The snow still mantled the ground, and the coasting and ski running
remained very popular sports with the girls and boys of Central High.
But a day's hard rain, with a sharp frost after it, had given the
iceboating another lease of life, too. Lake Luna was a-glare from the
mainland to Cavern Island, and the freight boats had given over running
until the spring break-up.
Not that there were no open places in the ice--for there were, and
dangerous holes, too. The current through the length of the lake was
bound to make the ice weak in places. But near the Centerport shore was
a long stretch of open ice that the authorities pronounced safe.
Chet and Lance got the _Blue Streak_ out again and there wasn't a girl
in the junior class who was not envious of Laura and Jess. Skating was
tame beside traveling at a mile a minute in an aero-iceboat; and the
other ice yachts were not in the same class with the invention of Chet
and Lance.
The date set for the production of Jess's play in the big hall of the
schoolhouse approached, however; and preparation for the event was
neglected by none of the M. O. R.'s or the other girls and boys in the
cast.
Friday evening would see the first production; but the intention was to
give a matinee for the pupils of the three Centerport High Schools at a
nominal price on Saturday morning, and then a final performance Saturday
evening. From these three performances the committee hoped to gain at
least a thousand dollars, and possibly half as much more. This would be
a splendid addition to the somewhat slim building fund of the
M. O. R.'s.
Lily Pendleton went about these days with a very self-satisfied
expression of countenance and such a mysterious manner that Bobby said
to her:
"Huh! you look like an old hen that's hidden her nest and thinks
nobody's going to find it, What are you up to now?"
"Don't you wish you knew?" returned Lily.
Even Hester Grimes admitted that she was not in Lil's confidence. But
the hints Lily dropped troubled Mother Wit.
Laura Belding had not forgotten the discovery her chum had made
regarding the identity of the man who called himself "Pizotti." The
stage director would not again attend the performance of "The Spring
Road" until the day of the first production. Yet Laura believed that
Lily had an understanding of some sort with him.
Governor Street, where Griff told Jess the Plornish family lived, was
one of the very poorest in that part of the city, being located at the
foot of the Hill and below Market Street itself.
Laura and Jess went shopping one afternoon on Market Street; and despite
the fact that it was nipping cold weather, and that the street was a
mass of snow-ice, save on the car tracks, they walked home. The
sidewalks were slippery, and it took some caution to keep one's feet;
but the chums were so sure of their balance that they stepped along
quite briskly.
From Mr. Vandergriff's store they saw a poorly dressed little
girl--perhaps eight years old, or so--dragging a soap box on runners.
The box had several packages of groceries in it, besides a bottle of
milk.
Just as the child started across Market Street there came a heavy sleigh
with plumes, great robes, a pair of dapple gray horses, and a great
jingling of bells. The driver did not see the little girl with her box
until it was almost too late to pull out.
It all happened in a flash! The peril was upon the child before she or
anybody else realized it; and it had passed her, only smashing her sled
and spilling her goods, in another moment.
The sleigh, with the horses prancing, swept on and did not even stop for
its occupants to note the damage it had done. The child was left crying
in the gutter, with the groceries scattered about and the milk making a
white river upon the dirty ice.
Laura sprang to aid the little one in picking up her goods; but Jess
exclaimed:
"Did you see that, Laura?"
"I should think I did! And they never stopped."
"But did you see who was in the sleigh?"
"No."
"It was Lil--and that man was riding with her again."
"Pizotti?" gasped Laura.
"Yes. Here! give me that bottle. I'll run across and get another bottle
of milk from Mr. Vandergriff. We'll have to help the little one carry
her stuff home. The little sled is smashed to smithereens."
"All right, Jess. Now, don't cry, child!" exclaimed Mother Wit, kindly,
hovering over the little girl. "You won't be blamed for this, I know."
But the child was staring after the sleigh instead of picking up her
goods, and with such a wondering look on her face that Laura asked:
"What is the matter with you? What did you see?"
The child still remained dumb, and Laura took her by the shoulder and
shook her a little.
"What is your name?" she demanded.
"Maggie," said the little one, gulping down a sob.
"Maggie what?"
"No, ma'am; Maggie Plornish," stammered the other.
"My goodness me!" gasped Laura. "Did you see the man in that sleigh?"
"No, ma'am! No ma'am!" cried the little girl, in great haste, and
shaking her head violently. "There warn't no man in the sleigh."
"Yes there was, child."
"I didn't see no man," declared Maggie, energetically. "It was the lady
I seen."
"Do you know her?" asked Laura, slowly, convinced that the child was
deceiving her--or, at least, attempting to do so.
"No, ma'am. I never seed her before."
It was evidently useless to try to get anything more out of the child on
that tack. But Laura was sure that there could not be two Plornish
families in Centerport, and if Jess had seen the stage director in Lily
Pendleton's sleigh, it was plain that Maggie had seen him, too. And she
had recognized him.
"Where do you live, little girl?" asked Laura, quietly, as she saw Jess
returning with a fresh bottle of milk.
"Over 'ere on Governor Street. Number ninety-three, Miss."
"Lead the way, then," said Laura, promptly. "We'll help you carry your
things home and explain to mamma how you came to get them scattered. You
surely have a mamma, haven't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. And there's a new baby. That's who the milk's for."
"Say! how many of you Plornish children are there?" asked Jess, to whom
Laura had immediately whispered the intelligence that this child was
evidently one of Mr. Pizotti's progeny.
"Seven, ma'am. But some's older'n me and they're workin'."
"Don't you go to school?" asked Laura.
"I can't--not right now. We ain't got good shoes to go 'round--nor
petticoats. And then, the baby didn't come along until a month ago and
he has to be 'tended some while mamma washes and cleans up around."
Laura looked at Jess meaningly and asked:
"Where's your papa?"
"Oh! he's home," said the child, immediately losing her smart manner of
speaking.
"Doesn't he work?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sometimes."
"What's his trade?" asked Jess.
"Huh?"
Maggie Plornish had suddenly become very dull indeed!
"Doesn't your father work regularly?" explained Laura, kindly. "Hasn't
he any particular work?"
Maggie considered this thoughtfully. Then she shook her head and with
gravity replied: "I guess he's an outa."
"A what?" gasped Jess.
"An outa, Miss."
"What under the sun's an 'outa'?" demanded Jess, looking at Laura.
But Mother Wit understood and smiled. "You mean he's 'most always out of
work?" she asked.
Maggie Plornish nodded vigorously.
"Yes, ma'am! He's us'lly outa work. Most reg'larly. Yes, ma'am!"
"Well for mercy's sake!" gasped Jess, gazing at her chum in wonder. "Can
you beat _that?_ If this is the same family----"
Laura stayed her with a look. "We'll see," said Mother Wit. "Lead on,
Maggie. We'll see your mother, anyway."