She divided a curt nod between the three and withdrew.
"We are happy in our work and we dearly love our teachers," chanted Patty, with ironical emphasis, as she rummaged out a blue skirt and middy blouse with "St. U." in gold upon the sleeve.
While she was dressing, Priscilla and Conny set about transferring the contents of her trunk to her bureau, in whatever order the articles presented themselves--but with a carefully folded top layer. The overworked young teacher, who performed the ungrateful task of inspecting sixty-four bureaus and sixty-four closets every Saturday morning, was happily of an unsuspicious nature. She did not penetrate below the crust.
"Lordy needn't make such a fuss over my standing," said Priscilla, frowning over an armful of clothes. "I passed everything except Latin."
"Take care, Pris! You're walking on my new dancing dress," cried Patty, as her head emerged from the neck of the blouse.
Priscilla automatically stepped off a mass of blue chiffon, and resumed her plaint.
"If they think sticking me in with Job's youngest daughter is going to improve my prose composition--"
"I simply _can't_ study till they take Irene McCullough out of my room," Conny echoed. "She's just like a lump of sticky dough."
"Wait till you get acquainted with Mae Mertelle!" Patty sat on the floor in the midst of the chaos, and gazed up at the other two with wide, solemn eyes. "She brought five evening gowns cut low, and all her shoes have French heels. And she _laces_--my dears! She just holds in her breath and pulls. But that isn't the worst." She lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. "She's got some red stuff in a bottle. She says it's for her finger nails, but I _saw_ her putting it on her face."
"Oh!--not really?" in a horrified whisper from Conny and Priscilla.
"I say, let's mutiny!" cried Priscilla. "Let's _make_ the Dowager give us back our old rooms in Paradise Alley."
"But how?" inquired Patty, two parallel wrinkles appearing on her forehead.
"Tell her that unless she does, we won't stay."
"That would be sensible!" Patty jeered. "She'd ring the bell and order Martin to hitch up the hearse and drive us to the station for the six-thirty train. I should think you'd know by this time that you can't bluff the Dowager."