"Girls! Girls! Zebedee has gone and done it!" yelled Dee, bursting in the door of 117 and waving a lettergram wildly over her head.

"Done what?" I gasped. Dee was so excited that I could not tell whether she was overcome with joy or grief. I had a terrible feeling way down in my bed-room slippers that maybe Zebedee had gone and got himself married.

It was quite early in the morning, at least ten minutes before breakfast, and we were just getting into our clothes when Dee, the last one coming from the bath, had run against the maid in the hall, bringing up this mysterious message from Zebedee.

"Oh, it is just like him!"

"What's just like him?" and Dum snatched the telegram from her sister, and read: "'By wire-pulling, leg-pulling and visits to the Bishop and other clergy, have obtained a special dispensation for Tweedles, Page, Annie and Mary to be in Richmond for Thanksgiving game. Am wiring spondulix to Miss Plympton. Pack duds and take first train you can catch. I am treating the crowd. Zebedee.'"

We performed a Lobster Quadrille then and there in honour of Zebedee and then we gave the mystic rap for Annie and Mary. Of course Annie did not think she should accept the railroad trip from Zebedee and wondered what her father would say, but we simply overrode her objections. All the time we were getting into our clothes as fast as we could, as there was an ominous sound below of breakfast on the way, and in a moment the gong boomed forth and we raced down stairs, I still in my bedroom slippers and Dum with her plait on the inside of her middy, hoping to conceal the fact that she had not combed her hair, only smoothed it over.

Miss Plympton was not very gracious over our going. It was not usual for pupils to leave the school on Thanksgiving. That feast comes so close to Christmas it is quite an interruption to the education of the young; but what was she to do but comply? A special delivery letter from the Bishop, a telegram from two preachers and one from the Board of Directors of Gresham were certainly compelling, and there was nothing for her to do but consent.

It was Wednesday and the next day was Thanksgiving. It seemed to me as though that day would never pass. We had to go to classes as usual and make a show of paying attention and reciting. Our train did not leave until six in the evening, at least, that was the one Miss Plympton decided we were to take, although we had hoped against hope that she would let us get off at noon. She was adamant on that score, however, and we had to be thankful that she would let us take that instead of keeping us over until the next morning, which would have meant arising at dawn and going breakfastless to a six a. m. local.

Miss Plympton had been rather nicer to us since the episode in the last chapter. She had almost mastered the difference between Dum and Dee, and about once out of three times called them by their right names. She had always been rather nicer to me than to my chums and now she was, in a way, quite pleasant to me. This summons from Mr. Tucker had upset her recently acquired politeness and all day she found something to pick on our quintette. She chose as a subject of her history lecture the pernicious effect of arbitrary ecclesiastical power, which drew from me an involuntary smile. I thought she was off on a satisfying hobby and let my thoughts wander to the delights of our proposed trip to Richmond and a real blood and thunder football match between Carolina and Virginia. Suddenly I was awakened from my dream of bliss by Miss Plympton's addressing a remark to me:

"Miss Allison, why were the Estates General convoked but rarely under Charles VI and VII?"

"Estates General?" I gasped for time. What was the woman talking about anyhow? I thought she was off on arbitrary ecclesiastical power and here she was firing Estates General at me and raking up old scandals on Charles VI and VII. I couldn't answer on the spur of the moment, so I just giggled.

"Miss Allison, I have been an instructor of history for many years and I have never yet found a pupil who could giggle her way through it. It is one subject that requires study."

I took the reprimand like a lamb and tried to concentrate, but Mr. Tucker's cheerful countenance kept forcing its way in front of Estates General, and what that history lesson was about I do not know to this day.

Six o'clock came at last and we piled on the train, the envy of all the girls at Gresham who had not had somebody pull wires and legs of the Bishop and other Clergy so they could go spend Thanksgiving in Richmond and see the famous game.

Our train did not puff into the station at Richmond until way into the night and we were tired and very hungry. Our food since a one o'clock dinner had been nothing but stacks of chocolate and crackers and chewing gum and fruit we had purchased from the train butcher, who passed us every five minutes of the journey with a fresh supply of tempting wares.

"Hello, girls!" Zebedee embraced all of us with his kind eyes, but Tweedles with his arms. "Geewhilikins! but I am glad to see you! I was afraid you were never coming. Train an hour late and I know you are starving."

"Starving? Starved!" exclaimed Dum.

"Well, I've had some eats sent up to the apartment and maybe you can make out until morning on what I have there."

We packed ourselves two deep in the faithful Henry. We were tired and hungry but sleep was a million miles from the thought of any of us. When we arrived at the Tuckers' apartment and had satisfied the cravings of our inner men with the very substantial food that our host had provided for us, we decided that we might as well make a night of it, so we sat up to the wee small hours regaling the delighted Zebedee with tales of Gresham and Miss Plympton's chins.

"I declare, you girls tell so many stirring tales of adventure I should think you would write a book about it. If it were possible for a mere man to do such a thing, I'd write a book for girls and put all of you in it."

"Please don't," I begged, "because I am going to do that very thing myself just as soon as I get through with school. 'Bright, clean, juvenile fiction,' as the ads say, that's what I mean to make of it."

"Are you going to put me in?" he pleaded.

"Of course! Aren't you in it? How could I make a book of all of us without you?"

"Well, if I am going to be in the great book of books as a hero of romance, I think I'd best go to bed and get some beauty sleep so I can make a good appearance in fiction. I've had a cot put up for myself in an empty apartment on the floor below so you young ladies can have the freedom of the flat. I'm going to let you sleep until luncheon. We have to get an early start for the ball park so we can get a good place. Speaking of romance,—did I tell you that Miss Mabel Binks is making a visit with your Cousin Park Garnett, Page?"

"Heavens!" tweedled the twins. "Old Mabel Binks is always around."

"She is looking very handsome, and is quite toned down. She is having a ripping time in society and Mrs. Garnett is doing a lot for her, dinner parties, teas and such."

"I bet you have been to them and are being nice to her!" stormed Dum.

"Well, I have been so-so nice to her but not so terribly attentive. She is not my style exactly." But Dum and Dee would not be satisfied until Zebedee promised he would not be any nicer to Mabel Binks in the future than common politeness demanded, and that they were to be the judge of what common politeness did demand. Zebedee went off laughing to seek his lowly cot in the vacant apartment and we were soon asleep, but the last thing Tweedles said was: "Horrid old Mabel Binks!" And certainly the last thing I thought before slumber held me was the same thing.