baked beans and apples. The trouble is that Miss
Marlowe is death on suppers since Christine Dawson caught pneumonia last
year when they climbed out on to the sun-parlour roof, and of course now
that I know--"

"Oh, of course we'll have to do something. But what?"

Various plans were discussed, but nothing satisfied their desire for
poetic justice until suddenly Catherine exclaimed: "I've got it! Let
them have their supper, and then we'll make them wish they hadn't--let's
lock the door of the common room (that's where they mean to go) and give
them a good long time in which to repent of their sins. I've got the
key--Miss Marlowe loaned it me for the dress rehearsals."

"Good," said Eleanor. "I'll see that the windows are kept shut during
the evening so that they won't catch cold, and I'll oil the lock at
tea-time."

And in spite of the solemnity befitting prefects, their eyes danced as
they pictured the dismay of the young sinners when they discovered
themselves caught; for prefects, notwithstanding their dignity and
general "high and mightiness," are not by any means above a bit of a
lark themselves.

CHAPTER V

"ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST"

THE crew of the "Jolly Susan" did little work during the evening study
hour; Judith, especially, found that she could not keep her mind on her
tasks. This was the full flavour of life at a boarding-school, surely,
to break the rules, and creep down the corridor in the dark to eat
forbidden food! She even let her mind play round the food
itself--chicken, meringues! She could hardly wait for bedtime.

If Catherine had not been in the secret, she would have been amazed at
the swiftness with which her family went to bed. Josephine was usually
incorrigibly slow, and Sally May always needed reminding that the
devotion bell would ring in two minutes' time. To-night clothes were
neatly arranged ready for the morning, rooms were in impeccable order,
hair was properly brushed, and there was no mad rush to be at one's own
door when the fatal bell sounded.

At last "Lights out" bell rang and silence descended on South House.
Ten o'clock, and the prefects put out their lights, only the tiny red
fire-escape lamps shone dimly at intervals down the corridor. Eleven
o'clock, and the night watchman had creaked by on his way to East House.
The way was clear.

Out of bed slipped the conspirators. Judith's cheeks burned with
excitement as, obedient to orders, she put on her warm