It took the other girls some time to get the whole story from Billie,
but when she had stammered it out to them they broke into a babel of
excited exclamations that threatened to bring one of the teachers to
their hiding place.
It was Billie herself who thought of this danger and who finally managed
to calm them down a little.
"Not so loud," she entreated, still feeling faint and shaky from her
experience. "You know what will happen if somebody finds us here."
"But Billie," protested Laura, though her voice sank to a more cautious
whisper, "we've got to do something about it, you know. There may have
been a murder or something up there."
"Perhaps we'd better all go back with Billie and try to get into that
little room at the head of the ladder," suggested one of the girls, but
the mere idea made Billie shudder.
"You can go," she said decidedly. "But I'm through for to-night."
"Oh, well, if you won't go," said the girl dejectedly, "it's all off, of
course. We need a guide----"
"I don't see why," protested Billie. "Nobody gave me a guide."
"No. And it was a shame to send you away up there all alone," said Vi,
putting a protecting arm about her. "It's a wonder you didn't die of
fright."
"I suppose," said Ann Fleming, thoughtfully, "we might tell one of the
teachers about it--or Miss Walters, perhaps--and she could go with us up
to the tower----"
"Say," interrupted Rose Belser with her most pronounced drawl, as she
looked contemptuously upon the freshman who had proposed so foolish a
thing, "it's easy to see you haven't been at Three Towers long, Ann. Now
just what do you suppose would happen if we told Miss Walters that we
were up after hours initiating and doing stunts?"
"I--I didn't think of that," stammered Ann, completely crushed.
"I thought you didn't," answered Rose dryly.
For some time afterward the girls discussed in awed whispers the
startling thing that had happened, and then somebody suddenly conceived
the idea that it would not be a bad thing to go to bed.
Billie was looking very white and shaky after her ordeal. Then, too, it
was getting late, and there was always the chance of discovery by some
"over-curious teacher."
"But I'll never, never, sleep a wink," said Vi, as they filed ghost-like
out of the gymnasium. "I know I'll be dreaming of blood-stained
handkerchiefs all night long."
"And I don't think it's fair," pouted Connie, "for Billie to have all
the adventures. First she gets lost with Teddy and discovers a perfectly
good cave, and then she unearths a thrilling mystery, like this. Too
much good luck for one person."
"Good luck!" repeated Billie ruefully. "Well, if you call _that_ good
luck, I certainly would hate to be the one to find out what bad luck
is."
"Hush," ordered Rose, once more assuming the deep voice of the head of
the ghosts. "Some one may hear you and we'll all be shot at sunrise."
"I never get up that early," giggled Laura.
Many and varied were the plans the girls made for a storming of tower
number three in the hope of solving the mystery of that little locked
door and the blood-stained handkerchief. However, there seemed to be so
many obstacles in the way of carrying out these plans that they
reluctantly decided to give up the idea, at least for the time being.
"And, anyway," Laura had said in one of their discussions, "the blood
stains on that handkerchief might not have meant anything mysterious at
all. Maybe somebody had a nose-bleed."
"How romantic!" drawled Rose while the other girls giggled at the idea.
Their studies and the race for prizes absorbed the classmates in the
days that followed and gradually the mystery, if indeed it was a
mystery, faded from their minds.
Billie worked hard, and thought she was getting along finely. She
commenced to grow a trifle pale, and at this Vi and Laura shook their
heads.
"Don't overdo it, Billie," said Vi.
"No kind of prize is worth one's health," added Laura.
"Don't worry about me," declared Billie, with a smile. "I know what you
want to do--make me let up so you can pass me."
"Oh, you know better than that!" cried Laura.
"Of course she does," came from Vi. "Now remember, don't study so hard
that you get sick."
"No danger," retorted Billie airily.
It was nearly a week later when Billie suddenly realized that there was
another thing they had almost forgotten, and that was Polly Haddon and
her unhappy little family.
"And poor little Peter!" said Vi penitently, when Billie spoke to her
about it. "He must be either better or dead by this time."
"Suppose we go over to-morrow"--the next day being Saturday--Laura
suggested. "We can walk to town first. Or maybe we can get Tim Budd to
drive us over in the wagon. We can get some good canned stuff, soups and
things, and take them over to the Haddons when we go."
The next day the girls sought out Tim Budd, who was the gardener at the
Hall and who was also, alas! the father of poor, simple Nick Budd with
whom Teddy and Billie had had so queer an experience. After a great deal
of coaxing, they succeeded in getting the gardener to take them to town
in the carryall. From this it may be seen that Tim acted as chauffeur
also upon occasion.
They were in hilarious spirits all the way to the town and back again,
and it was not until they had almost reached Three Towers that Vi made a
suggestion that somehow clouded their faces.
"Suppose she won't accept these things?" she said, giving the
well-stocked basket at her feet a little shove. "You said yourself she
was awfully proud, Billie."
Billie looked sober for a moment, but Laura, as ever, found something to
laugh at.
"Why worry about that?" said the incorrigible one, gaily. "If she
doesn't want 'em we'll have a midnight feast and use them ourselves."
Tim Budd let them out at the Hall and they walked the rest of the way to
the little cottage. Mrs. Haddon herself opened the door, but she looked
so pale and wan that they hardly recognized her.
The woman welcomed the girls absently, as if her mind were a great way
off, but when her eyes fell on the basket a resigned little smile played
about her lips.
"More charity," she muttered, as though to herself. "Well, I will take
it because I must. But I'll pay it back." She turned proudly upon the
girls and her fine eyes flashed. "No one can say of Polly Haddon that
she left her debts unpaid."
Taken aback by this unexpected declaration, the girls said nothing, but
shifted their feet uneasily, wishing fervently that Polly Haddon would
turn the fire of her black eyes on something else.
But almost instantly the woman's mood became softer, and, seeing the
girls' embarrassment, she tried to put them at their ease.
"Thank you so much," she said. "Won't you sit down? The basket is heavy
and you have come a long way."
The girls, not knowing what else to do, sat down on the three spindly
chairs awkwardly enough, and Laura and Vi sent distress signals
Billie-wards. For Billie was always their spokesman.
So Billie, who had been as much abashed as any of them at their rather
queer reception, found her tongue with difficulty and asked Mrs. Haddon
how Peter was.
"He is dreadfully low," Mrs. Haddon answered softly. Her head drooped
wearily and her hands were crossed listlessly in front of her. "The
doctor says it is not even an even chance whether he lives or dies."
The girls murmured their very real sympathy, and Billie started to ask
another question when the door at the other end of the room opened and
the two little girls, Mary and Isabel, entered.
At sight of the visitors they looked startled and started to retreat,
but their mother called to them.
"Come here," she said, and the children sidled slowly up to her where
they stood, their large eyes fixed shyly on the girls. "Don't you know
these young ladies?" asked the mother, putting an arm about each of the
poor little thin things caressingly and drawing them up close to her.
"They are the ones who brought you home that day that you were naughty
and ran away, and they have been very kind to us since."
There was a slight sound from the room beyond where poor little Peter
lay so desperately ill, and Mrs. Haddon rose suddenly, leaving the two
little girls and the three big girls together.
It would have been hard to tell at first who was the most embarrassed.
But as no children had ever known to resist Billie for very long, the
two little Haddons were soon won over and chatted to the three big girls
in careless, innocent child fashion.
"We get good things to eat now," said Isabel, confidentially, speaking
of the thing that loomed biggest and most important in her starved
little life. "A man comes almost every night with a basket--just like
this," and she eyed the basket which the girls had brought with hungry
eyes.
"Yes, an' he's a funny little man, too," added Mary, her big eyes round
with eagerness. "He has whiskers and he stoops--dreadful."
A glance of understanding passed between the chums.
"That description----" Vi began.
"Suits Tim Budd----" added Laura.
"To a T," finished Billie.