"I wish I knew how to mix iced drinks," she sighed regretfully. "One can't get even the ice over here, not to speak of the bits of cherry and lemon and grape and pineapple that the Angel used for Freckles. Girls in America have a far better time than we have."
"Cheero! We'll get a little fun, you'll see, if we can only circumvent the Wasp."
It was not a remarkably easy matter to leave the premises unobserved. Monitresses had a tiresome habit of hanging about in places where they were not wanted; Mademoiselle made herself far too conspicuous, and Miss Gibbs seemed everywhere. The chums decided that a too great attention to duty can degenerate into a fault.
"It's what Miss Beasley said in the Scripture lesson," declared Raymonde. "Economy over-done turns into parsimony, liberality into extravagance, self-respect into pride. Gibbie's over-stepping the mark, and letting responsibility run to fussiness."
It is hardly possible to tackle a mistress and convince her of her faults, so Miss Gibbs's pharisaical tendencies went unchecked. Evidently the only possible method was to dodge her. Whether her suspicions were aroused it is impossible to say, but for several days she neglected her attic sanctum and pervaded the garden during recreation hours.
Raymonde and Fauvette lay low, and toiled with an amazing spurt of industry at osier-weaving.
"You've each nearly finished a basket," said Miss Gibbs approvingly.
"Yes, if we go on working hard this afternoon I think we shall finish them," replied Raymonde craftily.
"It's nice to have a thing done. I'm glad you've taken to such a sensible employment," commented Miss Gibbs.
"We like to have our fingers occupied, and then our minds haven't time to wander," said Raymonde, quoting so shamelessly from Miss Beasley that Fauvette kicked her surreptitiously in alarm.
Miss Gibbs regarded her for a moment with suspicion, but her eyes were bent demurely over her basket, and her expression was innocence personified.
"It's as well you have something to do under cover, for I think it's going to rain," observed the mistress as she turned to leave the barn.
The girls watched her cross the courtyard and enter the house; then Fauvette, scooting in by the back way, had the further satisfaction of seeing the tail of her skirt whisking up the attic stairs. She ran back to report to Raymonde.