It was from Heavy Stone that Ruth first learned of an approaching festival, although her own room-mate was the prime mover in the fête.  But of late she and Helen had had little in common outside of study hours and the classes which they both attended.  Since the launching of the Sweetbriars Helen had deliberately sought society among the Upedes, and especially among the quartette who dwelt next door to the chums.

“And she is going to have almond cakes.  She says she has an old nurse named Babette who makes the most de-lic-i-ous almond cakes ­Is that so, Ruth Fielding?”

Heavy had been enthusiastically discussing this subject with her nearest neighbor on the other side from Ruth, at the dining table.  But Ruth had caught the name of “Babette” and knew that Heavy spoke of Helen Cameron.

“Is what so?” she asked the plump girl.

“Why, it’s about your spoon’s box from home.  I told you, you know, to be sure and have the folks send you one; but Helen Cameron’s got ahead of you.  And whisper!” pursued Jennie Stone, in a lowered tone, “tell her not to invite too many girls to the Night of Harpocrates.  Remember!”

Ruth was a bit puzzled at first.  Then she remembered that Harpocrates was the Egyptian god of silence, and that his sign was a rose.  The expression “sub-rosa” comes from that root, or “under the rose.”  It was evident that there were to be “midnight orgies” when Helen’s goodies came from home.

One of the quartettes on their corridor had indulged in a fudge party after hours already, and Ruth had been invited to be present.  But she found that Helen was not going, so she refused.  Besides, she was very doubtful about the propriety of joining in these forbidden pleasures.  All the girls broke that retiring rule more or less ­or so it seemed.  But Miss Picolet could give such offenders black marks if she wished, and Ruth craved a clean sheet in deportment at the end of the half.

She wondered how and when Helen proposed to hold the “supper sub-rosa”; but she would not ask.  Not even when the great hamper arrived (being brought up from Lumberton by Old Dolliver, who only drove his stage every other day to Seven Oaks at this time of year) did she ask Helen a single question.  Tony Foyle brought the hamper up to Duet Two in the West Dormitory and it just fitted into the bottom of Helen’s closet.  Heavy could not keep away from the door of the room; whenever the door was opened and Ruth raised her eyes from the table where she was at work, there was the broad, pink and white face of the fat girl, her eyes rolling in anticipation of the good things ­Mary Cox declared Heavy fairly “drooled at the mouth!”

The arrival of the hamper was not unnoticed by the sharp eyes of Miss Picolet; but advised by the wily Miss Cox, Helen unpacked a certain portion of the good things and, during the afternoon, asked permission of Miss Scrimp to make tea and invite some of the girls to the duet to sample her goodies.  The French teacher was propitiated by the gift of a particular almond cake, frosted, which Helen carried down to her room and begged her to accept.  Helen could be very nice indeed, if she wished to be; indeed, she had no reason to be otherwise to Miss Picolet.  And the teacher had reason for liking Helen, as she had shown much aptitude for the particular branch of study which Miss Picolet taught.

But although most of the girls In the West Dormitory, and some others, were asked to Helen’s tea (at which Ruth likewise did the honors, and “helped pour”) there was an undercurrent of joking and innuendo among certain of the visitors that showed they had knowledge of further hidden goodies which would, at fit and proper season, be divulged.  Jennie Stone, gobbling almond cakes and chocolate, said to Ruth: 

“If this is a fair sample of what is to be divulged upon the Night of Harpocrates, I shall fast on that day ­now mind!”

When the girls had gone Ruth asked her chum, point-blank, if she proposed to have a midnight supper.

“A regular debauch!” declared Helen, laughing.  “Now, don’t be prim and prudish about it, Ruthie.  I won’t have it in here if you don’t want ­”

“Why not?” demanded Ruth, quickly.  “Don’t think of going to any other room.”

“Well ­I didn’t know,” stammered her chum.  “You being such a stickler for the rules, Ruth.  You know, if we should get into trouble ­”

“Do you think that I would complain?” asked Ruth, proudly.  “Don’t you trust me any more, Helen?”

“Oh, Ruthie! what nonsense!” cried her chum, throwing her arms about Ruth Fielding’s neck.  “I know you’d be as true as steel.”

“I did not think the suggestion could have come from your own heart, Helen,” declared Ruth.

So the second night thereafter was set for the “sub-rosa supper.”  Slily the chums borrowed such plates and cups as the other girls had hidden away.  Not a few quartette rooms possessed tea-sets, they being the joint possession of the occupants of that particular study.  At retiring bell on this eventful night all things were ready, including a spirit lamp on which to make chocolate, hidden away in Helen Cameron’s shirt-waist box.

Ruth and Helen went to bed after removing their frocks and shoes only and waited to hear the “cheep, cheep” of Miss Scrimp’s squeaky shoes as she passed up through the house, turning down the hall lights, and then went down again.  The hour for the girls to gather was set for half-past ten.  First of all, however, The Fox was to go down and listen at Miss Picolet’s door to make sure that she had gone to bed.  Then Miss Cox was to tap softly but distinctly at the door of each invited guest as she came back to their corridor.

Meanwhile Helen and Ruth popped out of bed (it had been hard to lie there for more than an hour, waiting) and began to lay out the things.  The bedspreads were laid back over the foot of each bed and the feast was laid out upon the bed-clothes.  Mary Cox warned them to have the spreads ready to smooth up over the contraband goodies, should the French teacher get wind of the orgy.

“Forewarned is forearmed,” urged Mary Cox.  “We know what old Picolet is!”

“But ‘four-armed’ doesn’t always mean ’fore-handed’,” chuckled Jennie Stone.

“Nor quadrumanous!” snapped the Fox.  “If you had four hands, Heavy, there would be little chance for any of the rest of us at Helen’s party.  My goodness me! how you would mow the good things away if you had four hands instead of two.”

“It isn’t that I’m really piggish,” complained Miss Stone.  “It’s because I need more nourishment; there is so much of me, you know, Mary.”

“And if you hadn’t been stuffing yourself like a Strasburg goose all your life, there wouldn’t be so much of you.  Ha! it’s the old story of the hen and the egg ­which was here first?  If you didn’t eat so much you wouldn’t be so big, and if you weren’t so big you wouldn’t eat so much.”

All this, however, was said after the girls had begun to gather in Number 2 duet, and Belle Tingley, who had drawn the unlucky short toothpick, was banished to the corridor to keep watch ­but with a great plateful of goodies and the “golden goblet” used in the hazing exercises, filled to the brim with hot chocolate.

“Though, if Miss Picolet is awake she’ll smell the brew and will be up here instanter,” declared the Fox, crossly, as Belle insisted in having her share of the drinkables as well as eatables.

Miss Picolet was forgotten in the fun and the feasting, however.  There were twenty girls in the room, and they had to sit on the floor in two rows while Ruth and Helen passed out the good things.  And my! they were good!  Lovely chicken salad mayonnaise, served on a fresh lettuce leaf (the lettuce being smuggled in that very day in the chums’ wash basket) ­a little dab to each girl.  There were little pieces of gherkins and capers in the mayonnaise, and Heavy reveled in this dish.  The most delicious slices of pink ham between soft crackers ­and other sandwiches of anchovy paste and minced sardines. These were the “solids.”

Cakes, sweet crackers, Babette’s cookies and lady-fingers were heaped on other plates, ready to serve.

“My!” exclaimed Lluella Fairfax, “isn’t that lay-out enough to punish our poor digestive organs for a month?  The last time we were caught and brought up before Mrs. Tellingham she warned us that sweetcake and pickles were as immoral as yellow-covered novels!”

“And she proved it, too,” laughed the Fox.  “She declared that a girl, or woman without a good digestion could not really fill her rightful place in the world and accomplish that which we are each supposed to do.  Oh, the Madam always proves her point.”

“And I was sick for a week afterward,” sighed Lluella.  “And had to take such a dose!”

At that moment, without the least forewarning, there came a smart rap on the door.  The sound smote the company of whispering, laughing girls into a company of frightened, trembling culprits.  They hardly dared breathe, and when the commanding rap came for a second time neither Ruth nor Helen had strength enough in their limbs to go to the door.