right.” How loud her steps sounded on the bare corridor floor. Gincy
paused before trying the door of Number 16. She did hope that Lalla and
Kizzie had left it locked. But no, here was the key, and on the outside,
too. “I call thet plumb shiftlessness,” she told herself disgustedly.
The girls certainly needed a lesson. Gincy stuck her head in, carefully
surveyed the room, and then locked the door, slipping the key into her
pocket. Let them go to Miss Howard when they wanted to get in. She came
back to her own room and sat down by the window. In a few minutes the
evening song, in one harmonious chorus, was wafted to her ears, then
snatches of it floated up the stairs as the girls returned to their
rooms. Some one tapped lightly, then turned the knob, and peered in. It
was Mallie Green, and Gincy fancied she looked surprised to see her.
“Howdy! I was passing and I thought—I’d see—why—you wan’t at dinner.”
Mallie blurted it out in her usual explosive fashion, her gaze shifting
evasively.
“I didn’t feel to want any; my ear aches,” answered Gincy with a sudden
accession of coolness toward the small, shrinking figure. She had been a
target for Nancy Ping’s ready wit many a time, but to-day Mallie seemed
far less likable. Every minute her suspicions grew stronger. Why was
Mallie poking into people’s rooms and pretending—Gincy felt it to be mere
pretending—to be friends? It was more than mere prankishness to put wet
towels on a pile of freshly-ironed clothes, it was malicious, especially
as the girls were all trying to economize as much as possible.
A few minutes later Gincy presented the key of Number 16 to Miss Howard.
“They haven’t asked for the master key,” said the latter, “so they must
be downstairs in the parlour. Sometimes they don’t come up until the
study bell rings.”
“Let’s go back and see if there is any one hanging around the door,”
suggested Gincy.
To their astonishment they found Lalla and Kizzie entertaining callers.
Gincy stood for a moment dumfounded, then dragged Miss Howard to a quiet
corner of the hall. “I know,” she whispered, “some one left that key in
the door. They heard me coming and didn’t have time to get it out.
We’ll keep hit, then I’d like to see them get in.”
“Do you really think it’s Mallie?” asked Miss Howard soberly. “I can’t
see any reason for her doing it.”
“Nor I, only the Greens and Ponders never did get on back yonder, and
Lalla’s always ahead of Mallie—she’s a year younger, too.”
Miss Howard stopped suddenly, she had started back to her room. “No,
Gincy, it wasn’t Mallie; she went into the dining-room ahead of me this
evening and gave out a notice for the basket ball team. I remember now.
Besides, she and Nancy Jane both wipe dishes and are never upstairs until
a half-hour after meal time.”
For almost a week after that the upper corridors were peaceful. No one
but Gincy doubted that they would remain so. Saturday evening, when Miss
Howard was making her tour of inspection, she met Lalla and Kizzie going
to choir practice. “I’ll look into your room just the same, girls,” she
said. “You don’t know how good it seems, though, to get over dreading
it.”
Kizzie sighed. “I couldn’t have stood it another day. It was getting
positively ghost-y, having such things goin’ on.”
Miss Howard sighed too as she fitted the master key into the door of
Number 16. Had she a real traitor in the house, or was it some prankish
girl who had gone too far and was now thoroughly frightened? The room
was in perfect order. How well the two had learned their lesson of
neatness. It rested the tired little teacher just to look at the clean
floor, the fresh curtains, and orderly books. She went over to the
window and looked out. Beyond the roof of the new dining-room was a
long, regular pile of wood, then the tennis court framed by huge oaks,
and still beyond, the mountains.
Miss Howard stood lost in thought for a moment. Each day brought its
problems. She was roused by a light footstep, there was a quick click of
the lock, and the master key was pulled out from the other side. She was
surely a prisoner. Thoroughly impatient at her own stupidity, Miss
Howard tried the window. She could only pull it down a few inches from
the top. This was the cleverest, most daring piece of lawlessness which
had ever occurred in the Hall. With the master key gone all kinds of
vandalism were possible in that room and every other. She dropped into a
chair irresolute.
A party of seniors had the east parlour until 7:30, which almost emptied
the corridor. One might call incessantly and not be heard, unless by the
wrong girls—the very ones from whom she wished to keep the matter a
secret.
The chapel bell rang for chorus practice. The outer world began to grow
dusky, still Miss Howard sat perfectly quiet, apparently reading. She
was thinking of a mystery story which led through a labyrinth of baffling
events to a most simple solution. She grew more and more doubtful of her
ability as a detective.
Presently, two people stopped outside the door for a little chat. It was
Martha Spellman—on her way to the linen closet—and Lalla. Miss Howard
waited patiently now that immediate release was certain, until the door
opened.
Lalla’s face was the picture of astonishment as she noticed the occupant
of her room. “You’d better not speak of it, Lalla,” cautioned her
teacher after describing the manner of her incarceration. “The girls
know enough already; they’ll be going home next thing. No one likes to
feel that she’s at the mercy of some lawless person.”
However, Miss Howard made an exception of Gincy, who seemed a link
between herself and the mountain people. Besides Gincy’s position as
monitor demanded greater confidence. “Whoever it was, knew I was there,”
she concluded.
“They were after the key, they didn’t care who was in there,” said Gincy
grimly. “Hit ain’t likely they’ll come again very soon, though, after
this.”
But the very next evening Number 16 was again invaded. This time Lalla’s
little silver pin was missing, and her school books hidden in the
woodbox.
“Shall we search Mallie’s and Nancy Jane’s room?” asked Miss Howard as
Lalla stood before her after making her final complaint. “This matter is
growing serious.”
Lalla hesitated. “You wouldn’t be likely to find anything. They’re both
too smart for that. We might watch them a spell longer.”
“Besides,” continued Miss Howard, “Mallie and Nancy Jane are nearly
always busy when things happen in your room.”
Lalla shook her head as though unconvinced. “I reckon hit’s jest one
person. I ain’t sayin’ who.”
“Lalla,” interrogated Gincy shrewdly, “who do you reckon’s so plumb
foolish as to sneak into your room whenever you go out for dinner?”
“Mebbe you can tell me,” answered Lalla with a flash of temper. “I’m
goin’ home next week if hit keeps on.”
“Wait a while,” encouraged Gincy, ignoring the insinuation. Personally,
she was not fond of Lalla, whose keen wit never spared any one, but of
all the mountain pupils she was the most talented—so the teachers had
said—and Gincy was working for the good of the school.
“I’ve got hit to work out and I’m goin’ to do hit,” she said to herself
that night. “I reckon Lalla’s plumb out of patience or she wouldn’t be
so touchy.”
She took a firmer grip on the baffling mental problem, her detective
instinct now fully aroused. Things happened at dinner time. Mallie and
Nancy Jane were nearly always at meals—and yet—Gincy thought over every
other girl in the Hall; not one seemed to have either the disposition or
the ability to carry on, undetected, such a warfare.
At six o’clock that evening, she was behind the door of Number 16, the
new master key showing temptingly in the lock. She had figured it all
out; the room must be watched from the inside. This time both window and
door were to be reckoned with. She raised the former to further her
scheme, and told no one except Miss Howard, who promised to bring Gincy’s
dinner to her own room that she might eat it later.
It was a weary vigil, but Gincy worked out some problems and waited
patiently. The hour was almost gone when a slight tap came at the door.
She crowded behind a dress in the corner and listened eagerly. The door
swung slightly and Nancy Jane Ping looked in. Her small, inquisitive
eyes seemed to pierce every corner, and Gincy had a breathless moment of
expectancy. Kizzie’s yellow muslin was a feeble barrier for the gimlet
glances to penetrate.
For a moment, the intruder stood keenly surveying the room, then withdrew
and walked slowly down the hall. Gincy waited, but she did not return.
After all, the evidence was very incomplete. Anybody might have looked
into a room whose door was slightly ajar. It didn’t matter how much
inward conviction one had if she lacked tangible proof. The whole
baffling pursuit had to be begun again, and Gincy united her Scotch
persistency and Irish wit afresh.
For a week she was absent from the dining-room at the dinner hour, the
most sociable time of the day. It had not been necessary to tell Kizzie
or Lalla, or, in fact, anybody, as she sat in the Annex dining-room, and
they rarely saw each other.
Still nothing happened, and Gincy went on studying her arithmetic and
planning her work for rhetoricals. She did not forget to keep the window
open, however, and the shining new master key in the door as a bait.
“Whoever hit is won’t resk coming in at the window, they’d be suspicioned
sure if any one should open the door.”
She reasoned it all out as she sat motionless on the fifth night of her
vigil. Almost at that moment the event which she had been anticipating
happened. The key clicked in the lock and she was shut in. For one
instant she listened to hear in which direction the retreating footsteps
were going—there was a telltale squeak which betrayed it—then Gincy
bounded across the room and slipped out of the window. She ran
noiselessly to where the halls crossed and a door led to a back stair
landing. Gincy knew that she could see from there any one who came down
the main hall, while the dark corner was a safe hiding-place for herself.
She had barely gained the desired spot, when some one vaulted past and
out upon the roof. It was Lalla Ponder who stole cautiously along and
deposited a small, shining object in a convenient niche near the cornice.
Gincy could hardly believe her eyes, but when Lalla turned her back, she
looked into the main hall and saw that it was entirely empty. She knew
that Lalla would not attempt to gain her room by the window, but would
come back into the hall and either go down the back stairs or come up
boldly and unlock her door. Gincy pounded on a nearby door vigorously,
knowing that its occupant was probably taking care of the lamps in the
lower hall, then she walked noisily to meet Lalla, who had regained the
hall when her back was turned.
“May I borrow your dictionary?” she asked in the grip of a sudden
courage. “Mary must be out; she doesn’t answer when I knock.”
“Of course you may,” Lalla answered, but Gincy noticed how her hand
trembled as she unlocked the door with her own key which hung on a narrow
plaid ribbon at her belt. She hesitated before stepping in, and gave a
little start of surprise when she saw an empty room. “I’m losing my
nerve, I reckon, with all the queer doin’s ’round here lately.”
Gincy’s face hardened. Could Lalla be crazy? She watched the girl
narrowly as she searched the closet, peered behind the door with every
sign of anxiety, and gave a sigh of relief when she found nothing out of
order.
Once in possession of the dictionary, Gincy hurried to Miss Howard with
her story.
“Have you been dreaming, child?” the latter asked in astonishment. But
Gincy shook her head.
“I’ve been studyin’ ’bout hit since I found her out. Hit’s that feud
business and she’s trying to fasten hit onto Mallie. The girls will
believe hit too, Mallie’s so ill.”
Miss Howard from her own conviction felt that they would. She followed
Gincy to the end of the hall; they slipped out upon the roof and found
both keys securely hidden from any casual observer just where Lalla had
concealed them five minutes before. Silently the two filed back to Miss
Howard’s room. Gincy felt the little teacher’s inward struggle to
readjust her point of view. Mallie was not a favourite, while Lalla had
quite a following and was counted unusually bright.
“Hit’s this way,” Gincy explained to the bewildered teacher. “The Greens
and Ponders have warred hit for years back there in the hills, and they
aim never to forget hit. Most of the young folks see how foolish hit is,
but they’re a sorry lot.”
Miss Howard sighed. “I must have time to think it over. I’m rather
upset this evening, Gincy. Thank you for helping me. Please don’t say
anything about it until I see you again. I can’t see why Lalla should
want to injure her own clothes to get Mallie sent home, though.”
After Gincy had left, Miss Howard sat for a long time, her hands toying
idly with the two keys. If the dean knew of the trouble, Lalla would be
suspended at once as she richly deserved. She would go back to the
poorest of mountain homes and the bright, keen mind, undirected and bent
on mischief, would soon bring the girl to grief.
The next day, at her first opportunity, she called Gincy into her room.
Carefully she approached the subject. “What kind of a home did you say
Lalla had, Gincy?”
“Mighty pore,” was the answer. “They’re the illest kind of people.”
Miss Howard pondered a moment over the next question. “What do you
suppose will become of her when she gets back in the mountains?”
Gincy shook her head gloomily.
“Don’t you suppose it will be worth while for us to try reforming her?”
Then Miss Howard explained the probation plan. “Only you and I know that
she is the mischief maker. If nothing more happens the pupils will soon
forget it. Of course everything depends on how she acts. She must
contradict the report about Mallie and promise better behaviour in the
future.”
Gincy’s face showed an inward struggle; this was so unlike the code of
the mountains. “I’m afraid I couldn’t trust her,” she said at last, “but
I’m willing to do anything you say.”
“I’m going to have a long talk with her this afternoon,” Miss Howard
continued, “and find out the reason for her conduct.”
There was a light tap at the door, then it was pushed open and Lalla
walked in. Her eyes had a sleepless look, her face was colourless.
Instantly the two knew her errand. She talked very rapidly, as if
fearful of losing her courage. “I started at first to fool Kizzie—she
said no one could do it—then I remembered something pretty mean Mallie
did to me back home and it seemed like my time had come to get even.
When you wanted to search her room I got to studying about it. I was
taking away her chance for learning, and she needing it mighty bad—as bad
as any one could. I was letting you think her a thief—” Here Lalla
broke down completely. “I reckon you’ll have—to—send me h—ome, I’m plumb
bad, and—”
Gincy waited for no more. She flung her arms around the weeping girl
with sudden tenderness.
“I am glad you were brave enough to confess your wrongdoing, Lalla,” said
Miss Howard, much relieved. “I think you deserve another chance, and
Gincy and I are going to see that you have it, too. We don’t propose to
tell anybody about this, so you’ll have nothing to live down. Just show
us a clean record from now on.”
“You don’t mean—” and here the magnitude of Miss Howard’s generosity
seemed to transform Lalla’s whole being. She stood up tall and straight
before the two. “You’ll never be sorry for trusting me,” she said. “And
I reckon if you can forgive me for worrying you so, I ought to forgive
Mallie and help her to be a better girl, too.”
IX
THE BAPTIZING
GINCY worked hard every day. Each night she went to bed weary in mind
and body, but the morning found her anxious to begin again. Saturday
afternoon was free for long walking trips to Cowbell Hollow, Blue Lick,
or the nearby peaks. Already an early frost had touched the tulip trees
with spots of gold, the sumac showed a fiery rim, and Nature was doing
her best to woo attention. Gincy and Urilla did not need the lure, their
hearts were longing for the hills.
Miss Howard must have read their thoughts. Early Saturday morning she
tapped at their door. “Girls, wouldn’t you like to go out to the
bungalow on Indian Mountain this afternoon? The college team will take
us and we can come back by moonlight to-morrow evening.”
“Of course we would!” both girls exclaimed. Then Gincy hugged the little
teacher until she laughingly slipped away, admonishing them to be ready
soon after lunch.
“We’ll get the room straightened out in a jiffy,” said Urilla before the
door had fairly closed. “I’m so glad we’re going, honey, it’ll make you
over.”
Gincy had never seen her calm room-mate quite so enthusiastic—her cheeks
were flushed with excitement and she rushed around dusting the furniture
with a vigorous hand. “I’d better clear out right away,” she laughed,
“and see if there’s any mail. There won’t be enough left of me to go if
you keep on the way you’ve started; you suck up the dust like a cyclone.”
“Bring me a letter from Talitha,” Urilla called after her.
It was four miles to Indian Mountain, the last two a steady climb—steep
in places and sidling—but the five did not mind it. Zack and Zeke, the
two fat mules belonging to the college farm, took a steady jog-trot until
they reached the foot, and then slowed down for the long, hard pull.
Lalla Ponder was poised recklessly near a mound of provisions guarded by
some extra quilts. Her light curls and nimble tongue were in constant
motion.
“I like tippy places and caves,” she said. “There’s one back in Clay
that’s haunted, they say, but I’ve been in it and never cared a rap.”
“You’re never afraid of anything,” remarked Kizzie, looking up at her
room-mate admiringly. “I don’t know where you haven’t been that’s
crawl-y and creep-y.”
“Well, there’s one place on this mountain. I’ve never been all the way
through Fat Man’s Misery.”
“Let’s all try hit,” Gincy proposed recklessly. “If hit can be done.”
“The boys often do it, but it’s a pretty hard climb for you girls,” said
Miss Howard who sat with the driver.
“I’m going to build a fire in the fireplace and pop some corn,” Urilla
suddenly remarked.
“Perhaps Gincy will help me sweep the bungalow before she goes
exploring,” ventured Miss Howard with a twinkle.
“I reckon I will,” assented Gincy, catching the look of mischief.
“You-all no ’count folks kin go on and have your fun; you’ll be back
comin’ meal time.”
The wagon suddenly lurched, checking the chorus of protests. Lalla lost
her balance, falling on Urilla. The basket of fruit and vegetables
overturned and the driver halted for repairs. “Hit’s only a rock that
big storm onsettled t’other night. Them ornery mules jest nachelly
struck hit,” he said.
Back and forth the road wound, continually disclosing new vistas. In the
coves farmers were gathering the “crap.” There were pine-capped crests,
bare, tumbled rocks, stream beds showing traces of tempestuous high
water, threaded now by tiny, twinkling rills. Beyond, and still beyond,
reared peak after peak of the Cumberlands. Gincy looked eagerly toward
the southeast. For a moment she almost imagined she could see the tiny
cabin perched above Goose Creek.
After a hard climb of almost two hours, the level space on the
mountain-top was reached. From a thicket of young trees they emerged
into a cleared space where stood a long, red bungalow apparently without
doors or windows. Built at the edge of a cliff, it commanded a wonderful
view of the surrounding mountains and the Blue Grass country.
“Oh! We’re here at last!” Gincy tumbled out hastily. “Whar do you git
in?”
“Down the chimney, of course,” laughed Urilla. “Look for the ladder
under the bungalow.”
“You might watch and see how I do it,” said Miss Howard, producing a key
and going around to the rear of the building. Presently she pushed up
sections of the side—one by one—and lastly threw back the wide front
doors.
Gincy stood for a moment enraptured. Below for miles was a fair, level
country dotted with towns—another world of which she knew nothing. The
sun was dipping westward toward a bluish-purple horizon.
By five o’clock everything was in order. “Not a lazy bone among you,”
Miss Howard assured them. “Now scatter and have a good time.”
They needed no second bidding. Lalla led off at a break-neck speed.
“We’ll start in at the cave and come back by Fat Man’s Misery; it’ll land
us right in front of the bungalow.”
Urilla groaned. “Sh-h-h,” warned Kizzie, “we’re going to initiate Gincy;
none of us are fat enough to get stuck, so you needn’t worry.”
“I’m not worrying,” answered Urilla reproachfully. “I’m tired after all
my work this morning, but I’m not going to back out.”
The path to the cave led through a grove of young oaks. There were tall
ferns and rhododendrons, and mountain laurel. Lalla paused at an immense
fallen tree which seemed to block the way; its great roots hung over the
yawning space below. Nimbly she sprang upon the giant trunk and
disappeared on the other side, calling for the rest to follow.
When the three had done so, they caught a vanishing glimpse of Lalla
descending hand over hand on the strong branch of a mammoth grapevine.
Thirty feet below she landed upon the level surface of a mossy boulder.
Gincy followed Kizzie, and Urilla came last. Before them was the large
opening of the cave—a favourite haunt of the students, who from time to
time occupied the college bungalow. At its rear, a long, wide crack in
the solid rock led in a zigzag direction for twenty rods or more. The
path was extremely narrow, and sloping at a sharp incline. Kizzie dodged
ahead and Gincy was close behind. Each moment the former grew more
reckless; she gathered her skirts around her and slid down a swift
descent, the others following.
“Whew! but it’s dampish!” said Gincy. “Hear that water?”
A steady drip, drip, drip came from the walls. In the cracks were long
fronded ferns, moss, and here and there wild geraniums. A cool draught
struck them. At the farther end the rocks seemed almost to touch, and
only a tiny thread of light showed from above. Gincy was close to Kizzie
when they reached the narrowest part and began the long, tortuous climb.
“We’ll be ready for hot coffee by the time we get to the top,” called
Urilla from the rear.
“I hope Miss Howard won’t fuss; I kin eat anythin’ I’m so hungry,” said
Gincy.
“Of course she won’t fuss,” panted Kizzie. “She’s a born manager; she’ll
have everything on the table in great shape and a picture painted to
boot.”
Up, up, with a scanty, stony foothold, Gincy followed close behind
Kizzie, her face growing redder, her breath shorter. The crack of blue
was broadening, roots and stocky ferns afforded a surer grasp.
“We’re almost there!” Kizzie exulted. “What on earth are you doing with
that stick, Gincy?”
“Watch me and see!” Dexterously Gincy inserted the short, stout stick
crosswise above her head and swung up a long step to safe footing beside
her leader. “Why, we’re up, aren’t we?” she said, astonished as her eyes
caught a glimpse of the foundation of the bungalow a few yards away. The
four pulled themselves up the few remaining feet and dropped down in a
weary, silent row on a big, flat stone which commanded a glorious view.
Even Lalla’s twinkling eyes had lost their usual expression of mischief,
and she sat soberly viewing the scene before her.
“Look, Kizzie,” exclaimed Urilla, pointing back to the open bungalow,
“Miss Howard’s been to the spring for water, the table’s all set, and I
can smell the chicken.”
Nancy Jane was up at sunrise the next morning. She and Mallie stole out
of bed noiselessly and started for the spring—it was their turn to get
water. There had been a heavy dew, but neither girl wore rubbers.
“Another fine day,” said Mallie, stepping high. “Just look at the hills!
We’re the highest.”
The winding footpath near the cliff’s edge gave a magnificent view of the
peaks which formed a huge semicircle around Indian Mountain. “I’d almost
like to live up here,” said Nancy Jane. “It’s more sightly than back in
the hills and so near Bentville.”
The two stood near the sagging gate of a yard which had been swept clean
as a floor. A few long-legged chickens stepped about gingerly. On the
very edge of the cliff stood a low frame house, and near it a corn crib
set high to keep out the rats. The path to the spring led through the
yard.
“The Haggis family live here,” announced Mallie as she held the gate
open. “Miss Howard told me about them last night—they’re awfully poor.”