Billie Bradleyand her three companions were without wraps, though they were too excited to think of that. Also, they had had no time to inform the boys at Boxton Military Academy as to their purpose and enlist their help. They were too excited to think of that, either.
They followed Maria Tatgood, always at a discreet distance, through the school gates and along the dusty road.
“Where do you suppose she’s going?” Laura whispered.
“Home!” said Billie “I’ve a notion we are going to make a real discovery this time!”
Maria Tatgood lived in an old house, set well back from the road and surrounded by tall trees. There had been no attempt to cut the grass that grew in reedy abundance to the very steps of the porch. The house itself was in a state of considerable disrepair. A little carpentry work and a coat or two of paint would have made it a much more habitable place.
All these things impressed themselves more or less vividly on the minds of the girls as they watched Maria Tatgood ascend the worn steps of the porch and disappear into the house.
The day had turned dismal and chill. The sun had disappeared under the clouds that by this time had risen from a streak low on the western horizon and covered the zenith. A light, misty rain was falling. There among the trees it was gloomy and dark.
Evidently, the occupants of the house were also in semi-darkness, for, as the girls watched, they saw a light flash up in a room at the rear. From this same room presently came the sound of angry voices.
Billie tugged Vi’s sleeve.
“Come along! Tell Laura and Edina. The folks inside have forgotten to pull the shade down at that window. Thanks to them, we can both see and hear.”
Silently, keeping to the shelter of the trees, the girls crept toward that lighted window. The angry voices were becoming intelligible. The girls could hear phrases, scraps of sentences.
“You’ve spent it! You had no business——”
“I had no business, didn’t I? I like that! Ain’t I your mother?”
Billie put finger to lips in a gesture of caution and crept closer to the window. Laura pinched Vi’s arm. Edina’s face looked very white in the dusk.
“Just the same,” came the younger voice sullenly, “you ain’t keepin’ to your end of the bargain. We was to split, wasn’t we?”
“Split, is it?” The voice of the older woman rose waspishly. “I should have the big half, anyways. Ain’t I your mother?”
“It was me took all the risks. It was that way in the old days, too, wasn’t it? It was me opened the pocketbooks of the rich women in the stores while you took the money I got out of ’em! Well, it ain’t goin’ to be so no more. We split, or I quit!”
A sullen silence fell upon the room and its occupants. Outside the girls held their breath to listen. After a moment the more youthful voice continued:
“How much you got left of the money?”
“Two hundred dollars. That’s all exceptin’ a few cents in silver—a half a dollar, maybe.”
“You’ve already spent sixty dollars? Well, if that ain’t a rum go!”
Suddenly Edina clutched Billie’s arm.
“Quick! Hide!” she cried. “Somebody’s comin’!”
The watchers had barely time to gain the shelter of the trees when a thick-set figure loomed up through the gloom. A man brushed past them, a man with hunched shoulders and a week’s growth of stubble on his face.
This person stumped around to the rear of thehouse, a door opened and closed, and soon the two voices within the room were joined by a third.
“Hello, you cats at it ag’in, scratchin’ and clawin’? Where’s my dinner? That’s what I’d like to know. When are you goin’ to git me some grub?”
Billie turned to her companions. They could see her eyes shining in the dull light.
“We’ve heard enough!’” she whispered. “Let’s be getting back.”
They fairly ran down the road to Three Towers Hall. They were scarcely aware that they were cold and dishevelled and pretty well soaked by the misty drizzle. In their minds two facts loomed paramount. They had positively identified Maria Tatgood as the thief, and two hundred dollars of the Gift Club fund still remained in the custody of the unsavory Tatgood family. If they hurried, they still might save that two hundred dollars.
Up the steps of the school they rushed and into the hall, to be met by a group of horrified girls.
“Where have you been?”
“To the wars, if looks count for anything!”
“You big sillies! You are soaked through!”
Connie Danvers pushed through the crowd and plucked Billie anxiously by the sleeve.
“Listen! Eliza Dilks saw you girls leave by the front gate a little while ago. She reported to Amanda. Of course Amanda promptly reported toMiss Walters. She’s up there in Miss Walters’ office now. I’m afraid you are in for it, Billie!”
“Where are you going?” she added, as Billie broke from her and made for the stairs.
From the first step Billie looked down upon the group of curious, upturned faces.
“I am going to see Miss Walters on an important mission,” she said, with a challenging laugh. “You may come, too, if you like!”
Many of the girls availed themselves of this permission and trooped after her. There was a mysterious air about Billie Bradley and her companions that roused their curiosity and warned them to expect developments of an extraordinary character.
The group was joined on the way by new recruits, so by the time Billie and her friends reached the door of Miss Walters’ office about half the student body was trailing at her heels.
“You all wait here,” said Billie to her escort. “I’ll leave the door open just a crack so that you can hear what happens.”
Billie tapped on the door of the office. After a brief pause, Miss Walters’ pleasant voice called, “Come in!”
As Billie pushed open the door she gestured to Vi and Laura and Edina to follow her.
“I can see Amanda in there,” she whispered. “I don’t intend to take my medicine alone!”
Miss Walters looked up as the girls entered. The troubled frown on her face deepened.
“Amanda has just been telling me about you,” she said, tapping her desk with a pencil. “Did you four students leave these grounds without permission?”
“Yes, Miss Walters,” said Billie meekly, and added unnecessarily: “We have just got back.”
“So it seems!” Miss Walters’ frown deepened. She continued the ra-ta-ta-tat with the pencil on the edge of her desk. Amanda’s triumphant smirk grew until it seemed to spread over all of her face.
“You have some explanation?” said Miss Walters, at last.
This was the opportunity for which Billie had waited. Making sure that the door of the office was open so that the girls outside could hear everything she said, she addressed the white-haired, gracious head of Three Towers Hall.
“Miss Walters, I have an explanation. When you hear it I think you will forgive us for leaving the grounds without asking permission.”
Miss Walters inclined her head, half-smiling at Billie’s earnestness.
“Let me hear the explanation,” she said.
Billie drew a long breath and plunged into her story. She began with the founding of the Gift Club and Edina’s elevation to the post of treasurer. She went on through the strange disappearance ofthe Gift Club fund, dwelling upon Edina Tooker’s distress upon finding herself suspected of the theft.
When she came to the account of her day in town, including the identification of the blotted five dollar bill, Miss Walters’ interest visibly increased. There was an audible sigh from the girls grouped close about the office door. Amanda’s triumphant grin grew slightly less triumphant.
“So you see, the evidence all pointed to the dormitory maid, Maria Tatgood,” Billie pleaded.
Miss Walters nodded.
“Yes,” she said, “I see. Please go on.”
“Well, when we saw Maria leave the Hall to-night we felt that there, perhaps, was the chance to establish real evidence—police evidence—against her. We should have asked your permission, Miss Walters, to leave the school grounds, but we really hadn’t time.”
Billie was still pleading her case. Miss Walters nodded as though she understood—as, indeed, she did.
“Go on!”
As Billie proceeded she was vividly aware of the keen interest that greeted her account of the happenings leading up to the positive identification of Maria Tatgood as the thief.
At the startling revelation Amanda’s jaw dropped open. Billie, happening to glance at her, choked back a laugh, which brought on such a dire attackof coughing and strangling that Miss Walters inquired with a smile on her own lips whether she would not feel better for a glass of water.
“No, th-thanks,” stuttered Billie. “I—I’m all right now.”
“About this Maria Tatgood,” said Miss Walters, her face suddenly stern. “If your story is to be trusted—and I have never yet found occasion to question any statement of yours—then this Maria Tatgood and her infamous family must be brought to the attention of the police, and at once. I will attend to it.”
Miss Walters was silent for a moment, tracing thoughtful figures on a scrap of paper. When she looked up the troubled frown had completely vanished from her face.
“You left the school grounds without permission, which is against the rules and so merits rebuke.”
“Yes, Miss Walters,” murmured Billie, her eyes demurely lowered.
“However,” continued the principal in her pleasant, flowing voice, “your conduct was prompted by such exemplary motives that I am tempted to waive punishment for this time. In fact,” Miss Walters flung out her hand toward Billie in a gracious, impulsive gesture, “I must congratulate you, my dear girl, on the persistent loyalty and friendliness you have shown toward Edina Tooker, this sorely misunderstoodgirl. You are a friend such as I would choose for myself.”
This praise flooded Billie with an emotion that robbed her of words. She could only look her love and gratitude.
Miss Walters said softly:
“Edina! Edina Tooker, come here, my dear.”
Edina approached uncertainly and stood before the gracious, white-haired lady who held her own fate and the fate of all the students of Three Towers Hall in the hollow of her hand.
Miss Walters searched among the papers on her desk and drew forth a letter.
“This communication came to me to-day, Edina. It is from your father and it contains news that I am sure you will be glad to hear.”
Edina looked big and awkward and pitiful as she stood there, nervously twisting her fingers together.
“Your father has struck oil again on his property—a genuine gusher this time. I imagine you will be very, very rich, Edina.”
Miss Walters smiled, as though at some secret thought of her own. Reaching into the letter she drew forth a long yellow slip.
“Your father asked me to give you this check—to help him celebrate, he said.”
Edina took the slip of paper without pausing to read the illiterate scrawl across its face. Her eyes were on Miss Walters’ face.
“You been so awful good to me,” she muttered.
“You are worth being good to, Edina,” said Miss Walters, smiling. “Billie and I have always believed that—haven’t we, Billie?”
Miss Walters held out a hand and Edina slipped her clumsy red one into it. At the touch, all the iron in Edina’s nature suddenly melted before a turbulent flood of emotion.
She flung herself to her knees beside Miss Walters, and buried her face in her lap, harsh sobs tore at her aching throat.
Miss Walters stroked the dark hair and glanced with gentle meaning at the other girls.
“You may go now,” she said. “I’ll send Edina down to you. She will feel better presently.”
As the girls passed from the office to be met by a group of deeply moved and silenced students in the outer hall, Amanda Peabody was heard to mutter vindictively:
“Billie Bradley has all the pull in this place! She can get away with anything!”
It was the night of the big dance at Boxton Military Academy. Billie was there and Laura and Vi and, yes—oh, of course—Edina Tooker.
Billie was a dream—Teddy told her so—in a rose-colored chiffon evening dress. Scarcely less lovely were Laura in a dainty lavender chiffon dress and Viin a clinging crêpe that brought out her pretty figure to perfection.
Edina in her gold-colored taffeta with gold slippers on her feet, her hair a shining, blue-black cap for her shapely head, was quite the rage with the young cadets at Boxton. She could not dance very well, but she was learning. In truth, there appeared to be no dearth of dancing instructors, prominent among these being the good-looking Paul Martinson.
Billie and her chums discussed these—and other things—during a temporary lull in the festivities. Teddy and Chet and Ferd Stowing had gone to fetch ice-cream and some of those “ducky little almond-flavored cakes.”
“Well,” said Laura as she patted a soft bow of her chiffon frock into place, “I can only remark what I believe a gentleman called Shakespeare has already remarked before me, ‘All’s well that ends well!’”
“Which sentiment we echo heartily,” agreed Billie. “I crave your indulgence for a moment while I sum up our reasons for gratitude. First of all, Maria Tatgood and her mother are safe in jail where they will steal no more Gift Club funds. The two hundred dollars has been recovered——”
“It was generous of Edina to make up the missing sixty dollars from the check her father sent her,” interpolated Vi.
“Well, Edina has plenty of money now, you know.She’ll never miss that sixty dollars. Paw Tooker will probably be a millionaire before his new gusher stops gushing, and what’s Paw’s seems to belong equally to his beloved Edina. But to continue with the list of our blessings. With the two hundred and sixty dollars, we have been able to buy Miss Geraldine Gay a most gorgeous wedding present——”
“She was delighted with it, wasn’t she?”
“Why wouldn’t she be? There is no finer grandfather’s clock around here.”
“When is she to be married?”
“Not before the Thanksgiving holidays. The new teacher comes then.”
“That’s not so far away. We’re not too awfully forehanded with our gift.”
“To continue with the list of our blessings,” reiterated Billie dreamily: “Our friend and fellow student, Violet Farrington, has recovered from her backslidings in math to the extent of working off an onerous condition——”
“And itisa blessing, believe me!” said Vi fervently. “With that condition off my shoulders, I feel as though I could begin to look about and enjoy myself.”
“Here come the boys with our ice-cream.”
“I hope they have brought dozens of cakes!”
“Before they get here,” said Laura hurriedly, “there is just one little point I’d like cleared up.”
“Any little thing we can do,” murmured Billie.
“It’s about that five dollar gold piece that Edina spent in the shoe shop to buy a pair of shoes. If that was Nellie Bane’s five dollar gold piece——”
“It wasn’t. It was Edina’s. She had kept it as a lucky piece but, being short of funds, was forced to use it to buy shoes. Any more questions?”
“How about Nellie’s gold piece, then?”
“It was part of the sixty dollars spent by Maria Tatgood’s mother; she admitted as much when pressed. Now, no more questions, please. Let joy be unconfined!”
“It is a lovely party, isn’t it?” breathed Vi.
With her eyes on Edina Tooker’s happy face, Billie Bradley answered:
“Yes, it is. The very nicest, ever!”
THE END