sat smiling. When the clamor ceased, she said, ”Really, you are very childish. Why not accept this with the spirit of philosophers? You are here--you cannot get out until the Middlers see fit. Why not sit down and converse sweetly? There's the weather. It's a safe subject. Nothing personal about it. Or if you wish--”
”Shut up!” cried Mary, stamping her feet, and wholly losing her temper.
”If you had that key we'd fall upon you tooth and nail.”
”And take it from you!” It was Landis who finished the remark.
”So I thought!” responded Miss Bowman complacently. ”That's why I haven't it.”
It was Min Kean who first showed the spirit of a philosopher. ”Oh, what's the use of fussing about it? We're here, and I suppose we shall stay here until those Middlers see fit to let us out. The more fuss we make, the more fun for them.”
At this Landis drew herself erect. ”That is just what I was about to say.
A great deal of their fun will vanish when they discover that it is all one to us whether we get out or stay here. I'm about as well satisfied. My throat was a little husky anyway. Perhaps I would not have been able to make that high note. How mortified I should have been!”
She spoke in seeming sincerity. Mary Wilson eyed her suspiciously. She sighed. ”Landis believes that we are what we make people believe we are.
You would make a capital actress, Landis. The only fault you have is that you would always be playing to the gallery.”
Her hearers laughed, accepting the remark as a bit of pleasant chatter.
Mary did not fully grasp how much truth her remarks contained. Landis alone appreciated the words. Her face flushed and she turned her head aside for an instant that the girls might not see she was hurt.
”I don't know but that it is a good thing,” Mary rattled on. ”We're sure of an audience, at least. What shall we do now?”
”What can we do!” wailed a meek-looking little Senior from the darkest corner of the room. ”There's nothing except ask conundrums. I'll begin.
Why did we ever--?”
”What more do you want?” asked Landis, turning about quickly to face them.
”I'll begin. What goes around a--”
”Hush hush,” came a chorus of whispers. From the chapel below music could be heard. It was the Germania orchestra of twelve pieces from the city, to secure which the Seniors had heavily taxed themselves.
”All that music going to waste,” wailed the little figure from the dark corner.
”It's not going to waste, dearly beloved,” came the response from Miss Bowman. ”The Middlers will enjoy it even more than you would have done.