"Did you really write it?" said Mary; but Louisa laughed, and exclaimed,
"No use, Rosy! you can't take us in,—we know better!"
"Now for the last," said Katy.
"The word is 'Buckwheat,' and the question,
'What is the origin of dreams?'"
When the nuns are sweetly sleeping,
Mrs. Nipson comes a-creeping,
Creeping like a kitty-cat from door to door;
And she listens to their slumbers,
And most carefully she numbers,
Counting for every nun a nunlet snore!
And the nuns in sweet forgetfulness who lie,
Dreaming of buckwheat cakes, parental love, and—pie;
Moan softly, twist and turn, and see
Black cats and fiends, who frolic in their glee;
And nightmares prancing wildly do abound
While Mrs. Nipson makes her nightly round.
"Who did write that?" exclaimed Rose.
Nobody answered.
The girls looked at each other, and Rose scrutinized them all with sharp glances.
"Well!
I never saw such creatures for keeping their countenances," she said.
"Somebody is as bold as brass.
Didn't you see how I blushed when my piece was read?"
"You monkey!" whispered Clover, who at that moment caught sight of the handwriting on the paper.
Rose gave her a warning pinch, and the both subsided into an unseen giggle.
"What!
The tea-bell!" cried everybody.
"We wanted to play another game."
"It's a complete success!" whispered Rose, ecstatically, as they went down the hall.
"The girls all say they never had such a good time in their lives.
I'm so glad I didn't die with the measles when I was little!"
"Well," demanded Lilly, "so the high and mighty Society has had a meeting!
How did it go off?"
"_De_licious!" replied Rose, smacking her lips as at the recollection of something very nice.
"But you mustn't ask any questions, Lilly.
Outsiders have nothing to do with the S. S. U. C.
Our proceedings are strictly private."
She ran downstairs with Katy.
"I think you're real mean!" called Lilly after them. Then she said to herself, "They're just trying to tease.
I know it was stupid."
CHAPTER VII. INJUSTICE.
Summer was always slow in getting to Hillsover, but at last she arrived, and woods and hills suddenly put on new colors and became beautiful.
The sober village shared in the glorifying process.
Vines budded on piazzas.
Wistaria purpled white-washed walls.
The brown elm boughs which hung above the Common turned into trailing garlands of fresh green.
Each walk revealed some change, or ended in some delightful discovery, trilliums, dog-tooth violets, apple- trees in blossom, or wild strawberries turning red.
The wood flowers and mosses, even the birds and bird-songs, were new to our Western girls.
Hillsover, in summer, was a great deal prettier than Burnet, and Katy and Clover began to enjoy school very much indeed.