"The other four sisters will make their investigation after I have finished," she announced in her shrill tones. "I have but three more questions to put to the novice."

There was a silence that made the next question come with more insulting force, while Patricia again wondered why Elinor did not seize this moment for her broadside of bonbons.

"How much," squeaked the leader, more shrilly than ever, "did Bruce Haydon bribe the Board to let you in?"

Instantly there was a storm of hisses and protests; the four next inquisitors jumped to their feet and down from the model stand with one motion, crying that it was a shame that the fun was spoiled and that they had all had enough for one night.

"Initiation's over!" shouted someone in a voice of authority, and suddenly the candle-lights vanished into a tumultuous darkness, while there was a confusion of scurrying noises that made Patricia's head swim for a moment.

Then the lights flashed on, and she saw clearly the disheveled, excited a.s.sembly hastily hiding bundles of white cloth in any available spot, while hair and dress were hurriedly arranged and order generally restored. Elinor still stood on the model stand under the brilliant circle of lights, her wide eyes gleaming and her head uplifted.

"I haven't been asked for a speech," she began clearly. "But I do want to say a word or two, if you'll let me."

She paused for some sign, and Patricia in her corner was delighted at the Babel which answered her. Cries of "Of course we will!"

"_Dee-lighted!_" "Take all the time you want!" mingled with applause and stamping, until Elinor could not forbear a laugh.

"I won't wear out your patience," she promised, as quiet was restored and her voice could again be heard. "I haven't any oration to deliver.

I only want to say that I don't know who it was asked me those questions, and I hope I never shall know. You've all been very kind to me, and I'd hate to think that any of you wanted to make me uncomfortable. I'm sure it was simply an initiation stunt, and I for one shall never think of it again."

She paused with a bright, friendly glance on the upturned faces.

"This is my real introduction to the night-life cla.s.s," she said, with a sweeping gesture that, unseen to all but the anxious Patricia, caught the cord from its hiding place among the draperies. "And I want this evening to be a sweet memory to us all."

She stepped aside with a swift movement, and the big red lantern swayed and threatened to topple as the cord tightened.

"Why, what's that?" cried a voice, and all eyes were turned to the gaudy swaying globe. Before anyone could speak, Elinor gave another hard tug, tearing out the bottom of the lantern, and down came the shower of gay little gauze bags with their cargoes of bonbons, pell-mell on the heads of the crowd!

"Hallelujah! It's the fee!" cried Griffin, with a green and gold packet in her hands. "Hurrah for Kendall Major! She's the stuff!"

"Verses, too!" cried Margaret Howes. "Verses on every one of them.

Read them aloud, everybody in turn. Hurry up and get them all together."

"Silence, will you?" shouted Griffin, pounding like mad. "Keep still till the exercises are over. The first little girl to speak her piece is Miss Doris Leighton. Come up, Doris, dear. Don't put your finger in your mouth, and speak so we can all hear you. Fire away."

Patricia thought Doris Leighton looked pale as she stood up on the model stand to read the nonsense verse that was on her candy bag, but her loveliness wrought the same spell on the others as it always had, and they listened to her silvery voice in appreciative silence, and applauded her warmly at the end.

One after another, the girls mounted the stand beside Elinor, and read the little verses, while the a.s.sembly listened, and even the model, decorously cloaked, came from her little room, and with her crocheting in hand sat smiling at the nonsense.

When the last verse had been read and the laughter died down, Griffin raised her voice again.

"n.o.body's asked me for a speech," she began and paused.

"Didn't think you had to be asked," came from the crowd in a laughing voice.

Griffin looked sadly in the direction of the voice.

"n.o.body's asked me," she repeated more firmly, "and so I'm not going to make any. So there!"

Groans of relief sounded from the side of the room whence the voice had come, and there was a general giggle.

"I merely raised my voice above the general clamor," Griffin went on with an icy stare towards her hidden critic, "to suggest that we show our appreciation of the delightful entertainment Miss Kendall has so thoughtfully provided us by giving her the Night Life Song, or the Academy Howl, whichever she prefers." She bowed to Elinor with exaggerated politeness. "Which shall it be, Miss Kendall? Each is equally diverting, but the Howl has the merit of greater brevity. No extra charge for the choice, you know, so speak up and name it."

Elinor glanced about at the circle of laughing, friendly faces and her eyes shone.

"I'll choose the song," she announced, gayly. "I've heard a lot of howling already this evening."

"The song it is," cried Griffin, stepping on a chair and beginning to beat time with a big paint-brush. "Now then, all together, my children. Warble!"

Patricia, thrilled by the sweetness of the rippling, crooning song, and before the verse was half done, joined unconsciously in with the others, forgetting the need of words in the melody of the lilting song.

"Creatures of the night are we, Sisters of the glow-worm dim, Comrades of the hooting owl, Toilers when the sunset's rim Overflows with shadows deep; Harken to our even-song, Night it is that makes us strong."

The chorus swelled, with Griffin's thrilling treble soaring high and clear:

"Glorious night that makes us strong, Drowning day and ending strife; Guide the skilful hand and eye, Shape our efforts into life."

Patricia's heart beat hard with the beauty of the woven word and melody, and she gave a little gulp to keep back the tears that sprang so readily.

"I didn't dream those uproarious creatures could be so serious. I wonder where they got that song," she said to herself as she slipped unnoticed out into the twilight of the corridor.

She put the question to Griffin when she met her in the hall after the cla.s.s had broken up in disorder to celebrate the initiation by a general gambol through the deserted halls and corridors. Patricia and Griffin were seating themselves on a drawing-board at the top of the short flight of stone steps that connected the back corridor with the exhibition rooms above.

"That? Oh, Carol Lawton wrote that for us before she left. She was a corker, I can tell you." A shade flitted over Griffin's face as she settled herself more firmly on the board. "She died last fall, and we've sung that song ever since. Ready now! Let her _go_!"

Away they sped down the stony stairs with a great clatter of board and flutter of skirts, winding up at the bottom with a final heavy thump.

"Phew! That's great!" cried Patricia, springing lightly to her feet.

"It's more like flying than anything else."

"Yes, it's going some," returned Griffin nonchalantly, as she started up the stair again, dragging the board after her. "The March Hare originated it back in the dark ages, and we've been doing it off and on--when the authorities don't get on to us."

"The March Hare?" queried Patricia, much elated by this exhilarating society, and wishing more ardently than ever that she were fitted for this fascinating cla.s.s.

Griffin nodded. "Tabby March, you know. The young woman who paints p.u.s.s.ies. Used to go here three years ago, before she'd arrived. She was a wild one, I can tell you."

"Do you mean Elizabeth March, who got the Ta.s.sel prize this year?"

asked Patricia in surprise. "Why, I saw her last week at the exhibition and she was awfully prim looking."

Griffin chuckled. "It's fame that tames them, mark my words. Soon's they get known they grow into a pattern. Ready now. Let her r-r-r-_rip_!"

Elinor intercepted them at the bottom just as they were preparing for a third flight.

"I've been looking for you everywhere, Miss Pat," she said radiantly.

"There's going to be a spread in the cave, and I've phoned home to Judy not to wait for us, as we won't be there for dinner."

"Am I asked?" demanded Patricia with eager eyes.