"Of course, I don't, silly. I was only afraid you might. Let's answer Sally's letter."

They thought for several minutes, and the final result seemed to please them, for Janet stole softly across the hall, slipped the note under Sally's and Daphne's door, and knocked ever so lightly, before she hurried back.

Sally was almost asleep, but Daphne heard the knock. She jumped up, switched on the lights, and woke Sally.

"The Twins's reply," she announced as she opened the note.

"Read it quick," Sally said sleepily.

"The Story of the Two Dogs, continued (she read).

And so the two little dogs went home to die. But just as they were about to draw their last breath, the nice old gentleman met the nice old lady, and they told each other about the dogs they had met on their walk, and about how foolish they had been.

'But Aunt Jane's Poll-parrot, this can't go on,' said the old gentleman.

'It would be silly to let it, wouldn't it?' drawled the nice old lady.

'We will go and tell them how foolish they are,' they said together.

So they went, and the two dogs were very glad to see them, and when they learned that there was two bones, they jumped up and barked, and they each promised to eat one apiece, and never again to be so silly; because they realized that if they ate enough bones they would grow strong, and perhaps some day they would be a credit to the wing, it was a very old wing, of the dog kennel where they lived."

"The satisfying thing about the Twins is that they always do what's expected of them," Daphne commented as she folded the note up. "The beginning of the Two Dogs was brilliant enough but the end-"

"The end is a masterpiece," Sally replied, now wide awake.

"Aunt Jane's Poll-parrot marked you as the old gentleman."

"Well, how about 'drawled the nice old lady'?"

"Oh, it was a masterpiece all right, and I loved the touch about the wing." Daphne went back to her own bed.

"That, my child, is the first real stirring of the spirit of Hilltop-loyalty. Oh, for the day when we are Seniors!" Sally yawned and stretched her white arms high above her head. "Think of it, Taffy, Seniors, our four!" she added drowsily, but this time Daphne was asleep.

CHAPTER XV-Making Plans

"Well, it would be a calamity anywhere else in the world, but nothing is ever bad at Hilltop." Gwendolyn Matthews and Poppy were in the Twins'

room, and a crowd of girls were listening to what they had to say with flattering attention.

"Not even Thanksgiving away from home?" Prue demanded with a little pout.

It had just been decreed by Miss Hull and the faculty that there would be no Thanksgiving recess this year. Several cases of measles had broken out in the past week, and the school doctor had ordered a quarantine.

Such a thing had never happened before, and the seniors were doing their best to cheer up the many disappointed girls. Gwen and Poppy had selected Twins' room to go to first of all, for they were pretty sure that they would find a goodly number of the girls there.

"It's only four days, Prue," Poppy said consolingly, "and Miss Hull says we are to have a longer Christmas vacation to make up, besides no lessons for the four days now. You all must admit, that's fair enough."

"Of course, it's fair," Prue agreed readily; "but, well I had a very special engagement this Thanksgiving, and I hate to give it up."

"I was going to visit Ann's uncle," Gladys said sadly, "and now, of course, I can't."

"Well, you will some other time," Prue suddenly turned cheerful.

It is always so easy to make light of other people's disappointments, particularly when you are comparing them with your own. They always seem small in comparison.

"Don't be too sure of that," Ann laughed her quiet little laugh. "Uncle Lacey doesn't offer invitations very often, and he is not so terribly fond of me. He's probably delighted to receive my telegram, and has already made up his mind that he has done his duty to his sister's only daughter, and with a sigh of relief returned to his library."

"Poor Glad!" Sally laughed, "cruel uncle refuses second invitation and Ann and Glad have to find other host for Christmas." Both girls lived at a considerable distance from school.

"Not for Christmas," Ann denied. "I am going home for that blessed day, and so is Glad, aren't you honey?"

"I most certainly am," Glad replied. "Christmas is one day when I must be with my mother, not to mention my small brothers and sisters."

"What were _you_ going to do that was so exciting, Prue?" Janet inquired carelessly.

"I was going to New York," Prue replied. "I have never been there in my whole life." She spoke as though she were ninety. "And Daddy promised to take me this year. We were going to meet my brother John, he's a freshman at Princeton, you know," she added with pride. "And, oh dear, we were going to have a simply wonderful time, and now just because the Red Twins and that horrid little Ethel Rivers have the measles, I can't go. John will be so disappointed."

"Don't worry about brother," Gladys teased. "It's my opinion that he will be quite relieved. Grown-up boys are never very crazy about their baby sisters, especially when their friends are around. You know, Prue darling, you may feel terribly grown-up, but you still wear your hair down your back, and to boys that means you are still a babe and beneath their notice."

"That isn't so at all, Glad," Prue protested. "John and I have always been the best of friends and he would like to introduce me to his friends, I know he would."

"John is in college now," Gladys spoke with cool and perfect a.s.surance, "and that makes all the difference in the world. I guess I ought to know, I've had three brothers at Yale."

"Perhaps that accounts for it, Yale isn't Princeton." Prue was almost in tears but she managed to smile as she said this.

The other girls laughed.

"I reckon you'd better admit defeat," Poppy teased. "Prue got ahead of you that time sure enough."

Gladys drew herself up, and tried to make her roly-poly little self look imposing as she replied:

"When Prue has had as much experience with brothers as I have, she will come to me and humbly beg my pardon and tell me I am right," she laughed suddenly. "Never will I forget the dance my youngest brother took me to when he was home for his first Christmas vacation. It was at the Country Club, and because it was Christmas all the younger kids went."

"I know about that kind of dance," Poppy interrupted. "n.o.body has a very good time."

"Well, I know _I_ didn't," Gladys admitted. "I felt very elegant when I left home. Ted had on full dress and looked magnificent, and I had let my best party dress down-" she stopped abruptly and fell to playing a tatoo on the arm of her chair.

"Go on, Glad, we're listening," Phyllis urged. "What happened when you arrived at the dance?"

Gladys looked from girl to girl, then she said quietly: "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Sally protested. "Oh, Glad, don't be irritating!"

"I'm not trying to be," Glad replied. "Simply nothing happened. Ted left me as soon as he found some of my old maid cousins that he could leave me with, and he only came back and danced with me once. He brought a boy to meet me that wore gla.s.ses because he was cross-eyed, and he stuttered. I danced with him once and then I went into the dressing room and took off my slippers. My feet were almost broken, and the next day they were black and blue. He had tramped all over them."

"Well?" several voices demanded as Gladys paused.