DISCOVERIES
The whole school was thrown into a ferment of excitement over the
discovery of Marcia's disappearance. No one exactly told anyone, but the
news flew from lip to lip with the speed of that little bird so famous
for its gossiping tendency. The school buildings were searched again,
with no result. No one had seen Marcia go out; yet she was certainly not
in the school. Miss Harland telephoned to all her friends in the town
with whom Marcia might be supposed to be staying, but no one had seen
her or heard from her.
In great distress Miss Harland called up Marcia's father, Mr. West, who
was staying in a hotel in a nearby town, and asked him if his daughter
was with him, and to her intense relief, received a quick and
reassuring reply. Yes, his little girl had just arrived by the late
train. She was so homesick for her Daddy, she could not stay away from
him any longer, she told him.
Could she speak to Marcia herself, Miss Harland asked. There was a brief
colloquy at the other end of the line, and then Mr. West spoke
courteously. Marcia had just gone to bed with a bad cold, and could not
talk that night. Tomorrow he would talk with her. And with a pleasant
"Goodnight," he hung up.
Relieved from her fears for Marcia's safety, Miss Harland gladly
relinquished the search for the night, and the girls were forced to
restrain their excitement and go to bed. The next morning Mr. West came
in person to talk with Miss Harland. Marcia was still in bed, and too
hoarse to talk, so she had asked her father to explain to Miss Harland
why she had left school without a word to her. She could not bear to be
away from him, and hearing that he was about to leave for Chicago to
accept a position there, had hurried to join him, and being in haste to
catch the afternoon train, had not had time to take leave of her friends
and teachers. It was foolish, he said indulgently, but he had spoiled
his little girl, and could not be hard on her.
Miss Harland asked him quietly whether Marcia had said anything of
having borrowed something of one of the girls. But Mr. West shook his
head. He would ask her, and let Miss Harland know; and politely bowed
himself out. Later, he telephoned to say that he had talked to Marcia,
and she had declared she had borrowed nothing of her friends. She and
her father were going to start for Chicago the same night, and she would
have no opportunity to say goodbye to the girls and Miss Harland. Her
cold was better, and she sent her love, and wished them all a merry
Christmas.
Miss Harland returned a similar wish, and smiled as she hung up. She was
glad Marcia was safe with her father, and was not sorry to have seen the
last of her.
So Marcia left Briarwood, and with her departed something that had
spoiled the spirit of concord and happiness which usually prevailed in
the school. The girls were happy and at peace again. Joan returned to
her old place as Alison's roommate, and their room became as before
Marcia's coming, the rendezvous of the "Kindred Spirits."
All would have been well with Alison, but for the grief for the loss of
her lamp. No trace of it had been found. There was no certainty that
Marcia had had anything to do with its vanishing, but Joan, always
practical and logical, maintained that since Marcia and the lamp had
been alone together the whole afternoon, and since the lamp, having no
feet, could not have left the room by itself, it was plain that Marcia
must have assisted its departure. Alison said nothing, but she grieved
deeply, with no hope of ever seeing her treasure again.
The Christmas holidays were drawing near. The girls were busy with plans
for the two weeks' vacation, looking forward eagerly to going home, and
the teachers were equally anxious for the coming of the last day of
school.
Alison felt as if she could scarcely wait. Her gifts for the family were
bought--the book she knew her father had long wanted but had not felt he
could afford to buy for himself; the new dress for her mother, who would
never get it for herself; the roller skates for Billy, the pretty scarf
for Floss, the doll for little Mat, who had not yet outgrown them.
She hovered over them lovingly, fondling each package as she wrapped and
tied them with a lavish expenditure of tissue paper and ribbon. How she
blessed the memory of Aunt Justina, whose generosity had made her gifts
possible! "I _can't_ wait," she said, and laughed at herself for her
impatience.
The only flaw in her happiness was the prospect of having to confess at
home that she had lost her "Aladdin lamp."
Two days before the 23rd, Joan, looking over her lists, made a
discovery. "Alison, I'll have to have some more cards. I forgot a whole
bunch of cousins out in Texas, who will be sure to send to me. I must
run down and get some more before they are all gone. Come with me. It's
snowing a little, but not too much."
"All right. Run and get permission while I put on my hat and coat."
In a few moments Joan came back with the required permission, and the
two girls set out, running down the steps of the terrace and out into
the snowy street. The snow was coming down more briskly, but they only
laughed and enjoyed the frolic as they ran down the steep hillside and
reached the level street on which the stores were. The "ten-cent store,"
the shoppers' delight, was packed with late shoppers like themselves.
Joan struggled through the dense crowd at the counter, pushed and
jostled by the good-natured crowd, while Alison waited, amused and
interested.
It was a lengthy ordeal, but at last Joan had found all she wanted and
was ready to go. It was nearly dark by this time, and the snow was
thicker, swirling about so as almost to blind them.
"We must run, or we shall be late for supper," Joan said, and they made
what speed they could. Suddenly Alison stopped short before the
well-lighted window of a little jewelry and antique shop. "Look, Joan!"
"What are you looking at? Do let's hurry," urged Joan.
But Alison stood still. "Do you see? There, in Mr. Delany's window. Is
that my lamp, or isn't it?"
Interested now, Joan stopped. "It is yours, or its twin," she decided.
"I didn't think there was but one."
"I believe it _is_ mine. I'm going in to ask about it," said Alison, and
turned into the warm bright little shop, followed by Joan.
The proprietor was a friendly little Frenchman, well known to the girls,
who frequently purchased their gifts there. He came forward, bowing and
rubbing his hands. "You want something for Christmas, is it not? I haf
many pretty things," he offered.
"I came to ask about that lamp in the window, Mr. Delany," Alison said,
too eager to beat about the bush. "It is exactly like one I lost. Will
you tell me where you got it?"
"That?" The old man looked disconcerted. "It was not meant to be in the
window at all; but my assistant, he has not much sense. It is not for
sale, Mademoiselle."
"But how did you get it?" Alison persisted, and seeing her earnestness
he looked puzzled.
"It was sold to me, Mademoiselle, by a young lady, I think from your
school. I haf seen her pass with the other young demoiselles. She asked
me not to sell it again. She needed money, and if I would buy it from
her, she would come back and redeem it later. Her father was ill, very
ill, and she had no money to go to him. She was coming back to get it
later. So I lent her the money on it--but I haf not seen her yet."
The girls looked at each other. So, Alison's generous heart said,
perhaps Marcia _did_ mean only to borrow the lamp. Perhaps she really
meant to return it; but in the mean time, what if it should be sold by
mistake, or even stolen before that time came? Should she risk leaving
it in Mr. Delany's shop, even overnight?
"Mr. Delany," she said, "I know all you say is true. I know the young
lady who sold you the lamp, or borrowed money on it. She was my roommate
at school, and she has gone to her father, as she said. That part is
true. But I want my lamp back at once, to take home for Christmas. Can I
get it from you now?"
Mr. Delany looked puzzled and doubtful. "I promised the young
demoiselle--" he began.
"If she were here, she would give it back to me. If Miss Harland comes
to you herself and explains about it, will you let me have it?" Alison
asked persuasively. "I will pay you, of course, just what you advanced
to the young lady."
"But certainly, if Mademoiselle Harland herself assures me that it is
all right," agreed Mr. Delany affably.
"Then please put it away for a little while until she comes," begged
Alison.
They flew home to report the discovery and the difficulty to Miss
Harland, and late though it was, she went with them at once to the
little Frenchman's shop. Mr. Delany was so impressed by her quiet
dignity and authority that he readily parted with the lamp for the sum
he had paid to Marcia for it, considering that he had come out very well
on the transaction at that.
And in triumph Alison carried her treasure home, feeling that her
Christmas was assured.