"Elizabeth, have the girls announced the date of the French play?"

"Yes, I think it's December eighteenth, the Wednesday night before college closes. Of course you're going?"

"Yes, and I've been thinking I'd invite Constance Huntington out for the play and have a rabbit afterward. I haven't made anything but fudge in my chafing-dish since I bought it, and it's about time I did. We could have ten or twelve of the girls in after the play and get permission to stay up a little later than usual. I think I'll write Connie to-day and invite her out. Would you mind sleeping with Anne Cockran that night so Connie could have your bed?"

"Why, of course not, Jean; I'd be glad to do it and anything else I can to help you. Who's in the play?"

"I don't know many of them, but Peggy Allison is to be a man and Alice Cunningham's got the star girl's part. They say she's a wonder when it comes to acting. Then Bess Atherton and Joe Knight and Fliss White and Mary Brownell are in it, but I don't know the rest very well. None of the girls from my division are in the club, for you have to be at least a soph, to be eligible and then only a small proportion of the upper-class girls make it, for you have to get high rank in French. Oh dear, I'd never make it if I studied a hundred years. I can't seem to get it through this stupid old head of mine, and as for talking it and acting it too—why, it's simply beyond my comprehension."

Jean wrote her letter to Constance and soon received word that she would be delighted to accept the invitation and would be out early in the afternoon, but she would have to take the first train back in the morning as she had a lesson at noon.

The morning of the eighteenth was dull and cloudy, and before noon it was snowing hard and had every appearance of a bad storm. Jean stood at the window after dinner and watched the whirling snowflakes. "She won't come, I know she won't come, if it snows like this, and after I've gone and made all those elaborate preparations I call it a mean shame. Lucky I went down to the Square yesterday and bought the food, for I shouldn't enjoy lugging things home to-day in this storm. Well, if she doesn't come we'll celebrate just the same. I hope it won't be so deep by night that we can't get up to the gym. I think I'll do my packing now, for I sha'n't have much more time before the train starts unless I sit up to-night after the girls go. You tell your people, Elizabeth, that I'm very much obliged for their dandy invitation for the holidays, but I simply can't postpone my New York visit again. But there are other vacations coming, and I'll be pretty glad to go home with you then. Here's a box I want you to put into your suit-case, but it's not to be opened until Christmas morning, and this letter's for Dick, but it's so valuable I won't trust it to Uncle Sam and I want you to put it in his stocking, or if he's too old to hang up his stocking you can put it under his plate at breakfast. I wonder when my box from home will arrive. Father wrote me he had sent it. We always hang up our stockings at home Christmas Eve and then have a big Christmas tree at night. It's the first time I've ever missed it, and unless I'm having an awfully good time in New York, I'll be pretty homesick."

Jean worked hard at her packing and after she had finished she went downstairs to do a little practising. The piano was so arranged that she had a good view of Faculty Row and it must be confessed that she kept her eyes there as much as on her music. At last she saw Constance battling against the wind and the snow and she ran to the door to greet her. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Constance! I was afraid you couldn't get over here. Are the cars on time, or did you come by train?"

"I went across the city on the Elevated and took the train out. It isn't deep enough yet to affect the trains, but it will be soon if it keeps up like this. The wind is so strong it's beginning to drift. By morning I may not be able to get back or you to go to New York. I thought I'd never get up the Row; as it is, my feet are soaked. Let me borrow your slippers and some dry stockings and I'll be all right. I'm crazy to see your room, Jean. Those snapshots you sent are mighty attractive, but I know the original's lots better."

"Fine," said Constance after she had stepped into 45. "It's so simple, not packed brimful with the useless trifles one generally sees in college girls' rooms. You can find your way around in these rooms all right. You ought to see the box I live in. Positively we have to move some of our furniture out into the hall at night before we can get undressed and into bed. You don't mind if I look around, do you? I love new things. What a splendid picture of Tom! He didn't give me one; guess I'll have to remind him of it. What's this picture of an old farmhouse on your desk?"

"That's my room-mate's home in Newburgh. You know I spent the Thanksgiving holidays there and quite fell in love with the place."

"With the place or somebody on the place? Come, Jean, 'fess up'; don't keep any secrets from me."

"Well, both, Connie; they're the nicest family I've met in the East. Here, put on these stockings and slippers and dry your feet on the radiator or you'll catch your death-o'-cold. Then we'll go downstairs and see some of the girls. I've invited a few up here after the play, but I promised one or two who are very anxious to meet you that I'd take you in to see them before supper. I hope you'll like the girls out here. I think they're a mighty jolly lot. My room-mate is studying algebra in one of the freshman rooms, but she'll be back before long. She's quiet, but there's ever so much to her."

Presently they started down to Peggy Allison's room and found she and Natalie had made tea for them and had sandwiches, nuts and candy. "You'll spoil our appetites for supper, Peggy, with all this glorious feed."

"Just as well, Jean," said Peggy; "it's Wednesday night and we always have beans. I think baked beans on Saturdays and Wednesdays, too, is the limit."

"Well," said Natalie, "let's not go down for supper. We can stay here and eat all we want to. I don't believe Peg will eat anything, she's so excited. She's been rehearsing all the afternoon, and all the morning she worked on the scenery. She's got a stunning costume and make-up. Wait till you see her and you'll say she's the handsomest cavalier you've ever set eyes on, and fall in love with her on the spot. Isn't it a shame it's storming so hard? I don't believe half of the guests will come, but perhaps Mlle. Franchant will let them repeat it after vacation. It's a shame after everybody has worked so hard."

"Thanks for your invitation for supper, Nat, but I think Constance and I had better go downstairs, for I want her to see our dining-room and the girls. Why, there's the bell this minute and we intended to go into some of the other rooms. Good luck to you, Peggy; I know you'll be the bright and shining star. Oh, where is your seat, Natalie? Ours are in 'G.' We freshmen in the house got some together. Don't forget you two are coming up to our room after the play. I've got permission for us to stay up till eleven o'clock, so if the play is late, hustle down as soon as you can."

The play was held in the gymnasium, and by eight o'clock it was crowded to the doors in spite of the storm. The girls were greatly disappointed that they could not wear their best-looking gowns, but it was dangerous to risk them in the drifting snow, so most of them wore light waists with their dark skirts. The French play always was considered one of the events of the year and anticipated by the whole college. This year the play presented was "Andromaque," and given wonderfully well. Of course the most interesting parts were those where the girls took the parts of men. As the masculine element were not invited to attend the performance, the girls felt free to dress as fancy prompted them and, as Natalie had said, "did make perfectly stunning men." All the girls did well, and unless one were prejudiced, one had to admit that one girl did no better than another. There was so much applause and encoring that it was nearly ten before the last act began.

For some time Jean had been getting nervous and every little while whispered to Constance, "If they don't finish soon we won't have any time for the rabbit. Usually we can't have company in our rooms after ten, but to-night is a special occasion and the girls can stay till eleven. An hour isn't very long for a party."

"This is great, Jean," said Constance; "I don't understand one word of French, but I think it's stacks of fun to watch them. It's the first time I've ever seen girls play men's parts. Never mind if we don't have time for the rabbit; it isn't the best thing in the world to be eating at eleven o'clock at night, you know."

"Well," said Jean, "I shall be disappointed if we don't make it. I've been wanting some for ages. Oh, I know this must be the end. Wasn't it splendid? Now I feel lots better that it's over. Come on, girls! Hustle up; you've all got to help me. Don't get lost in the snowdrifts, for it wouldn't be any fun to-night to have to hunt you up."

The six freshmen and Constance went down to the Hall together and up into 45; a little later came Marjorie Remington and Sallie Lawrence and Grace Hooper and Natalie Lawton. "Where's Peggy?" asked Jean.

"She'll be here in a moment; she stopped to wash off a little of the paint and get into some decent clothes."

"Oh," said Grace Hooper, "why didn't she come the way she was? Wasn't she perfectly adorable? I'd be only too glad to let her make love to me. I'm going to try for the French club next year."

"Now, Grace," said Jean, "make yourself useful as well as ornamental. Please beat this egg. You'll have to use a fork; it's the nearest thing to an egg-beater I can find. Marjorie, will you put the crackers on the plates? Sallie, cut up the cheese, will you?" and she gave everybody something to do. By the time the work was all distributed, Peggy burst into the room crying, "J'ai faim, j'ai faim, mes chÈres enfants. Oh, I forgot, I mustn't make so much noise; it's after ten and some of the girls are trying to get to sleep, but I'm so tickled the old French play is over at last that I could shout for joy. Wasn't it awful there where I forgot? I knew I should, for I did at every rehearsal. Here, Jean, what is there for me to do?"

"Nothing, Miss Star Actress, or should I say Mr. Star Actor; you have entertained us so well all the evening that we'll let you continue to do so until we've something to eat. Oh, dear, I haven't a bit of alcohol; I knew I'd forget something. Who's got some to spare? Midge, you're the nearest, please skip over to your room and get some."

When Marjorie returned with a huge bottle, Jean filled the lamp of her chafing-dish, not noticing that she was spilling some drops of the alcohol on the papers she had left on the table after undoing the numerous packages. She put the ingredients into the dish and they lighted the lamp. All went well for a moment or two and she kept stirring the melted butter and cheese. Now that their work was done the girls felt freer to talk and left Jean to herself. She went over to her closet to take out a box of chocolates which she had hidden there and then circulated them among the girls. When she returned to the table she saw that some of the alcohol which she had dropped on the platter was burning. Thinking it would do no harm she let it burn until it blazed up and caught the papers near by that had been wet with the drops of alcohol. In a moment they were all ablaze and the girls were so frightened that they stood still without knowing what to do. Danger threatened Merton and perhaps all Ashton, and something must be done at once. Quick as a flash Jean pushed the burning papers onto the platter and took hold of it firmly with both hands.

"Somebody open the south window, quick!" she cried. For a second no one seemed to know just which was the south window or whether there was any window in the room. Then Elizabeth ran to the window and opened it wide and Jean in a flash was in front of it and threw the blazing platter and its contents down into the snow below.

As soon as the danger was over the girls realized what Jean had done. "How could you do it, Jean? How did you think of it? Oh, look at your hands and face; you've burned them!" they all cried.

"No; I haven't. Not badly; just one thumb and it doesn't hurt much. I guess I've singed my eyebrows and a little of my front hair, but the rabbit is spoiled. Isn't it a shame? But I'm not going to let that perfectly good chafing-dish stay down in the snow and get buried up and stay there all vacation. I'm going to put on my rubber boots and a short skirt and sweater and go down and get it. I don't want any of you to come with me. I know how to unbolt the door, and no one will ever know anything about it if you'll keep it to yourselves. Here, Elizabeth, pass the sandwiches and olives and other eats. I'm determined, though, that you shall have a rabbit and I've got enough stuff here to make another even if there's only enough for one cracker apiece; that's better than nothing."

"But," protested Peggy, "you won't have time; it's almost quarter of eleven now, and you know we must get back to our rooms at eleven surely or we'll never get permission again."

"Well, girls," said Jean, "I shall make that rabbit to-night if I'm expelled to-morrow. You must go, I suppose, at eleven, but we two can stay up as long as we please in our own room if we're not disturbing any one else. Constance and I will eat all we can to-night, and I'll see that the rest of you get yours to-morrow. Cold rabbit is as good as hot; some like it better, particularly if it's thick and leathery. Aren't these rubber boots grand? I never thought when I bought them last month that I should dedicate them hunting for lost chafing-dishes and rabbits in snowdrifts. Well, here goes, switch the light over to the south window and watch me discover the North Pole, or the chafing-dish. Just wet this handkerchief first, will you, Nat, so I can wind it round my throbbing thumb. How's that for alliteration, freshies; wouldn't that please Miss Whiting?"

After winding the wet handkerchief around her thumb she put on some heavy gloves and was ready to start. The corridors were dark, for all the lights had been put out at half-past ten. She groped her way along the banisters and managed somehow to reach the lower hallway. It seemed as though every step had made the long stairs creak and protest against what she was doing, and she was sure when she hit against a hall chair that she would awaken Mrs. Thompson. She waited a few moments and listened, but apparently Mrs. Thompson was sleeping peacefully, little dreaming of what was happening just outside her sacred domain. She finally located the great bolt and in a moment had the door open. She moved over the door-mat to prevent the doors closing, for if the wind should blow them together again she would not be able to open them unless one of the girls came down and helped her.

Out on the steps her courage failed her for a moment, for the snow was whirled in every direction by the terrific wind, but she stepped down into it and instantly was up to her knees. She decided to give it up and return to the girls, but she hated to be defeated in anything, so attempted it again. She could hardly walk, but had to scuff along, making her own path. It was a long way down the east side of the dormitory and then round the corner to the south side. The light from 45 shone brightly and guided her to the spot where she expected to find the chafing-dish. At last she reached it and saw the tray sticking up in one place and not far from it the standard and a little farther the two dishes and cover. She gathered them in her arms and started back, after waving to the girls in the upper windows. After she had gone two or three steps she realized that she hadn't found the alcohol lamp, and as that was a very important item, she put the other parts down again and began to hunt for the lost one. It was nowhere to be found and had probably fallen out when she threw the burning mass from the window, and being the smallest part and the lightest had undoubtedly gone the greatest distance, and being the hottest as well, it probably sank down deep in the snow. She was about to give up when her fingers groping around on the surface found what she wanted so badly.

Now that she had it all she returned the same way she had come, but it was easier now because she had only to retrace her footsteps. Still, it was no easy task and took some little time. Just as she reached the stone steps she heard the campus clock ring out eleven strokes. She entered the door and closed it as cautiously as possible and put the mat in its proper place. Then she groped her way up the three flights of stairs and was soon in 45, breathless but triumphant. "Here it is, girls, and some of the cheese is still in the dish; have some?"

"Jean, you're a hero," said Peggy, "but we mustn't stay another minute; it's already struck eleven. Sorry to have missed the rabbit, but the other things were delicious and your adventure such a novelty in the way of entertainment. Don't do it again, for it's rather dangerous unless one has your nerve. Good night. Tell us the rest of the story in the morning."

"All right, but 'Mum's the word,' girls," said Jean, as she followed them to the door. "At our first reunion after vacation I'll tell you all about the hairbreadth escapes I had in the mad pursuit of the rabbit. Isn't that a thrilling subject for my next English theme? Quietly, now; don't make any noise; don't anybody stub her toe or trip on the stairs."

"And now," said Jean, as she came back into the room, "I'm going to finish that rabbit if I don't get a particle of sleep to-night. You can retire gracefully, if you so desire, to Elizabeth's bed and I'll stick to my post of duty till the rabbit dies."

"No," said Constance, "I'm not a bit sleepy; I'd rather watch you, but first can't I put something on those burns?"

"No, thanks, Connie, they aren't half bad, and if I keep something wet on my thumb it will be all right."

Into the chafing-dish went all of the remaining ingredients, few to be sure, but enough to half fill the dish. There was no egg but Jean decided to risk it without. She stirred and stirred, but it refused to thicken, and as the college clock struck twelve she decided it never would. "Well, we can put a little in these saucers and eat it with a spoon and perhaps by morning what we leave in the dish will thicken enough to spread on crackers. I mean that every girl shall have a souvenir of the great and glorious occasion."

They put a little in the saucers and broke in some cracker. Constance took a mouthful and exclaimed, "Oh, Jean, the mustard! How much did you put in?"

"Why, just what the rule said, of course."

"It must be a funny rule, for it's so awfully hot you never can eat it."

"Well, I should say so," said Jean, after a taste. "Let's hope it will cool off by morning. Anyway, I've done what I said I should; it's made and we've eaten some. Now let's go to bed at once. I shall leave all the dishes and cleaning up until morning. Fortunately I have two spare hours before train time and my trunk is all packed. Isn't this room a mess? Let's retire gracefully to our downy couches and forget what we've left behind. Do you think my eyebrows, or rather what there is left of them, look badly?"

"No one would ever know what had happened unless you told them. I think you got out of it mighty easily. It's a wonder you weren't burned badly, or the curtains didn't catch and start a fire. What a terrible night to have been burned out. Ough! I don't like the idea at all. Are you sure everything is all right out in the study?"

"Why, of course, you big silly. Now calm yourself and get into bed, and we'll talk it over in the morning."

The first thing Jean did after the rising bell awoke her from a sound sleep was to go out into the study and look into the chafing-dish. Yes, the rabbit had hardened and looked anything but attractive. She took two crackers and put the rabbit between them, making a somewhat bulky sandwich in its proportions but nevertheless edible. With Constance's assistance she made twelve of them and wrapped each one in some tissue paper and tied them with narrow white ribbon. Slipping on her kimona and bed shoes she put the packages into a small basket and hastened out in the hall and stopped at the room of each of her guests of the evening before. To each girl she presented a neat package and wishes for a Merry Christmas.

Constance and she were a little late at the breakfast table but took their places without a smile or look at any of the twelve girls who were awaiting their arrival. Unless one had looked very carefully one would not have perceived that Jean's right thumb was carefully done up in a white bandage. Aside from this there was no indication of the incidents of the previous evening. Breakfast talk centered on the excellence of the French play the night before and the acting of Peggy Allison. Just before breakfast was over Mary Boynton arose and announced two important notices before the departure of the girls for the Christmas holidays.

"The Merton House Entertainment Committee have planned a costume party for January thirteenth, to be limited to the girls of the dormitory. Every girl is expected to be in costume. For further particulars apply to Helena Burrage, Florence Goodnow, and Mabel Addison.

"The proctors for the two weeks beginning January sixth, have been appointed as follows: first floor, Lena Hutchinson; second floor, Rebecca Chapin; third floor, Mary Andrews; fourth floor, Jean Cabot; fifth floor, Sarah Dillon. They will meet for a few moments after breakfast in the reading-room."

Then the girls filed out and hurried upstairs for last preparations. The proctors consulted together a few moments and were given instructions as to their duties and then were dismissed. Jean and Constance decided to go to Chapel and clean up afterwards. It took till nearly ten before the last dish was washed and wiped, and Constance had to hurry for the train. "You must be sure to visit me after vacation, but I'll promise you no such exciting times as you gave me. My best to Tom. Thanks for your hospitality," she said as she boarded the train. Jean watched until the train was out of sight and then went up to ten o'clock recitation. At twelve she boarded a crowded train and left Ashton and its problems behind her.