It was seven o’clock, but the cream had not come, and Nancy Jane was in a quandary. Some one rattled the door knob. “Who is it?” she asked. “Piny, Piny Twilliger. Let me in; I’ve come to take your place and let you get dressed. Martin had a message that the cream wouldn’t be here for half an hour yet. There wasn’t another soul ready, so Gincy asked me to come.” Nancy Jane unlocked the door to let in—was it really Piny? The tall figure was attired in a bright red muslin much beruffled. A brilliant bow with generous outstanding loops surmounted the dozen or more puffs of hair, and excitement lent additional colour to cheeks that were always flushed. Nancy Jane hurried over to the Hall and up to her room. She didn’t even take time to ask Gincy why she had sent Piny Twilliger to guard the precious cream. It wouldn’t do to say much about kinfolk. But all the time she was hurrying into her white dotted lawn, she wondered if anything would happen to their eatables. Surely some of the girls would be ready in a few minutes. It was almost a quarter of eight when Nancy Jane ran down the front stairs. She rapped lightly at several doors, but there was no response. Evidently everybody who belonged to the Mountain Society had gone. It was only a short distance to the Industrial Building, and she ran across the campus toward the lights. There was the buzzing of excited voices—the front walk seemed thronged with students. What could have happened? Nancy Jane felt an awful premonition of disaster. Of course it was the cream. Piny must have left her post and some of the boys carried it off. “Is that you, Nancy Jane?” It was Mallie’s voice. “The cake’s gone—every scrap! Some one rapped on the door and Piny went out; it was the boys with the cream, and while they were talking some one tore the screen and jumped in the side window and took every smitch of cake off the table. Piny’s rushing ’round like a hornet and vows she’ll find out who did it before she sleeps a wink to-night. But I don’t believe she can; it’s either eaten up or hidden by this time.” Nancy Jane listened in dismay. All their lovely frosted cake gone! She ran into the room looking for Piny—somehow she wanted to hear the whole story from her lips. But among the babel of voices Piny’s could not be heard. She had disappeared completely and did not hear Martin’s angry comment. “I shouldn’t wonder if she had hidden it herself; she’d think that was a great joke.” “Hush, Martin,” said Talitha, “Piny isn’t mean if she is fond of a joke.” But Martin’s eyes continued to flash as he walked out into the dark, around the building, and looked up at the outside stairs. They were built more as a fire-escape, but the boys on the upper floor often used them. Martin stood in the shadow of the wood-working department and eyed the row of lighted windows. A dark object was crouched on the upper step and as he eyed it intently, it rose and began a noiseless descent.