other two Sophomores and Harold exchanged glances. All three were of the same mind. With a stealthy tread they approached the open front door and, seizing the opportunity when the four dancers had gyrated into the dining room, ducked out and down the steps into Dinsmore Road.
"What a washout," grumbled one Sophomore when they were safely down the street.
"We earned our lemonade and cake, but I'm glad I didn't have to stay for it," said the other.
Reaching his room, Harold was thinking how different Peggy Sayre was from Grace Beach and her cousin. With Peggy on his mind, he sat down at his desk, picked up his French book and tried manfully to translate the five poems of Alfred de Musset assigned the class for the morrow. In ten minutes his head had dropped into his arm, outstretched on the desk, and he was asleep.
