WHAT HAPPENED TO JUDITH
In that mysterious way peculiar to girls, the students knew, without
the facts being apparent, that something strange and perhaps even
desperate had happened to Judith.
They had not been told any of the details, but when the party
walking in from the village was suddenly broken up, first by the
incident of the messenger boys' quarrel and then by Judith's
disappearance into Dol Vin's beauty shop, with officer Sandy
twirling his club and "gum-shoeing" after her, the whole situation
was as clear as if the pieces had been patched together on a movie
screen.
Judith, fighting for justice, had been ranged with the culprits!
There was no possibility of her return to the college grounds
without her companions' knowledge; neither was it probable she had
gone to take a youngster's part at the emergency court in the Town
Hall without first having notified Jane or some of the other girls.
She would have dragged them along with her, for Judith believed in
team play for all things, even at trials and courts of alleged
justice.
So it was that the girls' anxiety was not so thinly supported as the
mere record of events might have indicated; they knew there was
something wrong, knew it instantly and knew it positively; and they
were right about it, too.
The outstanding fact was a weighty argument. Dolorez Vincez had been
expelled from Wellington the year previous; she had vowed vengence
against Jane Allen and her friend, Judith Stearns (although both
girls had actually interceded for the culprit with the college
faculty), and now was the time and this was the place to wreak her
vengeance.
In a shorter time than occupies this explanation Jane and Dozia and
Janet reached the Town Hall. The ancient building of dingy brick
filled a conspicuous spot facing the Square; its carriage stone was
a revolutionary relic and two reliable cannon set off the much
trampled green diamond in front with something of a stately
significance. It was fast growing dark in the early autumn evening,
but the excitement of an arrest had drawn a crowd from the few
business offices and from the passersby at the supper hour, flanked
and reinforced by boys, boys who seem to go with excitement--always,
at all times and in all places.
The students made their way into the hall with its sputtering gas
light, and while Janet went to the telephone booth, Jane and Dozia
hurried to the office of the chief of police.
"Judith!"
Both girls had uttered the name and both now elbowed their way
through the curious crowd up to the rail, where stood the
disconsolate Judith.
"Keep back, keep back," ordered an officer. He was the second and
only other active member of "the force" besides Sandy Jamison, he
who had "taken Judith in."
Jane and Dozia urged forward in spite of orders, however, and now
Judith saw them! She flashed a look first defiant then hopeless. It
had defiance for the charge, but was hopeless to make that country
court understand. Jane and Dozia answered the code with unwavering
determination fairly emitting from their every feature.
But the chief was talking or muttering, and he had been pompously
rapping for order.
Officer Sandy was trying desperately to tell his story, but between
twirling his club and chewing tobacco he was sorely pressed for a
chance to say anything.
"This here girl," he mumbled, "was racin' after a boy with a package
of joo-ell-ry. It was joo-ell-ry I know, for them boys from the city
store was called to deliver----"
"Never mind about the boys," interrupted the chief, "tell us what
the charge is against this girl."
Jane and Dozia exchanged a look complimentary to that chief. He had
some sense they privately admitted.
"Yes, yer honor, I'm comin' to that," defended Sandy. "She ran first
after a boy, then after a girl, and I seen the package go through
the air----"
"Flyin'? Had it wings or was it a toy balloon?" Chief Hadfield was
not a man to disappoint his audience, and the laugh that thanked him
for this quip set Sandy twirling and chewing more vigorously than
ever.
"It was pegged, throwed, fired," shouted Sandy, and his club just
touched Judith's sleeve, electrifying her into open indignation.
"Keep that--stick down," ordered the chief, while Judith's
indignation subsided.
How pretty she looked standing there in those sordid surroundings!
Contrast, the maker of all standards, outlined the tall dark-haired
girl in her brilliant red junior cap and definite red sweater, like
the central figure in some old time country picture, where urchins
and queer men gave her the middle of the stage and plagiarized the
scene, "At the Bar of Justice."
"You caught this here flying joo-ell-ry?" demanded the chief.
"Oh no, oh no," parried Sandy. "Someone else caught that," and he
waddled his head from side to side in amplification.
"Who? Where is it?" The chief was not playing the gallery now.
"The propri-e-tor of that there beauty institooshun has it, and it's
hers. It had her name and address on it."
A sneering titter from the audience followed that foolish statement.
Old Sour Sandy had balled things up considerably this time.
"Then what's the charge and who makes it?" shouted and rapped Chief
Hadfield.
"Loiterin' and disturbing and I make th' charge!" Sandy put his cap
on in the excitement of that speech but quickly yanked it off again
in respect to the court.
Jane and Dozia could not remain longer silent. Evidently Judith had
been educated in the absurd proceedings before they came. Janet was
now in from the telephone booth and stood beside her companions,
while Jane attempted to interrupt.
"May I speak?" she called out in the most musical tone her voice
would accept.
"Certainly, miss," replied the chief. He evidently did not share the
opinion of his subordinate on Wellington girls' character.
"This arrest is an outrage--a frame-up," declared Jane, glad to
recall the vernacular. "There are three witnesses here who saw the
trouble and we'll find others if you want them. The fact is Officer
Jamison is always cross with us students" (she put it mildly), "and
he was, perhaps, too willing to listen to our enemies. The
proprietor of the beauty shop is a former Wellington student who was
asked to withdraw last spring" (again the modification), "and this
afternoon she saw her chance to retaliate--to get even." Jane made
sure of being understood and now suddenly ceased speaking. She had
learned the maxim, "When you say a good thing, stop."
The chief stroked his beard lines (no beard showed just now), then
pushed his cap back officially. Judith slid her white hands along
the brass rail playfully and even smiled at the man behind it. He
was a man if also an officer, and he must know by her manner that
Judith Stearns was just a very nice little girl being dreadfully
imposed upon.
"Sit down, young lady. We'll be through in a few minutes," said the
considerate chief; and Judith dropped to the bench beside Jane,
Janet and Dozia. All three could not squeeze her hands at once, but
all three managed to do something affectionate, if Janet did have to
be content with a mere pluck at the white sweater sleeve.
"Now see here," spoke the chief in a tone of irritated finality.
"Sandy, what do you mean by disturbin' and loiterin'?"
"By loiterin' I mean that racin' after them little boys who was
going about their business, and by disturbin' I mean--I mean that--
that them college girls is allus raisin' a rumpus."
"Discharged!" sang out the chief and he did sing it. The tune of
that single word embraced at least three whole tones and suggested
several more.
A tumult followed the announcement but the chief rapped again for
order.
"I want you people and Officer Sandy to listen to me," he thundered.
"Because girls go to a college ain't no reason why they should be
pestered" (his errors were truly elegant), "and next time I hear any
such fool complaint there'll he some shiftin' of badges. Clear the
court!"
And could you blame the Wellingtons present for shaking hands with
Chief Hadfield?
Making their way out finally the girls smiled to those in the
curious throng who waited to sympathize or congratulate, and just at
the end of the dingy hall Judith felt a small, warm hand grasp her
own.
"I want to thank you, miss," spoke a hesitant voice. "You saved me
from that 'guy' this after-noon, but I'm awful sorry you got into a
scrape."
It was Tiny Tim, the messenger boy.
"Oh, that's all right," declared Judith heartily. "I was glad to be
on hand and that doesn't matter. Did you manage to deliver the box
safely?"
"I got it into the shop but the right one didn't sign for it. I know
that 'cause that black haired one has a queer name and the box was
for some Sarah Something. But I guess she'll get it all right," he
finished with a professional air of certainty. "She comes there a
lot."
"A box of jewelry for little Sarah Howland," said Jane to Dozia.
"And the sobbing in the back room," whispered Dozia in answer.
"That was she who ran out the back way," concluded Jane while Judith
and the others were busy taking leave of the messenger boy.
"Some experience!" exhaled Judith, stronger and braver for her
recent incarceration.
"That, and something else," paraphrased Jane. "But someone please
run to that phone and tell the proctor we are coming. They may send
the guards out after us. It wants only ten minutes of tea time.
Run!"
The command was followed out to the letter.