to April 1, and then spring an April fool joke, something like a big
dry goods box packed with excelsior."

"Oh, but that wouldn't measure up to expectations," Ruth Hazelton
declared. "It wouldn't be one-two-three with what they did last night,
and they promised something just about as interesting."

"You don't get me," returned Ethel. "The dry goods box filled with
excelsior would be the anti-climax of wondering expectations."

"You're too deep for a twentieth century bunch of girls, Ethel," Hazel
Edwards objected. "That might easily be mistaken for the promised big
stunt. They might compose a lot of ditties and mix them up with the
packing, something like this:

"'Believe not all big things that boys may tell thee, for
Great expectations may produce excelsior'."

"Very clever, indeed, only it sounds like an impossible combination of
Alice in Wonderland and an old maid," said Harriet Newcomb, with a
toss of her head. "I'm surprised at you, Hazel, for suggesting such a
thing. If the boys should put over anything like that, we'd break off
diplomatic relations right away. If they wanted to call us a lot of
rummies, they couldn't do it as effectively by the use of direct
language. Cleverness usually makes a hit with its victims, unless it
contains an element of contempt."

"That is really a brilliant observation," announced the Guardian who
had been listening with quiet interest to the spirited conversation.
"Continued thought along such lines ought to result in a Keda National