"Yes, Hugh," Barbara said, as the last strains of the Merry Widow waltz
died away, "I should like to rest here a minute." Barbara sank down on
the low, rose-colored divan shaded by magnificent palms in Mrs. Erwin's
conservatory. "I would love an ice, too," she added.
It was the night of Mrs. Erwin's famous white and gold ball, long
remembered in the history of splendid entertainments in Newport.
Barbara truly wanted a minute to think. She had come to the ball under
Miss Sallie's excellent chaperonage, early in the evening, and had been
dancing hard ever since. The little girl from Kingsbridge, who had never
before seen anything finer than a village entertainment, felt almost
overcome by the splendor and magnificence of everything about her.
Mrs. Erwin's ballroom was built out from the side of her handsome villa
like a Greek portico. The conservatory joined it at one end, forming an
inner triangular court. This court was filled with rare trees which
threw their branches out over a miniature artificial lake. The guests
could pass from the ballroom into this open garden, or they could enter
it through the conservatory.
The walls of the wonderful ballroom were covered with a white silk
brocade, and on this night Mrs. Erwin had allowed only yellow flowers to
be used as decorations. Great bowls of yellow roses perfumed the air,
and golden orchids looked like troops of butterflies just poising before
they took flight.
"Now I know," said Mollie, with a catch in her breath, as she first came
into the magnificent ballroom, "what King Midas's garden must have
looked like, when he went round and caressed all the flowers in it with
the golden touch."
"Clever Mollie!" laughed Ruth. "I expect it is the golden touch that has
been round this ballroom, or the touch of golden dollars, anyway."
Mollie blushed. "I didn't mean that," she said.
Barbara leaned her head against the rose-colored cushion, just the color
of the jeweled spray in her hair; she was wearing the coral jewelry her
mother had given her. Fortunately the two girls had saved their best
party dresses for this ball, having been content to wear their summer
muslins at the informal dances at the Casino.
Barbara, in her dainty pink flowered organdie, with her cheeks flushed
to match it in color, resembled a lovely wild rose.
Curiously enough, amid all this elegance, Bab felt a little homesick.
She kept thinking of her mother and the little cottage.
"It's a wonderful experience for Mollie and me," she said to herself. "I
hope I can tell mother exactly what it looks like. I am sure fairyland
can't be half so gorgeous; fairies wear only dewdrops for jewels; but
here, I believe, there must be nearly all the jewels in the world."
Barbara did not know how big the world really is, nor how many people
and jewels, both real and paste, there are in it. After all, artificial
people are no better than paste jewels!
Earlier in the evening Mollie and Barbara had stood with their hands
tight together, watching the men and women enter the great reception
room to speak to their host and hostess.
"Diamonds," whispered Mollie to Bab, "seem as plentiful as the
strawberries we gathered for the hotel people this summer. We didn't
dream, then, that we were coming to Newport! Isn't my Mrs. Cartwright
the most beautiful of them all?" wound up the loyal child.
Mrs. Cartwright wore a white satin gown, with a diamond star in the
tulle of her bodice. In her hair was a spray of diamonds, mounted to
look like a single stalk of lilies of the valley, each jewel hanging
from the slender stem like a tiny floweret.
The conservatory was almost empty while Bab rested and waited.
During the intermission in the dance nearly all the guests had wandered
into the dining-room or into the moonlit garden.
Barbara realized that she was almost completely hidden by the great palm
trees that formed an arch over her head and drooped their long arms down
over her. She had crept into this seat in order that she might see
without being seen.
Yet in spite of the quiet, Barbara was not resting. Her heart was
beating fast with the excitement of this wonderful evening, and her tiny
feet in the pink silk slippers still kept time to the last waltz she had
danced with Hugh.
The conservatory door, leading into the garden, was open. Barbara saw
Mrs. Post, Governor Post, Harry Townsend and a woman in a gold-colored
brocade enter the conservatory and stop to talk for a few minutes. They
had not noticed Barbara nor did she feel it was quite proper to
interrupt them, as she did not know the strange woman who was with them.
Governor Post bowed in military fashion to the ladies.
"Now," he said, "I'll go, and leave the young man to do the
entertaining. We old fellows must make ourselves useful when our
ornamental days are over. Mr. Townsend will look after you here, and I
shall find a waiter and have him bring you something to eat."
Barbara saw Harry Townsend talking in his most impressive manner to the
two women.
"It is curious," Bab thought, to herself, "what a society man Harry
Townsend is. Gladys says he is only twenty-two. I wonder where he comes
from. Nobody seems to know. Oh, yes; Gladys said he was educated in
Paris. She met him on shipboard."
The little girl from her green bower was an interested watcher. It was
fascinating to be able to see all that was going on, without being seen.
Bab sat as quiet as a mouse, taking no part in the conversation.
Mrs. Post was a handsome woman of about fifty, who looked rather stern
to the girls; but Hugh assured them that she was "dead easy," once you
got on the right side of her. Her husband was a prominent lawyer in
Washington, and their winters were usually spent in the capital.
Mrs. Post's gown was nearly covered by a long, light-colored chiffon
wrap, with a high collar lined with a curious ornamental embroidery.
"Harry," she said, turning to the young man with her, "it is warm in
here with these tropical plants; will you be kind enough to remove my
wrap?"
The conservatory was dimly lighted. Barbara sat in the shadow. Between
her and the party she was watching was a central row of flowers and
evergreens, dividing the long room into two aisles.
She saw Harry rise and lean over Mrs. Post, who only half rose from her
chair. Deftly and with wonderful ease and swiftness, Townsend undid the
clasp at her throat; but, for a moment, the embroidery from the collar
seemed to have caught in her hair.
Barbara's eyes grew wide and staring with surprise. As the coat slipped
back from Mrs. Post's shoulders, she saw a string like a tiny green
serpent glide with magic smoothness and swiftness from her throat, and
drop into the shrubbery back of her, or--into Harry Townsend's hand?
What should she do? Announce that she had seen her string of emeralds
disappear? Mrs. Post was talking and laughing gayly with her friend in
the gold-colored dress. Harry was smiling quietly by them. Barbara
rubbed her eyes. Surely she was mistaken. She had been dazzled by the
wonderful sights she had seen that night. While she hesitated her
opportunity passed.
Governor Post returned, saying to his wife: "Come, my dear, I have found
Miss Stuart and a friend. They have a table out in the garden, and want
us to join them."
Mrs. Post again drew her wrap over her shoulders and turned to leave the
conservatory. As she rose she saw Barbara.
"You there, my child?" she said in a friendly way. "Why didn't you speak
to me?"
Barbara could only answer her stupidly. "I was waiting for Hugh."
When Hugh returned he found Barbara looking as pale as though she had
just seen a ghost.
"What's the matter?" he asked at once. "Are you ill?"
But Bab shook her head. "I'll go find Miss Stuart," the young man
suggested.
"You'll do no such thing, Hugh!" Barbara had recovered her breath.
"There's nothing much the matter with me--at least, I am not sure whether
I ought to tell you."
"Bab and Hugh! Well, I like this!" Grace's voice sounded from the
doorway, as she and Donald Cartwright came in, followed by Ruth and
Ralph. "Here you two have run away by yourselves, when we promised to
stick together this evening, in order to keep up each other's courage.
You ought to see Gladys! She's as angry as can he, and is wandering
round with Mollie and the freshman. Harry has been gone somewhere for a
long time, and she has no partner for the next dance."
"Are you sick, Bab?" inquired Ruth. She, too, noticed that Bab was
unusually pale. Before she received an answer, Governor and Mrs. Post
came into the conservatory, followed by Harry Townsend, Miss Stuart and
the woman in yellow.
"You are just the fellow I want to see, Hugh," said his father, so
quietly that no one except those near him could hear. "Your mother has
lost her emerald necklace, and she thought she had it on when she was
last in here. We don't want to create any excitement, or to let Mrs.
Erwin or the servants know until we have made a thorough search. She
very probably dropped it among these flowers. Lock the door out there,
will you? Miss Carter, you and Donald, please keep guard at the other
door while these young people help me look."
"I thought----" said Barbara.
"Why, you were in here, child, when we were. You were on the other side
of these evergreens," said Mrs. Post. "What did you say?"
"I thought it might be in these evergreens," Barbara finished, lamely,
getting down on her knees to assist in the search. Dared she speak of
what she thought she had seen? Dared she speak with no evidence but her
own word? Could she have been in error? First, she would look with the
others.
Every palm, every flower, every inch of space was carefully gone over.
No sign of the missing emeralds!
"Did anyone enter the conservatory after I left, Miss Thurston?"
inquired Mrs. Post coldly. She was worried by the loss of her jewels,
which were of great value, as well as annoyed by the excitement she was
causing.
"Nobody came in," Bab said, "only Hugh."
"I am exceedingly sorry," the governor said at last, "but Mrs. Erwin
will have to be notified. The jewels were either lost or stolen, and
must be found. If the servants find the necklace a liberal reward will
induce them to return it."
The older people left the conservatory.
Just as the younger ones turned to leave, Barbara, whose strange
expression had not escaped the sharp eyes of Ruth, laid her hand on
Hugh's arm.
"Ask Harry Townsend to stay here a minute with us, won't you please,
Hugh?" said Barbara hoarsely.
"Say, Townsend," Hugh called, "come back a moment. I want to speak to
you. Or, rather, Miss Thurston does."
"Mr. Townsend," said Barbara, her face pale as death, "did you not see
Mrs. Post's necklace when you took off her wrap in here?"
"No," said Harry quietly. "Did you?"
"Ask him, Hugh," said Barbara, desperately, "to show you what he has in
his pockets!"
"Oh, say, Barbara!" Hugh answered. "I can't do that. It's a little too
much."
But Ralph stepped forward. "We don't know what Miss Thurston means, but
she most certainly doesn't mean to insult Mr. Townsend unnecessarily.
Why, then, should he mind turning out his pockets? Here Hugh," Ralph
turned, "search me first. Then Mr. Townsend won't object to the selfsame
process."
Hugh's face was crimson, but he looked through Ralph's pockets in a
gingerly fashion.
When he finished Harry Townsend turned quietly to Barbara. "I don't know
why you wish to insult me," he said to her, "but I am perfectly willing
to have Mr. Post search me. You were the only person in the conservatory
after the jewels were lost!"
Hugh started his search.
Barbara leaned sick and faint against her chair, expecting every moment
to see Hugh draw the jewels forth. She kept her eyes averted while Harry
turned his pockets wrong side out and finally opened his vest.
"Barbara," said Hugh, coldly, and Bab turned around. "We owe Mr.
Townsend an apology. He is certainly no thief!"
The jewels were nowhere to be found.