Dorothy found a match on the shelf and lit the gas. It had grown pitch dark outside, and she drew the curtain, too.

“Just as snug as a bug in a rug,” quoted Tavia, chuckling. “Only we can’t eat the rug, as the bug might, and so reduce our awful appetites. Couldn’t you eat a whole ox, Doro?”

“And a minute ago you wanted to eat a house,” said Dorothy. “Think of something more appropriate.”

“I will. Nice, thin slices of boiled ham between soft white bread—plenty of butter and some mustard—not too much. Pickles—just the very sourest kind. Some chicken salad with fresh lettuce leaves—home-made dressing, no bottled stuff. Stuffed olives. Peanut butter between graham crackers—m-m-m! lovely! celery. And a big piece of frosted cake——”

“Stop!” commanded Dorothy. “Do you want to drive me quite into insurrection?”

54 “I am already an insurrecto,” declared Tavia. “And I believe I can get just the sort of banquet I have outlined.”

“At some nice hotel—in New York?”

“I know what they were going to have for supper to-night,” declared Tavia, and walked over to examine the locked door.

“Do you mean to say we are going to have that kind of a supper?” demanded Dorothy, tragically. “And we under arrest?”

“M-m-m!” said Tavia, thoughtfully. “See here, Doro! Got a hammer?”

“A hammer? Of course! A whole tool chest in my pocket.”

“Something to hammer with, then,” said Tavia, earnestly. “If I had one I could open this door.”

“It’s locked.”

“Of course it is. But the hinges are on this side.”

“Oh! you need a screw-driver!” cried Dorothy, coming over to her.

“Nothing of the kind. I want something to knock out these pins—don’t you see? Then we can lift the door off its hinges and pull the bolt out of the lock. Ha!”

“What is it?”

“I’ve got it!” cried Tavia, under her breath, and immediately dropped down upon the floor and began to take off her shoe.

55 Quick as it was off, she grasped the shoe by the foot and used the heel to start the pin of the lower hinge. In a moment the steel pin popped out; then Tavia knocked out the one in the upper hinge.

“Now for it, Doro,” whispered the bright girl. “Put out the gas, so if anybody should be watching. That’s it. Now—take hold and ease off the door. No noise now, my lady!”

The girls managed to pull the door toward them, got a firm hold upon the edge of it, and pried the bolt loose. The door was shoved back against the wall of the room and they could look out into the empty classroom. Light from out of doors—and that very faint—was all that illuminated the larger apartment.

“Oh! if she catches us!” gasped Dorothy.

“Don’t you fret. This is a regular hunger strike—just as though we were suffragettes and had been imprisoned. Only we don’t refuse to eat; we just refuse not to eat,” and Tavia giggled as she hastily laced up her shoe again.

“Now, don’t you dare be afraid. I’m going on a raid, Doro. Kiss me good-bye, dear. If I never should retur-r-rn—— Blub! blub! My handkerchief isn’t big enough to cry into. Lend me yours.

“‘Farewell, farewell, my own tr-r-rue lo-o-ove! Farewell-er, farewell-er’——

56 “I go where glory waits me—don’t you forget that, Doro. And something to eat, too, better than bread and milk. Hist!”

After this rigamarole, and with the stride of a stage villain, Tavia left the classroom. She did not ask, or expect, Dorothy to take part in the raid on the pantry; indeed, had there been any good in doing so, Dorothy would have advised against the scheme.

Perhaps the girls had a right to a decent supper. At least, Dorothy had done nothing to deserve such harsh treatment from Miss Olaine. So both she and her chum defied the decree of the teacher. They’d actually be starved by midnight, when Mrs. Pangborn was expected to arrive.

If Tavia was caught——

Dorothy went to the corridor door and held it ajar, listening. Sometimes she heard girls’ laughter in the upper stories. A teacher passed, but did not see the girl behind the door. By and by there was another stealthy tread.

Miss Olaine? No! It was a girl with her arms full.

“Oh, Tavia!”

“It’s me! Lemme in,” exclaimed the raider, in a whisper. “Quick, now! We must get that door on its hinges again. And such a scrumptious lay-out, Doro! Mm-m-m!”

They did not light the gas. Tavia “unloaded”57 upon the table. “Mercy on us! the butter’s flatter than a pancake,” she breathed. “And the mayonnaise is all over the napkin. But never mind. We can lick it off!” chuckled this reckless bandit.

“Let’s get the door back,” urged Dorothy.

“Right!” Tavia came to her assistance. They lifted it back into place; only Tavia turned the key which had been left in the lock, and put the key on the inside of the door.

“What for?” demanded the anxious Dorothy.

“We won’t run the risk of having the ogress get in and spoil our supper,” declared Tavia. “Then—the door goes on easier.”

They got it hung in half a minute; then Tavia turned the key in the lock.

“If worse comes to worst,” she said, “we’ll throw the key out of the window and let her hunt for the person who unlocked our door, gave us the supper, and ran away with the key.”

“Oh, Tavia! We’ll both get into serious trouble.”

“Sufficient unto the day is the trouble thereof,” misquoted Tavia. “Now the gas! Let me spread this out. What do you think of this banquet, Doro?”

Dorothy could not refuse her share of the goodies. There was all that Tavia had promised. She seemed to have known to the last item just what the pantry had contained. And she had brought58 a bottle of real fizzy sarsaparilla and two glasses.

“Do you think I’d let a person like Miss Olaine get the best of me?” demanded Tavia, with pride. “Bread and milk, indeed! Well, I guess——”

“Hush!” whispered Dorothy.

There was a firm step in the classroom. They heard it mount the platform and then came a fumbling at the door.

“Oh! she’s found us out,” breathed Dorothy, seizing Tavia’s wrist.

“She’s found us in, you mean,” returned her friend, almost exploding with laughter. “And what more can she expect?”

“Girls!” exclaimed Miss Olaine’s harsh voice.

No answer. “Girls!” repeated the teacher. “Miss Dale! Miss Octavia!”

“Yes, ma’am!” drawled Tavia, yawning prodigiously. “Yes, ma’am!”

“You need not tell me you were asleep,” snapped the teacher. “Where is the key to this door?”

Tavia had removed the key from the lock and now held it up for Dorothy to see. Then she laid it on the window sill before she answered:

“I’m sure, Miss Olaine, I haven’t the key. You locked us in——”

“And I left the key in the door, Miss Impertinence,” interposed the teacher.

“If the key was on the outside and we are on59 the inside,” said Tavia, calmly, “of course you do not accuse us of appropriating it, Miss Olaine?”

“Somebody has been here, Miss. I demand to know who it was.”

“I can tell you truthfully, Miss Olaine,” said Tavia, still calmly, “that I have seen nobody at the door.”

“Miss Dale, where is the key?”

Like a flash Tavia opened the lower sash and threw the key out into the darkness. She pointed to Dorothy and mouthed the words she was to say—and they were perfectly truthful:

“Say you don’t know where!” commanded Tavia, in this silent way.

“Miss Dale!” exclaimed the teacher again. “Do you know where the key is?”

“No.”

“Is that all you can say, Miss?”

“We have not got it—of that I am sure,” declared Dorothy.

Tavia had calmly gone back to her salad and peanut butter sandwiches. Her mouth was so full when Miss Olaine spoke to her again that she could hardly answer.

“Miss Octavia Travers! Who removed the key from this lock? You know who it was.”

“I’m—I’m——”

“What is the matter with you? Your mouth60 is full. You are eating, Miss. Where did you get the food? Who has been here and supplied you with more than I gave you at supper time?”

“There hasn’t been a soul at that door except yourself,” declared Tavia, exactly, “as far as I know.”

“You are not telling the truth, Miss!” declared the teacher, warmly.

Mrs. Pangborn’s system of conducting Glenwood Hall did not include doubting the word of her pupils. The girls were put on their honor from the hour they first entered the school, and seldom had the principal been taken advantage of.

Dorothy and Tavia looked at each other. Both were flushed and all the laughter had gone out of Tavia’s brown eyes.

“Why, how horrid!” she gasped.

“What is that, Miss?” demanded the angry teacher outside.

And then Dorothy spoke up. “We refuse to discuss the matter with you any further, Miss Olaine—until Mrs. Pangborn arrives. In this school the girls are not accused of falsehoods.”

Miss Olaine was silent a moment. Then they heard her walk heavily away from the locked door.