by Oliver Optic
CHAPTER VI
MYSTERIES
The essays were handed in the next day, and after two days of what thegirls termed "agonizing suspense," Miss Burnett announced to her classthat the judges had made their decision. The best was Katherine's. Noone had expected anything else, and there was heartfelt applause with nojealousy, as she received the prize, a handsome set of books. Alison'sreceived second place, to her own surprise, for she was modest as to herown acquirements.
The rest were of about the same degree of excellence--laborious efforts,showing no originality of thought or discrimination. Still, they hadtried, and Miss Burnett expressed in a few pleasant words herappreciation of their endeavors, as she returned their papers.
Finally, there were but two papers left on the desk. Miss Burnett tookup one and glanced at the title.
"This one, _The River of Time_," she said, "has at least the merit ofbrevity. In the space of about seven hundred words the author hasreviewed the history of English literature from its source to thepresent time--"
"Oh, that is mine, Miss Burnett," exclaimed Rosalind, starting. "Pleasedon't read it. I know it's awful." She smiled frankly and beguilinglyinto 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 youreally 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 thelast because I wanted to talk with you a little about it, Marcia. Ishould like you to remain a few minutes after the class is dismissed."
Marcia said nothing. One after another the girls filed out, until sheand the teacher were alone together. Then Miss Burnett unfolded thepaper and turned to the girl before her.
"This essay is signed with your name, Marcia, in the sealed envelopethat was kept in my desk until the judges' decision had been reached. Noone knew who had written it. No one knows now, except myself. I have noteven mentioned the title, _The River Road_, until I had talked with youalone. Did you talk with anyone else about your essay? You know I wishedthem to be entirely original."
"No, Miss Burnett, I never said a word to anybody about it," saidMarcia, 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, andsays the same thing, only in different words. How could that be, unlessyou talked over your essays together?"
"But we did not, truly, Miss Burnett. It just happened so." Marcialooked the teacher straight in the face, as if defying her to find aflaw in her statement. "Rosalind lost her book, and borrowed mine. Thenshe went out to play basketball without returning it. I had to borrowAlison's book to study for mine. She said she found the essay in it whenshe opened it to study. That is all I can tell you."
If there were any guile in this speech, Miss Burnett was tootransparently 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 theuneventful stretch that comes between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Theseven friends were gathered in Alison's room, one raw, cold"Novemberish" afternoon for one of their old-time talks. Marcia hadgone out shopping with Rosalind, for whom she seemed to have developeda sudden great friendship, and the girls had availed themselves of theopportunity to meet in their favorite gathering place without theembarrassment 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 minuteswhile 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 inall 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 talkingof her behind her back."
"Well, I don't mind a bit," said Joan the outspoken. "I can tell youwhat's wrong with her. She doesn't like us. She hates school. She callsit a jail. She hates lessons. She hates Miss Harland. I heard her say soonce, when Miss Harland said no to something she wanted to do. I don'tsee 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," saidJoan; and no one gainsaid her, for there was no denying that Marcia tookno 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--mygreat-grandmother's pearl necklace. Mother said I shouldn't take it toschool 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 itsvelvet case. I don't believe any of you ever knew about it. I haven'teven taken it out since I left home. But yesterday I thought I wouldmake 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. Motherwas 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 wasamong 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."
