THE PLOT THICKENS
"And Mrs. Weatherbee's gone to oust the disturber of our peace! Oh,
joy!"
To emphasize further her satisfaction Judith gave Jane an ecstatic hug.
"You can't be any gladder than I am."
Jane returned the hug with interest.
"But how did it thus happen so beautifully?" questioned Adrienne
eagerly.
"It was a mistake----No, it wasn't either. It was----"
Jane paused. She wondered if she had the right to put her friends in
possession of what she had so lately learned. Mrs. Weatherbee had not
enjoined silence. Adrienne and Judith were absolutely trustworthy. They
had forewarned her of the situation. It was only fair that they should
be taken into her confidence.
"I've something to tell you girls," she went on slowly. "You must wait
to hear it until we are in our room. I'd rather not go into it out here
on the veranda."
"All right. We'll be good. I hope the noble Miss Noble will hurry up and
move out," wished Judith. "I can imagine how delighted she'll be."
"She may care but little," shrugged Adrienne. "Of a truth, she has not
been here so long. But a few hours! It is not much!"
"I don't believe she'll relish it a bit," prophesied Judith. "She looks
to me like one of those persons who get peeved over nothing. Isn't it
funny, though? Mrs. Weatherbee made a mistake last year about your room,
Jane. Do you remember how haughty you were when you found out you were
to room with little Judy?"
"Yes. I was a big goose, wasn't I?" Jane smiled reminiscently. "It
wasn't Mrs. Weatherbee's fault this time. That's all I'll say until we
three go upstairs."
"Wish she'd hurry," grumbled Judith, referring to the usurping freshman.
"This evacuation business isn't going along very speedily. I wonder if
she's unpacked. She hadn't touched her suitcase when I left her. Her
trunk hadn't come yet. Maybe it came while we were out. I hope not.
Then there'll be that much less to move."
"Had this Miss Noble examinations to take?" asked Jane.
"No, she told me she was graduated from a prep school last June.
Burleigh, I think she said. I really didn't listen much to her. I was so
upset over having her thrust upon me, I didn't want to talk to her."
"Poor Judy."
Jane bestowed a sympathizing pat upon Judith's arm.
"All the time I was thinking 'poor Jane,'" laughed Judith. "Oh, dear!
Why doesn't Mrs. Weatherbee come back. I'm crazy to hear the weird story
of your wrongs, Janie."
It was at least fifteen minutes afterward before the matron descended
the stairs, looking far from pleased.
Watching for her, Jane stepped inside the house and met her at the foot
of the stairs.
"You may move in as soon as you please, Miss Allen," she informed Jane,
her annoyed expression vanishing in a friendly smile.
"Thank you. I sha'n't lose any time in doing it."
Jane returned the smile, thinking in the same moment that it seemed
rather odd but decidedly nice to be on such pleasant terms with the
woman she had once thoroughly disliked.
"Did you notice how vexed Mrs. Weatherbee looked when she came
downstairs?" was Judith's remark as the door of her room closed behind
them. "I'll bet she had her own troubles with the usurper."
"First the disturber, then the usurper. You have, indeed, many names for
this one poor girl," giggled Adrienne.
"Oh, I can think of a lot more," grinned Judith. "But what's the use.
She has departed bag and baggage. To quote your own self, 'It is
sufficient.' Now go ahead, Jane, and spin your yarn."
"It's no yarn. It's sober truth. You understand. I'm speaking in strict
confidence."
With this foreword, Jane acquainted the two girls with what had taken
place in the matron's office.
"Hm!" sniffed Judith as Jane finished. "She's begun rather early in the
year, hasn't she?"
"I see we're of the same mind, Judy," Jane said quietly.
"I, too, am of that same mind," broke in Adrienne. "I will say to you
now most plainly that it was Marian Seaton who wrote the letter."
"Of course she wrote it," emphasized Judith fiercely. "It's the most
outrageous thing I ever heard of. You ought to have told Mrs.
Weatherbee, Jane. Why should you shield a girl who is trying to injure
you?"
"I could only have said that I _suspected_ her of writing the letter,"
Jane pointed out. "I have no proof that she wrote it. Besides, I didn't
care to start my sophomore year that way. When I have anything to say
about Marian Seaton, I'll say it to her. I'm going to steer clear of her
if I can. If I can't, then she and I will have to come to an
understanding one of these days. I'd rather ignore her, unless I find
that I can't."
"You're a queer girl," was Judith's half-vexed opinion. "I think, if I
were in your place, I'd begin at the beginning and tell Mrs. Weatherbee
every single thing about last year. I'd tell her I was _positive_ Marian
Seaton wrote that letter. She'd be angry enough to tax Marian with it,
even though she made quite a lot of Marian and Maizie Gilbert last year.
If Marian got scared and confessed--good night! She'd have to leave
Madison Hall. We'd all be better off on account of it."
"No, _ma chere_ Judy, you are in that quite wrong," disagreed Adrienne.
"This Marian would never make the confession. Instead she would make the
great fuss. She would, of a truth, say that Jane had made the plot to
injure her. She is most clever in such matters."
"I'm not afraid of anything she might say," frowned Jane. "I simply
don't care to bother any more about it. I have my half of this room back
and that's all that really matters. If Marian Seaton thinks----"
The sudden opening of the door cut Jane's speech in two. Three surprised
pairs of eyes rested on a sharp-chinned, black-eyed girl who had
unceremoniously marched into their midst. Face and bearing both
indicated signs of active hostility.
"Did I hear you mention Marian Seaton's name?" she sharply inquired of
Jane.
"You did."
Jane gazed levelly at the angry newcomer.
"Which of these two girls is Miss Allen?"
This question was rudely addressed to Judith, whose good-natured face
showed evident disgust of the interrogator.
"I am Jane Allen. Why do you ask?"
Jane spoke with curt directness.
"I supposed that you were." The girl smiled scornfully. "I only wished
to make sure before telling you my opinion of you. It did not surprise
me to learn that it was _you_ who turned me out of my room. I had
already been warned against you by my cousin, Marian Seaton. No doubt
you've been saying spiteful things about her. I know just how shabbily
you treated her last year. If she had been here to-day, you wouldn't
have been allowed to take my room away from me. She has more influence
at Wellington than you have. She will be here soon and then we'll see
what will happen. That's all except that you are a selfish, hateful
troublemaker."
With every word she uttered the black-eyed girl's voice had risen.
Overmastered by anger she fairly screamed the final sentence of her
arraignment. Then she turned and bolted from the room, leaving behind
her a dumbfounded trio of young women.
"Brr!" ejaculated Judith. "What do you think of that? I'm sure I could
have heard that last shriek, if I'd been away over on the campus. Marian
Seaton's cousin! Think what Judy escaped!"
"You are very funny, Judy," giggled Adrienne. "And that girl! How
little repose; what noise!"
"Yes, 'what noise,'" Judith echoed the giggle. "Really, girls, am I
awake or do I dream? First a strange and awful girl comes walking in on
me. Then I learn the pleasant news that Jane's deserted me. Along comes
Jane, who doesn't know she's lost her home. Enter Marian Seaton as a
letter writer. Result Jane and Mrs. Weatherbee become bosom friends.
Jane is vindicated and her rights restored. Right in the middle of a
happy reunion in bounces the tempestuous Miss Noble. Quite a little like
a nightmare, isn't it?"
"It has the likeness to the movie plot," asserted Adrienne mirthfully.
"Very thrilling and much mixed."
"I never dreamed coming back to Wellington would be like this."
Jane smiled. Nevertheless the words came with a touch of sadness.
"Don't let it worry you, Jane," counseled Judith. "I was only fooling
when I said this afternoon had been like a nightmare. You may not have
another like this the whole year. Things always happen in bunches, you
know. I move that we re-beautify our charming selves and go down to the
veranda. We'll be on hand if any of the girls arrive. There's a train
from the east at five-thirty. Dorothy may be on that."
"I hope she is," sighed Jane.
Mention of Dorothy Martin made Jane long for a sight of the gentle,
whole-souled girl whom she so greatly loved and admired.
"Go ahead, Jane, and change your gown. I'll unpack your bag for you,"
offered Judith. "Beloved Imp here may help, if she's very good."
"Thank you, Judy."
Jane began an absent unfastening of her pongee traveling gown,
preparatory to bathing her throat, face and hands, dusty from the
journey.
While her two friends laughed and chattered as they unpacked her bag,
she gave herself up to somber reflection. The events of the afternoon
had left her with a feeling of heavy depression. Why, when she desired
so earnestly to do well and be happy, must the ancient enmity of Marian
Seaton be dragged into her very first day at Wellington. Was this a
forerunner of what the rest of her sophomore days were destined to be?