carry.

Mary, as usual, arose to the occasion. She assisted to unpack. She
expressed the proper amount of enthusiasm and admiration at each edible as
it was brought forth. When the contents had been properly disposed of on
every available window-sill, study-table and on the floor close to the
wall where they would not be in the way of passing feet, she arose from
her knees before the empty box. "You'll have the spread to-night, I
suppose. Some of the girls will be away to-morrow."

Elizabeth had been long enough at Exeter to learn the meaning of that
magic word "spread." There are receptions, socials and spreads, but the
greatest of these are spreads. A spread means slipping through dimly
lighted corridors long after the retiring-bell has sounded its last
warning; it means bated breaths, whispers and suppressed giggles. Its
regalia is dressing-gowns or kimonos with bedroom slippers. It means
mysterious knocks at the hostess' door; a hurried skirmish within; and
when it is found that one of the enlightened is rapping for admission,
there is a general exodus from closets, from behind window draperies and
from beneath study-tables.

Spreads have never been prohibited. Indeed, it is generally understood
that the faculty would gladly grant permission for them, if the time and
place were opportune. But never in the history of school-life has
permission been asked. With permission granted, a spread would not be a
spread. It would be a mere lunch--an opportunity to partake of
delicacies.

Elizabeth's eyes grew big at Mary's suggestion. "We'll have it to-night,"
she exclaimed, "after the lights are out. Do you think we could have it
here? Mrs. Smiles is at the end of the hall. We'll have to be so
careful."

"So much the more fun. A spread is supposed to be risky, else it would not
be a spread. Whom will you invite?"

Elizabeth began to name them on her fingers. "Anna Cresswell, Landis, Min,
Mame Welch, and Miss O'Day." Her acquaintance with the last-named student
had not progressed far enough to permit calling her by her first name. As
far as Miss O'Day was concerned, the Exeter girls knew not friendship.
Elizabeth could see that the girl herself made no advances. From her
attitude, it was impossible to judge whether she was proud or shy.
Scarcely the latter, for she carried herself with a self-poise which was
suggestive of confidence. Elizabeth had not learned the cause of the
estrangement between her and the other stud