“Andthey called you Mary Mears?” repeated Mrs. Corday, with evident recognition of the girl standing there.
“Yes. Dear mother said I might choose a name; she had chosen hers,” said Mary faintly.
“That was like her—the dear woman. She was so loving, so gentle,” Mrs. Corday’s blonde head rested upon the capable hands, the same hands that for years had guided the destiny of marvellous wardrobes for the women riders of Corday’s Equine Troupe. Mrs. Corday was plainly overcome. “And,” she continued presently, “there was not in our troupe, ever, a woman who could ride like Yvette Duval.”
“Your mother? I often heard dad——”
“Yes, my mother,” said Mary. “But I was ashamed of the circus!”
“Circus!” echoed Mrs. Corday. “Our troupewas no circus. It was as high class and as sporty as any first class society horse show ever held!”
Every one laughed; Mary actually smiled.
“And I did so long to be well bred and like other girls,” she murmured. “I thought, really, that boarding school——”
“Turned the trick,” chirped Gloria, determined to brighten up the atmosphere. “Well, look at me——”
“And I felt the same way,” admitted Jack. “I just had an idea all I had to do was to drop in here and—mock the mighty.” She glanced at Trixy with unfeigned envy.
“Yes,” Mary went on, like one determined to have the worst over, “my one idea was to get to a fashionable school and forget—the circus. I had to bring Yvette’s things with me, I had no time to place them in safety. I put them in a trunk hastily——”
“It was your trunk I opened by mistake!” exclaimed Gloria.
“Yes. And it was my mother’s precious bloodstone that you returned some time later.”
“It had fallen from the trunk. I just found it——”
“I knew or guessed,” said Mary. “But whenI thought to give you a little keepsake—”
“The runaway necklace!” broke in Jack.
“Yes,” again admitted Mary. “But I didn’t know—”
“Where and how did you ever get it?” asked Mrs. Corday.
“I went to get Yvette’s things,” (the girls noticed how she used the name instead of “mother,”) “and everything there was in confusion. The attendants said the manager was very ill.”
“He was,” said the widow, solemnly.
“And it was difficult for me to know just what was—my mother’s,” continued Mary. “But she had been so proud of her trophies and wanted me to have every one of them. Her trunk was easy enough to identify but there were some things in the safe.”
“We always kept the valuables locked in the safe,” explained Mrs. Corday.
“Finally, I had everything checked up, and was ready to leave when a queer old man rushed up to me and begged me to take the string of dark beads.”
“An old man? What did they call him?” asked the woman excitedly.
“Jim, I think. He acted queerly and I thought him—sort of crazy!”
“Jim! Poor old Jim! And he got hold of that precious clue,” murmured Mrs. Corday. “We never thought of asking Jim. He was only a groom, but as devoted to Mr. Corday as a big dog—”
“He just begged me to take the beads, he called them,” continued Mary.“He said an old Indian threatened to murder him for them!”
“There! You see! That was the Turk!” As the Steppy grew more excited Jack made sure the door was tightly closed. Also she put a reminding hand on the nervously tapping finger tips. “I know, dear,” agreed the woman. “But you can’t blame me—”
“I don’t.”
Gloria thought she caught a flush of guilt cross Jack’s face as she now looked into her stepmother’s face. “Like Mary,” Jack added, “I have been foolishly ashamed of the circus.”
“Well, if you ever knew what your father’s horses were worth! Why, you dear little idiot, what do you suppose has made you rich?” asked the vehement Steppy.
“I’d just hate to know,” parried Jack.
“Well, you were saying, dear,” to Mary, “about poor old Jim?” Mrs. Corday was not to be denied the story.
“I took the beads to please him. I had no idea they were of any account. When I reached our home darling mother was—going——”
“And what was the pretty little name she used to call you?” broke in the woman with kind intentions. “Something like Rosette?”
“Miette,” said Mary. “It means little or crumb in French and is a sort of pet name for Mary.”
“I remember now. I saw you occasionally,” said the veteran.
“Yes, and when I knew you were coming to see Jack, I actually ran off to avoid you, I was so afraid of being known as a circus girl,” admitted Mary a little ironically.
“And you were foolish enough to hide all that interesting history because you thought all boarding school girls silly!” charged Gloria. Her admiration for Mary was at last free to assert itself.
“You cured me!” Mary said, now beaming upon the younger girl. “When you brought Jane here and installed her as head nurse——”
“She curedmein more ways than one,” added Jack slyly. “No one in all of Altmount could possibly have been as silly as—Jacquinot Corday!”
“Whereisyour dear Jane?” asked Steppy, glancing about like one waking from a dream.
“Packing,” said Trixy. “We’re all going to Thanksgive at our house——”
“Oh, I counted on a party,” wailed Jack. “Mary, you are almost related to me now. Don’t you want to see the finest little horse in all the world?”
“And my own horse must be very lonely——”
“There! You see!” charged the one woman present. “And these two girls—hate circus horses!”
“I don’t,” spoke up Gloria. “I love all kinds, but I simply adore the big white ones that canter through the ring and wait for the fluffy ladies to land on their lovely, broad backs. And just imagine you two girls knowing all about such things and never as much as confiding in me, or in Trixy, or in jolly Pat!”
Mary and Jack stood off a little, their arms intertwined.
“Now you know the horrible truth,” said Jack. “That’s why I love to walk the gym ceiling and tofall dead in silly little canoes, Glo, we haven’t forgotten about that, you know. And we are going to give you a real necklace to remember us by,” she said slyly.
“I love dark gray mossy beads,” insisted Gloria, so they both agreed to compromise.
“Now, girls,” interrupted the momentarily quieted Steppy. “I must go down to the office and talk things over with those teachers. I hope they won’t think I’m going to be bossed this time. I’m counting on a big party for you, Jack. Just get a pad and pencil and scribble off a list.”
“And she’s the girl you call Steppy!” accused Gloria, when the door bang died out. “You don’t know a real lady when you meet her,” she smiled at Jack. “Be sure to include Jean and the rebels in your list. What a lark to see their eyes open!”
“You’re a dear, Glo,” said Mary, and all present smiled unanimously.
Just as Trixy predicted, everything happened in the early year, after that the students of Altmount settled down to hard study and plenty of it. The two mysterious girls Jack and Mary, became, naturally, among the most sought after, suspicionsand doubts were cleared away, even Jean and her contingent falling in with the tide of popularity. For the world of girls moves around the joy of good fellowship, and Gloria Doane had a way of cranking up the motor.
THE END