kettle. "We've got to run for it."

"And we haven't any coats!" wailed Conny. "Miss Wadsworth won't take us
in the car in these clothes."

"She'll have to," said Patty simply. "She can't leave us on the corner."

They clattered downstairs, but wavered an instant in the friendly
darkness of the doorway; there was no time, however, for maidenly
hesitations, and taking their courage in both hands, they plunged into
the Saturday afternoon crowd that thronged Main Street.

"Oh, Mama! Quick! Look at the Gypsies," a little boy squealed as the two
pushed past.

"Heavens!" Conny whispered. "I feel like a circus parade."

"Hurry!" Patty panted, taking her by the hand and beginning to run. "The
car's stopped and they're getting in--Wait! Wait!" She frenziedly waved
the tambourine above her head.

An express wagon at the crossing blocked their progress. The last of the
Eleven Thousand Virgins climbed aboard, without once glancing over her
shoulder; and the car, unheeding, clanged away, and became a yellow spot
in the distance. The two Gypsies stood on the corner and stared at one
another in blank interrogation.

"I haven't a cent--have you?"

"Not one."

"How are we going to get home?"

"I haven't an idea."

Patty felt her elbow jostled. She turned to find young John Drew
Dominick Murphy, a protege of the school, and an intimate acquaintance
of her own, regarding her with impish delight.

"Hey, youse! Give us a song and dance."

"At least our friends don't recognize us," said Conny, drawing what
comfort she could from her incognito.

Quite a crowd had gathered by now, and it was rapidly growing larger.
Pedestrians had to make a detour into the street in order to get past.

"It wouldn't take us long," said Patty, a spark of mischief breaking
through the blankness of her face, "to earn money enough for a
carriage--you thump the tambourine and I'll dance the sailor's
hornpipe."

"Patty! Behave yourself." Conny for once brought a dampening supply of
common sense to bear on her companion. "We're going to graduate in
another week. For goodness' sake, _don't_ let's get expelled first."

She grasped her by the elbow and shoved her insistently down a side
street. John Drew Murphy and his friends followed for several blocks,
but having gazed their fill, and perceiving that the Gypsies had no
entertainment to offer, they gradually dropped away.

"Well, what shall we do?" asked Conny when they had finally shaken off
t