pin!"

"Where'd you put the burnt cork?"

"Is my hair a perfect sight?"

"Fasten me up--please!"

"Does my petticoat show?"

Everybody babbled at once, and nobody listened.

"I say, let's get out of this--I'm simply roasting!"

St. Laurence seized the Gypsies by the shoulder and shoved them into the
vacant gallery. They squeezed themselves, with a sigh of relief, onto a
shaky flight of six narrow stairs before the breezes of an open window.

"I know exactly what ails Jelly!" Patty spoke with the air of carrying
on a conversation.

"What?" asked the others, with interest.

"She's had a quarrel with that Laurence Gilroy man who is manager at the
electric light place. Don't you remember how he used to be hanging about
all the time? And now he never comes at all? He was out every day in the
Christmas vacation. They used to go walking together--and without any
chaperone, too! You would think the Dowager would have made an awful
fuss, but she didn't seem to. Anyway, you should have seen the way Miss
Jellings treated that man--it was _per-fect-ly dreadful_! The way she
jumps on Irene McCullough is _nothing_ to the way she jumped on him."

"_He_ doesn't have to work off demerits. He's a fool to stand it," said
Conny simply.

"He doesn't stand it any more."

"How do you know?"

"Well, I--sort of heard. I was in the library alcove one day in the
Christmas vacation, reading the 'Murders in the Rue Morgue,' when Jelly
and Mr. Gilroy walked in. They didn't see me, and I didn't pay any
attention to them at first--I'd just got to the place where the
detective says, 'Is that the mark of a _human_ hand?'--but pretty soon
they got to scrapping so that I couldn't help but hear, and I felt sort
of embarrassed about interrupting."

"What did they say?" asked Conny, impatiently brushing aside her
apologies.

"I didn't grasp it entirely. He was trying to explain about something,
and she wouldn't listen to a word he said--she was _perfectly horrid_.
You know,--the way she is when she says, 'I understand it perfectly. I
don't care to hear any excuse. You may take ten demerits, and report on
Saturday for extra gymnasium.'--Well, they kept that up for fifteen
minutes, both of 'em getting stiffer and stiffer. Then he took his hat
and went. And you know, I don't believe he ever came back--_I've_ never
seen him. And now, she's sorry. She's been as cross as a bear ever
since."

"And she can be awfully nice," said Priscilla.