transom, and turning to face the girls, "then we'll stay here." With that
she dropped the key into the attic. They were prisoners; she, with them.

"It's those Middlers," groaned Mary Wilson. "We might have known; and my
little innocent Elizabeth is at the bottom of this."

"Console yourselves," advised Miss Bowman. "When the curtain goes up, you
will have a fine view of the Senior exercises. They will be well worth the
price you've paid for admission."

CHAPTER XIII.

IMPRISONMENT.

Elizabeth turned the key in the lock the instant Mary stepped from the
room. Then, as quickly as possible, she got into her roommate's white
gown. Mrs. Jones, with a broad smile playing over her ebony features,
stood by with pins and ribbons. From her mysterious boxes, that Mary
supposed contained the switches with which one could do wonders, she
brought forth a wig of yellow-brown hair.

"'Pears like this 'ud do. The other young lady hab hair what just come to
her shoulders."

"It is just fine," exclaimed Elizabeth, "as near the color of Miss
Wilson's as I can hope for." She studied herself in the mirror as Mrs.
Jones adjusted the wig. "I know every gesture that Mary makes except
this." She gave her head a toss, shaking back the fringe of hair about her
shoulders.

She hurried dressing for it was almost time for the curtain to rise.
"There!" she cried. "I'm ready. I hope the way is clear for me."

Hastening to the door, she peered into the hall. Not a 'noble Senior' was
in sight. The girls flitting through the dormitories were Middlers and
Freshmen. Confident that she was safe from interference, Elizabeth, her
white gown trailing after her, started forth for the chapel. Nancy Eckdahl
and Mame Welch joined her at the foot of the stairway.

"Don't I look like a boiled lobster?" cried Nancy. "But this was the only
dress anywhere near my size. It's Nora O'Day's. Isn't it handsome? It is
unfortunate that she is so dark and I so fair. But it was this or nothing.
Think of a yellow-haired girl in an orange-colored gown."

The effect was startling. Nora, with her dark eyes and coloring, would
have looked like a picture in this vivid orange; but Nancy, with her blue
eyes and flaxen hair, looked anything but picturesque.

"But you are comfortable," gasped Mame, in short breaths. "If Min Kean had
had a little more flesh on her bones when this dress was fitted, I would
have felt better now. Nancy had to use a shoe-hook to fasten t