SOLUTIONS
The girls of Granard College had finished Monday night’s dessert of
chocolate blanc mange, and were restlessly waiting for the signal to
leave the dining room, when Clarice, who was sitting at the end of the
Arnold Hall table, rose quietly and stood facing her companions.
“I’ve got something to say, girls,” she began abruptly, her big black
eyes turned on one after another of the members of the Alley Gang, and
coming to rest on Patricia. “Last Thursday night I stayed out after hours
without permission. Accidentally Pat found it out—also, what I didn’t
know at the time, that if I got another demerit I’d be dropped from
college. Like the good sport she is, she occupied my bed until after
inspection that night. You all know what a jam she got into, but I was so
dumb that I didn’t put two and two together until last night.” Clarice’s
fixed gaze here shifted from Patricia’s flushed face to Anne’s. The
friendly smile which flashed to her from Anne’s red lips made her falter
for a moment. Quickly, however, she recovered her poise, and continued.
“I’ve seen the Dean, and explained the whole affair to her; as well as to
Mrs. Vincent. And, Pat’s slate is clean.”
Clarice turned from the table, and before the astonished girls could
move, had darted out of a side door which was directly behind her. Then
pandemonium broke loose.
“Three cheers for Clarice and Pat!” cried Katharine, waving her arms
excitedly.
An immediate and hearty response centered the attention of the entire
dining room upon the Arnold Hall table; and as the girls left the
building they were besieged by the other students to know the cause of
the demonstration.
Although examinations loomed in the near future, no one could study in
Arnold Hall that evening; everyone was too excited, and too happy, to
settle down. The members of the Alley Gang roamed restlessly in and out
of one another’s rooms, talking incessantly, while sampling the “eats”
which had arrived in several boxes from home that day. Patricia had
managed to get Clarice for a few moments alone in order to say some
things which couldn’t be said in public.
“Please don’t, Pat,” protested the other girl. “I’m so far in debt to you
that—”
“But, Clarice,” interrupted Patricia, putting her hand forcibly over her
friend’s mouth to check further talk about indebtedness, “I want to know
how things stand with you. You won’t be dropped?”
“No, everything’s all right. The Dean was lovely, and from now on I’m
going to make good.”
“I’m so glad,” began Patricia, “and I know that you can.”
Just then Anne appeared, and announced that Rhoda had a telephone message
for Patricia.
Sliding off the porch railing, on which they had been perched, the two
girls followed Anne into the house.
“Mrs. Brock would like you to come right over, Miss Randall,” said Rhoda,
when the trio presented themselves before the Black Book table where the
maid was sitting.
“How exciting!” cried Anne. “What do you think she wants?”
“I’ll have to go and find out, I suppose,” sighed Patricia wearily. The
strain of the week was beginning to tell on even her sturdy constitution,
and she longed to go to bed.
“Come back as soon as you can,” begged Anne, going as far as the door
with her, “and tell us all about it. We won’t have many more talkfests.”
“No; and it makes me just _sick_ to think of leaving here the last of
next week,” whispered Patricia sadly, dashing away a couple of tears.
“Never mind, old dear,” said Anne. “Maybe something will turn up to bring
you back next fall.”
When the maid at Big House ushered Patricia onto a large screened porch,
she was astonished to see Jack sitting beside a lamp whose soft light
illuminated the entire veranda. After brief greetings had been exchanged,
Mrs. Brock said abruptly:
“I have a story to tell you children.”
Her visitors exchanged amused glances over the appellation.
“I’ll make it brief; for I know that the reminiscences of old people bore
the young. When I was a girl, about your age, I had two very dear chums:
one was Mary Pierce.”
Patricia leaned eagerly forward in her chair at the sound of her mother’s
maiden name, but Mrs. Brock continued without appearing to notice the
girl’s surprise.
“The other,” she went on, “was Gertrude Neal.”
Here Jack started up in astonishment, as he, too, recognized the name of
his mother. Again Mrs. Brock went on without a pause.
“That surprises you, for I seem much older than your mothers. As a matter
of fact, I _was_ several years older than the other girls, and a long
illness a few years ago makes me appear much more ancient than I really
am. But to go on with my story. We were very congenial, and almost
inseparable.” A smile at some memory flickered across the woman’s face,
completely transforming the immobile features with which her listeners
were familiar. A look of regret and sadness almost immediately replaced
the smile, as she continued:
“Unfortunately, it was too happy a friendship to last. We had a serious
misunderstanding, in which I was mostly to blame. In fact the affair was
the cause of considerable injustice being suffered by Mary and Gertrude.
I’m not going into details—it’s over now, and they probably forgot all
about it; but anyhow, we separated, and I have never seen either of them
since. An aunt took me abroad, and one thing or another detained me there
until last year. My return revived old memories and affections; yet my
pride kept me from going directly to my friends. I felt, however, that I
wanted to do something to make up, at least in part, for the trouble I
had caused; so I decided to make you children a little gift and at the
same time find out what you were like. I bought Big House because it was
located so close to the college my father attended, then sent you the
money for the year’s expenses.
“Rhoda, my secretary and companion, I managed to place in Arnold Hall as
a maid, so she could give me all kinds of information about Patricia; and
I hired a private detective, Norman Young, to do my secretarial work and
at the same time spy on Jack. The game is played out now, and I hope the
year has been as satisfactory to you as it has to me. Wait a minute,” as
Patricia again tried to speak. “I have an offer to make. I’m going to get
a car; for I find I cannot walk as much as I used to; and if Jack cares
to take the position as chauffeur in return for his next year’s college
expenses, I fancy we can come to a satisfactory agreement. The hours
would not interfere at all with college work, and,” she paused and looked
questioningly at the boy, “you won’t have to live with me.”
“Mrs. Brock, I don’t know what to say, except to thank you for all your
kindness to me, and to accept gratefully your most generous offer. I—”
“All right then; that’s settled,” interrupted Mrs. Brock, turning toward
Patricia. “I need someone to look after my library and read to me. If you
could fit that work in with your college duties, I shall be responsible
for _your_ next year’s expenses. Of course you’ll live at Arnold Hall.”
“Mrs. Brock,” began Patricia; then much to everyone’s distress she burst
into tears. “If you only knew,” she sobbed, “how much I wanted to come
back here, and how afraid I have been that I couldn’t—”
“Then I’ll expect you both to report here on September 20,” interrupted
Mrs. Brock, “four days before college opens. Don’t try to tell me how
grateful you are. I guess I know. Good night.”
Patricia kissed the white face of the little woman, and Jack followed her
example. Neither spoke until they were out on the street.
“Some fairy godmother!” exclaimed Jack.
“Oh, Jack, isn’t she wonderful?”
“And the best of all,” said Jack, “is that we’ll be here together again.
You’ve become a sort of habit with me, I guess.”
Patricia smiled happily in the darkness. “And now,” she exulted as they
reached Arnold Hall, “I must go in and tell the girls the joyful news.”
The End
Transcriber’s Notes
--Preserved the copyright notice from the printed edition, although this
book is in the public domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected a few typos (but left nonstandard spelling and
dialect as is).
--Rearranged front matter to a more-logical streaming order and added a
Table of Contents.
--In the text versions, delimited text in italics by _underscores_.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mystery of Arnold Hall, by Helen M. Persons