The sky was cloud-covered, and the gaunt trees bent and swayed as if a
giant arm were shaking them.

"We missed our afternoon trip down to the village," she said, "but no
one would care to walk in this gale, and even--why, who--? Nancy, come
here! _Isn't_ that Patricia?"

Nancy ran to the window.

"Why, no--yes,--Well, it certainly is Patricia," she said.

"And just look at the parcel she's carrying!"

"Whatever it is, she must have wanted it, to go out such day as this,"
said Nancy, "and look! Miss Fenler is out on the porch,--why, she's
actually feeling of it to see what's in the parcel. Really, I don't see
why it's all right for her to do that."

"It does seem queer," agreed Dorothy, "but you know it is the rule that
the girls must not bring large parcels into this house, unless they're
willing to show what is in them.

"There! The paper has burst open, and,--Well, did you see that?"

Miss Fenler was actually thrusting a long bony finger into the opening
with the hope of learning if anything that had been forbidden, was
being smuggled into the house inside the folds of gayly flowered goods
that Patricia had declared was a tea-gown. After a moment, Miss Fenler
nodded as if dismissing the matter, and Patricia, her chin very high,