MYSTERIES
The essays were handed in the next day, and after two days of what the
girls termed "agonizing suspense," Miss Burnett announced to her class
that the judges had made their decision. The best was Katherine's. No
one had expected anything else, and there was heartfelt applause with no
jealousy, as she received the prize, a handsome set of books. Alison's
received second place, to her own surprise, for she was modest as to her
own acquirements.
The rest were of about the same degree of excellence--laborious efforts,
showing no originality of thought or discrimination. Still, they had
tried, and Miss Burnett expressed in a few pleasant words her
appreciation of their endeavors, as she returned their papers.
Finally, there were but two papers left on the desk. Miss Burnett took
up one and glanced at the title.
"This one, _The River of Time_," she said, "has at least the merit of
brevity. In the space of about seven hundred words the author has
reviewed the history of English literature from its source to the
present time--"
"Oh, that is mine, Miss Burnett," exclaimed Rosalind, starting. "Please
don't read it. I know it's awful." She smiled frankly and beguilingly
into the teacher's eyes. "It's the best I could do."
Miss Burnett could not help returning the smile with the essay.
"Is it really the best you could do, Rosalind?"
"It is, truly, Miss Burnett. I could hardly do that."
"Then, Rosalind, all I can say is that it is a pity. But at least you
really tried, and perhaps next time you will try harder and do better."
She took up the last paper on the desk. "I have kept this one for the
last because I wanted to talk with you a little about it, Marcia. I
should like you to remain a few minutes after the class is dismissed."
Marcia said nothing. One after another the girls filed out, until she
and the teacher were alone together. Then Miss Burnett unfolded the
paper and turned to the girl before her.
"This essay is signed with your name, Marcia, in the sealed envelope
that was kept in my desk until the judges' decision had been reached. No
one knew who had written it. No one knows now, except myself. I have not
even mentioned the title, _The River Road_, until I had talked with you
alone. Did you talk with anyone else about your essay? You know I wished
them to be entirely original."
"No, Miss Burnett, I never said a word to anybody about it," said
Marcia, quite truthfully.
Miss Burnett looked grave and troubled. "Then it is very peculiar,
Marcia, that your essay has nearly the same title as Rosalind's, and
says the same thing, only in different words. How could that be, unless
you talked over your essays together?"
"But we did not, truly, Miss Burnett. It just happened so." Marcia
looked the teacher straight in the face, as if defying her to find a
flaw in her statement. "Rosalind lost her book, and borrowed mine. Then
she went out to play basketball without returning it. I had to borrow
Alison's book to study for mine. She said she found the essay in it when
she opened it to study. That is all I can tell you."
If there were any guile in this speech, Miss Burnett was too
transparently honest herself to find it out. She looked troubled.
"Well, Marcia, it is very strange, but I must take your word for it.
That is all, then."
Thanksgiving had come and gone, and the girls were settled down for the
uneventful stretch that comes between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The
seven friends were gathered in Alison's room, one raw, cold
"Novemberish" afternoon for one of their old-time talks. Marcia had
gone out shopping with Rosalind, for whom she seemed to have developed
a sudden great friendship, and the girls had availed themselves of the
opportunity to meet in their favorite gathering place without the
embarrassment of her presence.
Polly had a question to propound.
"Why don't we like Marcia?"
"Well?" said Evelyn, when the silence had lasted for several minutes
while each waited for the others to speak.
"Alison ought to be able to answer that question," said Kathy.
Alison was slow to speak. "I don't know," she said at last. "She is in
all our classes; she is pretty; she obeys all the college regulations.
She seems all right; but--well, she is my roommate, I don't like talking
of her behind her back."
"Well, I don't mind a bit," said Joan the outspoken. "I can tell you
what's wrong with her. She doesn't like us. She hates school. She calls
it a jail. She hates lessons. She hates Miss Harland. I heard her say so
once, when Miss Harland said no to something she wanted to do. I don't
see why she came to Briarwood at all."
"Neither does she," put in Evelyn. "Her father sent her, that was why."
"Well, I don't like her, and I wish she roomed in another hall," said
Joan; and no one gainsaid her, for there was no denying that Marcia took
no pains to make herself popular.
Polly changed the subject abruptly.
"Kathy, did you ever find your ring?" she asked.
Katherine looked startled. "No. And I've lost something else--my
great-grandmother's pearl necklace. Mother said I shouldn't take it to
school with me, but I was sure I would be careful with it. And I was,
girls, I really was. It stayed always in the bottom of my trunk, in its
velvet case. I don't believe any of you ever knew about it. I haven't
even taken it out since I left home. But yesterday I thought I would
make sure that it was safe under everything in the trunk. And I looked,
and it was not there. I cannot understand it, but it is true. Mother
was right, as usual. I don't know how I am ever to tell her."
There was a dead silence--the silence of dismay. What was this that was
among them?
Joan broke it, saying briefly, "Ghost. Rosalind's essay. Kathy's ring.
Rachel's gold pencil. Now, Kathy's necklace. Look out for your lamp,
Alison!"
"Oh, nonsense," Alison said laughing nervously. "You _can't_
suspect--Oh, I don't like being suspicious."
"All right. I only say, look out."