A Storm-cloud
Rona woke up next morning without even a headache, in Miss Lodge's
opinion "justifying the prompt measures taken", but according to the
girls, "showing there had been nothing the matter with her to make such
a fuss about". Breakfast proceeded as usual, and afterwards came the
short interval before nine-o'clock school. Now on this day the
contributions to the Art exhibition were to be packed up and dispatched
by a special carrier, and Stephanie, as a budding metalworker, ran
upstairs to the studio to take one last peep at her exhibit. She flew
down again with white face and burning eyes.
"Girls!" she cried shakily. "Girls! Somebody's taken my pendant! It's
gone!"
"Why, nonsense, Stephie; it can't be gone! It was there all right last
night."
"It's not there now. Ulyth's has been put in its place, and mine's
vanished. Come and see."
There was an instant stampede for the studio.
"It's probably on the bench," said Doris. "Some people are such bad
lookers. I expect we shall find it directly."
"You can't find a thing that isn't there," retorted Stephanie with
warmth.
Doris considered herself an excellent looker, and, in company with a
dozen others, she searched the studio. Willing hands turned everything
over, hunted under tables, on shelves, and among shavings, but not a
sign of the pendant could they find.
"Are you sure this one isn't yours?" asked Ruth, coming back to the
exhibits.
"Certain! I know my own work. This is Ulyth's; and there's the mistake
she made that disqualified it."
"Yours was put back last night?"
"I saw it safe myself, after Rona'd been juggling with it. Where is
Rona? I believe she's at the bottom of this."
"She's in the garden."
"Then she must be fetched."
"What's the matter? What are you making a bother about?" cried Rona, as
an excited detachment of girls stopped her game of tennis and asked her
a dozen questions at once. "What have I done with Stephanie's pendant?
Why, I've done nothing with it, of course."
"But you must have hidden it somewhere."
"It's a mean trick to play on her."
"You and Steph are always at daggers drawn."
"Do go and put it back."
"I can't think what you're talking about!" flared Rona. "I've not even
been inside the studio. If a joke's being played on Stephanie, it's
somebody else who's doing it, not me. For goodness' sake let me get on
with my game. Come, Winnie, it's your serve."
The girls retired, whispering to one another. They were not at all
satisfied. The news of the loss spread rapidly over the school, and had
soon reached the ears of the authorities. Miss Lodge, who heard it from
a monitress, at once sought Miss Bowes' study. A few moments later she
went in a hurry to summon Miss Teddington, and a rash junior who
ventured within earshot was sent away with a scolding. Miss Bowes looked
grave as she walked into the hall for call-over. She took the names as
usual, then, instead of dismissing the forms, she paused impressively.
"I have something to say to you, girls," she began in a strained voice.
"A most unpleasant thing has happened this morning. The pendant made by
Stephanie Radford, which was to have been sent to the Elwyn Bay
Exhibition, has disappeared, and Ulyth Stanton's pendant has been
substituted for it. It is, I suppose, a practical joke on the part of
one of you. Now I highly disapprove of this foolish form of jesting; it
is neither clever nor funny, and is often very unkind. I beg whoever has
done this thing to come forward at once and replace the pendant. She
need have no fear, for she will not be punished or even scolded, though
she must give me her word never to repeat such a prank."
Miss Bowes stopped, and looked expectantly at the rows of intent eyes
fixed upon her. Nobody spoke and nobody moved. There was dead silence
in the hall. The Principal flushed with annoyance.
"Girls, must I appeal to your honour? Is that necessary at The
Woodlands? Have I actually one among you so lacking in moral courage
that she dare not own up? I repeat that she will meet with no reproof.
Nothing more will be said about the matter."
Still no reply. Each girl looked at her neighbour, but not even a
whisper was to be heard.
"Girls, I am exceedingly pained. Such a thing has never happened here
before. For the sake of the school, I make one last appeal to you. Will
nobody speak? Then I shall be obliged to ask each of you in turn what
she knows."
It was a dreary business putting the same question to forty-eight girls,
receiving one after another forty-eight decided negatives. Miss Bowes
sighed wearily as it came to an end, and turned to Miss Teddington, who
had sat on the platform silent but frowning during the ordeal.
"We cannot let it rest here."
"Certainly not!" snapped Miss Teddington firmly. "The matter must be
sifted to the bottom."
The two Principals conferred for a moment in whispers, then Miss Bowes
announced:
"Girls, this affair must be very carefully inquired into. I hoped it was
only a practical joke, but a circumstance came to my knowledge last
night which, I fear, may lend a more sinister aspect to it than either
Miss Teddington or I had imagined. I am most deeply disappointed that
the code of honour which we have always upheld at The Woodlands seems
by some of you to have been broken. I shall have more to say to you
later on. In the meantime you may go to your classrooms."
Very solemnly the girls turned to march in their separate forms from the
hall; but as IV B filed through the door there was a sudden outcry, a
hustling, a rush of other girls, and an excited, aghast crowd.
"It's here! It's here, Miss Bowes!" shouted Doris Deane. "Rona Mitchell
had it! It fell from her blouse pocket when she pulled out her
handkerchief."
"It's Rona!"
"We saw it fall!"
"She had it all the time!"
"Oh, the sneak!"
"Silence!" thundered Miss Bowes, ringing her bell.
In the midst of the sudden hush the Principal walked down the hall and
took the pendant from Doris's hand.
"What have you to say for yourself, Rona Mitchell?"
Rona was standing staring as if a ghost had suddenly risen up and
confronted her. Her vermilion colour had faded, and left her face deadly
white.
"Rona, do you hear me?"
Rona shivered slightly, glanced desperately at Miss Bowes, then cast her
eyes on the floor. She did not attempt to reply.
"I give you one more chance, Rona."
"Oh, Rona," interrupted Ulyth, who was weeping hot tears of dismay,
"remember the Camp-fire! For the sake of the school, Rona!"
She drew back, choking with emotion, as Miss Bowes waved her aside.
Rona gazed for a moment full at Ulyth--a long, long, searching gaze, as
if she would read Ulyth's very soul in her eyes. Then the colour flooded
back, a full tide of crimson, over brow and neck.
"Yes--for the sake of the school!" she repeated unsteadily, and,
bursting into tears, hid her burning face in her hands.
Miss Teddington hastily dismissed the other girls, and, coming to the
assistance of her partner, asked many questions. It was absolutely
useless, for Rona would not answer a single word.
"Go to your bedroom," said the irate Principal at last. "This matter
cannot be allowed to pass. If you had owned up at once nothing would
have been said, but such duplicity and obstinacy are unpardonable. Until
you make a full confession you must not mix with the rest of the school.
We should be sorry to have to send you back to New Zealand, but girls
with no sense of honour cannot remain at The Woodlands."
Still sobbing hysterically, Rona was policed upstairs by Miss Teddington
and locked into her bedroom. An hour or two of solitude might bring her
to her senses, thought the mistress, and break the stubborn spirit which
seemed at present to possess her. A wide experience of girls had proved
that solitary confinement soon quelled insubordination, and by
dinner-time the culprit would probably volunteer some explanation.
Both Principals were greatly upset by the occurrence. Hitherto the
little world at The Woodlands had jogged on without any more desperate
happenings than the breaking of silence rules or the omission of
practising. Never in all its annals had they been obliged to deal with a
case of such serious import.
Ulyth, with the rest of V B, was obliged to march off to her form-room.
The inquiry had delayed the morning's work, and Miss Harding began to
give out books without a moment's further waste of time. Ulyth sat
staring at the problem set her, without in the least taking in its
details. She could not apply her mind to the calculation of cubic
contents while Rona was crying her heart out upstairs. What did it, what
could it, all mean? Had her room-mate only been intending to play a
practical joke on Stephanie? If so, why had she not at once admitted the
fact? Nobody would have thought much the worse of her for it, as such
jokes had been rather the rage of late among the juniors. It seemed so
unlike Rona to conceal it; lack of candour had not been her fault
hitherto. She was generally proud of the silly tricks she was fond of
playing, and anxious to boast about them. She could not have been
deterred by dread of the Principals' displeasure. Only yesterday she had
marched into the study, to report herself for talking, with a sangfroid
that was the admiration of her form; and had come out again smiling,
with the comment that both the Rainbow and Teddie were "as decent as
anything if one owned up straight". No, there must be another and a much
graver explanation.
A chain of circumstances flashed through Ulyth's mind, each unfortunate
link fitting only too well. The evidence seemed almost overwhelming.
Rona had been present at the meeting by the stream when Tootie incited
the juniors to some secret act of rebellion against the school rules.
What this act was the occurrence in the garden had plainly shown. That
Rona had been implicated seemed a matter of certainty. Her brooch had
been in the possession of the cake-vendor, and she had chocolates in her
bedroom, the acquisition of which she had refused to explain. Did she
intend to keep the pendant and exchange it for confectionery? Her
pocket-money, as Ulyth knew, was exhausted, and she had hardly any of
the trinkets that most girls wear.
"Ulyth Stanton, you are not attending to your work. Give me your answer
to Problem 46."
Ulyth started guiltily. Her page was still a blank, and she had no
answer to produce. She murmured a lame excuse, and Miss Harding glared
at her witheringly. Thrusting her preoccupation resolutely aside, she
made an effort to concentrate her thoughts upon the subject in hand.
The morning passed slowly on. To Ulyth each successive class seemed
interminable. At recreation, the girls, in small clumps, discussed the
one topic of the hour.
"I'm not surprised. I'd think anything of Rona Mitchell," said
Stephanie. "What else could you expect of a girl from the backwoods?"
"But she was so much improved," urged Addie, who had rather a weakness
for the Cuckoo.
"Only a veneer. She relapsed directly she got the chance, you see."
"But why should she take your pendant?"
"I can't pretend to explain her motive, but take it she did--stealing, I
should call it. But we're too polite at The Woodlands to use such a
strong word."
"What'll be done to her?"
"Pack her back to New Zealand, I hope--and a good riddance. I always
said she wasn't a suitable girl to come to this school. She hasn't the
traditions of a lady. You might as well try to make a silk purse out of
a sow's ear as to get such a girl to realize the meaning of _noblesse
oblige_. It's birth that counts, after all, when it comes to the test."
"There I think you're wrong, Stephie," put in Lizzie quietly. "Gentle
birth is all very well if it involves preserving a code of honour, but
in itself it's no hall-mark of character. Some of the humblest and
poorest people have been the stanchest on a question of right, when
those above them in station have failed utterly. A charwoman can have
quite as high standards as a duchess, and often lives up to them much
better."
"Oh, you're a Radical!"
"I want fair play all round, and I must say that Rona has been very
straight and square so far. Nobody has ever accused her of sneaking."
"No; the bear cub was unpolished, but not a vicious little beastie,"
agreed Addie.
"And it had grown wonderfully tame of late," added Christine.
Rona did not appear at the dinner-table; she had been removed from her
own bedroom to a small spare room on another landing. She still refused
to answer any question put to her. Her silence seemed unaccountable, and
the Principals could only consider it as a display of temper.
"She was annoyed at being caught red-handed with the pendant in her
possession, and she won't give in and acknowledge her wrongdoing," said
Miss Teddington to Miss Bowes.
"From a strong hint Cook gave me last night I fear there is something
more behind it all," returned her partner. "I shall question every girl
in the school separately until I get at the truth."
Beginning with the monitresses, Miss Bowes summoned each pupil in turn
to her study and subjected her to a very strict catechism. From the
Sixth she gained no information. They formed a clique amongst
themselves, and knew little of the doings of the younger girls. V A were
likewise absorbed in their own interests, and only classed Rona as one
among many juniors. It was now the turn of V B, and Miss Bowes sent for
Ulyth a trifle more hopefully. She, at least, would have an intimate
knowledge of her room-mate.
"Have you ever known Rona mixed up in any deceit before? What is her
general report among her form-mates?" asked the Principal.
"Very square. She used to annoy me dreadfully when first she came by
turning over all my things, but she soon stopped when I told her how
horrid it was. She never dreamt of taking anything. It was the merest
curiosity; she hadn't been taught differently at home."
"Have you found her eating sweets or cakes in her bedroom lately?"
Ulyth hesitated and blushed.
"Ah! I see you have! You must tell me, Ulyth. Keep nothing back."
Very unwilling to betray her friend, Ulyth admitted the fact that
chocolate had been pressed upon her one evening.
"Did Rona explain where she got it?"
"No, she wouldn't tell me anything."
Miss Bowes looked thoughtful.
"I put you upon your honour, Ulyth, to answer this question perfectly
frankly. Have you any reason to suspect that some of the juniors have
surreptitiously been buying cakes and sweets?"
Thus asked point-blank, Ulyth was obliged to relate what she had
overheard; and Miss Bowes, determined to get at the root of the
business, cross-questioned her closely, until she had dragged from her
reluctant pupil the account of the occurrence in the garden and the
conversation with the travelling hawker-woman.
"This is more serious even than I had feared," groaned Miss Bowes. "I
thought I could have trusted my girls."
"I think most of them were ashamed of it," ventured Ulyth.
"It is just possible that Rona refuses to speak because she will not
involve her schoolfellows."
"Oh yes, yes!" cried Ulyth, clutching at any straw to excuse her
room-mate's conduct. "That's quite likely. Or, Miss Bowes, I've been
thinking that perhaps it was a queer kind of loyalty to me. You know
Rona's very fond of me, and she was quite absurdly angry because
Stephanie's pendant was to go to the exhibition and not mine. She may
have changed them, hoping it wouldn't be noticed and that mine would be
packed up, and perhaps she intended to put Stephanie's back in the
studio when the parcel had safely gone. Rona does such impulsive
things."
Miss Bowes shook her head sadly.
"I wish I could think so. Unfortunately the other circumstances lend
suspicion to a graver motive."