THE TRUMP CARD
It so happened that the presence of the two strange girls had aroused the
curiosity of someone else, and that this somebody being of a suspicious
nature at all times required but little to set her fancies a-galloping.
She had watched the girls all through the game, and at its end sped away
to the dressing room and changed her clothes with remarkable expedition.
Then, instead of joining her companions in Miss Woodhull's reception
room, where tea was to be served to pupils and guests, she hurried into
her outdoor garments, and slipped out of a side door, made her way around
the house to a clump of fir trees in which she could watch undetected all
who left the main entrance of Leslie Manor.
She did not have to wait long. The two girls were among the first to
leave, but instead of following the broad main walk as the other guests
did, they turned into a side path as though wishing to stroll about the
grounds. The moment they were out of sight the suspicious one was
hot-foot upon their trail, and Miss Eleanor Allen was compelled to do
some lively stepping out in order to overtake her quarry. Only they were
certainly most athletic young women if one might judge from the manner in
which they strode forward.
Naturally at that season of the year the outskirts of the grounds were
entirely deserted. The elegantly dressed young ladies hurried toward a
dense clump of cedars which grew near the prickly holly hedge, and, to
Eleanor's amazement, the wearer of the big chiffon veil began to tug and
haul at it until it came loose, while the taller girl began to divest
herself of her handsome fur collar and coat. Eleanor gasped, and the next
moment nearly passed away, for now Miss "Chiffon-Veil's" skirts fell from
her, and Miss "Tall-Blonde" began to wriggle out of _her_ garments as a
boy might wriggle out of his coat and vest.... It was all Eleanor could
do to repress a cry of horror. Then off fell the big hat, the hair coming
with it, and before her stood a tall, fair boy in his trousers and shirt.
"Gee Whiz! Ath, pitch me my coat quick! Those girl's togs nearly
smothered me and now I'm freezing," he cried.
The garments desired were picked out of a bundle of things hidden in the
cedars, and flung at the shivering blonde, who promptly scrambled into
it, and drew from one of the pockets a cap, which he jammed down upon his
curly pate. Then swooping down he caught up the feminine gear lying upon
the ground, jammed it pell mell into a laundry bag, and heaved it over
the hedge into the road beyond, his companion, now having cast his outer
raiment, doing precisely the same thing. Then both shinned up a tall tree
whose branches overhung the road, walked like rope-walkers along a branch
which topped the hedge, and dropped lightly to the ground. Eleanor ran to
the hedge in time to see the laundry bags pitched upon the backs of two
waiting horses, the boys scramble upon their mounts and with a whoop of
triumph go pelting off down the road.
"Well, I never! Well, I never!" gasped Miss Paulina Pry, which was
unquestionably the absolute truth, though not characteristic. "That was
Beverly Ashby's brother and her beau!" Eleanor's selection of common
nouns was at times decidedly common. "Now, Miss High-and-Mighty, we will
see what happens to girls who are so very superior to other girls but can
read their letters and sneak boys into our school against rules," and
back she sped to the house, filled to the brim with knowledge, but with
such a paucity of wisdom in her brain that it was a wonder she kept to
the path. It was a pity that no one was at hand to quote for her benefit:
"Knowledge is haughty that she knows so much, but Wisdom is humble that
she knows no more."
From the moment Eleanor Allen entered Leslie Manor, she had been Petty
Gaylord's slave, and a more complete "crush" never was known. Flowers,
candy, books, and what not were lavished upon her adored one. Everything
that Petty would accept, and since Petty's discrimination was not of the
nicest order all proved fish which fell into her net. Eleanor lived in
the atmosphere of Petty's thrilling romance until she almost felt it to
be her own. She had seen the lost letter flutter to the schoolroom floor,
and had also seen Beverly pick it up. Her first impulse was to run and
tell Petty, but had no opportunity to do so in the classroom. Then she
decided to effect its rescue herself, and while the others were at
luncheon had slipped into Beverly's room and extracted the note from her
history. She never dreamed that Beverly meant to return it to Petty and
did not know that she had gone to her the following morning to explain
its loss as well as she was able. Eleanor intended to give Petty the note
at once, but when circumstances had prevented her from doing so for
several hours, she made up her mind to keep it in her own possession in
order to use it to Beverly's undoing. Just how this was to be compassed
she had no very clear idea, and _now_ had come a fine opening. She hated
Beverly because she had laughed at Petty's love affair, and ignored
completely the one who worshipped at Petty's shrine. The scene in
Professor Sautelle's room had nearly thrown Beverly into hysterics, and
Eleanor had also witnessed that. Oh, she had a long score against Beverly
Ashby.
That evening as Miss Woodhull sat by her study table reading a tap came
upon her door and Eleanor entered at the word "Come."
Miss Woodhull was not over-pleased at being interrupted in the midst of a
thrilling article on the Suffrage question and the militant doings of her
wronged sisters in England. "Well?" she queried crisply.
"I would like to speak to you, Miss Woodhull."
"Very well, speak," was the terse reply.
This was somewhat disconcerting. Eleanor coughed.
"Will you be good enough to state your errand without further peroration.
I do not relish being interrupted in my reading."
"I--I--thought I ought to tell you,--to show you--I mean you ought to see
this note which I found," and Eleanor crossed the room to Miss Woodhull's
side, the note held toward her.
She took it, asking as she did so: "Why come to me about so trivial a
matter? What is it? Where did you find it?"
"I didn't think it trivial and that is why I came right to you," Eleanor
replied, ignoring the embarrassing questions.
Miss Woodhull opened the note. The first line acted like a galvanic
shock. She sat up rigid as a lamp post. The words were "Darling Little
Sweetheart:--" Then she read on:
"When I close my eyes I can still feel your soft arms about my neck and
your kisses upon my lips. I can't wait much longer for you, darling.
Something must be done. I just can't stand it. I've got to see you before
Easter. It's no use to say I can't, because I'm going to--somehow. So
don't be surprised at anything. Leslie Manor is not so many miles away
and ways and means can be contrived in spite of all the old maid
guardians that ever lived. Wonder if the old lady knows how it feels to
have a man kiss her? I bet she don't! I've never seen your Suffragette
queen, but I don't need to after all you've told me about her. She must
be a cuckoo.
"So keep your weather eye piped, sweetness and leave the rest to your
Adoring 'Boy'"
By the time the Empress reached the last word of that missive her face
had assumed the color of a gobbler's wattles, and her eyes were blazing.
Eleanor was nearly frightened to death at the Genius of Wrath which she
had invoked.
"To whom does this nauseating thing belong?"
"It was not in an envelope when I found it, Miss Woodhull."
"Where did you find it?"
Eleanor hesitated, it would never do to seem too communicative.
"Did you understand my question?"
"Yes, Miss Woodhull."
"Then reply at once."
"I found it in the south wing," she said hesitatingly.
"Ah!" The word was exhaled triumphantly. "In the lower end of that wing?"
"Yes, Miss Woodhull."
"Near Suite 10?"
She recalled the tall, acrobatic visitor of All Saints' Eve. She had
always suspected Beverly and her suspicions had been confirmed when
Admiral Ashby asked her to sanction visits from Athol and Archie. "You
did quite right to come to me with this letter. It is far too serious a
matter to be dealt with by my subordinates. I highly commend your
discretion. I shall sift the matter to the bottom."
Eleanor winced. That "sifting" might change from a small affair to a
large one, as a snowball may grow into an avalanche. Then she said with
well-assumed contrition, "Oh, Miss Woodhull, I would not for the world
accuse _anyone_. It may be just fun----"
"There is no element of fun in such a letter as this, and absolutely no
humor. I have realized for some time that a decided atmosphere was being
created in this school, but have been unable to discover its origin, and
_this_," giving the letter the vicious shake a terrier would give a rat,
"may prove the touchstone. I need hardly enjoin absolute secrecy upon
your part. You have already proved your discretion. If you make any
further discoveries you will, of course, come to me at once. By-the-way,
when did you find the letter?"
"Why--er--several days ago, Miss Woodhull."
"Then why have you so long delayed coming to me?" The eyes were very
searching.
"I was afraid--afraid--I might be mistaken. That after all it really
didn't mean anything. The girls often play jokes upon one another, you
know."
"Not such senseless jokes as this one I trust. What caused you to alter
your opinion?"
The professional stage certainly missed a star when it failed to discover
Eleanor. She hesitated, looked down, then up with appealing eyes. She
twisted her fingers together and untwisted them. She shifted from one
foot to the other, all of which was maddeningly irritating to Miss
Woodhull.
"This is no time for hesitation,--speak!"
"This afternoon," whispered Eleanor.
"Sit in that chair and tell me everything without further circumlocution."
The tone was final.
With appropriate hesitancy the events of the afternoon were graphically
pictured for the Empress. When they were completely drawn she said with
the grimness of Fate: "You may go, but remember, not one word to your
companions." A most superfluous admonition, for Eleanor was nearly
petrified with fear as it was. She retreated to her room with all
possible speed and her room-mate wondered what had taken place to make
her look so pale, but refrained from asking questions. Eleanor and her
room-mate were not entirely congenial.
It was close to nine-thirty when she entered her room which was on the
floor above Beverly's. Down in hospitable Suite 10 the social spirit was
rampant. The Basket-ball victory was being celebrated by a spread. Light
bell did not ring until ten Saturday nights. Beverly was in the act of
biting into a chocolate eclair when Miss Stetson came to the door.
Beverly was sitting back to it and supposed it was one of her companions.
As all will concede, an eclair is, to say the least, an uncertain
quantity. Even upon a plate and carefully manipulated with a fork, it is
given to erratic performances. When held between a thumb and forefinger,
and _bitten_ into, its possibilities are beyond conjecture. Miss Stetson
appeared at a most inopportune moment (she usually did) and each girl
rose to her feet, Beverly under the circumstances being the last to do so
because she had no idea that Miss Stetson was anywhere near No. 10. Her
tardy uprising brought about the inevitable result. Her teeth came
together upon her eclair and the filling escaped its bounds, landing in
many places that it should not have landed. When Miss Stetson had removed
about a tablespoonful of cream filling from her bosom, she said icily:
"Miss Ashby, you are to report at Miss Woodhull's study at once," and
utterly ignored Beverly's apologies.
"Report at Miss Woodhull's office at nine-thirty at night?"
Consternation fell upon the revellers. The hair had snapped and Damocles'
sword had certainly fallen.