CHAPTER XII.THE INTER-SCHOLASTIC GAMES.

I thinkthe visit of Mr. Mudge was much dreaded by all of us, even though we longed to have the mystery cleared up. I know that Winnie, at least, trembled for the result, and she turned quite pale the next morning when she received a message from Madame to meet Mr. Mudge in her office. It was only a few moments before she returned.“Mr. Mudge wishes to see us all,” she said. “Where are the other girls? He’s coming to this room in five minutes.”“Milly is in the studio, Adelaide in the music-room. Cynthia, I don’t know where.”“Please summon Adelaide and Milly, I will wait for you here—I feel almost faint.”“What is the matter, Winnie?” I asked anxiously.“Mr. Mudge says that he now knows to a certainty who the thief is, and that he will announce the name to us this morning. I am afraid, Tib, that he suspects Milly. He put me on oath this morning and made me confess something which I did not mean he should know.”“Never mind, Winnie,” I replied, as reassuringly as I could, “we both know that Milly is perfectly innocent, and, as Madame said, the truth will come out at last.”Winnie shaded her face with her hands but did not reply. I brought Adelaide and Milly to the Corner, and chancing to find Cynthia, summoned her also. Mr. Mudge was in the little study parlor when I returned. He greeted me cheerfully as he stood by the cabinet polishing his glasses with a large silk handkerchief. Then he stepped across the room and examined the door leading into the studio.“So,” he said. “You have had a little boltput on this door. It is an old proverb that people always lock the stable after the horse has been stolen. But it is just as well, just as well. I agree with you that the thief came from that quarter, and having been so successful he may come again.”“He!” Winnie gasped.“Yes; much as it may pain you to learn the fact, I must inform you that all indications now make it a certainty that the thief can be no other than your Professor of Art, Carrington Waite.”Milly gave a little cry and fainted dead away. The others all sprang to her assistance, but as I was quite a distance from her I did not move, and I heard Mr. Mudge give a suppressed chuckle, and remark below his breath: “Ah! my little lady, I thought that would make you show your hand.”Milly speedily recovered; and with her first breath exclaimed, “Oh, no, no! You are mistaken; it cannot be so.”“Why not?” Mr. Mudge asked. “Was not Professor Waite in the studio at the time that the robbery was committed? Did I not find the lock of this door in his tool chest? Is it not a well-known fact that he is a poor man, and yet a few days after the robberydid he not deposit in the savings bank just one hundred dollars more than his quarter’s salary? What stronger proof do we require?”“I can explain all these circumstances.” Milly replied eagerly, and she told the story of the broken lock, which amused Mr. Mudge greatly.“That disposes of one bit of circumstantial evidence,” he admitted; “but the other items?”“As to the money,” Milly continued, with a slight flush, “papa bought one of Mr. Waite’s small pictures, and sent him a check for a hundred dollars just at the time you speak of. I think if you inquire more particularly at the bank you will find that it was papa’s check which he deposited; and I can testify that he was not in the studio at the time the robbery was committed. I was lying awake and I heard him come up the stairs. He was earlier than usual. It was some time before twelve. He hardly remained a moment, merely left his canvases and paint-box, and went right away.”“That is all very well under the supposition that the robbery was committed between the time that Miss Winnie looked into thecabinet and Miss Cynthia’s discovery. But Miss Winnie has just admitted to me that the money was gone when she opened the cabinet, so the theft must have occurred before that time.” Winnie threw a piteous glance at Milly, which Milly did not notice.“But still, after Professor Waite went away,” Milly insisted.“Why are you so sure of this?” asked Mr. Mudge.“Because, when I went to the cabinet fully five minutes after he had gone it was all there.”Mr. Mudge’s gray eyes gave a snap which reminded me of the springing of a trap. “Indeed!” he said. “How many more of you young ladies investigated the cabinet during that eventful night? Will you kindly inform me, Miss Roseveldt, for what purpose you opened the cabinet, and why we are only informed of the fact in this inadvertent way.”Winnie crossed the room and deliberately placed her arm around Milly. “Milly, dear,” she said, “the truth is always the best way, though it may seem the hardest way; and, whatever you may have to confess, I for one shall love you just the same.”“Perhaps it is just as well,” Milly repliedcheerfully, “though Adelaide and I did not intend that Tib should know it. You remember that it was the eve of Tib’s birthday; Adelaide and I each wanted to give her fifty dollars toward her European fund. So after we were sure that she must be asleep, I slipped out into the parlor and took the money from Adelaide’s pigeon-hole and from my purse, and laid it on Tib’s shelf, where we intended she should find it in the morning. Professor Waite had gone when I did this, so he could not have taken it. Adelaide told me to put hers with mine, for she didn’t see the use of both of us going into the parlor. We were afraid we might wake the other girls.”“You did waken me, Milly dear,” Winnie said. “I heard you, and standing just behind my door I saw you go to the cabinet as you have said, and take out Adelaide’s money and count out fifty dollars, and then take the gold pieces from your own little purse. Then I went back to bed and did not see any more until you went away, when I stepped out and examined the cabinet, and the money was gone.”Milly did not then comprehend the terrible suspicion which had been in Winnie’s mind, and she was very much pleased to find hertestimony corroborated. “Adelaide saw me, too,” she said. “You were watching me all the time, weren’t you, Adelaide?”“Yes,” Adelaide replied. “Tell about the note, too, Milly.”“Oh! that isn’t of any consequence. After I had put the money in Tib’s compartment, I thought it would be a good idea to write her a note with it, and I pulled out the shelf in the cabinet that serves as a writing desk, but I didn’t write anything for I heard a noise in Tib’s room. It must have been Winnie going back to bed. So I shoved the shelf in and scooted back to my own room. We didn’t say anything about it in the morning because Adelaide and I didn’t feel like boasting of the presents we had given Tib, especially as she never received them.”There was a great light in Winnie’s eyes. It was evident that the suspicion which had poisoned her life ever since the robbery had vanished. To Winnie’s satisfaction, at least, Milly had cleared herself.Mr. Mudge, too, had certainly shared this suspicion. His announcement that Professor Waite was the culprit had been only a clever trick to make Milly criminate herself, for he had guessed her attachment to the Professor,and felt sure that, rather than let the blame rest with him, she would confess her crime. His next question showed that he was not yet fully satisfied.“Miss Roseveldt,” he asked, “will you tell me where you obtained the money with which you paid Madame Celeste’s bill for Miss Cynthia’s costume the day after the robbery?”“I would rather not tell that,” Milly replied.“I must insist upon it.”“Papa called the day before, and I confessed all about the bill to him, and he forgave me, and gave me the money.”“We know that he gave you the gold pieces which you placed in your purse, but these were stolen, and you were apparently penniless on the morning after the robbery.”“Papa drew a check for Celeste for the amount of the bill, and that was in my pocket. I did not put it in the cabinet at all. Then he said that it was a very sad, disgraceful affair, but he knew that I would never do so again, and he was glad I told him, and he forgave me freely, and now it was all over we would bury it in the Dead Sea and never let mortal man or woman know a word about it, and that is why I could not tell Winnie how I had paidthe debt. Papa said too—what was not true—that it was partly his own fault, for keeping me so short in pocket money and leaving me free to run up large bills. And then he said that he would change his tactics and give me an allowance in cash every month, and I am not to have anything charged any more, but manage my expenses as Adelaide does. And with that he gave me the gold pieces, and I told him that I wanted to give them to Tib, and he said, ‘Very well, do what you please, but you will have nothing more for a fortnight, when I will give you your allowance for the coming month.’”We each of us drew a long breath. It all seemed so simple now that Milly explained it that I wondered how we could ever have mistrusted her. Winnie clasped her more tightly. There was a look of remorse in her eyes, which told how she reproached herself for having wronged her darling.Mr. Mudge tapped the table with his pencil thoughtfully.“I must acknowledge, Miss Roseveldt,” he said, “that you have completely cleared Professor Waite. It is perfectly evident that he could not have taken the money; but the question still remains, Who did? How long aninterval was there, Miss De Witt, between the time that Miss Roseveldt returned to her bedroom, and your examination of the cabinet?”“I do not know exactly. I waited only until I fancied Milly might be asleep, then I slipped out softly, closed the doors opening into all the bedrooms, lighted my candle, and examined the cabinet.”“And when Miss Roseveldt left the room the money was there, and when you looked——”“It was gone.”“It seems to me,” said Cynthia maliciously, “that Winnie is placed in a very disagreeable position by these revelations. Her testimony has been very contradictory and her manner from the first, to say the least, peculiar. She acknowledges that she was awake during the time that intervened between Milly’s visit to the safe and her own. If a thief came in it is very strange that she did not hear him.”“It is strange,” Winnie acknowledged. “I can hardly believe it possible, but these are the facts in the case. I certainly did not take the money, as Cynthia implies.”“Tut, tut,” Mr. Mudge remarked sharply. “I am convinced that the thief is not a member of the Amen Corner. I have in turn taken up the supposition that the robberymight have been committed by each of you young ladies, beginning with Miss Cynthia and ending just now with Miss Milly, and I have proved to my own satisfaction that you are all innocent. Miss Winnie may have fallen asleep, and during her brief nap some one may have slipped in from the studio. Professor Waite had gone, but he may have left the turret door unlocked.”“I heard no one mount the stairs,” said Milly.“True, but a sneak thief might steal up so softly as to disturb no one. A man bent on such an errand does not usually whistle opera tunes, and then again the rogue may have been in the studio during Professor Waite’s hasty call. You told me, Miss Armstrong, that the Professor was the only one who had a key to the turret door.”“I did,” Adelaide replied, “but I was mistaken; Polo has a duplicate key.”“And who is this lawn tennis girl?”“Polo, Mr. Mudge, not tennis. Her name is Polo, a contraction for Pauline,” said Adelaide.“Very extraordinary name. Lawn tennis is a much more suitable game for a young lady. Who is she, anyway?”“She is a model, and a very good girl. Polo is above suspicion,” Winnie remarked authoritatively.“Hum—of course,” replied Mr. Mudge. “Let me see, this Base-ball must be the young lady of whom Miss Noakes spoke to Madame as having conducted herself in a rather peculiar manner night before last, the evening of the subterranean entertainment.”We all looked up in surprise, and Mr. Mudge continued:“Madame has confided to me the fact that you young ladies were unpleasantly intruded upon by certain unknown persons, who may, or may not, have been connected with one of our well known schools. Madame felt that they could not have effected their entrance and disguise without the connivance of some member of this household. This individual need not necessarily have been one of the young ladies; it may have been a servant. I have known it to be a fact that the chamber-maids at Vassar have carried on flirtations with young gentlemen who supposed themselves to be in correspondence with Vassar girls. Now it is quite possible that your chambermaid may have heard of this frolic and have mentioned it to her admirers.”“Oh, no,” we all exclaimed; while Adelaide continued: “We never mentioned it in her presence; besides, she is as stupid and honest as she is old and homely. I would as soon suspect Miss Noakes.”“But this Lawn Tennis, I beg pardon, Base-ball, of whom we were just speaking, is neither stupid, nor old, nor ugly, and we know very little in regard to her honesty——”“That is so,” Cynthia assented, and we all turned and scowled upon her.“You tell me that she possesses a key to the turret door, and now Miss Noakes’s testimony fits in like the pieces in a Chinese puzzle. On the afternoon of your entertainment Miss Noakes says that a request was preferred from you to allow Lawn Tennis—no, Croquet—to share Miss Vaughn’s bedroom for the night. Miss Noakes says she felt a strange hesitancy about granting this request——”“Not at all strange,” Winnie interrupted. “It is a hesitancy which is quite habitual in her case.”Mr. Mudge waved his hand in a deprecatory manner and continued. “Miss Noakes further testifies that in the early evening, as she was sitting at her open window, the nightbeing especially balmy for the season, she was startled by a long whistle, which was not that of the postman. As there was no light in her own room she could look out without being observed. The gas was lighted in Miss Vaughn’s room, and though from its oblique position she could not see what passed within she could recognize any one leaning from it.” [See plan of Amen Corner.]Cynthia straightened herself up, and as it seemed to me turned a trifle pale, while Mr. Mudge went on.“Miss Noakes says that the first whistle did not appear to be noticed, and stepping on to her balcony she saw two young men, or boys, standing at the foot of the tower, looking up at Miss Vaughn’s windows. She instantly retreated into her own room and awaited further developments. A second whistle, and some one in Miss Vaughn’s room turned down the gas, and coming to the window gave an answering whistle. Miss Noakes says she could hardly credit her senses, for she has looked upon Miss Vaughn as a model of propriety; an instant later she observed that the girl now leaning out of the window and talking with the boys wore a dark blue Tam O’Shanter cap, and she comprehendedthat it was not Miss Vaughn, but Lawn Tennis, or Cricket, or whatever her name is, who had been given permission to pass the night in Miss Vaughn’s room. She could not hear the entire conversation, her desire to remain undiscovered keeping her well within her own room, but she distinctly heard one of the young men say, ‘Throw it out—I’ll catch it.’ The girl replied, ‘Here it is,’ and said something about the sheets and things being on the upper landing. She added quite distinctly, ‘Don’t come into the studio until I give the signal.’“Miss Noakes says she was too horrified to act promptly, as she should have done; but that a few moments later she visited the Amen Corner and found it deserted by all the young ladies with the exception of Miss Vaughn, who was studying quietly in the parlor. She asked where the others were, and was told that they were in the studio, where the procession was to form. On asking Miss Vaughn why she had not joined them, she replied that she intended to do so in a short time, but had been improving every moment for study. Miss Noakes asked for Lawn Tennis and was told that she had been appointed door-keeper for the evening. Onintimating that she had seen her in Miss Vaughn’s room, Miss Vaughn had replied that this was very possible as she had just left the room.”During this relation of Mr. Mudge’s, Cynthia had turned different colors, from livid purple to greenish pallor. And had several times been on the point of replying, but the lawyer-detective had continued his narrative in a sing-song, monotonous way, as though reading it from a written deposition, and had left her no opportunity for interrupting. He now turned to her and remarked:“I repeat all this here, Miss Vaughn, in order to hear your side of the story.”“I have nothing to say,” Cynthia replied sullenly.“Then Miss Noakes’s statement is substantially correct?”“I don’t understand what you are driving at.” Cynthia flashed out passionately. “If you mean to insinuate that I threw the key out to some of the cadets, and helped disguise them, and gave them the signal when to join in the procession—why then all I have to say is that it is a very pretty story, but you will find it very hard to prove it.”“Not so hasty, not so hasty,” replied Mr.Mudge. “My dear young lady, if you will reflect a moment, you will perceive that nothing of this kind has been charged against you. The question does not concern you at all, but this athletic young lady—Lawn Tennis.”Mr. Mudge had become so firmly convinced in his own mind that Polo’s name was Lawn Tennis that we saw the futility of correcting him and gave up the attempt.“Mr. Mudge,” Winnie exclaimed, “we protest! Cynthia, I call upon you to own up. It wasn’t such a very bad frolic. You meant no particular harm. We will all sign a petition to Madame asking her to let you off. Don’t let Polo be unjustly suspected. You know you did it; own up to it like a man.”But Cynthia was in no mood to own up to anything like a man, or like a decent girl. She simply turned her nose several degrees higher and remained silent.“Your cowardly silence will not shield you,” Adelaide exclaimed scornfully. “I have some letters from my brother which make me very positive that this is one of your scrapes, and I will show them to Mr. Mudge unless you confess instantly.”“I have nothing to confess,” Cynthia replied in a low voice, but the words seemed to stick in her throat.Mr. Mudge next asked us, in a thoughtful manner, whether “Lawn Tennis” was connected with the institution at the time of the robbery. I replied that she was, but that I could not see any relation between that crime and the present escapade.“Perhaps not,” Mr. Mudge replied; “and then again we never can tell what apparently trifling circumstance may lead up to the great discovery. As I have previously remarked, it is more than probable that the thief having been once successful will try the same game again. Then, too, if your thief happens to be a kleptomaniac, she could not refrain from pilfering. Have you lost anything since that eventful night?”“Nothing whatever.”“And you have used the cabinet since as a depository for your funds?”“Certainly,” I replied. “We consider that we have used sufficient precaution in having the bolt put upon the door. The result seems to justify our confidence. To be sure, until night before last we have had no important sums to deposit.”“How about night before last?” Mr. Mudge asked.“I had charge of the ticket money for the Home that we gained by the CatacombParty,” I replied, “and I placed it in my division of the cabinet. There is just sixty dollars of it, and it is there now.”“And was there during the night that Lawn Tennis slept in this apartment? And she knew it?”“Yes, sir.”“Then that is very good evidence that she was not the thief on the previous occasion.”So confident was I in our security and in Polo’s honesty that I unlocked the cabinet to give Mr. Mudge convincing proof. What was our astonishment to find my compartment again empty. The floor of the cabinet was as clean as though swept by a brush. The sixty dollars which we held in trust for the Home were gone!

I thinkthe visit of Mr. Mudge was much dreaded by all of us, even though we longed to have the mystery cleared up. I know that Winnie, at least, trembled for the result, and she turned quite pale the next morning when she received a message from Madame to meet Mr. Mudge in her office. It was only a few moments before she returned.

“Mr. Mudge wishes to see us all,” she said. “Where are the other girls? He’s coming to this room in five minutes.”

“Milly is in the studio, Adelaide in the music-room. Cynthia, I don’t know where.”

“Please summon Adelaide and Milly, I will wait for you here—I feel almost faint.”

“What is the matter, Winnie?” I asked anxiously.

“Mr. Mudge says that he now knows to a certainty who the thief is, and that he will announce the name to us this morning. I am afraid, Tib, that he suspects Milly. He put me on oath this morning and made me confess something which I did not mean he should know.”

“Never mind, Winnie,” I replied, as reassuringly as I could, “we both know that Milly is perfectly innocent, and, as Madame said, the truth will come out at last.”

Winnie shaded her face with her hands but did not reply. I brought Adelaide and Milly to the Corner, and chancing to find Cynthia, summoned her also. Mr. Mudge was in the little study parlor when I returned. He greeted me cheerfully as he stood by the cabinet polishing his glasses with a large silk handkerchief. Then he stepped across the room and examined the door leading into the studio.

“So,” he said. “You have had a little boltput on this door. It is an old proverb that people always lock the stable after the horse has been stolen. But it is just as well, just as well. I agree with you that the thief came from that quarter, and having been so successful he may come again.”

“He!” Winnie gasped.

“Yes; much as it may pain you to learn the fact, I must inform you that all indications now make it a certainty that the thief can be no other than your Professor of Art, Carrington Waite.”

Milly gave a little cry and fainted dead away. The others all sprang to her assistance, but as I was quite a distance from her I did not move, and I heard Mr. Mudge give a suppressed chuckle, and remark below his breath: “Ah! my little lady, I thought that would make you show your hand.”

Milly speedily recovered; and with her first breath exclaimed, “Oh, no, no! You are mistaken; it cannot be so.”

“Why not?” Mr. Mudge asked. “Was not Professor Waite in the studio at the time that the robbery was committed? Did I not find the lock of this door in his tool chest? Is it not a well-known fact that he is a poor man, and yet a few days after the robberydid he not deposit in the savings bank just one hundred dollars more than his quarter’s salary? What stronger proof do we require?”

“I can explain all these circumstances.” Milly replied eagerly, and she told the story of the broken lock, which amused Mr. Mudge greatly.

“That disposes of one bit of circumstantial evidence,” he admitted; “but the other items?”

“As to the money,” Milly continued, with a slight flush, “papa bought one of Mr. Waite’s small pictures, and sent him a check for a hundred dollars just at the time you speak of. I think if you inquire more particularly at the bank you will find that it was papa’s check which he deposited; and I can testify that he was not in the studio at the time the robbery was committed. I was lying awake and I heard him come up the stairs. He was earlier than usual. It was some time before twelve. He hardly remained a moment, merely left his canvases and paint-box, and went right away.”

“That is all very well under the supposition that the robbery was committed between the time that Miss Winnie looked into thecabinet and Miss Cynthia’s discovery. But Miss Winnie has just admitted to me that the money was gone when she opened the cabinet, so the theft must have occurred before that time.” Winnie threw a piteous glance at Milly, which Milly did not notice.

“But still, after Professor Waite went away,” Milly insisted.

“Why are you so sure of this?” asked Mr. Mudge.

“Because, when I went to the cabinet fully five minutes after he had gone it was all there.”

Mr. Mudge’s gray eyes gave a snap which reminded me of the springing of a trap. “Indeed!” he said. “How many more of you young ladies investigated the cabinet during that eventful night? Will you kindly inform me, Miss Roseveldt, for what purpose you opened the cabinet, and why we are only informed of the fact in this inadvertent way.”

Winnie crossed the room and deliberately placed her arm around Milly. “Milly, dear,” she said, “the truth is always the best way, though it may seem the hardest way; and, whatever you may have to confess, I for one shall love you just the same.”

“Perhaps it is just as well,” Milly repliedcheerfully, “though Adelaide and I did not intend that Tib should know it. You remember that it was the eve of Tib’s birthday; Adelaide and I each wanted to give her fifty dollars toward her European fund. So after we were sure that she must be asleep, I slipped out into the parlor and took the money from Adelaide’s pigeon-hole and from my purse, and laid it on Tib’s shelf, where we intended she should find it in the morning. Professor Waite had gone when I did this, so he could not have taken it. Adelaide told me to put hers with mine, for she didn’t see the use of both of us going into the parlor. We were afraid we might wake the other girls.”

“You did waken me, Milly dear,” Winnie said. “I heard you, and standing just behind my door I saw you go to the cabinet as you have said, and take out Adelaide’s money and count out fifty dollars, and then take the gold pieces from your own little purse. Then I went back to bed and did not see any more until you went away, when I stepped out and examined the cabinet, and the money was gone.”

Milly did not then comprehend the terrible suspicion which had been in Winnie’s mind, and she was very much pleased to find hertestimony corroborated. “Adelaide saw me, too,” she said. “You were watching me all the time, weren’t you, Adelaide?”

“Yes,” Adelaide replied. “Tell about the note, too, Milly.”

“Oh! that isn’t of any consequence. After I had put the money in Tib’s compartment, I thought it would be a good idea to write her a note with it, and I pulled out the shelf in the cabinet that serves as a writing desk, but I didn’t write anything for I heard a noise in Tib’s room. It must have been Winnie going back to bed. So I shoved the shelf in and scooted back to my own room. We didn’t say anything about it in the morning because Adelaide and I didn’t feel like boasting of the presents we had given Tib, especially as she never received them.”

There was a great light in Winnie’s eyes. It was evident that the suspicion which had poisoned her life ever since the robbery had vanished. To Winnie’s satisfaction, at least, Milly had cleared herself.

Mr. Mudge, too, had certainly shared this suspicion. His announcement that Professor Waite was the culprit had been only a clever trick to make Milly criminate herself, for he had guessed her attachment to the Professor,and felt sure that, rather than let the blame rest with him, she would confess her crime. His next question showed that he was not yet fully satisfied.

“Miss Roseveldt,” he asked, “will you tell me where you obtained the money with which you paid Madame Celeste’s bill for Miss Cynthia’s costume the day after the robbery?”

“I would rather not tell that,” Milly replied.

“I must insist upon it.”

“Papa called the day before, and I confessed all about the bill to him, and he forgave me, and gave me the money.”

“We know that he gave you the gold pieces which you placed in your purse, but these were stolen, and you were apparently penniless on the morning after the robbery.”

“Papa drew a check for Celeste for the amount of the bill, and that was in my pocket. I did not put it in the cabinet at all. Then he said that it was a very sad, disgraceful affair, but he knew that I would never do so again, and he was glad I told him, and he forgave me freely, and now it was all over we would bury it in the Dead Sea and never let mortal man or woman know a word about it, and that is why I could not tell Winnie how I had paidthe debt. Papa said too—what was not true—that it was partly his own fault, for keeping me so short in pocket money and leaving me free to run up large bills. And then he said that he would change his tactics and give me an allowance in cash every month, and I am not to have anything charged any more, but manage my expenses as Adelaide does. And with that he gave me the gold pieces, and I told him that I wanted to give them to Tib, and he said, ‘Very well, do what you please, but you will have nothing more for a fortnight, when I will give you your allowance for the coming month.’”

We each of us drew a long breath. It all seemed so simple now that Milly explained it that I wondered how we could ever have mistrusted her. Winnie clasped her more tightly. There was a look of remorse in her eyes, which told how she reproached herself for having wronged her darling.

Mr. Mudge tapped the table with his pencil thoughtfully.

“I must acknowledge, Miss Roseveldt,” he said, “that you have completely cleared Professor Waite. It is perfectly evident that he could not have taken the money; but the question still remains, Who did? How long aninterval was there, Miss De Witt, between the time that Miss Roseveldt returned to her bedroom, and your examination of the cabinet?”

“I do not know exactly. I waited only until I fancied Milly might be asleep, then I slipped out softly, closed the doors opening into all the bedrooms, lighted my candle, and examined the cabinet.”

“And when Miss Roseveldt left the room the money was there, and when you looked——”

“It was gone.”

“It seems to me,” said Cynthia maliciously, “that Winnie is placed in a very disagreeable position by these revelations. Her testimony has been very contradictory and her manner from the first, to say the least, peculiar. She acknowledges that she was awake during the time that intervened between Milly’s visit to the safe and her own. If a thief came in it is very strange that she did not hear him.”

“It is strange,” Winnie acknowledged. “I can hardly believe it possible, but these are the facts in the case. I certainly did not take the money, as Cynthia implies.”

“Tut, tut,” Mr. Mudge remarked sharply. “I am convinced that the thief is not a member of the Amen Corner. I have in turn taken up the supposition that the robberymight have been committed by each of you young ladies, beginning with Miss Cynthia and ending just now with Miss Milly, and I have proved to my own satisfaction that you are all innocent. Miss Winnie may have fallen asleep, and during her brief nap some one may have slipped in from the studio. Professor Waite had gone, but he may have left the turret door unlocked.”

“I heard no one mount the stairs,” said Milly.

“True, but a sneak thief might steal up so softly as to disturb no one. A man bent on such an errand does not usually whistle opera tunes, and then again the rogue may have been in the studio during Professor Waite’s hasty call. You told me, Miss Armstrong, that the Professor was the only one who had a key to the turret door.”

“I did,” Adelaide replied, “but I was mistaken; Polo has a duplicate key.”

“And who is this lawn tennis girl?”

“Polo, Mr. Mudge, not tennis. Her name is Polo, a contraction for Pauline,” said Adelaide.

“Very extraordinary name. Lawn tennis is a much more suitable game for a young lady. Who is she, anyway?”

“She is a model, and a very good girl. Polo is above suspicion,” Winnie remarked authoritatively.

“Hum—of course,” replied Mr. Mudge. “Let me see, this Base-ball must be the young lady of whom Miss Noakes spoke to Madame as having conducted herself in a rather peculiar manner night before last, the evening of the subterranean entertainment.”

We all looked up in surprise, and Mr. Mudge continued:

“Madame has confided to me the fact that you young ladies were unpleasantly intruded upon by certain unknown persons, who may, or may not, have been connected with one of our well known schools. Madame felt that they could not have effected their entrance and disguise without the connivance of some member of this household. This individual need not necessarily have been one of the young ladies; it may have been a servant. I have known it to be a fact that the chamber-maids at Vassar have carried on flirtations with young gentlemen who supposed themselves to be in correspondence with Vassar girls. Now it is quite possible that your chambermaid may have heard of this frolic and have mentioned it to her admirers.”

“Oh, no,” we all exclaimed; while Adelaide continued: “We never mentioned it in her presence; besides, she is as stupid and honest as she is old and homely. I would as soon suspect Miss Noakes.”

“But this Lawn Tennis, I beg pardon, Base-ball, of whom we were just speaking, is neither stupid, nor old, nor ugly, and we know very little in regard to her honesty——”

“That is so,” Cynthia assented, and we all turned and scowled upon her.

“You tell me that she possesses a key to the turret door, and now Miss Noakes’s testimony fits in like the pieces in a Chinese puzzle. On the afternoon of your entertainment Miss Noakes says that a request was preferred from you to allow Lawn Tennis—no, Croquet—to share Miss Vaughn’s bedroom for the night. Miss Noakes says she felt a strange hesitancy about granting this request——”

“Not at all strange,” Winnie interrupted. “It is a hesitancy which is quite habitual in her case.”

Mr. Mudge waved his hand in a deprecatory manner and continued. “Miss Noakes further testifies that in the early evening, as she was sitting at her open window, the nightbeing especially balmy for the season, she was startled by a long whistle, which was not that of the postman. As there was no light in her own room she could look out without being observed. The gas was lighted in Miss Vaughn’s room, and though from its oblique position she could not see what passed within she could recognize any one leaning from it.” [See plan of Amen Corner.]

Cynthia straightened herself up, and as it seemed to me turned a trifle pale, while Mr. Mudge went on.

“Miss Noakes says that the first whistle did not appear to be noticed, and stepping on to her balcony she saw two young men, or boys, standing at the foot of the tower, looking up at Miss Vaughn’s windows. She instantly retreated into her own room and awaited further developments. A second whistle, and some one in Miss Vaughn’s room turned down the gas, and coming to the window gave an answering whistle. Miss Noakes says she could hardly credit her senses, for she has looked upon Miss Vaughn as a model of propriety; an instant later she observed that the girl now leaning out of the window and talking with the boys wore a dark blue Tam O’Shanter cap, and she comprehendedthat it was not Miss Vaughn, but Lawn Tennis, or Cricket, or whatever her name is, who had been given permission to pass the night in Miss Vaughn’s room. She could not hear the entire conversation, her desire to remain undiscovered keeping her well within her own room, but she distinctly heard one of the young men say, ‘Throw it out—I’ll catch it.’ The girl replied, ‘Here it is,’ and said something about the sheets and things being on the upper landing. She added quite distinctly, ‘Don’t come into the studio until I give the signal.’

“Miss Noakes says she was too horrified to act promptly, as she should have done; but that a few moments later she visited the Amen Corner and found it deserted by all the young ladies with the exception of Miss Vaughn, who was studying quietly in the parlor. She asked where the others were, and was told that they were in the studio, where the procession was to form. On asking Miss Vaughn why she had not joined them, she replied that she intended to do so in a short time, but had been improving every moment for study. Miss Noakes asked for Lawn Tennis and was told that she had been appointed door-keeper for the evening. Onintimating that she had seen her in Miss Vaughn’s room, Miss Vaughn had replied that this was very possible as she had just left the room.”

During this relation of Mr. Mudge’s, Cynthia had turned different colors, from livid purple to greenish pallor. And had several times been on the point of replying, but the lawyer-detective had continued his narrative in a sing-song, monotonous way, as though reading it from a written deposition, and had left her no opportunity for interrupting. He now turned to her and remarked:

“I repeat all this here, Miss Vaughn, in order to hear your side of the story.”

“I have nothing to say,” Cynthia replied sullenly.

“Then Miss Noakes’s statement is substantially correct?”

“I don’t understand what you are driving at.” Cynthia flashed out passionately. “If you mean to insinuate that I threw the key out to some of the cadets, and helped disguise them, and gave them the signal when to join in the procession—why then all I have to say is that it is a very pretty story, but you will find it very hard to prove it.”

“Not so hasty, not so hasty,” replied Mr.Mudge. “My dear young lady, if you will reflect a moment, you will perceive that nothing of this kind has been charged against you. The question does not concern you at all, but this athletic young lady—Lawn Tennis.”

Mr. Mudge had become so firmly convinced in his own mind that Polo’s name was Lawn Tennis that we saw the futility of correcting him and gave up the attempt.

“Mr. Mudge,” Winnie exclaimed, “we protest! Cynthia, I call upon you to own up. It wasn’t such a very bad frolic. You meant no particular harm. We will all sign a petition to Madame asking her to let you off. Don’t let Polo be unjustly suspected. You know you did it; own up to it like a man.”

But Cynthia was in no mood to own up to anything like a man, or like a decent girl. She simply turned her nose several degrees higher and remained silent.

“Your cowardly silence will not shield you,” Adelaide exclaimed scornfully. “I have some letters from my brother which make me very positive that this is one of your scrapes, and I will show them to Mr. Mudge unless you confess instantly.”

“I have nothing to confess,” Cynthia replied in a low voice, but the words seemed to stick in her throat.

Mr. Mudge next asked us, in a thoughtful manner, whether “Lawn Tennis” was connected with the institution at the time of the robbery. I replied that she was, but that I could not see any relation between that crime and the present escapade.

“Perhaps not,” Mr. Mudge replied; “and then again we never can tell what apparently trifling circumstance may lead up to the great discovery. As I have previously remarked, it is more than probable that the thief having been once successful will try the same game again. Then, too, if your thief happens to be a kleptomaniac, she could not refrain from pilfering. Have you lost anything since that eventful night?”

“Nothing whatever.”

“And you have used the cabinet since as a depository for your funds?”

“Certainly,” I replied. “We consider that we have used sufficient precaution in having the bolt put upon the door. The result seems to justify our confidence. To be sure, until night before last we have had no important sums to deposit.”

“How about night before last?” Mr. Mudge asked.

“I had charge of the ticket money for the Home that we gained by the CatacombParty,” I replied, “and I placed it in my division of the cabinet. There is just sixty dollars of it, and it is there now.”

“And was there during the night that Lawn Tennis slept in this apartment? And she knew it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then that is very good evidence that she was not the thief on the previous occasion.”

So confident was I in our security and in Polo’s honesty that I unlocked the cabinet to give Mr. Mudge convincing proof. What was our astonishment to find my compartment again empty. The floor of the cabinet was as clean as though swept by a brush. The sixty dollars which we held in trust for the Home were gone!

Mr. Mudgeinformed us that he did not intend to arrest Polo immediately, but merely to have her “shadowed,” which meant that all her habits and those of her friends and relatives were to be ascertained and every movement watched.“You will not hurt her feelings by letting her know that you suspect her?” Milly begged, and Mr. Mudge assured her that such a thing was furthest from his intention, and in his turn he urgedus not to allow Polo to imagine that we suspected her.“We can’t let her see that,” Winnie replied, “since we do not suspect her in the least.”Mr. Mudge coughed. “I hope your confidence will be proved to be not misplaced,” he replied; “but Miss Noakes does not share it, and I deem Miss Noakes to be a very discriminating woman.”He bowed stiffly, and for that day the conference was ended. Cynthia retired to her room, and shut the door with a bang. Milly threw herself into Winnie’s arms, and Winnie caressed her and cried over her in mingled happiness and remorse—joy that Milly had been proved innocent, and repentance that she had ever doubted her.“Oh! my darling, my darling,” she sobbed; “can you ever forgive me for believing you capable of so dreadful a thing? I could not blame you if you refused to ever speak to me again.”“Don’t feel so badly,” Milly pleaded. “Appearances were awfully against me, and if papa had not come and helped me out just in the nick of time, I don’t know what I might have been tempted to do. I have been so bad, Winnie, that I am very humble. I shall neversay I never could have done such a thing, for I cannot know what the temptation might have been. I am almost glad that you believed me so wicked, because it shows me that you would have stood by me even then. I am going to try to be a better girl for this experience, and worthier of your love.”Adelaide and I retired discretely, and talked over the new aspects of the second robbery. The trust funds must be made up between us. To help do this I subscribed the twenty dollars which Winnie had given me on my birthday, and which fortunately had been placed in my portfolio before we had regained our confidence in the cabinet, and had never been transferred to my compartment. As the other girls had not suffered this time, they made up the amount, though it necessitated considerable self-denial. It took some time for Milly to become accustomed to properly dividing her spending money, so that she need not come short before the date for receiving her allowance, but the practice was good for her and in the end she became an excellent manager.One peculiar circumstance in regard to this robbery was remarked by Winnie—the fact that on both occasions money had only beentaken from my shelf. It was true that Adelaide and Milly had each lost fifty dollars the first night, but not until it had been taken by Milly from their hoards and placed with mine.“It would seem,” said Adelaide, “as if the thief had a special grudge against Tib; a determination that she shall not save up enough to go to Europe next year.”“It can’t be that,” Winnie replied, “for although the last sum stolen was taken from Tib’s compartment, it was not her money. The whole thing is very peculiar, and seems to be the work of some unreasoning agent, for this time, as the last, Adelaide had some bills lying loosely in her pigeon hole in full sight, which were not touched at all. I have heard of things having been stolen by jackdaws and mice—and monkeys—and I believe there has been some monkey business here.”“I heard a story when I was in Boston,” said Adelaide. “It was told me by a member of a prominent firm of jewellers. It is the custom at the close of the day for one of the clerks to lock up all the jewelry in the safe for the night. He had done so, and was just about to leave the store when a box containing a valuable pair of diamond sleevebuttons was handed him. It was late, and as it would take some time to go over the combination which locked and unlocked the safe, he tucked the little box far under the safe and thrust some old newspapers in front of it. In the morning when he searched for it, what was his consternation to find that the sleeve buttons were gone. The box was there, but some one had opened it and abstracted the sleeve buttons. He reported the loss at once to one of the members of the firm, who reproved him for his carelessness in not unlocking the safe and placing the box where it would have been secure. Then the gentlemen put their heads together to track the thief; and some one suggested that he had seen mice in the store, and this might be their work. The safe was moved, and a small hole was discovered in the base-board of the room. A carpenter was sent for and the wall opened, and there, cozily established in a nest formed of twine and nibbled paper, and other odds and ends, a family of little pink mice was discovered, and in their nest were the missing sleeve buttons. The mother mouse had evidently been attracted by the glitter of the gems, for she had taken great pains to convey them to her home. She had stored here manyother curious articles: pieces of shiny tin foil, which she may have used as mirrors; bits of broken glass, and scraps of narrow, bright ribbon, intended for tying the boxes, all showing that she had an eye for decorative art. I am very sorry that it was considered best to kill her, for I believe that mouse could have been educated. Now, the reason that I have told this long story is that I half suspect that this is a case of mouse, and not, as Winnie says, of monkey business.”Winnie immediately examined the cabinet. The panelling was intact, not even worm-eaten; it fitted apparently as closely as the covering of a drum; not a crevice large enough for even a cricket to penetrate.“It is very mysterious, all the same,” Winnie remarked; “but I here and now vow, in the presence of these witnesses, to make this mystery mine, and to unravel it before the close of school, so surely as my name is Witch Winnie.”From that time we spoke of the affair of the cabinet as Witch Winnie’s mystery, and we all had faith that some way or other Winnie would find the clue if Mr. Mudge did not.One day in May she said: “I feel as if there was something uncanny about the cabinetitself. I wonder who was its first owner. Perhaps Lucrezia Borgia kept her poisons in it, and it is haunted by dreadful secrets of the middle ages. It may be that Lorenzo de Medici confided to its keeping a will, giving back to Florence the city’s liberties, and that this will was stolen by the Magnificent’s heir while the poor man lay dying. We can imagine that the ghost of the guilty man having, as Mr. Mudge says, been once successful, has contracted a habit of stealing from the cabinet, and comes in the wee small hours with stealthy tread to take whatever occupies the spot where once Lorenzo’s testament reposed.”“What a romantic idea!” Milly murmured. “You could make a lovely composition out of it, Winnie.”“Good idea!” Winnie exclaimed. “I will. I have got to have something for the closing exercises of school, and Madame advised me to write on Raphael. She said that Professor Waite’s lectures on the Italian artists ought to inspire me. Some way they never have, but this old cabinet does. I shall pretend that I have found a package of letters in a secret compartment; and in this package I shall tell all the early history of Raphael—whichis not known to the world—his love story with Maria Bibbiena, and all the criticism and envy which he must have undergone before he arrived at success. It will be great fun and I shall go to work at once. No, I shall not go to see the inter-scholastic games to-morrow. I shall have a solid quiet afternoon to myself while you girls are skylarking, and I shall have to work like a house on fire on every Saturday I can get to make my essay the success which I mean it shall be.”From this decision we could not move her, though it greatly disappointed Milly, who desired that Mr. Van Silver should meet Winnie. Mrs. Roseveldt had returned from the South, and had consented to chaperone the girls, Mr. Van Silver taking us out on his handsome coach.It was a perfect day and the drive to the Berkeley Oval, where the games took place, was a delightful one.Mr. Van Silver’s Brewster coach was a glorious affair. It was painted canary yellow. The four horses were perfectly matched roans. The grooms were in liveries of bottle-green coats with white breeches and top boots faced with yellow. Mr. Van Silver wore a light-coloured overcoat, and the lap robewas of white broadcloth. All the brass about the harness had been burnished till it shone like gold. Mrs. Roseveldt and Milly sat beside him on the box. Mrs. Roseveldt wore a Paris costume of white cloth with Louis XVI jacket with velvet sleeves and vest heavily embroidered in gold. A little bonnet formed of gold beads fitted her aristocratic head like a coronet. Milly was bewitchingly pretty in a fawn coloured shoulder cape, and a pancake hat piled with yellow buttercups. She seemed, as Adelaide said, cut out of a piece with her surroundings. Adelaide and I occupied the back seat, with Little Breeze beside us in the place which had been intended for Winnie. Little Breeze wore a simple spring suit and I had only one best gown—a gray cashmere; but Adelaide made up for our simplicity. Her dress was not very expensive, but Milly’s exclamation that it was “too exasperatingly, excruciatingly becoming” will give an idea of its effect. It was a white foulard, sprigged in black and caught here and there with black velvet bows; there was a vest of fluffy white chiffon, and her hat was trimmed with white marabout pompons powdered with black. The costume was her own design, executed by Miss Billings. Shecarried a cheap white silk parasol, made to look elaborate by a cover constructed from an old black lace flounce.“Papa has forbidden me ever to enter Celeste’s rooms again,” Milly said to Adelaide; “and I am sure if Miss Billings can make me look asrecherchéas you do, she is good enough for me.”“I seem fated never to meet Miss Winnie,” Mr. Van Silver said as he started.“She is to visit us during the summer,” said Mrs. Roseveldt, “and you must come out to the Pier and see her.”“You are very good, but I am going to take my coach over to the other side this summer. My mother is visiting at the castle of the Earl of Cairngorm and wants me to take a lot of people for a coaching trip through the Scottish Highlands.”“How many of our friends are going to Europe in the summer,” Adelaide remarked. “Professor Waite told me he intended to return to France for a term of years, and Tib here is going over to study——”“I’m afraid not,” I replied doubtfully.“Oh, yes you are,” Milly insisted; “that will all come out right.”“What a lovely day for the games,” Mrs.Roseveldt remarked. “What is your favorite school, Milly? Columbia, Berkeley, Cutler, Morse? Oh! yes, I remember—the cadets. But where is your badge? I see that Miss Armstrong and Miss Smith wear theirs quite conspicuously, and Mr. Van Silver, too, has decorated his whip and the coach horn with the cadet colours.”“Adelaide has a brother among the cadets, which accounts for her preference,” Milly replied evasively; “but I don’t see why I should prefer them to any other school.”“Why, have you forgotten,” Mrs. Roseveldt asked, much surprised, “your old friend Stacey Fitz Simmons is a cadet?”Milly tossed her head disdainfully. She could not tell the story of the intrusion of the two boys whom we believed to be cadets, for we had promised Madame not to bruit it abroad; but her reason for not wearing the cadet colours was her indignation on account of this act. She believed, or affected to believe, that one of these boys was Stacey, and she had determined to punish him for the outrage. “Girls,” she had said, before leaving, “after the insult which our school has received from the cadets, I do not see how any of you can wear their colours.”“We do not know certainly that those interlopers were cadets,” Adelaide replied; “and, even if they were, my brother is still a member of the school. He rides in the bicycle race and he expects to see me wear his colours.”I sympathized with Adelaide and made myself a badge to encourage little Jim.“Stacey is a friend of mine,” Mr. Van Silver asserted. “I expect to see him carry off several events to-day, and I have come out prepared to wave and cheer and bawl myself hoarse in his honour.”What a charming drive it was through the park, where many of the trees and shrubs were in blossom. We passed many a merry party bound in the same direction, and several great stages laden with boys, who carried flags, tooted horns, and shook immense rattles. Arrived at Morris Heights the sight was even still more inspiring, for every train emptied several carloads of passengers, who hastened to the grounds to be in time for the opening. As we drove in we could see that the grand stand and the long rows of seats on either side were well filled. There were at least four thousand spectators gathered to witness this athletic contest between the champions of the principal schools of the city. Some of thecontestants were grouped on the verandas of the Pavilion waiting for their turn to take part. Others were already on the field, practising the long jumps, or pacing about with “sweaters,” or knit woollen blouses, over their scanty running costumes.On the grand stand and the “bleaching boards” the adherents of the different schools had collected in groups, which displayed the school colours as prominently as possible. These groups were now engaged in making as hideous an instrumental and vocal din as possible. Each orchestra, if it might be called so, was led by a sort of master of discord, who called at intervals upon his constituency for cheers for the different school favorites, as, “Now, boys, a loud one for Harrison. One, two, three, ’rah! ’rah! ’rah! C-u-t-l-e-r, Cutler!—Harrison!” While the Columbia grammar boys would reply, “C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a—Burke!” and the Berkeleys would yell forth the name of Allen, who has so long covered the school with glory.Buttertub was conspicuous as leader of the chorus for the cadets. He wore an immense cockade, made of sash ribbon, pinned to the front of his coat, while his hat and a great cane with a knobby handle, too largefor insertion even in his wide mouth, also flaunted the school colours. Our coach had hardly taken its position before Stacey and Jim spied it and came toward us. Stacey was in running costume—“undress uniform,” he called it—but he had knotted a rose-coloured Russian bath gown about him to keep him from taking cold.“Doesn’t he look exactly like a girl?” Milly remarked as he approached, and then she gave him a curt little bow and turned with greatempressementto Professor Waite, who had come out on horseback, and who now rode up, hoping for a word with Adelaide. But Jim had clambered up on the wheel on the other side of the coach, and Adelaide was glad of this excuse to turn her back squarely on Professor Waite, who felt the avoidance and would have turned instantly away had not Milly insisted on introducing him to her mother. Meantime Stacey stood quite neglected. I longed to speak to him, but as I had never been introduced, did not dare to do so. Just as a hot flush was sweeping up toward his forehead, Mr. Van Silver, whose attention had been taken up with his horses, noticed him. “Hello, Stacey,” he cried, “make that little chap get down off thatwheel, will you? These horses are pretty nervous, even with the grooms at their heads. They are not used to all this racket. See how they are pawing up the driveway.”Stacey laughed. “Jim is a splendid wheel-man,” he said. “You needn’t be afraid for him. But aren’t you going to get down? You can see ever so much better from the grand stand. Did the girls get the tickets that Jim and I sent?”Adelaide acknowledged the receipt of the tickets, and spoke so pleasantly that Stacey seemed a little comforted. One of the grooms set up the steps and we all climbed down, Stacey assisting. When it was Milly’s turn he spoke to her very earnestly in a low tone, but Milly did not reply. Mr. Van Silver called to us to keep together, and led the way to seats near the centre of the stand; and Stacey retired to the field, much displeased and puzzled by Milly’s conduct.Professor Waite looked after us longingly. He did not dare to leave his horse, and he was disappointed that we had left the coach, near which he had intended to hover.“How very provokingly things do arrange themselves,” I thought to myself. “Cupid must certainly be playing a game of cross purposeswith us. Here is Stacey longing for a kind word from Milly, and Milly breaking her little heart for Professor Waite, and Professor Waite desperate because of Adelaide’s indifference, Adelaide trying politely to entertain Mr. Van Silver, who, in his turn, is provoked because Winnie has not come; and I, who would be very grateful if any of these gentlemen would be agreeable to me—left quite out in the cold, without the shadow of an admirer.”I soon forgot this circumstance, however, in my interest in the games.“There is the cup,” said Mr. Van Silver, “on that table with the gold and silver medals, Berkeley holds it now. See, it is draped with blue and gold ribbons, the Berkeley colours. The school which wins the greatest number of points will take it after the games are over. This is the first heat of the hundred yard dash. Now we shall see some fun. It’s a foregone conclusion that Allen of Berkeley will win. He does not enter for long distances, but as a sprinter he has no equal in the other schools.” Very easily and handsomely Allen won this race and several others.Then we admired the light and graceful wayin which an agile youth took the hurdles, and the professional style of two walkers, and after this my glance wandered for a time over the spectators.Cynthia Vaughn and Rosario Ricos had come out in the cars, chaperoned by Miss Noakes. They did not desire her company, and it was a great bore to her to come, but Madame would not let the girls come unattended. I was much surprised presently to see a gentleman make his way to her side. I nudged Adelaide, exclaiming under my breath, “Only see, Miss Noakes actually has an admirer!”Adelaide lifted her opera-glass. “Tib,” she ejaculated, “it is Mr. Mudge. You know he said she was a most discriminating woman. See, she is so much entertained that she does not notice that Ricos and Buttertub have made their way to Cynthia and are talking with her.”“Mr. Mudge notices them, though,” I replied; “see how sharply he eyes them.”Mr. Mudge came to us presently, and chatted pleasantly in regard to the games.“I did not know that you were so much interested in athletics,” I remarked.“A lawyer and a detective must be interestedin everything which interests his clients,” he replied.“Did you come out alone?” I asked, more for the purpose of making conversation than from any desire to know.“No; I had very charming company,” he replied.“Miss Noakes?” Adelaide asked mischievously.Mr. Mudge looked at her with stern reproof in his gray eyes.“Lawn Tennis,” he remarked snappishly. “I came out with that young lady, though she is quite unconscious of my escort.”“What! is Polo here?” I asked.“One of the most interested spectators. Her eyes are nearly popping out of her head with every strain of the muscles of that tug-of-war team.”The team to which Mr. Mudge referred was now pulling, and was made up of members of the Cadet School. They were finely developed young men, and in their leather apron-like protections, with their muscular arms and glowing faces, looked like blacksmiths’ apprentices. They lay on the cleats, pulling at the great rope, and the cords swelled in their necks, as from time to time they ground theirteeth, and threw their heads back with a jerk, which told how intense was the strain. The trainer of the team, a wiry, eager young man, in a jockey cap, stood with his hands on his knees, watching the white mark on the rope, which the team were very slowly working toward their side.“That is a professional trainer,” said Mr. Van Silver. “He has coached the cadets, and is intensely interested in their success.”At intervals, the captain and anchor of the cadets uttered exclamations of encouragement to his team, or vituperated at the other. “We’re in it, boys, we’re in it,” he shrieked, as he gave another twist to the rope. “Steady, hold your own, and you’ll pull ’em right off the cleats. Heave, now—heave! Oh! those fellows don’t know how to pull,” he cried again; “they’re weakening! See how purple they’re getting in the face. Hold on another two seconds, and you’ll pull them into the middle of next week.”“What a noisy fellow!” Adelaide remarked. “Why doesn’t Colonel Grey shut him up?”“Not he,” replied Mr. Van Silver. “See how his ribald and irreverent remarks put new courage into the team. I should not wonder if they won back that three inches which theother side pulled away from them during the first minute. Time’s up. Which side won?” for the announcement of the judges was drowned in a roar of the cadet claque, led by Buttertub, who had struggled back to his place in time to head the ’Rah! ’Rah! ’Rah!Stacey had been looking on close to the rope, and he now shouted across to Mr. Van Silver, “The cadets have it by half an inch!” and waving the skirts of his bath-robe with greatabandon, he threw himself into the arms of the little man in the jockey cap, and hugged him enthusiastically.“Now, notice your friend,” Mr. Mudge said to me, in a low voice; and, looking in the direction in which he pointed, I saw Polo standing on one of the front seats of the bleaching boards, waving her Tam O’Shanter, and shouting as wildly as the cadets.“I did not know that Polo knew any of the boys who go to that school,” I said, much puzzled.“I don’t believe she does,” Mr. Mudge replied, “but Terwilliger, the trainer there, is her brother, and he hasn’t the best record that was ever known. He was a jockey in England, but outgrew that profession, and has been a little of everything since. He came over to thiscountry on the Earl of Cairngorm’s yacht. He was associated shortly after with a noted pickpocket called Limber Tim, and some months since was sent with him to the Island to serve a term of imprisonment for participation in a confidence swindle. All of which, you see, has a rather damaging look for your friend Lawn Tennis. What I would like to know is, how he ever came to get the position of trainer at the Cadet School.”“The boys seem to be very fond of him,” I ventured.“Naturally; it was his training which has just won the school this event. Did you notice that young swell, Fitz Simmons, give him a greenback as soon as the victory was assured. I have not been able to discover yet whether Terwilliger has renewed his friendship with Limber Tim. If he has, it is more than likely that they are the two unknown boys who introduced themselves into your school on the night of your party.”“Has Adelaide shown you her brother’s letters?” I asked. “We think that the young man who leads the applause and Rosario Ricos’s brother are the scamps.”“That supposition might be entertained provided it had been only a boyish caper;but the two robberies can hardly be attributed to these young gentlemen.”I groaned. So our poor Polo was beginning to be “shadowed.” She had told us with such delight, a few days before this, that she had found her brother. He had been away from New York for two years, but had left no stone unturned on his return in his search for them. He had a kind friend who had secured him a fine position, and she was so happy. The good news had nearly cured her mother.I was drawn from my reverie by Adelaide’s announcement that the time had come for the one mile safety bicycle race for boys under fifteen, in which Jim was to take part. This was the great event of the day for us. There were two entries from the Cadet School—Jim and Ricos.“Ricos is certainly over fifteen,” I said to Adelaide.“He is no taller than Jim,” Adelaide replied doubtfully.“He is a little fellow,” I admitted, “but those Cubans are all stunted, weazened little monkeys.”Adelaide smiled faintly, but watched the preparations for the race with straining eyes. So did all the cadets. There were many entriesfrom the other schools, but they were confident in the prowess of their own champions. The only question was which would be successful.“Come boys,” shouted Buttertub, “let’s give them a rousing send-off. Whoop her up for Ricos! One, two, three,—’Rah! ’Rah! ’Rah!Ricos!”A red-haired boy, whom I at once recognized as the Woodpecker, shouted from the field, “Cheer Armstrong, too!” but Buttertub either did not hear him, or wilfully disregarded his request.Stacey’s rose-coloured bath-gown was conspicuous, fluttering here and there; he got a bottle of alcohol from the trainer and was presently seen kneeling on the track, vigorously rubbing down Jim’s legs. He mounted him carefully, and scrutinized every part of his little safety bicycle, with the most zealous care. The starter gave Jim the inside of the track, which was an advantage loudly contested by Ricos.“No use kicking,” Stacey remarked. “You’ve had one medal for cycling, and Jim is the youngest chap entered. I should like to know now just when you passed your fourteenth birthday.”Ricos was silent and sullenly took his place. Jim turned and waved his hand to his sister. Stacey was holding his bicycle, ready to push it off at the signal. How jaunty and gay he looked in his dark blue jersey, with the silver C on his breast, and with the wind blowing his blonde hair from his eager face.“He’s a jolly little chap,” Mr. Van Silver remarked admiringly; and Milly murmured, “I think he’s perfectly sweet.”Adelaide said nothing, but the tears came to her eyes. I think that just for that moment she was perfectly happy. Her mood was contagious. The glamour of spring was in the hazy atmosphere. The plum trees were blossoming white out beyond the track, and the blue of bursting buds and the tender green of the earliest leafage spread itself in a shimmering haze over all the sweet spring landscape. It was a good world, after all.At the report of the starter’s pistol, all of the boys were off in line, but they had hardly made half a lap when two, Jim and Ricos, shot from the rank and sped on in advance of the others.“’Rah! ’Rah! for the cadets!” shouted Buttertub.“’Rah! for Armstrong!” yelled the Woodpecker.“He’s second!” shouted Buttertub.“He’s first!” shrieked the Woodpecker, “and gaining every instant. ’Rah! ’Rah! ’Rah!”“He can’t keep it! Ricos won’t let himself be beaten as easily as that,” replied Buttertub. “See him bend to it. There, he’s up with him! They’re even! He’s trying to get the inside! ’Rah! ’Rah!”“Look out! there’ll be a smash-up!” cried the trainer. “Keep to the right, you lummox.”“Hi!” cried Mr. Van Silver, springing to his feet, “that’s a bad tumble.”“Ricos fouled him on purpose,” cried the Woodpecker.A groan ran round the stand. “They are both down—no, only one.”“Which one?” cried Adelaide.“I don’t know,” I replied, but I held her down firmly on my shoulder, for I saw a rose-coloured bath-robe skimming across the field like a pink comet, and I knew that Stacey would not have manifested such concern if an accident had happened to Ricos.“Armstrong’s up!” yelled the trainer in the jockey cap. “He’s mounting again!”“He is!” ejaculated Mr. Van Silver. “By George! Jim’s the pluckiest little fellow I ever saw in my life!”For an instant the spectators went crazy with cheers, then they quieted down and watched.Ricos swept by, he had gained the first lap easily; but only a faint cheer greeted him. It was thought by many that the collision was intended, and all eyes were fixed on the little figure in the blue jersey, now the very last in the race, but who, having been assisted to his seat by the rose-coloured bath-robe, was now wheeling manfully along in the rear. Adelaide opened her eyes and waved her handkerchief as he passed the stand.“Go it, Jim; go it! You’ve got the sand,” yelled the Woodpecker; while Stacey, the bath-robe cast aside, came forging up, running at Jim’s side; in his friendly anxiety to see that all was right, unconsciously breaking his own previous record as a sprinter. If he had been timed just then even his most enthusiastic friends would have been astonished. But, convinced that Jim was gaining, he contented himself with cutting across the Oval tonote his place at the end of the second lap. Ricos had held his own, and passed the stand well ahead of all the other competitors; but Jim was making up and had distanced two of the laggards, his legs propelling like the driving-bars of an engine.“He’s gaining!” cried Mr. Van Silver. “I should not wonder if he caught up with the other fellow; for, see, he has two more rounds to make.”When he passed the stand for the third time and the starter rang the bell which announced that this was the last lap, Jim had passed all the others and was following Ricos at a distance of only a few rods. He looked up toward us with a pitiful smile on his wan face. “Cheer, boys, cheer!” cried the Woodpecker, “you don’t applaud half enough. Whoop ’em up, Tub! Hurry up, Jim! Hurry up! Go it for all you’re worth!”“Take it easy—easy!” roared Stacey, who saw that the boy was straining every nerve. “Take your time, Jim. You’ve got him, now. Take—your—time!”The spectators were nearly all silent. The boys belonging to other schools, seeing that there was no hope for their own champions, had ceased to applaud and were now deeplyinterested in the two cadets. Rosario Ricos had fainted, and Miss Noakes was calling shrilly for water, but even Mr. Mudge was so much absorbed in the contest that he paid no attention to her appeal. People near me held their breath in suspense. It reminded me of Gérome’s picture of the chariot race, and the fall had been not unlike the one described in “Ben Hur.”“Why is it,” whispered Adelaide, “that Jim has tied a crimson ribbon just below his knee? Red is not a cadet colour; see it flutter against his leg.”I saw the crimson streak to which she referred; but a swift intimation flashed upon me that this was no ribbon, but a little rill of blood flowing from a gash cut by Ricos’s wheel. I contrasted Jim’s face, deadly pale, with that of Ricos’s, flushed to a dark purple, and wondered whether his strength would hold out to the end. I need have had no fear, Jim was clear grit through and through. As he neared the goal he set his teeth and bent nearly flat, throwing no glance this time in our direction, but with graze fixed straight before him, he worked the pedals with wonderful velocity and swooped forward, like a little hawk, far beyond Ricos, and past the finish, on, on, as thoughthe momentum of that final spurt would never be exhausted. The thunder of applause which burst forth at this exploit was something which I had never heard equalled. The spectators all stood upon the benches, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs, hats, and scarfs, crying and laughing hysterically. The men yelled and shouted themselves hoarse. Every kazoo, tin horn, rattle, and other instrument of torture sounded forth its discordant triumph. The boys stamped and hooted. The cadets, to a man, acted like raving maniacs. Even Buttertub, who had no love for Jim, led his gang with “Bully for Armstrong!” “Hi—yi—whoop, three times three and a tiger!” “Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! What’s the matter with Armstrong? He’s all right!”“’Rah, ’Rah, ’Rah—ta-tara-daBoomerum a boom-er-um.Boom, boom, bang!”But Jim was not all right. He heard the great roar of applause, but it sounded far, far away to his numbing senses. Then all the light went out of the sweet spring landscape, and he toppled over, bicycle and all, into Stacey’s friendly arms. No one was surprisedto see him stretched upon the grass wrapped in the rose-coloured bath-gown, for it was a common thing for victors to faint just as they secured their laurels. “He’ll be up in a minute; Stacey is rubbing his feet,” Mr. Van Silver asserted reassuringly. “Good-hearted fellow, that Stacey. He’s devoted to your brother.” But Adelaide watched him anxiously, until a crowd of boys closed around him and hid him from her view. How terribly long he lay there—could anything serious be the matter? Suddenly Polo’s brother came running toward us. “Is there any doctor on the grand stand!” he shouted; “if so, he’s wantedimmejiently.”Adelaide sprang to her feet and clambered down the ranks of seats. I followed. I have no clear idea of how we reached the ground, but we hurried on together, the boys making way for us as we came. They had an instinctive feeling that this handsome, imperious girl, with the white face, had a right to pass. A panting boy, lying with his face to the ground, looked up and asked, “What’s up?”“They can’t bring Armstrong to,” replied the trainer. “Looks like he is going to die.”“Glad of it,” retorted the other, turning his face to the sod again. It was Ricos, desertedby every one, unnoticed in his defeat. But through his humiliation and resentment there presently shot a pang of conscience. “What if Jim should die? Would I not be a murderer?” and with pallid face he staggered to his feet and tottered after us. The crowd around Jim opened for us. There he lay with his head on Stacey’s lap. A portly surgeon, with a river of watch-chain flowing around his vest, knelt at Jim’s side examining the wound below his knee. Colonel Grey, the principal of the school, a retired army officer, and a tall soldierly man, bent his white head over the doctor and inquired into Jim’s condition.“The wound is not a serious one, only a minor artery cut, which I have just tied. The only question is whether the little fellow has lost too much blood.”“Oh, my darling brother!” Adelaide cried.“For Heaven’s sake, control yourself, my dear Miss Armstrong!” exclaimed Colonel Grey. He realized the importance of not exciting Jim, and he loved the boy tenderly. He offered his arm to Adelaide now, while four of the cadets lifted Jim and bore him very gently to the piazza of the pavilion. “To think,” said the Colonel, “that I was just congratulating myself on the number of pointshe was winning for the school. Why, I would rather the school had not gained a single point than have had this happen.”“Darn the games,” muttered Stacey, switching his bath-robe about savagely.When we reached the piazza and Jim had been stretched on a bench, his eyes opened feebly. He recognized Adelaide fanning him and smiled.“They are calling the mile run,” said the trainer. “You entered for that, Mr. Fitz Simmons. They say you are sure of winning the race, and if you do you’ll gain the cup for the school.”“Confound the race!” ejaculated Stacey. “Do you suppose I am going to leave Jim in this condition?”“I cannot ask it, my boy,” said the Colonel. But Jim’s forehead furrowed slightly, and he said very feebly: “Go, Stacey; don’t—let the school—lose the cup.”“Go!” cried Adelaide. “He wishes it.” And Stacey strode out to the track.Milly told me afterward that she was greatly surprised, and not a little indignant, to see him take his place with the runners, who were mustering just in front of us.“How’s Armstrong?” Mr. Van Silver called to him.Stacey came nearer. “Badly hurt, I’m afraid,” he replied.“Then I think it is very heartless in you to run,” Milly exclaimed. It was the only thing she had said to him that day. He flushed violently. “Jim begged me to do so,” he said, “or else you may be sure that I would not be here.”The race was called, and Stacey threw himself into the “set,” his chin protruding with bull-dog determination, but Milly’s thoughtless remark had taken all of the spirit out of him. “He was the very last to get off,” said the trainer. “He’s running in awful bad form, too. Fifth from the front. What’s he thinking of to let Harrison pass him?”Around they came, and Stacey looked appealingly to Milly, but with nose turned in the air, she was waving the Morse colours, snatched from a girl sitting near her, and applauding the Morse champion, Emerson.The sight stung him. He would show her that he was a better runner than the boy she had selected as her favorite, and he put forth every energy, and gained rapidly.“I told ’em,” said the trainer oracularly, “that Fitz Simmons would wake up, and sprint further on.Hewasn’t running this first lap. He ain’t a-running now, he’s just taking it easy, to show us some tall running toward the finish, when he’ll have it all to himself.”The cadets evidently thought so too, and Stacey’s own drum corps, who had brought out their drums on the top of a stage in expectation of this event, beat an encouraging charge as he came around for the second time. Stacey smiled as he recognized the familiar:Boom a tid-e-ra-daBoom a diddle dee,Boom a tid-e-ra-daBoom!He turned for an instant, waved his hand to the boys, and then buckled down to his very best effort.“It’s one in a millionIf any civilianHis figure and form can surpass,”hummed Mr. Van Silver.“How’s that for the cup?” shouted Buttertub, who forgot personal animosities in theschool triumph. He flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and yelled across to the drum corps, “Who’s Fitz Simmons?”It was a well-known school cry and the boys on the stage responded lustily:“First in peace, first in war;He’ll be there again, he’s been there before;First in the hearts of his own drum corps;That’s Fitz Simmons!”Stacey was leading—only a little way now to the finish. He said to himself, “Now’s the time to sprint.” How strange that his muscles wouldnotobey the command telegraphed to them by his brain. Strain every nerve as he did, he could not increase the pace. Emerson, the Morse flyer, shot by him with his magnificent stride, as fresh and unwearied in this final burst of speed as Milton’s conception of a young archangel. Stacey staggered on, but the drum corps was suddenly silent, and there was no shout as he passed the cadet contingent. They and he knew that the contest was now hopeless. He did not look up at Milly. He knew, without looking, that she was applauding his rival, who had won the race and was now being borne off the field on the shoulders of his rejoicingcomrades, amidst their delirious cheers. Stacey finished the course, then stalked moodily a little distance and sat down upon the grass, with his forehead resting on his knees. His disappointment was very bitter. The Woodpecker, who had not run in this race, came up to Stacey with his bath-gown, which he threw thoughtfully about the exhausted runner.“Played out, are you, Stacey?” he asked kindly. “Well, I don’t wonder; you tired yourself out keeping up with Armstrong in the bicycle race. You made staving good time then, but you’d ought to have saved yourself and put in the licks now, old chap. Never mind, we all know what your record has been.”“I don’t care beans for my own record,” groaned Stacey, “but I’ve lost the school the cup, and I can never look the fellows in the face again.”

Mr. Mudgeinformed us that he did not intend to arrest Polo immediately, but merely to have her “shadowed,” which meant that all her habits and those of her friends and relatives were to be ascertained and every movement watched.

“You will not hurt her feelings by letting her know that you suspect her?” Milly begged, and Mr. Mudge assured her that such a thing was furthest from his intention, and in his turn he urgedus not to allow Polo to imagine that we suspected her.

“We can’t let her see that,” Winnie replied, “since we do not suspect her in the least.”

Mr. Mudge coughed. “I hope your confidence will be proved to be not misplaced,” he replied; “but Miss Noakes does not share it, and I deem Miss Noakes to be a very discriminating woman.”

He bowed stiffly, and for that day the conference was ended. Cynthia retired to her room, and shut the door with a bang. Milly threw herself into Winnie’s arms, and Winnie caressed her and cried over her in mingled happiness and remorse—joy that Milly had been proved innocent, and repentance that she had ever doubted her.

“Oh! my darling, my darling,” she sobbed; “can you ever forgive me for believing you capable of so dreadful a thing? I could not blame you if you refused to ever speak to me again.”

“Don’t feel so badly,” Milly pleaded. “Appearances were awfully against me, and if papa had not come and helped me out just in the nick of time, I don’t know what I might have been tempted to do. I have been so bad, Winnie, that I am very humble. I shall neversay I never could have done such a thing, for I cannot know what the temptation might have been. I am almost glad that you believed me so wicked, because it shows me that you would have stood by me even then. I am going to try to be a better girl for this experience, and worthier of your love.”

Adelaide and I retired discretely, and talked over the new aspects of the second robbery. The trust funds must be made up between us. To help do this I subscribed the twenty dollars which Winnie had given me on my birthday, and which fortunately had been placed in my portfolio before we had regained our confidence in the cabinet, and had never been transferred to my compartment. As the other girls had not suffered this time, they made up the amount, though it necessitated considerable self-denial. It took some time for Milly to become accustomed to properly dividing her spending money, so that she need not come short before the date for receiving her allowance, but the practice was good for her and in the end she became an excellent manager.

One peculiar circumstance in regard to this robbery was remarked by Winnie—the fact that on both occasions money had only beentaken from my shelf. It was true that Adelaide and Milly had each lost fifty dollars the first night, but not until it had been taken by Milly from their hoards and placed with mine.

“It would seem,” said Adelaide, “as if the thief had a special grudge against Tib; a determination that she shall not save up enough to go to Europe next year.”

“It can’t be that,” Winnie replied, “for although the last sum stolen was taken from Tib’s compartment, it was not her money. The whole thing is very peculiar, and seems to be the work of some unreasoning agent, for this time, as the last, Adelaide had some bills lying loosely in her pigeon hole in full sight, which were not touched at all. I have heard of things having been stolen by jackdaws and mice—and monkeys—and I believe there has been some monkey business here.”

“I heard a story when I was in Boston,” said Adelaide. “It was told me by a member of a prominent firm of jewellers. It is the custom at the close of the day for one of the clerks to lock up all the jewelry in the safe for the night. He had done so, and was just about to leave the store when a box containing a valuable pair of diamond sleevebuttons was handed him. It was late, and as it would take some time to go over the combination which locked and unlocked the safe, he tucked the little box far under the safe and thrust some old newspapers in front of it. In the morning when he searched for it, what was his consternation to find that the sleeve buttons were gone. The box was there, but some one had opened it and abstracted the sleeve buttons. He reported the loss at once to one of the members of the firm, who reproved him for his carelessness in not unlocking the safe and placing the box where it would have been secure. Then the gentlemen put their heads together to track the thief; and some one suggested that he had seen mice in the store, and this might be their work. The safe was moved, and a small hole was discovered in the base-board of the room. A carpenter was sent for and the wall opened, and there, cozily established in a nest formed of twine and nibbled paper, and other odds and ends, a family of little pink mice was discovered, and in their nest were the missing sleeve buttons. The mother mouse had evidently been attracted by the glitter of the gems, for she had taken great pains to convey them to her home. She had stored here manyother curious articles: pieces of shiny tin foil, which she may have used as mirrors; bits of broken glass, and scraps of narrow, bright ribbon, intended for tying the boxes, all showing that she had an eye for decorative art. I am very sorry that it was considered best to kill her, for I believe that mouse could have been educated. Now, the reason that I have told this long story is that I half suspect that this is a case of mouse, and not, as Winnie says, of monkey business.”

Winnie immediately examined the cabinet. The panelling was intact, not even worm-eaten; it fitted apparently as closely as the covering of a drum; not a crevice large enough for even a cricket to penetrate.

“It is very mysterious, all the same,” Winnie remarked; “but I here and now vow, in the presence of these witnesses, to make this mystery mine, and to unravel it before the close of school, so surely as my name is Witch Winnie.”

From that time we spoke of the affair of the cabinet as Witch Winnie’s mystery, and we all had faith that some way or other Winnie would find the clue if Mr. Mudge did not.

One day in May she said: “I feel as if there was something uncanny about the cabinetitself. I wonder who was its first owner. Perhaps Lucrezia Borgia kept her poisons in it, and it is haunted by dreadful secrets of the middle ages. It may be that Lorenzo de Medici confided to its keeping a will, giving back to Florence the city’s liberties, and that this will was stolen by the Magnificent’s heir while the poor man lay dying. We can imagine that the ghost of the guilty man having, as Mr. Mudge says, been once successful, has contracted a habit of stealing from the cabinet, and comes in the wee small hours with stealthy tread to take whatever occupies the spot where once Lorenzo’s testament reposed.”

“What a romantic idea!” Milly murmured. “You could make a lovely composition out of it, Winnie.”

“Good idea!” Winnie exclaimed. “I will. I have got to have something for the closing exercises of school, and Madame advised me to write on Raphael. She said that Professor Waite’s lectures on the Italian artists ought to inspire me. Some way they never have, but this old cabinet does. I shall pretend that I have found a package of letters in a secret compartment; and in this package I shall tell all the early history of Raphael—whichis not known to the world—his love story with Maria Bibbiena, and all the criticism and envy which he must have undergone before he arrived at success. It will be great fun and I shall go to work at once. No, I shall not go to see the inter-scholastic games to-morrow. I shall have a solid quiet afternoon to myself while you girls are skylarking, and I shall have to work like a house on fire on every Saturday I can get to make my essay the success which I mean it shall be.”

From this decision we could not move her, though it greatly disappointed Milly, who desired that Mr. Van Silver should meet Winnie. Mrs. Roseveldt had returned from the South, and had consented to chaperone the girls, Mr. Van Silver taking us out on his handsome coach.

It was a perfect day and the drive to the Berkeley Oval, where the games took place, was a delightful one.

Mr. Van Silver’s Brewster coach was a glorious affair. It was painted canary yellow. The four horses were perfectly matched roans. The grooms were in liveries of bottle-green coats with white breeches and top boots faced with yellow. Mr. Van Silver wore a light-coloured overcoat, and the lap robewas of white broadcloth. All the brass about the harness had been burnished till it shone like gold. Mrs. Roseveldt and Milly sat beside him on the box. Mrs. Roseveldt wore a Paris costume of white cloth with Louis XVI jacket with velvet sleeves and vest heavily embroidered in gold. A little bonnet formed of gold beads fitted her aristocratic head like a coronet. Milly was bewitchingly pretty in a fawn coloured shoulder cape, and a pancake hat piled with yellow buttercups. She seemed, as Adelaide said, cut out of a piece with her surroundings. Adelaide and I occupied the back seat, with Little Breeze beside us in the place which had been intended for Winnie. Little Breeze wore a simple spring suit and I had only one best gown—a gray cashmere; but Adelaide made up for our simplicity. Her dress was not very expensive, but Milly’s exclamation that it was “too exasperatingly, excruciatingly becoming” will give an idea of its effect. It was a white foulard, sprigged in black and caught here and there with black velvet bows; there was a vest of fluffy white chiffon, and her hat was trimmed with white marabout pompons powdered with black. The costume was her own design, executed by Miss Billings. Shecarried a cheap white silk parasol, made to look elaborate by a cover constructed from an old black lace flounce.

“Papa has forbidden me ever to enter Celeste’s rooms again,” Milly said to Adelaide; “and I am sure if Miss Billings can make me look asrecherchéas you do, she is good enough for me.”

“I seem fated never to meet Miss Winnie,” Mr. Van Silver said as he started.

“She is to visit us during the summer,” said Mrs. Roseveldt, “and you must come out to the Pier and see her.”

“You are very good, but I am going to take my coach over to the other side this summer. My mother is visiting at the castle of the Earl of Cairngorm and wants me to take a lot of people for a coaching trip through the Scottish Highlands.”

“How many of our friends are going to Europe in the summer,” Adelaide remarked. “Professor Waite told me he intended to return to France for a term of years, and Tib here is going over to study——”

“I’m afraid not,” I replied doubtfully.

“Oh, yes you are,” Milly insisted; “that will all come out right.”

“What a lovely day for the games,” Mrs.Roseveldt remarked. “What is your favorite school, Milly? Columbia, Berkeley, Cutler, Morse? Oh! yes, I remember—the cadets. But where is your badge? I see that Miss Armstrong and Miss Smith wear theirs quite conspicuously, and Mr. Van Silver, too, has decorated his whip and the coach horn with the cadet colours.”

“Adelaide has a brother among the cadets, which accounts for her preference,” Milly replied evasively; “but I don’t see why I should prefer them to any other school.”

“Why, have you forgotten,” Mrs. Roseveldt asked, much surprised, “your old friend Stacey Fitz Simmons is a cadet?”

Milly tossed her head disdainfully. She could not tell the story of the intrusion of the two boys whom we believed to be cadets, for we had promised Madame not to bruit it abroad; but her reason for not wearing the cadet colours was her indignation on account of this act. She believed, or affected to believe, that one of these boys was Stacey, and she had determined to punish him for the outrage. “Girls,” she had said, before leaving, “after the insult which our school has received from the cadets, I do not see how any of you can wear their colours.”

“We do not know certainly that those interlopers were cadets,” Adelaide replied; “and, even if they were, my brother is still a member of the school. He rides in the bicycle race and he expects to see me wear his colours.”

I sympathized with Adelaide and made myself a badge to encourage little Jim.

“Stacey is a friend of mine,” Mr. Van Silver asserted. “I expect to see him carry off several events to-day, and I have come out prepared to wave and cheer and bawl myself hoarse in his honour.”

What a charming drive it was through the park, where many of the trees and shrubs were in blossom. We passed many a merry party bound in the same direction, and several great stages laden with boys, who carried flags, tooted horns, and shook immense rattles. Arrived at Morris Heights the sight was even still more inspiring, for every train emptied several carloads of passengers, who hastened to the grounds to be in time for the opening. As we drove in we could see that the grand stand and the long rows of seats on either side were well filled. There were at least four thousand spectators gathered to witness this athletic contest between the champions of the principal schools of the city. Some of thecontestants were grouped on the verandas of the Pavilion waiting for their turn to take part. Others were already on the field, practising the long jumps, or pacing about with “sweaters,” or knit woollen blouses, over their scanty running costumes.

On the grand stand and the “bleaching boards” the adherents of the different schools had collected in groups, which displayed the school colours as prominently as possible. These groups were now engaged in making as hideous an instrumental and vocal din as possible. Each orchestra, if it might be called so, was led by a sort of master of discord, who called at intervals upon his constituency for cheers for the different school favorites, as, “Now, boys, a loud one for Harrison. One, two, three, ’rah! ’rah! ’rah! C-u-t-l-e-r, Cutler!—Harrison!” While the Columbia grammar boys would reply, “C-o-l-u-m-b-i-a—Burke!” and the Berkeleys would yell forth the name of Allen, who has so long covered the school with glory.

Buttertub was conspicuous as leader of the chorus for the cadets. He wore an immense cockade, made of sash ribbon, pinned to the front of his coat, while his hat and a great cane with a knobby handle, too largefor insertion even in his wide mouth, also flaunted the school colours. Our coach had hardly taken its position before Stacey and Jim spied it and came toward us. Stacey was in running costume—“undress uniform,” he called it—but he had knotted a rose-coloured Russian bath gown about him to keep him from taking cold.

“Doesn’t he look exactly like a girl?” Milly remarked as he approached, and then she gave him a curt little bow and turned with greatempressementto Professor Waite, who had come out on horseback, and who now rode up, hoping for a word with Adelaide. But Jim had clambered up on the wheel on the other side of the coach, and Adelaide was glad of this excuse to turn her back squarely on Professor Waite, who felt the avoidance and would have turned instantly away had not Milly insisted on introducing him to her mother. Meantime Stacey stood quite neglected. I longed to speak to him, but as I had never been introduced, did not dare to do so. Just as a hot flush was sweeping up toward his forehead, Mr. Van Silver, whose attention had been taken up with his horses, noticed him. “Hello, Stacey,” he cried, “make that little chap get down off thatwheel, will you? These horses are pretty nervous, even with the grooms at their heads. They are not used to all this racket. See how they are pawing up the driveway.”

Stacey laughed. “Jim is a splendid wheel-man,” he said. “You needn’t be afraid for him. But aren’t you going to get down? You can see ever so much better from the grand stand. Did the girls get the tickets that Jim and I sent?”

Adelaide acknowledged the receipt of the tickets, and spoke so pleasantly that Stacey seemed a little comforted. One of the grooms set up the steps and we all climbed down, Stacey assisting. When it was Milly’s turn he spoke to her very earnestly in a low tone, but Milly did not reply. Mr. Van Silver called to us to keep together, and led the way to seats near the centre of the stand; and Stacey retired to the field, much displeased and puzzled by Milly’s conduct.

Professor Waite looked after us longingly. He did not dare to leave his horse, and he was disappointed that we had left the coach, near which he had intended to hover.

“How very provokingly things do arrange themselves,” I thought to myself. “Cupid must certainly be playing a game of cross purposeswith us. Here is Stacey longing for a kind word from Milly, and Milly breaking her little heart for Professor Waite, and Professor Waite desperate because of Adelaide’s indifference, Adelaide trying politely to entertain Mr. Van Silver, who, in his turn, is provoked because Winnie has not come; and I, who would be very grateful if any of these gentlemen would be agreeable to me—left quite out in the cold, without the shadow of an admirer.”

I soon forgot this circumstance, however, in my interest in the games.

“There is the cup,” said Mr. Van Silver, “on that table with the gold and silver medals, Berkeley holds it now. See, it is draped with blue and gold ribbons, the Berkeley colours. The school which wins the greatest number of points will take it after the games are over. This is the first heat of the hundred yard dash. Now we shall see some fun. It’s a foregone conclusion that Allen of Berkeley will win. He does not enter for long distances, but as a sprinter he has no equal in the other schools.” Very easily and handsomely Allen won this race and several others.

Then we admired the light and graceful wayin which an agile youth took the hurdles, and the professional style of two walkers, and after this my glance wandered for a time over the spectators.

Cynthia Vaughn and Rosario Ricos had come out in the cars, chaperoned by Miss Noakes. They did not desire her company, and it was a great bore to her to come, but Madame would not let the girls come unattended. I was much surprised presently to see a gentleman make his way to her side. I nudged Adelaide, exclaiming under my breath, “Only see, Miss Noakes actually has an admirer!”

Adelaide lifted her opera-glass. “Tib,” she ejaculated, “it is Mr. Mudge. You know he said she was a most discriminating woman. See, she is so much entertained that she does not notice that Ricos and Buttertub have made their way to Cynthia and are talking with her.”

“Mr. Mudge notices them, though,” I replied; “see how sharply he eyes them.”

Mr. Mudge came to us presently, and chatted pleasantly in regard to the games.

“I did not know that you were so much interested in athletics,” I remarked.

“A lawyer and a detective must be interestedin everything which interests his clients,” he replied.

“Did you come out alone?” I asked, more for the purpose of making conversation than from any desire to know.

“No; I had very charming company,” he replied.

“Miss Noakes?” Adelaide asked mischievously.

Mr. Mudge looked at her with stern reproof in his gray eyes.

“Lawn Tennis,” he remarked snappishly. “I came out with that young lady, though she is quite unconscious of my escort.”

“What! is Polo here?” I asked.

“One of the most interested spectators. Her eyes are nearly popping out of her head with every strain of the muscles of that tug-of-war team.”

The team to which Mr. Mudge referred was now pulling, and was made up of members of the Cadet School. They were finely developed young men, and in their leather apron-like protections, with their muscular arms and glowing faces, looked like blacksmiths’ apprentices. They lay on the cleats, pulling at the great rope, and the cords swelled in their necks, as from time to time they ground theirteeth, and threw their heads back with a jerk, which told how intense was the strain. The trainer of the team, a wiry, eager young man, in a jockey cap, stood with his hands on his knees, watching the white mark on the rope, which the team were very slowly working toward their side.

“That is a professional trainer,” said Mr. Van Silver. “He has coached the cadets, and is intensely interested in their success.”

At intervals, the captain and anchor of the cadets uttered exclamations of encouragement to his team, or vituperated at the other. “We’re in it, boys, we’re in it,” he shrieked, as he gave another twist to the rope. “Steady, hold your own, and you’ll pull ’em right off the cleats. Heave, now—heave! Oh! those fellows don’t know how to pull,” he cried again; “they’re weakening! See how purple they’re getting in the face. Hold on another two seconds, and you’ll pull them into the middle of next week.”

“What a noisy fellow!” Adelaide remarked. “Why doesn’t Colonel Grey shut him up?”

“Not he,” replied Mr. Van Silver. “See how his ribald and irreverent remarks put new courage into the team. I should not wonder if they won back that three inches which theother side pulled away from them during the first minute. Time’s up. Which side won?” for the announcement of the judges was drowned in a roar of the cadet claque, led by Buttertub, who had struggled back to his place in time to head the ’Rah! ’Rah! ’Rah!

Stacey had been looking on close to the rope, and he now shouted across to Mr. Van Silver, “The cadets have it by half an inch!” and waving the skirts of his bath-robe with greatabandon, he threw himself into the arms of the little man in the jockey cap, and hugged him enthusiastically.

“Now, notice your friend,” Mr. Mudge said to me, in a low voice; and, looking in the direction in which he pointed, I saw Polo standing on one of the front seats of the bleaching boards, waving her Tam O’Shanter, and shouting as wildly as the cadets.

“I did not know that Polo knew any of the boys who go to that school,” I said, much puzzled.

“I don’t believe she does,” Mr. Mudge replied, “but Terwilliger, the trainer there, is her brother, and he hasn’t the best record that was ever known. He was a jockey in England, but outgrew that profession, and has been a little of everything since. He came over to thiscountry on the Earl of Cairngorm’s yacht. He was associated shortly after with a noted pickpocket called Limber Tim, and some months since was sent with him to the Island to serve a term of imprisonment for participation in a confidence swindle. All of which, you see, has a rather damaging look for your friend Lawn Tennis. What I would like to know is, how he ever came to get the position of trainer at the Cadet School.”

“The boys seem to be very fond of him,” I ventured.

“Naturally; it was his training which has just won the school this event. Did you notice that young swell, Fitz Simmons, give him a greenback as soon as the victory was assured. I have not been able to discover yet whether Terwilliger has renewed his friendship with Limber Tim. If he has, it is more than likely that they are the two unknown boys who introduced themselves into your school on the night of your party.”

“Has Adelaide shown you her brother’s letters?” I asked. “We think that the young man who leads the applause and Rosario Ricos’s brother are the scamps.”

“That supposition might be entertained provided it had been only a boyish caper;but the two robberies can hardly be attributed to these young gentlemen.”

I groaned. So our poor Polo was beginning to be “shadowed.” She had told us with such delight, a few days before this, that she had found her brother. He had been away from New York for two years, but had left no stone unturned on his return in his search for them. He had a kind friend who had secured him a fine position, and she was so happy. The good news had nearly cured her mother.

I was drawn from my reverie by Adelaide’s announcement that the time had come for the one mile safety bicycle race for boys under fifteen, in which Jim was to take part. This was the great event of the day for us. There were two entries from the Cadet School—Jim and Ricos.

“Ricos is certainly over fifteen,” I said to Adelaide.

“He is no taller than Jim,” Adelaide replied doubtfully.

“He is a little fellow,” I admitted, “but those Cubans are all stunted, weazened little monkeys.”

Adelaide smiled faintly, but watched the preparations for the race with straining eyes. So did all the cadets. There were many entriesfrom the other schools, but they were confident in the prowess of their own champions. The only question was which would be successful.

“Come boys,” shouted Buttertub, “let’s give them a rousing send-off. Whoop her up for Ricos! One, two, three,—’Rah! ’Rah! ’Rah!Ricos!”

A red-haired boy, whom I at once recognized as the Woodpecker, shouted from the field, “Cheer Armstrong, too!” but Buttertub either did not hear him, or wilfully disregarded his request.

Stacey’s rose-coloured bath-gown was conspicuous, fluttering here and there; he got a bottle of alcohol from the trainer and was presently seen kneeling on the track, vigorously rubbing down Jim’s legs. He mounted him carefully, and scrutinized every part of his little safety bicycle, with the most zealous care. The starter gave Jim the inside of the track, which was an advantage loudly contested by Ricos.

“No use kicking,” Stacey remarked. “You’ve had one medal for cycling, and Jim is the youngest chap entered. I should like to know now just when you passed your fourteenth birthday.”

Ricos was silent and sullenly took his place. Jim turned and waved his hand to his sister. Stacey was holding his bicycle, ready to push it off at the signal. How jaunty and gay he looked in his dark blue jersey, with the silver C on his breast, and with the wind blowing his blonde hair from his eager face.

“He’s a jolly little chap,” Mr. Van Silver remarked admiringly; and Milly murmured, “I think he’s perfectly sweet.”

Adelaide said nothing, but the tears came to her eyes. I think that just for that moment she was perfectly happy. Her mood was contagious. The glamour of spring was in the hazy atmosphere. The plum trees were blossoming white out beyond the track, and the blue of bursting buds and the tender green of the earliest leafage spread itself in a shimmering haze over all the sweet spring landscape. It was a good world, after all.

At the report of the starter’s pistol, all of the boys were off in line, but they had hardly made half a lap when two, Jim and Ricos, shot from the rank and sped on in advance of the others.

“’Rah! ’Rah! for the cadets!” shouted Buttertub.

“’Rah! for Armstrong!” yelled the Woodpecker.

“He’s second!” shouted Buttertub.

“He’s first!” shrieked the Woodpecker, “and gaining every instant. ’Rah! ’Rah! ’Rah!”

“He can’t keep it! Ricos won’t let himself be beaten as easily as that,” replied Buttertub. “See him bend to it. There, he’s up with him! They’re even! He’s trying to get the inside! ’Rah! ’Rah!”

“Look out! there’ll be a smash-up!” cried the trainer. “Keep to the right, you lummox.”

“Hi!” cried Mr. Van Silver, springing to his feet, “that’s a bad tumble.”

“Ricos fouled him on purpose,” cried the Woodpecker.

A groan ran round the stand. “They are both down—no, only one.”

“Which one?” cried Adelaide.

“I don’t know,” I replied, but I held her down firmly on my shoulder, for I saw a rose-coloured bath-robe skimming across the field like a pink comet, and I knew that Stacey would not have manifested such concern if an accident had happened to Ricos.

“Armstrong’s up!” yelled the trainer in the jockey cap. “He’s mounting again!”

“He is!” ejaculated Mr. Van Silver. “By George! Jim’s the pluckiest little fellow I ever saw in my life!”

For an instant the spectators went crazy with cheers, then they quieted down and watched.

Ricos swept by, he had gained the first lap easily; but only a faint cheer greeted him. It was thought by many that the collision was intended, and all eyes were fixed on the little figure in the blue jersey, now the very last in the race, but who, having been assisted to his seat by the rose-coloured bath-robe, was now wheeling manfully along in the rear. Adelaide opened her eyes and waved her handkerchief as he passed the stand.

“Go it, Jim; go it! You’ve got the sand,” yelled the Woodpecker; while Stacey, the bath-robe cast aside, came forging up, running at Jim’s side; in his friendly anxiety to see that all was right, unconsciously breaking his own previous record as a sprinter. If he had been timed just then even his most enthusiastic friends would have been astonished. But, convinced that Jim was gaining, he contented himself with cutting across the Oval tonote his place at the end of the second lap. Ricos had held his own, and passed the stand well ahead of all the other competitors; but Jim was making up and had distanced two of the laggards, his legs propelling like the driving-bars of an engine.

“He’s gaining!” cried Mr. Van Silver. “I should not wonder if he caught up with the other fellow; for, see, he has two more rounds to make.”

When he passed the stand for the third time and the starter rang the bell which announced that this was the last lap, Jim had passed all the others and was following Ricos at a distance of only a few rods. He looked up toward us with a pitiful smile on his wan face. “Cheer, boys, cheer!” cried the Woodpecker, “you don’t applaud half enough. Whoop ’em up, Tub! Hurry up, Jim! Hurry up! Go it for all you’re worth!”

“Take it easy—easy!” roared Stacey, who saw that the boy was straining every nerve. “Take your time, Jim. You’ve got him, now. Take—your—time!”

The spectators were nearly all silent. The boys belonging to other schools, seeing that there was no hope for their own champions, had ceased to applaud and were now deeplyinterested in the two cadets. Rosario Ricos had fainted, and Miss Noakes was calling shrilly for water, but even Mr. Mudge was so much absorbed in the contest that he paid no attention to her appeal. People near me held their breath in suspense. It reminded me of Gérome’s picture of the chariot race, and the fall had been not unlike the one described in “Ben Hur.”

“Why is it,” whispered Adelaide, “that Jim has tied a crimson ribbon just below his knee? Red is not a cadet colour; see it flutter against his leg.”

I saw the crimson streak to which she referred; but a swift intimation flashed upon me that this was no ribbon, but a little rill of blood flowing from a gash cut by Ricos’s wheel. I contrasted Jim’s face, deadly pale, with that of Ricos’s, flushed to a dark purple, and wondered whether his strength would hold out to the end. I need have had no fear, Jim was clear grit through and through. As he neared the goal he set his teeth and bent nearly flat, throwing no glance this time in our direction, but with graze fixed straight before him, he worked the pedals with wonderful velocity and swooped forward, like a little hawk, far beyond Ricos, and past the finish, on, on, as thoughthe momentum of that final spurt would never be exhausted. The thunder of applause which burst forth at this exploit was something which I had never heard equalled. The spectators all stood upon the benches, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs, hats, and scarfs, crying and laughing hysterically. The men yelled and shouted themselves hoarse. Every kazoo, tin horn, rattle, and other instrument of torture sounded forth its discordant triumph. The boys stamped and hooted. The cadets, to a man, acted like raving maniacs. Even Buttertub, who had no love for Jim, led his gang with “Bully for Armstrong!” “Hi—yi—whoop, three times three and a tiger!” “Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! What’s the matter with Armstrong? He’s all right!”

“’Rah, ’Rah, ’Rah—ta-tara-daBoomerum a boom-er-um.Boom, boom, bang!”

“’Rah, ’Rah, ’Rah—ta-tara-daBoomerum a boom-er-um.Boom, boom, bang!”

“’Rah, ’Rah, ’Rah—ta-tara-daBoomerum a boom-er-um.Boom, boom, bang!”

But Jim was not all right. He heard the great roar of applause, but it sounded far, far away to his numbing senses. Then all the light went out of the sweet spring landscape, and he toppled over, bicycle and all, into Stacey’s friendly arms. No one was surprisedto see him stretched upon the grass wrapped in the rose-coloured bath-gown, for it was a common thing for victors to faint just as they secured their laurels. “He’ll be up in a minute; Stacey is rubbing his feet,” Mr. Van Silver asserted reassuringly. “Good-hearted fellow, that Stacey. He’s devoted to your brother.” But Adelaide watched him anxiously, until a crowd of boys closed around him and hid him from her view. How terribly long he lay there—could anything serious be the matter? Suddenly Polo’s brother came running toward us. “Is there any doctor on the grand stand!” he shouted; “if so, he’s wantedimmejiently.”

Adelaide sprang to her feet and clambered down the ranks of seats. I followed. I have no clear idea of how we reached the ground, but we hurried on together, the boys making way for us as we came. They had an instinctive feeling that this handsome, imperious girl, with the white face, had a right to pass. A panting boy, lying with his face to the ground, looked up and asked, “What’s up?”

“They can’t bring Armstrong to,” replied the trainer. “Looks like he is going to die.”

“Glad of it,” retorted the other, turning his face to the sod again. It was Ricos, desertedby every one, unnoticed in his defeat. But through his humiliation and resentment there presently shot a pang of conscience. “What if Jim should die? Would I not be a murderer?” and with pallid face he staggered to his feet and tottered after us. The crowd around Jim opened for us. There he lay with his head on Stacey’s lap. A portly surgeon, with a river of watch-chain flowing around his vest, knelt at Jim’s side examining the wound below his knee. Colonel Grey, the principal of the school, a retired army officer, and a tall soldierly man, bent his white head over the doctor and inquired into Jim’s condition.

“The wound is not a serious one, only a minor artery cut, which I have just tied. The only question is whether the little fellow has lost too much blood.”

“Oh, my darling brother!” Adelaide cried.

“For Heaven’s sake, control yourself, my dear Miss Armstrong!” exclaimed Colonel Grey. He realized the importance of not exciting Jim, and he loved the boy tenderly. He offered his arm to Adelaide now, while four of the cadets lifted Jim and bore him very gently to the piazza of the pavilion. “To think,” said the Colonel, “that I was just congratulating myself on the number of pointshe was winning for the school. Why, I would rather the school had not gained a single point than have had this happen.”

“Darn the games,” muttered Stacey, switching his bath-robe about savagely.

When we reached the piazza and Jim had been stretched on a bench, his eyes opened feebly. He recognized Adelaide fanning him and smiled.

“They are calling the mile run,” said the trainer. “You entered for that, Mr. Fitz Simmons. They say you are sure of winning the race, and if you do you’ll gain the cup for the school.”

“Confound the race!” ejaculated Stacey. “Do you suppose I am going to leave Jim in this condition?”

“I cannot ask it, my boy,” said the Colonel. But Jim’s forehead furrowed slightly, and he said very feebly: “Go, Stacey; don’t—let the school—lose the cup.”

“Go!” cried Adelaide. “He wishes it.” And Stacey strode out to the track.

Milly told me afterward that she was greatly surprised, and not a little indignant, to see him take his place with the runners, who were mustering just in front of us.

“How’s Armstrong?” Mr. Van Silver called to him.

Stacey came nearer. “Badly hurt, I’m afraid,” he replied.

“Then I think it is very heartless in you to run,” Milly exclaimed. It was the only thing she had said to him that day. He flushed violently. “Jim begged me to do so,” he said, “or else you may be sure that I would not be here.”

The race was called, and Stacey threw himself into the “set,” his chin protruding with bull-dog determination, but Milly’s thoughtless remark had taken all of the spirit out of him. “He was the very last to get off,” said the trainer. “He’s running in awful bad form, too. Fifth from the front. What’s he thinking of to let Harrison pass him?”

Around they came, and Stacey looked appealingly to Milly, but with nose turned in the air, she was waving the Morse colours, snatched from a girl sitting near her, and applauding the Morse champion, Emerson.

The sight stung him. He would show her that he was a better runner than the boy she had selected as her favorite, and he put forth every energy, and gained rapidly.

“I told ’em,” said the trainer oracularly, “that Fitz Simmons would wake up, and sprint further on.Hewasn’t running this first lap. He ain’t a-running now, he’s just taking it easy, to show us some tall running toward the finish, when he’ll have it all to himself.”

The cadets evidently thought so too, and Stacey’s own drum corps, who had brought out their drums on the top of a stage in expectation of this event, beat an encouraging charge as he came around for the second time. Stacey smiled as he recognized the familiar:

Boom a tid-e-ra-daBoom a diddle dee,Boom a tid-e-ra-daBoom!

Boom a tid-e-ra-daBoom a diddle dee,Boom a tid-e-ra-daBoom!

Boom a tid-e-ra-daBoom a diddle dee,Boom a tid-e-ra-daBoom!

He turned for an instant, waved his hand to the boys, and then buckled down to his very best effort.

“It’s one in a millionIf any civilianHis figure and form can surpass,”

“It’s one in a millionIf any civilianHis figure and form can surpass,”

“It’s one in a millionIf any civilianHis figure and form can surpass,”

hummed Mr. Van Silver.

“How’s that for the cup?” shouted Buttertub, who forgot personal animosities in theschool triumph. He flapped his arms like a rooster about to crow, and yelled across to the drum corps, “Who’s Fitz Simmons?”

It was a well-known school cry and the boys on the stage responded lustily:

“First in peace, first in war;He’ll be there again, he’s been there before;First in the hearts of his own drum corps;That’s Fitz Simmons!”

“First in peace, first in war;He’ll be there again, he’s been there before;First in the hearts of his own drum corps;That’s Fitz Simmons!”

“First in peace, first in war;He’ll be there again, he’s been there before;First in the hearts of his own drum corps;That’s Fitz Simmons!”

Stacey was leading—only a little way now to the finish. He said to himself, “Now’s the time to sprint.” How strange that his muscles wouldnotobey the command telegraphed to them by his brain. Strain every nerve as he did, he could not increase the pace. Emerson, the Morse flyer, shot by him with his magnificent stride, as fresh and unwearied in this final burst of speed as Milton’s conception of a young archangel. Stacey staggered on, but the drum corps was suddenly silent, and there was no shout as he passed the cadet contingent. They and he knew that the contest was now hopeless. He did not look up at Milly. He knew, without looking, that she was applauding his rival, who had won the race and was now being borne off the field on the shoulders of his rejoicingcomrades, amidst their delirious cheers. Stacey finished the course, then stalked moodily a little distance and sat down upon the grass, with his forehead resting on his knees. His disappointment was very bitter. The Woodpecker, who had not run in this race, came up to Stacey with his bath-gown, which he threw thoughtfully about the exhausted runner.

“Played out, are you, Stacey?” he asked kindly. “Well, I don’t wonder; you tired yourself out keeping up with Armstrong in the bicycle race. You made staving good time then, but you’d ought to have saved yourself and put in the licks now, old chap. Never mind, we all know what your record has been.”

“I don’t care beans for my own record,” groaned Stacey, “but I’ve lost the school the cup, and I can never look the fellows in the face again.”

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