Betty Gordon at Boarding School - Alice Emerson
To their astonishment, Libbie burst into a fit of hysterical weeping.
"Don't go through the woods," she begged, her teeth chattering. "We'll
fall into that awful Indian Chasm."
Bobby's heart reproached her for her thoughtless joke and she put an arm
around her cousin.
"Libbie, you never thought I was serious about pushing you into the
chasm, did you?" she asked anxiously. "Is that what has been making you
act so queerly ever since? I was only fooling."
So, thought Betty, Bobby, too, had noticed Libbie's unnatural behavior.
"Oh, it isn't that," sobbed Libbie. "I can't explain--but if we go
through the woods, I'm sure I shall go crazy."
"Well, then, that settles it," said Bob comfortably. "Better to be
drowned than to go crazy. Can you turn up your sweater collars, girls? I
wish we'd brought some raincoats along."
Splashing and stumbling, they followed Bob down to the shore and began
the weary walk that would lead them back to the school. After fifteen
minutes' steady walking they came to a dense undergrowth that was
impossible to penetrate.
"No use, we'll have to make a cut through the woods," announced Bob. "Up
this way and over, ought to bring us out right."
He was so cheerful and patient that the tired, rain-soaked girls could
not do otherwise than follow his example. Libbie was crying silently, but
the others tramped along cheerfully, singing, at Betty's suggestion, old
college and school songs.
"Look here, Bob," said Tommy Tucker in an undertone, "I don't think we're
going in the right direction. Don't you say it would be better to take
the girls to that deserted cabin we found the other day and leave them
there while we explore a bit? They're getting soaked through, and Libbie
Littell is fixing to have hysterics. Leave a couple of the boys with 'em,
so they won't be afraid, and then we'll locate the right trail and take
'em over it home in a hurry."
This suggestion sounded like good, common-sense to Bob, and he said so.
"Betty could walk ten miles and be all right," he declared proudly, "and
I think Bobby is good for a hike, too. But Frances Martin can't see when
the rain gets on her glasses, and, as you say, something is the matter
with Libbie. So let's make for the cabin, quick."
The Salsette boys had explored the woods pretty thoroughly, and on a
recent expedition Bob and his chums had stumbled on an old one-room
cabin, buried deep in the woods and evidently unoccupied for years. It
was not far from the end of the lake, and toward it they now led the
girls, explaining as they went what they intended to do.
"We'll be all right," said Betty at once. "I think if Libbie can sit down
and rest she'll feel better, too. And if you all want to go and hunt for
the trail, you needn't worry about us."
"Oh, Sydney and I intend to stay," Gilbert Lane assured her quickly. (The
boys had settled that among themselves.) "We'll be handy in case any
Indians or the like come after you."
Betty gave him a warning glance, for Libbie looked frightened. Surely
something was wrong with the girl!
The cabin door was open and the interior was comparatively dry. There was
no furniture, but three or four old packing boxes furnished the girls
with seats. Bob and five of his friends disappeared, whistling. Gilbert
and Sydney were investigating the ramshackle fireplace to see what the
prospects were for starting a fire when a shriek from Libbie brought them
to their feet.
"A ghost!" cried the girl. "A ghost! Over there in the corner!"
Frances Martin gave a cry, and Betty and Bobby went white. Even Gilbert
afterward confessed that his scalp prickled when a figure stepped forward
from a narrow closet against the wall.
"Ugh! Howdy!" he grunted, and they saw that he was a very old and very
dirty Indian.
"Rain," he said slowly, pointing to the door. "Stop soon now. Go
get supper."
He shuffled over the doorsill and at the edge he turned.
"Howdy!" he said, apparently with some vague idea of farewell.
"Much rain!"
Petrified, they watched him hobble away through the woods.
CHAPTER XVIII
LIBBIE'S SECRET
Gilbert Lane was the first to recover his voice.
"Well, what do you know about that!" he ejaculated. "The old bird was
here all the time."
"Are--are--are there any more of them?" stammered Louise.
"No, that old fellow is the only Indian for miles around," said Gilbert
carelessly. "He was left behind, the fellows at school say, when that
band stole the Macklin treasure. They had a grudge against him, it seems,
and they tripped him and left him with a broken leg. He worked around on
different farms for years and now does a day's work often enough to keep
him in food. Queer old dick, I guess."
"What makes you girls look so funny?" demanded Sydney. "You're not afraid
now, are you? That Indian won't come back--he was more afraid of us than
we were of him. I figure out he was asleep when we came in and the noise
woke him up. What are you smiling about?"
"My grandmother is Mrs. Marcia Macklin," explained Norma. "And you see
it was her gold and silver and jewels the Indians stole. I wonder what he
would have said if we had told him?"
"Gee, is that so?" asked Sydney, ignoring the latter half of Norma's
sentence. "And is all that stuff down in the chasm yet?"
"As far as we know, it is," said Norma. "And likely to remain there," she
added, with a sigh.
Bob and the boys returned in less than half an hour, to announce that
they had found the right road and were prepared to pilot the girls
expeditiously homeward. Libbie's cheeks were unnaturally flushed and she
looked miserable, but she refused to let Bob and Tommy carry her by
forming a "chair" with their hands.
"I'm all right," she insisted hoarsely. "I only want to get home."
Knowing the way positively saved much fumbling and time, and soon the
familiar buildings of Shadyside loomed up before them. The boys had a
long tramp still before them, and if they were not to be late for supper,
must walk briskly. They continued on their way, while the girls ran up
the steps of the dormitory building.
"There's no use talking, Libbie, you've got to see the infirmary nurse,"
said Bobby resolutely. "I promised your mother to look after you, and if
you're going to be sick you'll at least have the proper care. Wait till
we get into some dry things, and I'll take you."
Libbie looked rebellious, but she made no verbal protest, and when they
were once more in dry clothes Bobby marched her cousin to the immaculate
infirmary. She returned alone, saying that the nurse had detained Libbie
for observation over night.
"She thinks she's getting a heavy cold, but it may be more serious,"
Bobby reported. "Well, anyway, I've done my duty. But romantic people are
always forgetting to wear their rubbers."
Betty had just drowsed off to sleep that night, the girls having gone to
bed immediately after the study hour, for the afternoon in the wind and
rain had made them extraordinarily sleepy, when a soft knock on the door
startled her.
She slipped out of bed and ran to the door, opening it carefully so
as not to wake Bobby. Miss Morris, the school nurse, and Miss Lacey
stood there.
"Elizabeth isn't worse," said Miss Morris hastily, noting Betty's look of
alarm. "But she is very restless and wants to see you. Miss Lacey says
you may come up. Get your dressing gown and slippers, dear."
Betty obeyed quickly. Libbie was probably lonely, she reflected.
The infirmary consisted of three connecting rooms, fitted with two
single beds in each, and Libbie happened to be the only patient. She was
sitting up in bed, well wrapped up, when Betty saw her, her eyes
unnaturally bright, her cheeks very red.
"Now I'll leave you two girls together for exactly half an hour," said
the nurse kindly. After that Elizabeth must go to sleep."
"Is the door shut--shut tight?" demanded Libbie feverishly, grasping
Betty's hand with both her hot, dry ones.
"Yes, dear, yes," affirmed Betty soothingly. "What's the matter,
Libbie--is your throat sore?"
"Oh, Betty, I'm in such terrible trouble!" gasped Libbie, her eyes
overflowing. "I'm so frightened!"
"Tell me about it, dear," soothed Betty. "I'll help you, you know I will.
Has it anything to do with school?"
She was totally unprepared for Libbie's next words.
"I have to have some money--a lot of money, Betty. I've spent my last
allowance and I can't write home for more because they will ask me why
I want it. I've borrowed so much from Louise that I can't ask her
again! I ought to pay it back. But I've got to have twenty dollars by
to-morrow night."
"What for? What's the matter?" asked Betty, in alarm.
"You'll promise not to tell Bobby?" demanded Libbie intensely. "Promise
me you won't tell Bobby? She'd scold so. And Mrs. Eustice would expel me.
If you won't tell Bobby or Mrs. Eustice, Betty, I'll tell you."
Betty was now thoroughly aroused. She knew that impulsive novel-reading
Libbie went about with her pretty head filled with all sorts of trashy
ideas, and she didn't know what lengths she might have gone to. If Mrs.
Eustice would expel her, the affair must be serious indeed.
"I'll promise," said Betty rashly. "Tell me everything, Libbie, and if I
can I'll help you."
"Well, you remember when we went nutting?" said Libbie. "I carried a
bottle with me with--with my name and address written on a slip of paper
inside. I read about that in a book. And I said to leave an answer in the
same bottle. I--I buried it just at the foot of the hill, before we began
to climb. Louise was with me, but she was hunting for specimens for her
botany book."
"So that's why you hung back, was it?" said Betty. "I wish to goodness
Louise was more interested in what is going on around her. She might
have stopped you. Go on--what happened to your silly bottle?"
"I buried it," repeated Libbie, "and two days after I went out and dug it
up. And there was an answer in it."
"What did it say?" demanded Betty practically.
"I've got it here--" Libbie reached under her pillow and pulled out a
slip of paper.
"It says 'Leave ten dollars in this same place to-night, or Mrs. Eustice
shall hear of this.' And, of course," concluded Libbie, "I put ten
dollars in the bottle, because whoever found it had the slip with my name
on it to show Mrs. Eustice."
Betty studied the paper. The handwriting was a strong backhand, not at
all an illiterate hand.
"Oh, dear, what shall I do?" wailed Libbie. "He keeps asking for more,
and I won't have any money till the first of the month. I only meant
to do like the girl in the book--have a thrilling unknown
correspondent. I never knew he would ask for money! Suppose he is a
horrid, dirty tramp and he comes and tells Mrs. Eustice he found my
note? I should die of shame!"
"I'll have the money ready for you in the morning," said Betty firmly. "I
have that much. But, of course, he'll keep demanding more. I do hope,
Libbie, that if you ever get out of this mess, you'll be cured of some of
your crazy notions!"
"Oh, I will," promised Libbie earnestly. "I will be good, Betty. Only
don't tell Bobby."
She was manifestly relieved by her confession, and when Miss Morris came
in to send Betty back to her own room, Libbie curled down contentedly for
a restful night.
Not so poor Betty. She turned and tossed, wondering how she could get
more money for her chum without arousing suspicion.
"What ever made her do a thing like that!" she groaned. "Of all the wild
ideas! The twenty will take every cent I have. I must see Bob and borrow
from him."
Libbie was much improved in the morning--so well, in fact, that after
breakfast in bed she was permitted to dress and go to her room, though
strictly forbidden to attend classes or go out of doors. Betty brought
her the twenty dollars and when school was in session, the benighted
Libbie sped out to her buried bottle and put the money in it, regaining
her room without detection.
Two days later there was another demand for money, and two days after
that, another. Libbie visited the bottle regularly, afraid to let a
day pass lest the blackmailer expose her to the principal. Betty had
seen Bob at a football game, and had borrowed fifteen dollars from
him. She could not write her uncle, for communication with him was
uncertain and her generous allowance came to her regularly through his
Philadelphia lawyer.
"He wants twenty-five dollars by to-morrow night!" whispered Libbie,
meeting Betty in the hall after her last visit to the buried bottle. "Oh,
Betty, what _shall_ we do?"
Both girls had watched patiently and furtively in their spare time in an
effort to detect the person who dug up the bottle, but they had never
seen any one go near the spot.
As it happened, when Libbie whispered her news to Betty, they were both
on their way to recitation with Miss Jessup whose current events class
both girls nominally enjoyed. To-day Betty found it impossible to fix
her mind on the brisk discussions, and half in a dream heard Libbie
flunk dismally.
When next she was conscious of what was going on about her--she had been
turning Libbie's troubles over and over in her mind without result--Miss
Jessup was speaking to her class about the "association of ideas."
"We won't go very deeply into it this morning," she was saying, "but
you'll find even the surface of the subject fascinating."
Then she began a rapid fire of questions to which Betty paid small
attention till the sound of Ada Nansen's name aroused her.
"Key, Ada?" asked Miss Jessup.
The answers were supposed to indicate definite ideas.
"Key hole," said Ada promptly.
"Purse?"
"Money."
"Bee?" asked Miss Jessup.
To her surprise and that of the listening class, nine-tenths of whom were
forming the word "honey" with their lips, Ada answered without
hesitation, "Bottle."
"You must have thought I meant the letter 'B,'" said the teacher lightly,
passing on to the next pupil.
Betty heard the dismissal bell with real relief. She cornered Libbie in
the hall as the class streamed out and announced a decision.
"I'll have to go see Bob--I'll paddle one of the canoes," she said
hurriedly.
"If any one asks for me, say I'm out on the lake."
Betty was now an expert with the paddle, and the trip across the lake was
easy of accomplishment. She had the great good fortune to meet Bob
returning from a recitation, and though surprised to see her, he knew she
must have come by boat or canoe. The boys had gone the next day and
brought back the canoes from the woods where they had placed them during
the storm.
"I'm ever so sorry, Bob," said Betty earnestly, "But--could you lend me
twenty-five dollars?"
Bob whistled.
"I could," he admitted cautiously. "What's it for, Betsey?"
"That," said Betty, "is a secret."
Bob glanced at her sharply. His chin hardened.
"Come down here where we won't be interrupted," he said, leading the way
to the wharf. "You'll have to give me a good reason for wanting the
money, Betty."
CHAPTER XIX
BOB'S SOLUTION
"If you wanted twenty-five dollars and I had it," said Betty
persuasively, "I'd give it to you without asking a solitary question."
Rob's lips twitched.
"But, Betty--" he began. Then--"Oh, do play fair," he urged. "You're
younger than I am. Uncle Dick expects me to look after you. Goodness
knows I don't want to pry into your affairs, but when you borrow fifteen
dollars and then want twenty-five the same week, what's a fellow to
think? If some one is borrowing from you, it's time to call a halt;
you're not fair to yourself."
Betty looked startled. How could Bob possibly guess so near the truth?
She began to think that the better part of wisdom was to confide in this
keen young man.
"Come on, Betty, tell me what you want it for, and you shall have twice
twenty-five," said Bob earnestly. "I've most of my allowance in the
school bank. It's all yours, if you'll let me have an inkling of the
reason you need money."
"Well," said Betty, slowly, "I didn't promise I wouldn't tell--only
that I wouldn't tell Bobby or Mrs. Eustice. It's Libbie who has to have
the money."
She sketched Libbie's story for him rapidly, Bob listening in silence. At
the end he asked a single question.
"Have you any of those notes asking for money?"
"Here's one." Betty thrust her hand into the pocket of her sweater and
pulled out the crumpled paper that Libbie had shaken out of the bottle
that morning.
"Were they all written on this same kind of paper?" asked Bob,
reading the note.
"Ye-s, that is, I think so," hesitated Betty. "I really haven't
noticed. Why?"
"Because I don't think any man wrote this," announced Bob confidently.
"I think some girl at school has done it, either as a joke or to
torment Libbie."
"But it's grown-up writing," protested Betty. "Though, come to think of
it, we don't know any of the girls' handwriting," she added thoughtfully.
"What girl would be likely to do it?" asked Bob. "Can you recall a
practical joker? This is copy book paper torn from an ordinary theme
book. Yes, I'll bet a cookie a girl wrote it."
"Ada Nansen or Ruth Gladys Royal might do it to plague Libbie," said
Betty slowly. "They don't like any of our crowd, and Libbie is so good
at French she turns Ada green with envy. The more I think of it, the
surer I am it is Ada. Ruth doesn't dislike any one actively enough to
exert herself."
"Ada Nansen?" repeated Bob. "Isn't she that girl we saw on the train and
who plumped herself down in my seat? I thought so--I remember you told
me. Well, from the sidelight I have on her character, I believe she is
the one at the bottom of this. That will explain, too, why you never
catch any one digging up the bottle--she knows exactly when you are busy
and when you are not."
"Bottle!" said Betty explosively, to Bob's amazement. "Oh, Bob! this
morning Miss Jessup was talking to us about association of ideas, and she
asked Ada what bee meant to her. We thought she'd say 'honey,' of course,
but she said 'bottle.' Doesn't that show--"
"I should say it did!" Bob's voice was eager. "She took it for the letter
'B' and bottle was in her mind. You may depend upon it, that girl is at
the back of all this fuss! Gee, when I've nothing else to do, I'm going
to study up on this association of ideas stuff."
"You don't need it--you can get at things without a bit of trouble,"
Betty assured him affectionately.
"How will you go about pinning down Ada?" Bob asked anxiously.
"I'll cut out Latin to-morrow afternoon when she has a study period,"
planned Betty. "She'll think Libbie is reciting, and she'll not think of
me at all, and I'll slip out and watch to see if she goes near the
bottle. But what can I do if she does prove to be the right one? She'll
tell Mrs. Eustice, and poor Libbie will be in a peck of trouble. I really
think Mrs. Eustice would send her home if she knew."
"And serve Libbie right for being such an idiot!" pronounced Bob
severely. "However, I think she has been pretty thoroughly punished
through fear. I only wish you'd told me this before, Betty, because I
know exactly how you can deal with Ada."
"You do? Oh, Bob, what should I ever do without you!" cried Betty,
forgetting that a few moments before she had berated him for his
insistence. "Tell me, quick."
"Well, a crowd of us fellows happened to be over in Edentown last Friday
night, and we saw Ada and Ruth at the movies," said Bob. "They didn't see
us, for we sat back. They were the only girls from Shadyside, and Tommy
and I decided they had sneaked out after dinner and walked all that
distance. Now threatening isn't a very nice performance, Betty, but
sometimes you have to meet like with like. I think, if when you see Ada
digging up the bottle, you go to her and say that unless she returns the
money and Libbie's first note to you and promises to let the matter
drop--forever--you will expose her Edentown trip to Mrs. Eustice, she
will listen to reason."
"So do I," agreed Betty. "I don't think she has touched the money--she
has plenty. But I must have the note so that Libbie can destroy it. Mrs.
Eustice never lets us go to town at night, and I'm sure Ada and Ruth had
to go down the fire-escape. Goodness, didn't they take a chance of being
discovered!"
"Well, as I've already missed half an algebra recitation, and you know
you have no business over here at this time of day, I move we begin our
penance," suggested Bob. "Paddle home, Betsey, and if our hunch turns out
wrong, we'll tackle another one."
"Oh, it won't--I'm sure you're right," said Betty gratefully. "Thank you
ever so much, Bob. And the next time I'll tell you everything at the
very first."
"Don't let me hear of another time," Bob called after her, with
mock severity.
"Well, I never!" gasped Libbie, astonished, when Betty told her of Bob's
suspicions. "Oh, Betty, wouldn't it be wonderful if it should be true!"
"I'm going to cut Latin this afternoon and find out," said Betty
vigorously. "If Miss Sharpe asks for me, you don't know where I am; she
never does anything but give you double lines to translate."
Betty knew that Ada had a study period, which she usually spent in her
room, directly after lunch.
Directly after she left the dining room that noon Betty sped away to the
foot of the hill. There were several stubby bushes about half-filled with
wind-blown leaves and old rubbish and affording an excellent screen.
Betty crouched down behind one of these.
She had not long to wait. Ada, in her beautiful mink furs, which she
clung to persistently, though the fall weather so far had been very mild,
was presently seen coming across the grass. She walked straight to the
spot where the bottle was buried, and, stooping down, brushed away the
leaves and dirt. She lifted the bottle.
"Pshaw, it's empty!" she said aloud.
"Yes, it's empty," echoed Betty, stepping out from behind the bush. "And
you are to give the money back to me, and Libbie's note with it."
"Is that so?" said Ada contemptuously. "I have something to say
about that. I intend to see that that note reaches the proper
person--Mrs. Eustice."
Betty took a step nearer, her dark eyes blazing.
"I can play the kind of game you play--if I must," she said in a
curiously repressed tone. "What about the trip you and Ruth Gladys made
to Edentown last Friday night?"
Ada glared at her.
"Were you there? How did you know?" she stammered jerkily. "If you were
up to the same trick, you'll look nice tattle-telling on us, won't you?"
"I wasn't there, but I have witnesses whom I can summon to say you
were," declared Betty, wishing her voice did not tremble with
nervousness. "You were the only girls from Shadyside, and you must have
climbed down the fire--"
Ada raised her hand that held the bottle.
"You--you tell-tale!" she screamed threateningly.
Betty flung up her arm to knock the bottle aside, missed Ada's hand and
hit her shoulder. Ada went down, Betty on top of her.
"Girls! For mercy's sake!" Miss Anderson stood beside them, scandalized.
"Betty, get up. Ada, what are you thinking of? I saw you from the gym
windows. You'll have the whole school out here presently. Betty, I
thought you had Latin at this period?"
"I have," admitted Betty, so meekly that Miss Anderson looked away lest
she laugh. "Only I had to see Ada."
"I don't know what you were quarreling about," said Miss Anderson, with
characteristic frankness. "But I do know that both of you are old enough
to know better than to revert to small-boy tactics. You've a hole in your
stocking, Betty, that would do credit to a little brother."
"I ripped it on that stone," said Betty regretfully.
Ada stood sullenly, unconscious of two dead leaves hanging to her hat
which completely destroyed her usual effect of studied elegance.
"Go on in, Betty," said the physical culture teacher, who labored under
no delusions about the duties of a peacemaker. To tell the truth, she did
not believe in forced reconciliation. "Ada will come with me."
"Ada has something I want," said Betty stubbornly. "She has to promise to
give it to me first."
Ada looked at the resolute little figure facing her. Betty, she knew, was
capable of doing exactly what she had said. Mrs. Eustice had no more
rigid rule than the one against going to town, day or night, without
permission. Ada gave in.
"I'll leave it in your room before dinner--you didn't think I carried it
with me, did you?" she snapped.
"Both?" said Betty significantly, meaning the note and the money.
"Everything!" cried the exasperated Ada, on the verge of angry tears.
"Then you have my promise never to say a word," Betty assured her
blithely.
"Do you want this bottle?" Miss Anderson called after her, as she started
for the school.
Miss Anderson had been studying both girls as she waited quietly.
Now Betty turned, smiled radiantly, and took the bottle the teacher held
out to her. With careful aim, worthy of Bob's training, she fixed her eye
on a handy rock, hurled the bottle with all her strength, and had the
satisfaction of seeing it dashed into a thousand fragments as it struck
the target squarely.
Then she trotted sedately on to her delayed recitation, and Miss Anderson
and the scowling Ada followed more slowly.