“Do you think you passed?” asked Betty, joining Angela and Polly in the schoolroom corridor. It was the third day of examination week and the Freshmen had just finished the Literature exam.

“I hope so,” Polly answered. “It was awfully fair, don’t you think?”

“Yes; but tell me one thing,” Angela insisted, coming to a standstill and putting her hands on Betty’s shoulder. “What did you say for the hint that Portia gave Bassanio about the caskets?”

“Why, the song—‘Tell me where is fancy bred, in the heart or in the head?’” Betty answered.

“Don’t you see” (Polly took up the explanation), “bred and head and all the other lines ended in a word that rimed with lead, and Portia hoped that Bassanio would think of that and choose the right casket.”

“Too deep for me. I do remember, now, Miss Porter saying something about it, but I skipped that question,” replied Angela. “Still, I think I passed.”

They were on their way to Polly’s room, but before they reached her door, Lois overtook them.

“Horrible news!” she announced. “Latin exam. this afternoon instead of tomorrow!”

“It can’t be. How do you know?” demanded Betty.

“Saw it posted on the bulletin board.”

“That woman’s a fiend,” Polly groaned. “I intended cramming this whole afternoon, and now what’s to be done?”

“Anything particular you want to know?” Angela inquired. “Perhaps I can help you out a bit.”

“No, there’s no use; you’d have to begin from the very beginning,” replied Polly, looking disconsolately out of the window at the glorious spring day.

Betty ruffled her hair and frowned.

“Something ought to be done to rile the Spartan,” she said. “What shall it be?”

“She knows most of us will flunk,” remarked Lois. “I suppose she’ll be beastly sarcastic.”

Angela, who had been curled up on the window seat and had apparently been paying no attention to the conversation, suddenly remarked:

“Give me a pencil, some one. I’ve an idea; it’s not very clever, but it may annoy the Spartan.”

“What is it?” they all demanded.

But Angela refused to tell. She got up, stretched lazily, and without a word to any one, left the room. In a few minutes she was back, wearing a thoroughly satisfied smile.

“Please tell us where you’ve been,” teased Betty. “I’m bursting with curiosity.”

“Why, I’ve been to the bulletin board. I wrote a little note to the Spartan.”

That was quite enough for the girls. They flew over to the study hall corridor and crowded around the board. There at the end of the notice of the Latin examination, written in a big round hand, were the words:

“I came, I saw, I looked, I ran, I flew, I flunked!”

“Oh, that’s too lovely for words!” gloated Lois. “Angela darling, I’ll love you forever.”

“Come on back to my room,” urged Polly. “We don’t want the Spartan to see us here; she’ll know who did it.”

“You’re right; we had better fly. But O Jemima, wouldn’t I love to watch her face when she first sees it!” chuckled Betty.

Once back in Polly’s room the girls lapsed into silence and all opened Latin books, which doesn’t mean, however, that they studied. Betty was wondering what particular chapter Miss Hale would choose for translation; Angela’s thoughts were busy with a possible rhyme about the hard-heartedness of the Spartan, and Lois and Polly were thinking of the promised walk with Louise, which would have to be given up.

It was Connie who interrupted their thoughts by banging on the door.

“May I come in?” she called.

“Yes; we are all in the depths of despair, but you may come in if you want to,” Polly called dolefully.

“Sweet fight going on in Senior Alley,” Connie began after she had entered the room. “I’ve been down there ever since I came out of the exam, and I heard all about it.”

“Well, for goodness’ sake, tell us what’s the matter,” demanded Angela.

“Don’t be impatient, I’m going to. Listen: Agnes Green,” Connie commenced (Agnes was one of the Seniors and the kind of girl who always had a grudge against some one), “is furious at Louise; you know she always has disliked her because Lu didn’t put her on the team. Well, it seems that the Senior class is divided as to whether or not they should wear white shoes on Commencement. Louise wants to and Agnes doesn’t.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Polly interrupted angrily. “That girl would disagree with her own shadow! But go on.”

“That’s about all I know,” resumed Connie. “Agnes railed at Louise; said she had always influenced the class the wrong way; was unfair, and I don’t know what. When I left, Louise was in tears.”

Connie stopped for breath and then began again.

“And here’s another little bit of news, which will make you love Agnes some more: it seems that her brother and a friend of his from college are coming up here to see her tomorrow. You know the Latin examinations were fixed for then, so what does dear Agnes do but ask the Spartan to change the time so that she can chaperon her and brother and brother’s friend on a nice long drive. Naturally the Spartan jumped at the idea and arranged to give all her exams this very afternoon. Now just what do you think of that?” she finished, flourishing her arms in the air.

The girls were speechless with rage. Finally Betty managed to say:

“Of course we knew about it; that’s what we’ve been holding an indignation meeting over, but we didn’t know whose fault it was.”

“Well, you know it now,” replied Connie, “and I know that I have to go and study; so long, everybody.”

“I suppose I’d better, too,” sighed Betty. “Come and help me, Angela. Jove! I hope it pours rain tomorrow and that Agnes and the Spartan both get drowned!” And Betty, having given vent to her feelings, left the room, taking Angela with her.

Lois and Polly, left alone, faced each other, all thoughts of Latin forgotten.

“What’s to be done?” Polly demanded.

“I don’t know,” Lois answered. “We can’t do much, but I would like Louise to know how we feel about it.”

“We have time to pick her some violets and send them up to her before luncheon,” Polly suggested.

“That’s a good idea; she’ll understand from that.”

The violets were soon gathered and a willing Sophomore was found to deliver them.

When Lois and Polly saw the rest of their class again, they were at luncheon, and Lois asked:

“How did you get on with your cramming, Bet?”

“Oh, don’t! My poor brain is in a dreadful whirl,” groaned Betty. “But did you see the bulletin board?” she added.

“Why? Has the time for the exam been changed again?”

“No, but the Spartan has put up a new notice. Isn’t that a scream?” And Betty chuckled gleefully.

“That is funny,” agreed Lois, “but I do hope some of the girls saw Angela’s note before it was taken down.”

“They did all right; there was a crowd standing in front of it, howling with laughter, when the Spartan arrived. Dot Mead was there and she told me. Oh, the Spartan’s in a sweet rage!” Betty assured them.

“Nothing to what she’ll be in when she sees my paper,” spoke up Connie. “Ah, me, we can’t do more than flunk. If I could only have had this afternoon to study! Drat Agnes Green!”

Lois and Polly exchanged glances and the conversation changed to other subjects.

The much-talked-of and dreaded Latin exam, was not nearly so terrible after all. Although Miss Hale was a very disagreeable person, she was also a very good teacher, and the girls found the answers to the questions much more easily than they had expected.

Lois and Polly handed in their papers about the same time. A few minutes later they met in the corridor, and with a sigh of relief joined arms and sauntered off in the direction of their rooms. Polly said:

“Lois, I’ve an idea—about Agnes, I mean; I’ve been thinking it out all the time I was taking the exam, and I’ve thought of a plan.”

“What is it?” questioned Lois. “I couldn’t think of a thing except killing her, and that wouldn’t do. Did you see Louise smile at us at luncheon? Bless her heart!”

“Yes, but listen,” Polly insisted. “Here’s my plan. Tonight, after the Senior ‘lights out’ bell, we are going down the fire escape and get on the roof of the porch. Agnes’ room is the second from the end, and I happen to know she leaves her window down from the top. We will knock gently—”

“But she’s sure to know it’s some of the girls,” interrupted Lois. “No one ever thinks of burglars up here.”

“I don’t want her to think of burglars,” Polly replied solemnly. “I want her to think of ghosts.”

“Oh, I see. We’re going to play spooks. What a lark! But how are we to do it?”

“I haven’t quite decided about the details, but I will before tonight. Lo, I’m going to give that girl the scare of her life!”

And Polly kept her word. That night at 10.15 the Seniors were awakened by a scream of terror from Agnes Green’s room. She said she had seen a ghost. As the girls were trying to assure her, two figures in long capes were softly stealing back up the fire escape.

“I tell you it was ghosts!” Agnes insisted, in tears. “It had four arms, long white ones, and it waved them and moaned.” And she covered her head with the blankets and shivered at the thought.

Upstairs the two figures had reached Lois’ room.

“I hope she doesn’t die of fright,” whispered one.

“So do I, but I hope she’s good and scared. That was a splendid idea of yours to wear those long-sleeved kimonos,” answered the other.

“Good night,” said the first, and slipped out to her own room.

“Good night,” replied the second. “Louise and Latin are both avenged.”

The next morning Agnes stayed in bed for breakfast, and the Seniors said she had had a nightmare, and it had made her very nervous.

Polly and Lois were rather heavy-eyed and kept exchanging glances.

Of course no one suspected them of having anything to do with Agnes’ dream, that is, no one except Louise. She met them in the corridor after breakfast and whispered very softly:

“Thank you for my beautiful violets and ‘the ghost.’ I understood and I think you’re both darlings!”

That was all they ever heard on the subject.

Agnes’ brother and his friend arrived, and with the Spartan for chaperon, they went for a drive, but Agnes said she didn’t enjoy it as much as she had expected to, she was so dreadfully upset.