Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/655

Rh For a second not one of us breathed. Then, without a sound, Mabel Muriel Murphy got flat on her stomach and crawled under the bed, and Mabel Blossom, Kittie James, Adeline Thurston, and I hurriedly followed her. The rest would fain have accompanied us, but only five can hide under one bed at the same time, so Kittie James kicked out to show them there was no more room. Then five of the rest crowded into Maudie's closet, and the others got under the divan. All this time Maudie was gathering up the stage-setting and the clothes and things, and she threw them into a corner and dropped a big rug on top of them. Then she took a copy of Thomas à Kempis in her lily-white hand, and opened the door and tried to look surprised and delighted to see Sister Edna.

Sister Edna came right in. I think, from the sound of her footsteps, that she was puzzled. They were slow and hesitating, as if she was looking around and expecting to see some one, but of course she didn't. It wasn't a bit comfortable under that bed, with Kittie James's foot on my chest—for we didn't have time to crawl under with the same ends of us all one way; and I told Maudie the next day that the lay Sister who swept her room had left lots of dust under the bed just where my nose was.

Sister Edna asked Maudie if she wasn't up late, and Maudie said that she was, but that she felt the need of rest now and would go to bed at once. It wasn't very polite, of course, but she did want Sister Edna to leave before our feet showed! But Sister Edna sat right down, and Maudie said her knees gave way under her then, so she had to sit down too. In her excitement she asked Sister if she couldn't make her a cup of chocolate, and Sister Edna smiled very sweetly and declined, but Maudie said she looked amused, too. There was a heavy silence for a moment, and suddenly Sister Edna said it was not pleasant for her to intrude, but was Maudie alone? And Maudie said that she was not, but wouldn't Sister Edna let her take the responsibility for all and not ask the names of her friends?

Of course we could not have that, so Mabel Blossom and Kittie James and I began to emerge, as it were—different parts of us: stockings first in some cases and heads in others. But Mabel Muriel Murphy lay under the bed still, with her white young face against the wall, for it was indeed bitter to her to be caught in this position by her beloved Sister Edna. At last she rolled out, though, very dusty and red, and with her hair hanging down her back like Mary Magdalen's. She was wearing her white robe, the one she wore when Cleopatra finally died, and she had her nasty little rubber asp in her hand, because Maudie had finally got used to it. Sister Edna gave her one long look and then she looked at the rest of us, and at last she said, quietly,

"I suppose I may infer that this festivity will now end?"

We all answered very earnestly that she might, and Maudie added,

"I will explain everything to you and Sister Irmingarde in the morning, Sister, if you will listen."

Sister Edna bowed, and said "Good night," and went away, leaving a sad, sad scene of buried hopes behind her, as the gentle reader must know.

We didn't stop to talk it over. We just faded away to our own rooms like the Arab does with his tent, and tossed upon our couches till the glorious orb of day smiled in upon our pallid young faces. After we had our baths and our breakfasts we felt a little better, and we went to Sister Irmingarde in a body and told her the whole story—except, of course, we didn't mention the girls under the couch and in the closet. We thought it was useless to make our narrative even sadder than it was.

Sister Irmingarde didn't say much. We told her all about the play and the changes we had made, and two or three times she left us and walked to the window and stood with her back to us. She seemed to be nervous. When I asked her if she would like to read our play she hesitated a moment and then said no, but she added words that made our young hearts swell. The gentle reader may not believe this, but it is true, and I will put it in a paragraph all by itself to make it more important:

Sister Irmingarde said she feared that if she read our play her enjoyment of Shakespeare might never again be the same!

Those were indeed her words.