"'Twas I, but 'tis not I."
The next morning Belle and Jack awaited the 10.30 train, seated together
on a trunk on the station platform. Celia saw them from the door of the
express office across the road. Presently they recognized her and began to
wave, and then Belle came flying over to tell her how they had taken the
detective's picture and had afterward seen him enter Miss Betty's gate.
"Why should a detective go to Miss Betty's?" Celia asked, much amused.
"Why should he go if he wasn't a detective?" Belle demanded.
"Why not? He may be an agent, or a friend," Celia suggested, laughing.
A whistle in the distance left no time for argument. Belle flew back to
the platform, where Maurice had joined Jack. Celia turned toward home.
She was more perplexed over Belle's story about the ring than she cared to
own. Not for a moment did she think Morgan had taken it; and yet he was
getting to be an old man and she recalled something she had heard her
father say about a certain brain disease that first showed itself in acts
wholly out of keeping with the character of its victim. Could this be the
explanation?
It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge's hands.
That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting.
She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she
scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only
for a few days. Celia deeply regretted the way in which she had met his
request to speak with her that night at Friendly Creek. Why could she not
have listened quietly? In these days she was torn by conflicting feelings.
The spirit of the Forest was slowly tempering the bitterness in her heart,
but it sometimes seemed to her that her loyalty to her father was
weakening.
It was fortunate matters at home demanded her thoughts. Plans for the
winter, getting the boys off to school, and the many small cares of the
housekeeper left little time for brooding.
At the station Belle, in her eagerness to be the first to greet Rosalind,
had to be dragged back out of harm's way by the baggage master, as the
long train swept around the curve.
"You'll find yourself killed one of these days if you don't look out,"
remarked Jack, descending from the trunk.
But Belle gave small heed. "I am so glad you have come," she cried,
seizing upon Rosalind almost before she had her foot on the ground. "Such
lots of things have happened."
"Aren't you glad to see me too?" asked Mr. Whittredge.
"Yes, I am especially glad to see you, because I have something to tell
you. Something I can't tell any one else."
"Bless me! this is interesting. Just wait till I find my checks, and we'll
walk up town together."
Belle, however, was not destined to relate her story just then, for no
sooner had they started out, she in front with Mr. Whittredge, and
Rosalind and the boys following, than Mr. Molesworth joined them and began
talking about the paper mills. There was nothing for her but to fall back
with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she
could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective.
"It's all nonsense. I don't believe he was a detective at all, but it was
fun taking his picture," said Jack.
"I'll have it to show you to-morrow," added Maurice.
"Why don't you ask Cousin Betty who he is?" suggested Rosalind.
Belle's deep sense of the mystery of things had kept her from thinking of
this simple method of solving the problem.
"Of course we might," she acknowledged.
"I want to stop at Morgan's a moment," Allan looked back to say.
At the magician's corner Mr. Molesworth left them; but as it was only a
step to the shop, the secret still remained untold.
Morgan seemed delighted beyond all reason at sight of them. He greeted
Allan as if he had been away years instead of days; and tapping his own
breast, he exclaimed, looking from one to another, "I am Morgan, the
magician!" Then pointing to the nail where the children had hung the brass
ring, he added, "I have broken the spell!" With this he disappeared for a
moment into the back room, but he was with them again before they had
recovered from their surprise at his strange manner; and now he held
something in his hand which he waved aloft gleefully.
Belle began to understand that all her anxiety had been needless.
"What does this mean?" asked Allan, as Morgan put into his hand a little
worn case.
The children crowded around him as he opened it and disclosed the
long-lost, much talked of sapphire ring. In his delight the cabinet-maker
almost danced a jig, and continued to repeat, "I'm a magician."
"It's found; it's found!" cried Rosalind.
"And I knew it," said Belle.
"Hello!" exclaimed Jack. "Was this your secret? Did Morgan tell you?"
Belle tried to explain her discovery, but so great was the excitement
nobody would listen. It was really beyond belief that Patricia's ring was
actually in their hands. It was some time before they quieted down
sufficiently to hear Morgan's story.
He had begun work on the spinet several days ago, he said, and upon
removing the top had noticed something wedged in under the strings, which
upon investigation he found to be the case containing the ring.
"But where is the other ring?" Rosalind asked.
The magician laughed and said that was another story, and he told how the
evening before the real ring was found, Crisscross had been seized with a
fit of unusual playfulness, and jumping up on the chest, above which the
ring hung, had begun to move it to and fro with his paw, presently
knocking it off and sending it rolling across the floor. He darted after
it under tables and chairs but apparently never found it; nor could the
magician, although he searched carefully.
"So the mystery is not ended yet. We do not know what became of the magic
ring, nor how the real ring came to be in the spinet," Allan remarked.
"It is exactly like a sure enough fairy tale," added Belle; and then she
whispered her part of the story, turning her back to the magician, for
fear he might see what she was talking about.
"And how about the detective? Did you think he was coming to arrest
Morgan?" asked Maurice.
Belle looked a little shamefaced. "I didn't know," she said.
Mr. Whittredge wanted to hear about the detective, and was much amused at
her description of the taking of his picture.
Rosalind as she listened held the ring in her hand--Patricia's ring. She
had thought a great deal about Patricia, and this seemed to bring her near
and make her more real--the young girl who had looked like Aunt Genevieve,
only more kind.
"Let's show the ring to Miss Betty! May we, Mr. Whittredge?" asked Belle.
Allan did not appear enthusiastic over the suggestion, but he did not
refuse, and followed the children at a distance as they raced across the
street.
"There's the detective now," cried Jack, at the gate.
"Where?" the others asked breathlessly.
"On the porch with Miss Betty."
Sure enough, partially shielded from view by the vines, in one of Miss
Betty's comfortable chairs, sat the stranger.
"Why--" began Rosalind, stopping short, "it looks like--Why, Dr.
Hollingsworth! I didn't know you were here!"
At the same moment the gentleman started up, exclaiming, "Well, Rosalind,
they said you were out of town. I am very glad to see you," and they met
and clasped hands like warm friends.
"Children!" cried Rosalind, turning to her companions, "this is our
president, Dr. Hollingsworth."
"And these are the young people who took my photograph yesterday," Dr.
Hollingsworth observed gravely. There was a twinkle in his eye, however.
By this time Mr. Whittredge had arrived on the scene and was introduced.
"So this is the detective," he said.
The culprits looked at each other and meditated flight, but changed their
minds when Dr. Hollingsworth shook hands with them, and said he knew how
it was to have a new camera and want to take everything in sight, and that
he really felt complimented.
Belle thought she wouldn't have minded, except for the detective part of
it, over which Mr. Whittredge made so much fun.
The ring was exhibited, and the whole matter made clear after a while, and
Dr. Hollingsworth said he was glad to have figured in any capacity in such
an interesting occurrence.
"And how in the world did it get in the spinet?" asked Miss Betty. "I
believe Cousin Thomas put it there himself, as a practical joke."
Miss Betty might have been holding a reception that morning, so full of
people did her small porch appear, and so continuous was the hum of
voices.
Dr. Hollingsworth, it seemed, had been in the habit of visiting in
Friendship twenty years ago, and finding himself in the vicinity, he had
made it convenient to call upon his old friends; but, as he said, things
had been rather against him. His college friend, the Presbyterian
minister, was away on his vacation, Miss Bishop out of town for the day,
and Rosalind, he did not know where.
"And so there was nothing for me to do but loaf about that first
afternoon," he explained, "but little did I think to what dark suspicions
I was laying myself open," and he smiled at Belle.
"Cousin Betty, you never told me you knew our president," Rosalind said
reproachfully.
Miss Hetty laughed. "You see it had been such a long, long time,
Rosalind--"
"That she had forgotten me," added the president.
"Oh, no, I hadn't," she insisted.
They all felt that they should like to see more of him, and that it was
too bad he had to leave on the five o'clock train. The last hour was spent
with the Whittredges, and Rosalind and Allan accompanied him to the
station. Here, while they waited, Rosalind had an opportunity to tell him
about the society of Arden Foresters, in which he seemed greatly
interested, and was saying he should like to belong, when the gong
sounded the approach of the train, and there was only time for good-by.
"I shall be in this part of the country late in October, and may look in
upon you again," the president put his head out of the window to say, as
the conductor called, "All aboard."