nder of English history
that Queen Elizabeth had had more to do with keeping Matthew, Mark, Luke
and John out of the Bible than _in_ the Tower of London.

CHAPTER IX

A MODERN DIOGENES

"Half-past nine. Sh! Yes, down in the old laundry."

"Who's coming?"

"The whole club. No end of fun."

This whispered conversation took place in the upper corridor. Many of the
girls had come from schools where frolics were looked upon as an almost
heinous crime, and strict rules and surveillance had made their lives a
burden to them.

It was about ten o'clock when ghostly figures began to slip through the
dark halls. Lights had been extinguished at nine-thirty and all was now
silent.

Miss Preston was in her room in a remote part of the house, and most of
the other teachers had rooms in the adjoining building. The laundry in
this house was never used, and stout blinds shut out--and in--all light.

Tap, tap, tap.

"Who's there?" was whispered from within.

"C. C. C., open for me."

The door opened, and in skipped a figure arrayed like the six already
assembled, in a warm dressing-gown and a high peaked paper cap, with white
tissue mask and spy-holes.

All spoke in whispers, so it was almost impossible to recognize any one.
But this only added to the fun and mystery. "Spread the feast, girls; the
others will soon be here. Let's see, how many are there? Seven! Why don't
the other five hurry? I wonder which ones here aren't here?" one girl
laughingly whispered.

"They'll come, never fear, but their rooms are nearer 'headquarters,'"
said another.

"What luck! Miss Preston doesn't suspect a thing. I met her in the hall
just before 'lights' bell, and she said as innocently as could be, 'You
look as though you were quite ready for the "land o' dreams," Elsie, but
so long as you do not take a gallop on a "night mare" all will be well,'
and I could hardly help laughing when I thought how soon I might be
equipped for one."

"This fudge is my contribution," said another.

"Hold on, girls! I've a brilliant idea," said Toinette. "Who's got a long
hairpin? Good! that's fine. Now prepare for something delectable," and,
straightening out the pin, she stuck a marsh mallow on it and held the
white lump of lusciousness over the one candle until it was toasted a
golden if rather smoky brown.

Tap, tap, tap.

"It's the others. Quick! let them in, for it's half-past ten already."

The signals were exchanged, and in walked