There was a tall, gaunt, gray man who came to the Widow Boyce's to see
Miss Carrington on certain occasions. He always carried a blue bag,
stuffed with papers and books, and it was well known by the neighbors
that he was Miss Carrington's lawyer.
There was nothing suggestive of romance about Aaron MacCullough; but
like all old attorneys he had dabbled in many, many romances. There were
a score of old families of Centerport who had entrusted their cupboard
secrets to Mr. MacCullough.
He came in one evening, with his blue bag, and sat down in Gee Gee's
sitting room. The Central High teacher was quite as dry in appearance,
and as grim as the lawyer himself. She sat on one side of the table, and
he on the other, and the papers which he first examined and read aloud
he passed to her, and she scrutinized them through her spectacles.
"So," she said, at length, "these correspondents of yours in Buda-Pesth
seem to know all about Salgo's affairs, do they?"
"It is notorious, Miss Carrington," said the old man, nodding. "There
can be no mistake. Belas Salgo was a strange man. All geniuses, perhaps,
are strange----"
"He was a wicked foreigner!" declared Miss Carrington, sharply.
"Wicked in your eyes, perhaps. He married and carried away with him your
dearest friend."
"My cousin Anne--yes," said she, slowly. "She had been in my care. She
was musical. She went mad over the man--and he no better than a Gypsy."
"Gypsy blood he confessed to--yes," said the lawyer, shaking his head.
"But he could make wonderful music. I remember hearing him once in this
very town."
"Oh, he charmed everybody--but me," said Miss Carrington, vigorously.
"And he would have charmed me, perhaps, with his fiddle if Anne had not
gone mad over him. I knew how it would be for her--misery and trouble!"
"We do not know that," said the old gentleman, shaking his head. "Her
few years with Belas Salgo were happy enough, by all account."
"But she never wrote to me!" cried the Central High teacher.
"Nor she never wrote to her father's partner, Mr. Chumley. Eben Chumley,
by the way, is for denying the identity of this girl, Margit?"
"Well! so was I," admitted Miss Carrington. "Though heaven knows it was
for another reason! I did not think poor Anne would have had a daughter
and never written me a word about it."
"Ahem!" said Mr. MacCullough, clearing his throat significantly, "your
last word to her, I understand, was a harsh one?"
"Ah! But I never meant it. She must have known I never meant it,"
exclaimed Miss Carrington, her voice trembling.
The old lawyer shook his head. "We never do mean the harsh words," he
murmured.
"However," he added, after a moment's silence. "The fact remains that
this girl, Margit Salgo, is assuredly the daughter of Belas Salgo and
Anne Carrington. The money--what there was of it--left in the hands of
Eben Chumley by his partner, Anne's father, belongs to the child, and
Eben must be made to disgorge."
"It will hurt Chumley dreadfully to give up the money," said Gee Gee,
quickly. "How much is there?"
"Less than a thousand dollars. You know, Chumley & Carrington were in
the real estate business in only a small way, back in those days. With
interest, and all, it will be but a modest fortune."
"I suppose those Gypsies thought the child was a great heiress," said
the teacher.
"That is probable. They undoubtedly think so now. It is my advice that
you allow me to go to the police and explain the matter fully. Let them
gather in this Jim Varey, and the others, and tell them just how little
the sum is that is coming to Margit Salgo. It is about enough for her
education--and that's all."
Miss Carrington nodded. "Nevertheless," she said, with finality, "she is
Cousin Anne's child. I shall make her education and future keeping my
affair. I have not worked, and taught, all these years for nothing, Mr.
MacCullough."
"Quite true--quite true," admitted the old man, briskly. "And if you
wish to adopt the girl----"
"I intend to do so," announced Gee Gee.
"Then there is nobody to gainsay you, I am certain," declared the
lawyer, rising. "I congratulate the child upon falling in with so good a
guardian, Miss Carrington. And--perhaps--you are to be congratulated,
too," he added to himself as he left her sitting grimly by the table.
For more than Lawyer MacCullough noted the change that was gradually
coming over the martinet teacher of Central High. Whether it was the
influence of Margit's presence, or not, it was true that Miss Carrington
was not half so harsh as she used to be.
"Change of heart--she's sure to die, I'm afraid," announced Bobby
Hargrew, one day, when Gee Gee had failed to seize the opportunity to
berate that young lady for a certain fault.
But later, Miss Carrington put herself out to speak to Bobby on the
street, and upon matters not connected with the school work.
"Clara, I never properly thanked you for taking my ward's part the other
morning when that dreadful man attacked her," said Miss Carrington,
quietly. "But I am grateful, nevertheless."
"Your ward!" gasped Bobby, her curiosity and wonder passing all bounds
of politeness. "Oh, Miss Carrington! is she really related to you?"
"Margit? Not in the least--at least, no relation that the law would
allow. For that reason I propose to adopt her. She will be known as
Margaret Carrington--and I hope, Miss Clara, that you and the other
girls of Central High will be kind to her."
Bobby smiled. "I think Margit will take care of herself, Miss
Carrington, if we don't treat her right. But I know all the girls will
be glad to have her join."
"Thank you. She is foreign to your ways, as yet," pursued the teacher, a
little doubtfully. "From what she says, she is much interested in Mrs.
Case's classes--in the physical culture classes, and the like. I--I
expect you will introduce her at the gymnasium, Miss Clara?"
"Of course!" exclaimed Bobby, half stunned. "Why--why Margit's the
surest-footed girl I ever saw. You ought to see her running that day
along the top of the stone wall!"
"Er--I presume that such unseemly conduct will not be necessary if
Margaret becomes a votary of athletics as taught the young ladies of
Central High," returned Miss Carringtan, stiffly.
"Just the same," Bobby said, in talking over the matter with Laura and
the rest of the girls, afterwards, "just the same, Margit Salgo will be
a splendid addition to our fighting force some day. Why, she's got
biceps like a boy, and she says she can swim, and skate, and ride. We're
going to have another A-1 champion for Central High in Margit Salgo some
day!"
It must be confessed that, about this time, many of the Central High
girls gave more thought to athletic matters than they did to their
lessons. Still, the unbending rule that only those who kept up with
their studies would have a part in the after-hour athletic contests was
a solvent for any serious trouble.
The day of the meet was at hand. The athletic teams of the five high
schools--three of Centerport and one each from Lumberport and
Keyport--were to meet on the Central High field. There were several
important trophies, as well as the usual league pins for the winners,
and interest in the field day--not alone among the girls themselves--ran
high.
Laura Belding and her mates had figured out very carefully just what
events Central High was sure to win, and how many of the "uncertain"
points were needed to clinch the championship.
They felt sure of the hundred-yard dash; as far as they could learn no
girl in any of the five schools had developed the speed of Bobby Hargrew
over that short course.
The two hundred and twenty-yard dash and the quarter-mile run were
doubtful, despite Bobby's splendid showing in the latter. The hurdle
races were doubtful, too, as well as the shuttle and potato relays.
In the high and broad jumps, as well as the shot-putting, there was
serious doubt. The best Laura could figure, Central High would go into
the contest needing four points more than they were _sure_ of winning.
Those four points might be supplied by Bobby in the quarter-mile run,
one of the chief events of the day, and Eve Sitz in the broad jump and
putting the shot.
"You girls have got to do your very best--don't forget that!" Laura told
them, as they separated the night before the meet. "Central High just
about leans her whole weight on you."
It was on Friday and the whole school was excused at noon; but those
taking part in the events of the day were not obliged to report until
one o'clock--and then only to the committee at the gymnasium building.
The crowds from Lumberport and from Keyport came in chartered steamers.
They marched into the field just before one o'clock, and the classes
from the East and West Highs followed them a few minutes later. The
girls in their light dresses, and with the flags fluttering, were a
pretty sight.
Of course, the grandstand was rapidly filling with adult spectators, and
with the boys, when the girls of Central High came in. There was some
marching and counter-marching, before all were seated. Already some of
the girls, in their gymnasium clothes, began to appear on the courts for
warming-up practice.
Suddenly Bobby Hargrew burst into a knot of Central High girls gathered
around Mrs. Case, on the main floor of the gym. building, and fairly
shouted:
"Where is she?"
"Where's who?" asked Laura, curiously. "Is this one of your jokes? Who
are you looking for?"
"Where's Eve? Who's seen Eve Sitz?" repeated Bobby, anxiously.
"Why, I think you'll find her around somewhere. What's the matter? Got
to see her right this moment, Bobby?"
Bobby's tone of tragic despair stopped the joking at last, however, as
she cried:
"She's not reported. She isn't here. Nobody's seen her. She hasn't come
into town, as far as I can find out. And certain sure she hasn't come
into this building--and it's one o'clock now!"
"Why, Clara! what do you mean?" asked the physical instructor of Central
High. "It is not possible that Evangeline Sitz would fail to appear at
such a time as this?"
"And with so much depending on her?" shrieked Jess Morse. "Impossible!"
"Something has happened to her," said Laura, aghast.
"Has nobody seen her?" demanded Mrs. Case.
Nobody had.
"I'll run to father's office and telephone," suggested Nellie Agnew.
"They have a telephone at the Sitz farm, haven't they?"
"Of course," rejoined Laura. "Do run, Nell!"
The group, mostly made up of juniors, was horror-stricken by the fact
that one of the most dependable of the girls was missing. But a senior
who stood near said, scoffingly:
"Oh, I guess that girl won't be missed. We've got Lou Potter to put
right in her place--in both the shot-put and the broad jump. And the
chance belonged to Lou, anyway. Now she'll get her rights, perhaps."