The girls teased Mabel considerably for the next few days. One afternoon she went to her room and was decidedly startled to find a dozen almost human objects seated on the floor, their backs braced against the wall. They were pillows stuffed into middy blouses. A large placard held forth by two stuffed sleeves read: “We are orphans. Please stay with us until Lizzie comes.”
A night or two afterwards she found her bed occupied by four more almost human middy blouse orphans, and one morning a lovely picture of a very stout young person pushing a wide baby carriage full of plump infants appeared on the assembly room blackboard. Under it was printed “Missing: One Lizzie.”
Mabel suspected that Henrietta and Maude Wilder were at the bottom of these outrages; and her suspicions were probably correct. But there were other offenders. Whenever little Jane Pool met her in the corridor she would cock a wicked black eye at her and say: “Hello, Lizzie,” or “How’s Lizzie today?”
Even one of the lofty seniors condescended to notice her long enough to ask: “Found any more orphans to adopt yet?”
Even tender hearted Bettie could not refrain sometimes from saying: “Anne, Sister Anne, do you see anybody coming?”
Mabel, who was feeling a bit doleful these days, took all this teasing in good part. Indeed, she was glad to be amused. After days of suspense her punishment for going out of bounds had been meted out to her; and she felt that she was indeed being punished. On Wednesday evening there was to be a concert at the Theological Seminary, with ice cream afterwards. Now, the students might and did scramble their prayers and make hash of their sermons; but they could sing, so it was always a joy to hear them. And “Ice cream afterwards” sounded wonderfully good to Mabel. But for Mabel there was to be no music and no ice cream. She was to stay at home with poor old Abbie. It was not until Wednesday afternoon that Mabel learned that Maude also was to stay at home.
“Miss Woodruff did it,” explained Maude, her amber eyes twinkling merrily. “Just after ‘Lights out’ last night I thought I’d like to drop a cold wet washcloth down Dorothy Miller’s neck. It’s a long way over to the North corridor, you know, and the hall doors all squeak; but I thought I could get away with it. Well, what did I do but run slap bang into Miss Woodruff!”
“Goodness!” gasped Mabel. “What did you do?”
“Well,” continued Maude, “I never said a word. I just stared straight ahead with my eyes wide open and pretended I was walking in my sleep, with that silly washcloth dripping from my outstretched hand. And I had her fooled. But just as I reached my own door I just absent-mindedly turned around and stuck my tongue out at her—you know I always do stick my tongue out at her when she isn’t looking—but this time I got caught. Mean old thing! She switched the light on just in time to get full benefit, so it was all up with little Maude.”
“What did she do then?”
“Oh, she said a lot of awfully cutting things. She’s a good teacher and I do respect her for that; but she doesn’t have to be so sarcastic when folks—well, stick out their tongues. I think it’s a mean shame to make me lose that concert and all that ice cream just for a little thing like that. Cora says they sing funny songs and there’s always cake with the ice cream. I’m going to get even with Miss Woodruff, see if I don’t. Well, cheer up, Mabel. I’ll see you later.”
Evening found the two girls with their noses pressed against their bedroom windows watching the long procession of girls and teachers out of sight down the moonlit road. As usual, the Seniors led and the younger girls brought up the rear. Mabel looked at the place beside Marjory that should have been hers and sighed. She thought of that ice cream and a large tear rolled down her cheek.
Maude, wasting no tears, tiptoed to a room on the fourth floor. A key clicked in a lock and in two minutes more, naughty Maude was bouncing gleefully on Mabel’s bed.
“I’ve locked poor old Abbie in her bedroom,” announced Maude. “And now look at this!”
Maude hurled a large scarlet bundle at Mabel’s head. Fortunately, it was a soft bundle.
“Spread it out on the floor,” directed Maude. “It’s Miss Woodruff’s nightgown. Somebody told her that red flannel was a sure cure for rheumatism, so she wears that thing. It’s perfectly enormous—it would have to be or it wouldn’t fit. Now, let’s look in all the Lakeville girls’ sewing baskets for large white buttons and white tape—they won’t mind. We’ll just embellish that nightie with a few nice pictures and tack it up on Miss Woodruff’s door—the girls will love it. We’ll sew those buttons on tight, too.”
Against the brilliant background, the naughty pair outlined grinning faces with the white tape, making eyes and other features with the large white buttons. A blazing sun adorned each wide front and Maude accomplished a daring caricature of Miss Woodruff herself in the very center of the broad scarlet back. Ordinarily, both Maude and Mabel hated to sew on buttons; but now they fell upon the task with glee.
“I’ve thought of something else,” announced Maude, when this task was finished. “Miss Woodruff hates tobacco smoke. There are several packages of horrible cigarettes in Madame Bolande’s room. You get the tin pail that stands on the back porch. After awhile I’ll build a tiny fire in that and burn a bunch of those cigarettes just inside Miss Woodruff’s door.”
“Oh Maude—”
“We’ve been so bad now that we might as well keep on,” said Maude, recklessly. “There’s one thing sure; the next time they punish us they won’t leave us home—they won’t dare. We’ll have to keep Abbie locked in until the very last minute so she won’t undo any of our work. Now I’ll get a pitcher of water so we can keep the fire in our pail from doing any harm; and anyway a little dampness will make that tobacco smell worse.”
Maude and Mabel were in their beds and very sound asleep when the school returned. Miss Woodruff went to the library to find a book before ascending to her room; so most of the West Corridor girls had a fine chance to see the strange and ludicrous object nailed to the poor lady’s door. Such a shout of laughter went up that Mrs. Rhodes hurried to the corridor and Doctor Rhodes, startled at the unusual sound, followed after. Poor Miss Woodruff arrived a moment later to find even Doctor Rhodes convulsed with mirth.
In one of his brief speeches to the school, Doctor Rhodes had once said “Incapatiated” when he meant “Incapacitated.” Perhaps he was remembering the superior manner in which Miss Woodruff had corrected him. At any rate, he now seemed able to enjoy a joke on that rather severe lady.
Maude spent the next day in solitary confinement in the big lonely room at the end of the North Corridor, far away from all her friends. She was to stay there until she apologized. For some reason, Doctor Rhodes failed to connect Mabel with the wicked doings of the previous night; it is possible that Maude had shouldered all the blame; but when the second day dawned, with Maude still obdurate, Mabel, without consulting any of her friends, marched down to Doctor Rhodes’s office.
“Doctor Rhodes,” said she, “I think you ought to know—that is, I think I ought to tell you—that I sewed just as many buttons on that red nightgown as Maude did; and I ought to be punished just as much.”
“Did you take Miss Woodruff’s silver cardcase?”
“Why, no!” returned Mabel, indignantly. “Of course I didn’t.”
“Or Madame’s cigarettes?”
“No.”
“Or five dollars out of Madame’s everyday hat?”
“Oh, no. And Maude didn’t touch the money or the card case. I’m sure of that.”
“What about the cigarettes?”
“She did take those and we both took the buttons and the tape; but nothing else.”
“And you think you ought to be punished?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Perhaps you could suggest a suitable penalty?”
“You might put me in solitary confinement in that room with Maude.”
Doctor Rhodes laughed and Mabel wondered why.
“You’d better look up the meaning of the word ‘Solitary,’” said he. “I fear there are other reasons why your plan wouldn’t work. You and Maude are a pretty lively team. I think,”—with a shrewd glance at Mabel’s plump figure—“that this is a better punishment for you. No dessert for dinner for a whole week.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Mabel, looking as if a week seemed a pretty long time.
“And you must apologize to Miss Woodruff.”
“I don’t mind that,” said Mabel. “I’m always having to apologize to somebody, so I’ve had lots of practice.”
“That’s an honest youngster,” said Doctor Rhodes to himself when the door had closed behind Mabel. “I’m sure she didn’t take either that cardcase or that money. And I don’t believe that naughty Wilder girl did either. Mabel is just a cheerful blunderer and Maude is just frankly willful. They’re both honest. But I’d give something to know who it is that isn’t—with all this smoke there must be some fire.”
After Maude had spent two long days in the North Corridor bedroom, Miss Woodruff thinking it was time for repentance to set in, tapped at the door. Maude, supposing it was Annie or Mary with her supper tray, hopped into the large black walnut wardrobe that stood against the wall and drew the door shut, meaning to spring forth at the right moment and say “Boo!”—but not until the tray was safe on the table.
The room was dimly lighted. Miss Woodruff, thinking that the dark shadow in the corner was Maude, stepped into the room and said, with dignity: “Maude, I am ready to accept your apology.”
This, of course, was rather sudden. The culprit had no apology at her tongue’s end. Still, she had something—irrepressible Maude was never entirely at a loss. She opened the wardrobe door, smiled sweetly at Miss Woodruff and said:
“Nous avons les raisins blancs et noirs mais pas de cerises.”
Apparently Miss Woodruff didn’t care whether there were cherries or not. She went out and slammed the door.