"oh, i'm sick of winter! i wish i was a cannibal living on a tropical island eating cocoanuts."
"----missionaries, you mean," laughed isobel.
virginia cox threw her skates over her shoulder; isobel, dorrie carr and herself were the last to leave the lake. the school grounds were deserted.
"oh, look at the snowman someone's started," cried ginny, as they walked through the grounds. "say, this is spliffy snow to pack! let's finish up the work of art." in her enthusiasm over her suggestion her ennui was forgotten. "i know, let's make him into a snowlady."
ginny's fingers were clever. her caricatures, almost always drawn in ridicule of the faculty or her fellow-classmates, were famous. if, in her make-up, she had had a kindlier spirit and a truer sense of the beautiful, she might have become a great artist or sculptor.
now she worked feverishly, shaping a lifelike figure from the huge cakes of snow that the others brought to her. as she stood back to view her handiwork a naughty thought flashed into her mind.
"girls--it's going to be miss gray! and mother's got a funny old lavender crocheted shawl like that thing miss gray wears when it's cold, that the moths won't even eat. and i can fix a hat like the dreadful chapeau of hers that came out of the ark. and glasses, too----"
isobel and dorrie laughed delightedly.
"how can you get them out here?"
"oh, i'll find a way!" ginny always could! "do you think that nose is pug enough?" she deftly packed it down on each side with a finger, then gave it a quick, upward touch. "isn't that better?"
her companions declared the likeness perfect--as far as snow could make it.
"and i can hunt up two blue glass allies for eyes." there was, plainly, no end to ginny's resourcefulness. "you just wait and see what you'll see in the morning."
during the night king winter maliciously abetted ginny in her work, for a turn in his temper laid a sparkling crust over everything--and especially the little snowlady who waited, immovable, on a little rise of ground near the main entrance of the school.
the pupils, arriving at highacres the next morning, rubbed their eyes in their amazement. not one failed to recognize the english teacher in the funny, shawl-draped figure, with enormous glasses framing round blue eyes, shadowed by a hat that was almost an exact counterpart of the shabby one miss gray had hung each morning for the past three winters on her peg in the dressing-room. but there was something about the rakish tilt of the hat that was in such strange contrast to the severe spectacles and the thin, frosty nose, that it gave the snowlady the appearance of staggering and made her very funny.
all through the school session groups of pupils gathered at the windows, laughing. there was much speculating as to who had built the snowlady; the three little sub-freshmen who had begun the work ginny had finished were vehement in their assertions that they had not. gradually it was whispered about that ginny cox had done it.
"we might have known that," several laughed, thinking ginny very clever.
then, over those invisible currents of communication which convey news through a school faster than a flame can spread, came the rumor that trouble was brewing. one of the monitors had told dorrie carr that miss gray had had hysterics in the office; that, in the midst of them, she had written out her resignation and that, after the first period, not an english class had been held!
another added the information that barbara lee had quieted miss gray with spirits of ammonia and that dr. caton had refused to accept her resignation and had been overheard to say that the culprit would be punished severely.
ginny's prank began to assume serious proportions. ginny was more thoughtless than unkind; it had not crossed her mind that she might offend little miss gray. but she was not brave, either--she had not the courage to go straight to miss gray and apologize for her careless, thoughtless act.
there had been, for a number of years, one well-established punishment at lincoln; "privileges" were taken away from offenders, the term of the sentences depending upon the enormity of the offence. and "privileges" included many things--sitting in the study-room, mingling with the other pupils in the lunch rooms at recess, sharing the school athletics. this system had all the good points of suspension with the added sting of having constantly to parade one's disgrace before the eyes of the whole school.
"if ginny cox is found out, she can't play in the game against the south high," was on more than one tongue.
gyp, deeply impressed by the criticalness of the situation, summoned a meeting of the ravens. her face was very tragic.
"girls--it's the chance for the ravens to do something for the lincoln school! we've had nothing but spreads and good times and now the opportunity has come to test our loyalty."
not one of the unsuspecting ravens guessed what gyp had in mind!
"ginny cox did build that snowlady--isobel saw her. but if she gives herself up she'll be sent to siberia!"
"well, it'll serve her right. she needn't have picked out poor little miss gray to make fun of."
gyp frowned at the interruption. "of course not. we know all about miss gray and feel sorry for her, but ginny doesn't. and, anyway, that isn't the point. i was talking about loyalty to lincoln." gyp made her tone very solemn. "disgrace--everlasting, eternal, black disgrace threatens the very foundations of our dear school!" she paused, eloquently.
"next week, tuesday, our all-lincoln girls' basketball team plays our deadly enemy, south high. and what will happen without ginny cox? who else can make the baskets she can? defeat--ignominious defeat will be our sad lot----" her voice trailed off in a wail that found its echo in every raven's heart.
"i'd forgotten the game! what a shame!"
"why couldn't ginny have thought of that?"
"maybe doc. caton will just let her play that once."
"not he--he's like iron. didn't he send bob morely down for three whole days just before the thanksgiving game 'cause he got up in caesar class and translated 'bout the 'garlic wars'?"
gyp sensed the psychological moment to strike.
"never before in the history of our secret order has such an opportunity to serve our school been given to us----"
"what can we do?"
"one of us can offer ourself on the altar of loyalty----"
her meaning, stripped of its eloquent verbage, slowly dawned upon six minds! a murmur of protest threatened to become a roar. gyp hastily dropped her fine oratory and pleaded humbly:
"it's so little for one of us to do compared to what it means, and if we didn't do it and south high beat us, why, we'd suffer lots more with remorse than we would just taking ginny's punishment for her. anyway, what did the promise we solemnly made mean? nothing? we're a nice bunch! i'm perfectly willing to take ginny cox's place, but i think each raven ought to have the chance and we should draw lots----"
"yes, that would be the fairest way," agreed pat everett in a tone that suggested someone had died just the moment before.
"i always draw the unlucky number in everything," shivered peggy lee.
"there'll have to be two this time, then, for i always do, too," groaned a sister raven.
"shall we do it, girls? shall we prove to the world that we ravens can make any sacrifice for our school?"
"yes--yes," came thickly from paralyzed throats.
in a dead silence gyp and pat prepared seven slips of paper. six were blank; upon the seventh pat drew a long snake with head uplifted, ready to strike. the slips were carefully folded and shaken in jerry's hat. gyp put the hat in the middle of the room.
"let's each one go up with her eyes shut tight and draw a slip. then don't open it until the last one has been drawn." they all agreed--if they had to do it they might as well make the ceremony as much of a torture as possible!
so horrible was the suspense that a creaking board made the ravens jump; a shutter slamming somewhere in another part of the building almost precipitated a panic. after an interval that seemed hours each raven sat with a white slip in her nervous fingers.
"now, one--two--three--open!" cried gyp.
another moment of silence, a sharp intake of breath, a rattle of paper, then: "oh--i have it!" cried jerry in a small, frightened voice.
