keep your mouth shut too!" Then he hurried the
terrified girls to the lawn where dozens of other girls were huddled,
and nobody asked any questions about the suitcase. Nor did anyone think
to ask how Bolivar and Shelby happened to be there when they were
supposed to be miles away. Many details were quite overlooked that
night, which was a fortunate circumstance for Miss Helen Doolittle, and
her hard-hit midshipman, who had "frenched" out of Bancroft not only
with mamma's knowledge, but with her cooperation. To have formed an
alliance with Foxy Grandpa's niece and clinched that end of the scheme
of things would have been one step in the direction of securing an ample
income, and once that lover's knot was tied, Helen was to be whisked
back to the school and the secret kept. Mamma was at the Willard waiting
for "those darling children" to come, and when, much later than he was
expected, "dear Paul" arrived alone and in a greatly perturbed state of
mind, mother and son had considerable food for thought until the
midnight car carried them back to Annapolis, where Paul "clomb" the wall
at the water's edge and "snoke" into quarters (in Bancroft's vernacular)
in the wee, sma' hours, a weary, disgusted and unamiable youth. Perhaps
had he suspected what was happening back at Columbia Heights his prompt
oblivion in slumber would not have taken place, though Paul was a
philosopher in his way. Helen was with friends and "she'd knock off
crying when she found she had to; all girls did." Selah!

But during all this time things had not been moving so tranquilly at
Columbia Heights. Given over a hundred girls, and a seething furnace of
a building in which the belongings of a good many of them were being
rapidly reduced to ashes, for the whole west wing was certainly doomed,
and one is likely to witness some stirring scenes. The firemen worked
like gnomes in the murk and smoke, and Shelby and Bolivar seemed to be
everywhere, saving everything possible to save, with many willing hands
from the neighborhood to help them. And some funny enough rescues were
made. Sofa pillows were carried tenderly down two flights of stairs and
deposited in places of safety upon the lawn by some conscientious
mortal, while his co-worker heaved valuable cut glass from a third-story
window, or pitched one of the girls' writing desks into the upstretched
arms of a twelve-year-old boy who happened to stand beneath.

Mrs. Vincent was everywhere at once, keeping