into the
caldron. Bea, with lingering care, deposited her contribution on the very
top. One slid over the edge, and in rescuing it she disturbed a fold of
the portiere. A glimpse within set her eyes to sparkling.

"Berta, there's an open fire in the senior parlor, and it's still red!"

"Ho," whispered Berta, in reply to the unspoken challenge, "I'm not
afraid! Let's," and two flowing, woolly robes glided into the warm room,
with its heart of glowing coals. One bold intruder nestled in the biggest
arm-chair, the other fumbled for the tongs.

"Aren't we wicked! Robbie wouldn't do it." Berta cuddled deeper among the
comforting cushions. "But--oh!--doesn't it feel good in here!"

Bea poked a coal until it split into a faint blue blaze. "We're worse
than wicked. We're cheeky,--that's what,--coming into this room without
being invited. Suppose some senior should discover us!" She paused,
smitten by the terror of the new thought. "Just suppose my senior should
find me here! She has a horror of anything underhanded or sly. I should
die of shame!" It was a genuine groan, and Berta was too startled to
laugh.

"I guess it isn't very nice of us," she acknowledged meekly.

"I'm going this instant." Bea's hand was on the portiere when a rustling
in the kettle caught her attention. Through a rift between the folds she
spied lace ruffles about a delicate hand that was dropping envelopes down
upon the others. Over the tripod a face appeared for one moment in the
dim light, and then was gone. Light steps retreated swiftly, and a door
closed not far away on the senior corridor. Bea had recognized her
senior.

When the two midnight visitors stole timorously forth a moment later,
Bea's eyes traveled wistfully toward the big envelope lying squarely on
top of all the valentines.

Berta regarded her keenly. "Why don't you march up and read the name, if
you want to so much?" was her blunt question.

"She must be pretty fond of somebody," whispered Bea, "if she stayed up
till now just to write valentines for her. I wish----"

"Do you think it is sneaking to look?" persisted Berta. "If she objected
to having it seen, she might have turned it address down."

"It is address down," murmured Bea, sadly, "and I know it would be
dishonorable to try to see it. She herself would call any act like that
contemptible."

At this crisis Berta sneezed--sneezed hard and long and with suspicious
vehemence. And when Bea cast one lingering farewell