"THE PLAY'S THE THING" "_I_ think we ought to do something to celebrate Miss Craigie's return," remarked Noreen. They were dressing for supper in Blue Dorm, Joey, Barbara, Syb, and Noreen; and as usual they were dressing in a hurry. "What sort of thing?" Joey demanded, trying to disentangle hooks from her hair. "Something to show we're jolly pleased she's come back. Just think, she might have died of that loathly 'flu'; lots of people have." "Shut it, you old ghoul," ordered Barbara; "she's all right again now, thank goodness!" "And we ought to celebrate her all-rightness," Noreen said triumphantly. "Violets?" suggested Joey. "Silly cuckoo, how are we to get them?" "What _do_ you want, Noreen?" Syb asked impatiently. "How about charades after supper--and ask her to come and see them?" "Frightfully short time to think of anything decent," objected Syb; "besides, Miss Craigie won't want to leave her dear Miss Lambton, you bet." "Let's ask her too." "That doesn't give us a decent charade." "Can't we think of something?" "Not something good enough." "P'r'aps you'd like to do some scenes from _Hamlet_, if you want to be so very high-class," Noreen suggested scornfully. Remove II. B were taking _Hamlet_ in literature, and Noreen and the Literature Mistress were usually at loggerheads. It was that suggestion which gave Joey her idea. "I say," she burst out, "why shouldn't we do a charade on the lines of Hamlet's player-people? You know--where the poison was poured into the poor chap's ear--and ask all the Staff to come, and see whether the Professor looks guilty and shrieks, 'Lights!' because he's doing something evil with his stinks, as Noreen says, or just has a war-strain appearance. It needn't be a noisy charade to upset him if it's just strain." Noreen thumped Joey on the back. "Topping plan! What word shall we have?" "German?" suggested Joey. "The first syllable could be Germ, you know--those things Matron is always fussing about----" "Or the Huns putting them into wells," Barbara interrupted in great excitement. "What about 'an'?" asked Syb. "Couldn't she be a German girl, called Anne, Anna really, who is pretending to be a schoolgirl, and really plotting and spying?" Joey said. "My word, Joey, you're coming on. I'm less surprised you got the scholarship," Noreen cried. "We--Gabrielle and Joey and I--settled this afternoon that someone ought to look into the matter of the Professor's hatefulness, and it's us that are going to," she added cheerfully and ungrammatically, for the benefit of Syb and Barbara. "If he's all right our charade won't hurt him--he'll like it; if he's not...." The gong sounded.