[Illustration: BILLIE WAS HELPLESS. ALTHOUGH SHE FLUNG AN ARM ABOUT
EDINA. “Billie Bradley and the School Mystery.” (See page 168)]
BILLIE BRADLEY AND THE SCHOOL MYSTERY
OR
The Girl from Oklahoma
BY
JANET D. WHEELER
AUTHOR OF “BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER INHERITANCE,” “BILLIE
BRADLEY AT SUN DIAL LODGE,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
BILLIE BRADLEY SERIES
_By_ JANET D. WHEELER
_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated._
BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER INHERITANCE
OR THE QUEER HOMESTEAD AT CHERRY CORNERS
BILLIE BRADLEY AT THREE TOWERS HALL
OR LEADING A NEEDED REBELLION
BILLIE BRADLEY ON LIGHTHOUSE ISLAND
OR THE MYSTERY OF THE WRECK
BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER CLASSMATES
OR THE SECRET OF THE LOCKED TOWER
BILLIE BRADLEY AT TWIN LAKES
OR JOLLY SCHOOLGIRLS AFLOAT AND ASHORE
BILLIE BRADLEY AT TREASURE COVE
OR THE OLD SAILOR’S SECRET
BILLIE BRADLEY AT SUN DIAL LODGE
OR SCHOOL CHUMS SOLVING A MYSTERY
BILLIE BRADLEY AND THE SCHOOL MYSTERY
OR THE GIRL FROM OKLAHOMA
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1930, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
BILLIE BRADLEY AND THE SCHOOL MYSTERY
Printed in the U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. AT LAKE MOLATA 1
II. A DESPERATE FIX 10
III. EDINA TO THE RESCUE 17
IV. BATTLE 24
V. A PUBLIC REBUKE 31
VI. BILLIE IS LOYAL 39
VII. A TALE OF RICHES 49
VIII. BILLIE AGAINST HER WORLD 55
IX. THE EXPERIMENT 62
X. A TRIP TO TOWN 69
XI. EDINA GETS HER HAIR CUT 77
XII. A PERFECT DAY 88
XIII. EDINA SCORES 94
XIV. AN OLD ENEMY 101
XV. AN UNEXPECTED DUCKING 111
XVI. FIGHTING FOR LIFE 120
XVII. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER 129
XVIII. THE GIFT CLUB 134
XIX. A DREADFUL DISCOVERY 141
XX. THE ACCUSATION 150
XXI. EVIDENCE PILES UP 158
XXII. A RIOT 164
XXIII. DAN LARKIN REMEMBERS 175
XXIV. A SMASHING SET 183
XXV. CAUGHT--CONCLUSION 192
BILLIE BRADLEY AND THE SCHOOL MYSTERY
CHAPTER I
AT LAKE MOLATA
“My, but it’s good to get back!”
The statement came from Billie Bradley. She gazed upon the ivy-covered
towers of the boarding school with genuine affection.
Three Towers Hall was an impressive building, set amidst gracious,
well-tended lawns on the borders of one of the prettiest and most
picturesque lakes in that part of the country. From its gates students
flocked in gay anticipation of vacation and good times at the end of
the spring term, to return, more soberly, but with a refreshed and
brightened outlook, to take up their studies at the beginning of the
fall semester.
Such a time had come again to Billie Bradley and her two close chums,
Violet Farrington and Laura Jordon. After a particularly interesting
and adventure-filled summer, they had returned to their beloved seat
of learning, eager for work and with renewed and heightened ideals.
Now they stood on the borders of the lake, looking toward Three Towers
Hall through a lane of trees that made flickering shadows on the lawn.
Idly, they speculated on the future.
“I’d feel better,” observed Vi, “if I hadn’t that condition in math to
make up. It worries me.”
“It would,” agreed Laura. “I mean, it would have worried me so much
that if it had been my condition, I’d have made it up during the summer
instead of waiting until fall, when goodness knows the work is hard
enough, anyway.”
“It’s easy enough for you to criticize,” said Vi, a shade resentfully.
“You take all your studies at a run, while all I can do is to hobble.”
“Of course, not everyone can have a brain like mine,” murmured Laura,
with a mischievous grin.
“Besides, what time have I had this summer for study?” Vi persisted.
“Between treasure hunts and mysteries and such things, I’ve had my
hands full.”
“You should have found time,” returned Laura, pursing her mouth primly
in mischievous imitation of Miss Phelps, their new mathematics teacher.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Vi shrugged her shoulders petulantly.
“Well, if you are going to be so disagreeable--” She left the sentence
unfinished and turned toward the Hall.
Billie awoke from the reverie that had been occupying her secret
thoughts; awoke in time to seize a fold of Vi’s abbreviated skirt and
hold it firmly between thumb and forefinger.
“Laura’s insulting me,” said Vi, with a wavering smile. “I’ll not stay.”
“Don’t be foolish,” laughed Billie. “Laura insults everybody. It’s just
her way. But she never means anything by it.”
“I’m going up to the house to study math,” persisted Vi.
“No you’re not,” said Billie. “You are going for a walk with Laura and
me back of the lake and pick goldenrod. Miss Walters likes it in her
office and it would be nice in the dorm. Come along.”
“But I must study math!” wailed Vi, beginning to weaken. “Honestly,
Billie, you don’t know how it worries me. It has me scared stiff.”
“Well, we’ll go and pick goldenrod first and then I’ll help you with
your math. How will that do?”
“Excellently, thanks,” said Vi, with a sigh of relief. When Billie
helped with “math,” or anything else, she really helped, explaining
each step and making everything as clear as day. Vi had wished, many a
time, that she had Billie’s head for “math.”
The three girls took the footpath to the right of the lake, the path
that climbed steadily until it came out on a high ridge of ground
overlooking both Three Towers Hall and Boxton Military Academy, the
boys’ school directly across the lake from the Hall.
Billie Bradley and her chums knew that on this ridge grew goldenrod,
flaming, golden patches of it. The sight of it always fascinated them.
As Billie once had said, it seemed as though the sun had touched the
earth and become entangled in the weeds.
“It was some time before it could untangle itself and get back in the
heavens where it belonged,” Billie had concluded her whimsical fancy.
“The result was--goldenrod!”
Now, as they made their way toward this higher ground, the girls
continued to discuss the events of the past few days, the renewal of
acquaintanceship with old school friends, the excitement and interest
of meeting and “looking over” the newcomers to Three Towers Hall.
“The new girls seem a rather commonplace lot,” observed Laura. She
paused by the wayside to pick a lace flower and stuck it jauntily over
one ear revealed by a very short bob. “Just the usual smattering; some
shy, some bold, all somewhat excited by finding themselves at boarding
school.”
“Can you blame them? ’Member how we felt when we first came?” chuckled
Vi.
“Sort of exalted and plumb scared to death,” interpreted Billie. “Those
were the days of big fun, though.”
“And the big fights,” giggled Laura. “Remember how Amanda Peabody and
that shadow of hers, Eliza Dilks, used to ride us to death?”
“Where do you get that stuff--used to?” demanded Vi slangily. “Why,
I’ll tell you something. Just this morning Amanda tried to pick a
quarrel with me.”
“Over what?” Billie was interested. Amanda Peabody was one of the
most unpleasant girls at Three Towers Hall. She had money and had
developed a sort of dashing good looks. Because of this some of the
students--that smattering of toadies found among the girls of every
boarding school--had rallied round her, forming a small, exclusive
clique. Among the most conspicuous and faithful of Amanda’s following
was a girl named Eliza Dilks, otherwise known as “The Shadow.”
“What did you and Amanda quarrel about?” Billie asked again.
“I didn’t quarrel about anything,” returned Vi virtuously. “It was
Amanda who did the quarreling, and it was all about some silly little
thing like a pencil that she accused me of taking from her desk in the
study hall. Of course it was all nonsense. Why should I want her pencil
when I have that beautiful silver one Uncle Dan gave me for Christmas?”
“What did you tell her?” Laura wanted to know.
“What would I tell her? I merely went by with my nose in the air and
refused to answer her. She looked mad enough to bite nails,” with a
reminiscent giggle.
Laura sighed.
“I suppose that girl will be a thorn in our side----”
“Flesh,” corrected Billie with a giggle.
“I said ‘side’ and I meant it,” retorted Laura firmly. “Anyway, I
suppose neither you nor Vi will deny that Amanda Peabody and Eliza
Dilks are a thorny pair.”
“Two thorns, without the roses,” remarked Billie.
Vi began to chant in a soft, singsong:
“Oh, Amanda and her Shadow,
Amanda and her crony,
Went out to take the air one day,
Aridin’ on a pony.
They thought they were the bees’ headlight,
They thought they looked so tony.
But everyone they met called out,
‘Go home! Your style is phony!’”
Billie and Laura applauded dutifully and Billie demanded to know how
long Vi had been keeping this unsuspected talent a secret from her
chums.
“You look romantic enough, Vi, goodness knows, but we never suspected
you of being a poetess.”
“Then don’t now,” urged Vi. “I wouldn’t be guilty of such ‘poetry.’
It’s Connie’s.”
“She should be shot at daybreak,” remarked Laura. “I’ll see to it
myself.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s a pretty good ‘pome,’” chuckled Billie. “I’ve a
notion to put it to music and adopt it as the new school song. Where is
Connie, anyway? I thought she was coming with us for a hike?”
“She had to rewrite that composition on hitchhikers. Miss Johnson,”--a
teacher of English at Three Towers Hall--“said it was too flippant.”
Laura finished with a chuckle, for Connie had read that composition to
Billie and her chums the evening before, sitting cross-legged, like
a young Chinese idol, on Billie’s bed. It had been flippant--like
Connie--and full of fun. The girls had laughed uproariously.
“Miss Johnson is dried up and old, a hopeless spinster,” was Vi’s
merciless indictment of the English teacher. “She can’t be expected to
recognize honest fun when she sees it.”
“Shouldn’t be surprised but what Connie’s second theme would be more
flippant than her first,” giggled Laura. “Then what will poor Miss
Johnson do?”
“In that case, I certainly feel sorry for Connie,” laughed Billie.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Miss Johnson would fall over in a fit and
never come fully out of it. Then we’d all be freed from her. Me, I
wish she would,” declared Vi a bit vindictively.
The girls came out on the high promontory overlooking the lake, and
halted in mute appreciation of the lovely view spread out before them.
They had seen it many times before, but the fresh sight of it never
failed to thrill them.
Boxton Military Academy stood high and proud on the crest of a hill,
its parades and drill grounds marked out in patches of green velvet.
From where they stood the girls could hear the beating of a drum and
the fanfare of spirited music.
“No wonder the boys love it there,” murmured Laura. “We should have a
band at Three Towers. Might liven things up a bit.”
“That would be lovely,” laughed Vi. “I speak to play the big drum
and you can take the bass horn, Laura. Billie, what’s your choice? I
suggest the trombone.”
Billie chuckled.
“I’ll speak to Miss Walters about it as soon as we get back,” she
promised. “Meanwhile, get busy, lazybones, and garner some of this
goldenrod.”
The yellow flame of the gorgeous weed covered the top of the promontory
so that the girls were confronted by an embarrassment of riches. In a
few moments their arms were filled with the golden blossoms.
“Aren’t they the loveliest things you ever saw, girls?” cried Billie.
“Yes, they are. I adore this bright yellow, whether it’s in flowers or
dresses or hangings. It always makes me feel more cheerful.”
“I wonder how anyone can have a favorite flower. It always seems
to me that the flower I’m looking at at the moment is my favorite.
Just now, of course, it’s goldenrod. To-morrow it may be roses, for
instance.”
“Come on, let’s start back,” said Vi.
Laura and Vi had turned to go back when a sharp cry from Billie
startled them. When they looked in the direction whence the cry had
come, Billie Bradley was nowhere to be seen!