CHAPTER XIX.--MARY BEFORE HER JUDGES.
It was late when the young people returned from Mrs. Ruggles'. They werein gay spirits and Mrs. St. Clair could hear them talking and laughingin the hall, first the motorists and then the ones who had driven. Shedid not go down to meet them and they scattered to their rooms to washtheir faces and smooth their wind-blown locks. There was no time todress for supper.
"I don't see how I can face them," she said to herself. "I'm so unhappy,and I'm afraid they will notice that I have been crying."
But she bathed her temples in cold water, put on a cheery-colored silkdress, and went downstairs when the gong sounded for supper. Downtrooped the boys and girls with sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks. Thesound of their happy laughter reached her below and she pressed her handto her heart and sighed deeply. Then her expression hardened:
"Little wretch," she exclaimed. "She should be well punished, and sheshall be, too."
"'Soup of the evening, beautiful soup,'" sang Merry, dancing a jig inthe hall:
"'Beautiful soup so rich and green, Waiting in a hot tureen!'" "'Who for such dainties would not stoop? Soup of the evening, beautiful soup,'"
continued Rosomond, seizing Merry's hands and whirling with him up anddown the hall until they both fell in a laughing heap on the floor.
"Oh, we have had such a good time," cried Billie and Mary together,taking each a hand of Mrs. St. Clair.
"It has been such glorious fun," went on Billie, "and we are just ashungry for supper as if we hadn't eaten enough food to feed a regimentthis afternoon."
"And such fine food, too, Mrs. St. Clair," said Mary. "I think it wasthe most delightful party I have ever been to."
"I am glad you were so happy," replied Mrs. St. Clair, making an effortto smile and succeeding very poorly.
Mary, who was as sensitive to changes in manner as an aeolian harp is tothe slightest breeze, looked at her hostess quickly and noticed the redrims on her eyelids.
"Aren't you feeling well, dear Mrs. St. Clair?" she asked gently.
Mrs. St. Clair put her hands on the girl's shoulders and looked into theclear dark eyes.
"I am quite well, Mary. A little upset over something that happenedto-day. That is all."
"You mean the pearl necklace?"
"Yes."
"I am so sorry. I wish we could have found it for you."
"It has been found, Mary," said the widow, turning her head away so asnot to see Mary's face.
"Oh, you did find it? I am so glad. Where was it?"
"Supper is served, Mrs. St. Clair," said Randolph, opening the door tothe dining room, where the others were already waiting.
"We will talk about where it was found later," she said to Mary, whogave her a puzzled look, as she followed into the room.
When supper was over, the boys and girls scattered about the variousrooms. Roly Poly and Nancy got up charades. Billie curled up in a bigeasy chair by the fire. She had got most of the wind in her face and shewas very sleepy. No one noticed, therefore, when Mrs. St. Clair, drawingMary's hand through her arm, led her out of the room.
"I want to see you upstairs, Mary," she said. "Will you come to mylittle private sitting room? There is something I wish to talk with youabout."
Mary was still wondering what in the world could be wanted of her, whenMrs. St. Clair drew her into a pretty little pink boudoir at the end ofthe hall. The door to the next room had been left open, but Mary did notnotice a small, dapper man sitting there in a high-backed cretonnechair.
The pearl necklace was lying on a table in the boudoir. Mrs. St. Clairpicked it up and held it out to Mary.
"Did you ever see it closely before, Mary?" she asked.
"No, I never did," answered the girl, with enthusiasm. "How beautiful itis. No wonder you were so unhappy. But where did you find it?"
"That is just why I brought you in here, Mary. I wanted to ask you ifyou could guess where the necklace had been found at last."
Mary suddenly became very grave. She was beginning to notice now thatMrs. St. Clair was in an unusually serious frame of mind and thatsomething must have happened concerning the necklace which the othershad not heard.
"I don't understand," she said, after a pause. "Why should I guess?"
"Is it possible, Mary," exclaimed the widow, "that even after you weretold I had found the necklace you were not just a little frightened, alittle uneasy? Didn't you suspect when I asked you to come up here withme that I was going to speak to you about the necklace?"
Mary looked at her in wonder for a few minutes. Then a light dawned onher.
"It's Fannie Alta again," she said, in a low voice. "She must have putthe necklace among some of my things."
"Then you do know where I found the necklace?" cried the widowtriumphantly.
"I can guess," said Mary. "You found it in my suit case. It's the secondtime she's done something like that."
"Mary, Mary--don't blame it on any one else. I did find the necklace inyour valise----"
Mary stood up. Her eyes were blazing and her small slender frame wasshaken with emotion.
"Do you mean to insinuate that I stole your pearl necklace?" she cried.
Her words rang out in a high, clear tone that made the small man in thenext room stir uneasily.
"How else did the necklace get into your bag, Mary?"
"Do you mean to insinuate that I stole your pearlnecklace?"]
"Fannie Alta put it there. She put twenty dollars into my pocket notlong ago and tried to accuse me of taking that, and when I gave it backto her she hadn't a word to say."
"But, Mary, Fannie is not your only accuser. Miss Gray tells me that youhave been suspected of many thefts since school opened."
"Oh, oh!" cried Mary. "How dare she? How dare any one? What have I donethat these people should try to make me out a thief? Oh, mother,mother!"
"That is just why I brought you up here to-night, Mary. On account ofyour sweet, lovely mother. I want you to make me a promise in return forwhat I am going to do for you. I promise not to push this matter anyfarther. It shall never reach your mother's ears. She will be spared alldistress and misery, if you promise me never again, as long as you live,to steal. It was not nice of you, Mary, staying here as my guest, tosteal from me. Will you make me that promise?"
Mary did not reply. She sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. Onceor twice her throat quivered with the little sob, which so went toBillie's heart. She pressed her hands together and closed her eyes for amoment. Her face was so pale that Mrs. St. Clair thought she was goingto faint, but her lips were moving.
"Oh, God, help me," she prayed softly. "Tell me what to say."
Presently her agitation ceased altogether. She opened her eyes andlooked calmly at the widow.
"No, I will not promise you that, Mrs. St. Clair, because I have neverstolen anything in my life. I would prefer that my mother should knowabout this. I don't wish to keep it from her. She would never believe meguilty, no matter what the evidence was against me, even if I had to goto jail. You say you found the necklace in my bag? How did you happen tolook for it there?"
"You see, I believed that Fannie Alta had taken it, and when we broughther into the living room and urged her to tell what she knew, sheaccused you. I would not believe it, however, until I had called up MissGray. It was only after that that I looked in your bag."
Mary stood up.
"I know that things look very black for me, Mrs. St. Clair. I don'tunderstand why, but there is a conspiracy in the High School. It seemsto have formed around Billie and me in particular. But there issomething else, too. Something is going on in West Haven--something toobig for us to understand. Billie and I are in it, and Fannie Alta is init, and sometimes I think even Belle Rogers is, too. I don't know whatit all means, or why it should have anything to do with making me athief, but I am not a thief, and I did not put the necklace in my bag.Good-night. I will not see you again. As soon as morning comes, Billieand I will go back in the moto
r. I know she will take me if I ask her."
Mary walked quietly out of the room.
"That's a girl of fine spirit," thought Mr. Bangs. "The case iscertainly interesting enough to keep me here another week."
The Motor Maids' School Days Page 19
