The Third Girl Detective

by Margaret Sutton

  “I think they will,” said Helen, sharply. “At least, the Upedes don’t want you, Miss.”

  “You seem to knew exactly what they do want,” said Sarah, good-naturedly. “Have you joined them?”

  “I intend to,” declared Helen.

  “Oh, Helen!” ejaculated Ruth.

  “Yes, I am,” said Miss Cameron. “And I am not going to join any baby society,” and so walked off in evident ill-humor.

  Therefore the new club was not formed in the Number 2 Duet Room in the West Dormitory. The Infants considered Ruth the prime mover in the club, however, and that evening she was put in the chair to preside at the informal session held in the quartette in the East Dormitory occupied by Sarah Fish and three other Infants. She was made, too, a member of the Committee on Organization which was elected to draw up a Constitution and By-Laws, and was likewise one of three to wait on Mrs. Tellingham and gain permission to use one of the small assembly rooms for meetings.

  And then came up the subject of a name for the society. It was not intended that the club should be only for new scholars; for the new scholars would in time be old scholars. And the company of girls who had gathered in Sarah’s room had no great or important motive in their minds regarding the association. Its object was social and for self-improvement simply.

  “And so let’s find a name that doesn’t sound bigger than we are,” said Sarah. “The Forward Club sounds very solid and is quite literary, I understand. What those Upedes stand for except raising particular Sam Hill, as my grandmother would say, I don’t know. What do you say, Ruth Fielding? It’s your idea, and you ought to christen it.”

  “I don’t know that I ought,” Ruth returned. “I don’t believe in one person doing too much in any society.”

  “Give us a name. It won’t hurt you if we vote it down,” urged Sarah.

  Now Ruth had been thinking of a certain name for the new society for some days. It had been suggested by Tom Cameron’s letter to Helen. She was almost afraid to offer it, but she did. “Sweetbriars,” she said, blushing deeply.

  “Dandy!” exclaimed Phyllis Short.

  “Goody-good!” cried somebody else. “We’re at Briarwood Hall, and why not Sweetbriars?”

  “Good name for initials, too,” declared the practical Sarah Fish. “Make two words of it—Sweet and Briars. The ‘S. B.’s’—not bad that, eh? What say?”

  It was unanimous. And so the Sweetbriars were christened.

  CHAPTER XV

  THE NIGHT OF THE HARPOCRATES

  It was from Heavy Stone that Ruth first learned of an approaching festival, although her own room-mate was the prime mover in the fete. But of late she and Helen had had little in common outside of study hours and the classes which they both attended. Since the launching of the Sweetbriars Helen had deliberately sought society among the Upedes, and especially among the quartette who dwelt next door to the chums.

  “And she is going to have almond cakes. She says she has an old nurse named Babette who makes the most de-lic-i-ous almond cakes—Is that so, Ruth Fielding?”

  Heavy had been enthusiastically discussing this subject with her nearest neighbor on the other side from Ruth, at the dining table. But Ruth had caught the name of “Babette” and knew that Heavy spoke of Helen Cameron.

  “Is what so?” she asked the plump girl.

  “Why, it’s about your spoon’s box from home. I told you, you know, to be sure and have the folks send you one; but Helen Cameron’s got ahead of you. And whisper!” pursued Jennie Stone, in a lowered tone, “tell her not to invite too many girls to the Night of Harpocrates. Remember!”

  Ruth was a bit puzzled at first. Then she remembered that Harpocrates was the Egyptian god of silence, and that his sign was a rose. The expression “sub-rosa” comes from that root, or “under the rose.” It was evident that there were to be “midnight orgies” when Helen’s goodies came from home.

  One of the quartettes on their corridor had indulged in a fudge party after hours already, and Ruth had been invited to be present. But she found that Helen was not going, so she refused. Besides, she was very doubtful about the propriety of joining in these forbidden pleasures. All the girls broke that retiring rule more or less—or so it seemed. But Miss Picolet could give such offenders black marks if she wished, and Ruth craved a clean sheet in deportment at the end of the half.

  She wondered how and when Helen proposed to hold the “supper sub-rosa”; but she would not ask. Not even when the great hamper arrived (being brought up from Lumberton by Old Dolliver, who only drove his stage every other day to Seven Oaks at this time of year) did she ask Helen a single question. Tony Foyle brought the hamper up to Duet Two in the West Dormitory and it just fitted into the bottom of Helen’s closet. Heavy could not keep away from the door of the room; whenever the door was opened and Ruth raised her eyes from the table where she was at work, there was the broad, pink and white face of the fat girl, her eyes rolling in anticipation of the good things—Mary Cox declared Heavy fairly “drooled at the mouth!”

  The arrival of the hamper was not unnoticed by the sharp eyes of Miss Picolet; but advised by the wily Miss Cox, Helen unpacked a certain portion of the good things and, during the afternoon, asked permission of Miss Scrimp to make tea and invite some of the girls to the duet to sample her goodies. The French teacher was propitiated by the gift of a particular almond cake, frosted, which Helen carried down to her room and begged her to accept. Helen could be very nice indeed, if she wished to be; indeed, she had no reason to be otherwise to Miss Picolet. And the teacher had reason for liking Helen, as she had shown much aptitude for the particular branch of study which Miss Picolet taught.

  But although most of the girls In the West Dormitory, and some others, were asked to Helen’s tea (at which Ruth likewise did the honors, and “helped pour”) there was an undercurrent of joking and innuendo among certain of the visitors that showed they had knowledge of further hidden goodies which would, at fit and proper season, be divulged. Jennie Stone, gobbling almond cakes and chocolate, said to Ruth:

  “If this is a fair sample of what is to be divulged upon the Night of Harpocrates, I shall fast on that day—now mind!”

  When the girls had gone Ruth asked her chum, point-blank, if she proposed to have a midnight supper.

  “A regular debauch!” declared Helen, laughing. “Now, don’t be prim and prudish about it, Ruthie. I won’t have it in here if you don’t want—”

  “Why not?” demanded Ruth, quickly. “Don’t think of going to any other room.”

  “Well—I didn’t know,” stammered her chum. “You being such a stickler for the rules, Ruth. You know, if we should get into trouble—”

  “Do you think that I would complain?” asked Ruth, proudly. “Don’t you trust me any more, Helen?”

  “Oh, Ruthie! what nonsense!” cried her chum, throwing her arms about Ruth Fielding’s neck. “I know you’d be as true as steel.”

  “I did not think the suggestion could have come from your own heart, Helen,” declared Ruth.

  So the second night thereafter was set for the “sub-rosa supper.” Slily the chums borrowed such plates and cups as the other girls had hidden away. Not a few quartette rooms possessed tea-sets, they being the joint possession of the occupants of that particular study. At retiring bell on this eventful night all things were ready, including a spirit lamp on which to make chocolate, hidden away in Helen Cameron’s shirt-waist box.

  Ruth and Helen went to bed after removing their frocks and shoes only and waited to hear the “cheep, cheep” of Miss Scrimp’s squeaky shoes as she passed up through the house, turning down the hall lights, and then went down again. The hour for the girls to gather was set for half-past ten. First of all, however, The Fox was to go down and listen at Miss Picolet’s door to make sure that she had gone to bed. Then Miss Cox was to tap softly but distinctly at the door of ea
ch invited guest as she came back to their corridor.

  Meanwhile Helen and Ruth popped out of bed (it had been hard to lie there for more than an hour, waiting) and began to lay out the things. The bedspreads were laid back over the foot of each bed and the feast was laid out upon the bed-clothes. Mary Cox warned them to have the spreads ready to smooth up over the contraband goodies, should the French teacher get wind of the orgy.

  “Forewarned is forearmed,” urged Mary Cox. “We know what old Picolet is!”

  “But ‘four-armed’ doesn’t always mean ‘fore-handed’,” chuckled Jennie Stone.

  “Nor quadrumanous!” snapped the Fox. “If you had four hands, Heavy, there would be little chance for any of the rest of us at Helen’s party. My goodness me! how you would mow the good things away if you had four hands instead of two.”

  “It isn’t that I’m really piggish,” complained Miss Stone. “It’s because I need more nourishment; there is so much of me, you know, Mary.”

  “And if you hadn’t been stuffing yourself like a Strasburg goose all your life, there wouldn’t be so much of you. Ha! it’s the old story of the hen and the egg—which was here first? If you didn’t eat so much you wouldn’t be so big, and if you weren’t so big you wouldn’t eat so much.”

  All this, however, was said after the girls had begun to gather in Number 2 duet, and Belle Tingley, who had drawn the unlucky short toothpick, was banished to the corridor to keep watch—but with a great plateful of goodies and the “golden goblet” used in the hazing exercises, filled to the brim with hot chocolate.

  “Though, if Miss Picolet is awake she’ll smell the brew and will be up here instanter,” declared the Fox, crossly, as Belle insisted in having her share of the drinkables as well as eatables.

  Miss Picolet was forgotten in the fun and the feasting, however. There were twenty girls in the room, and they had to sit on the floor in two rows while Ruth and Helen passed out the good things. And my! they were good! Lovely chicken salad mayonnaise, served on a fresh lettuce leaf (the lettuce being smuggled in that very day in the chums’ wash basket)—a little dab to each girl. There were little pieces of gherkins and capers in the mayonnaise, and Heavy reveled in this dish. The most delicious slices of pink ham between soft crackers—and other sandwiches of anchovy paste and minced sardines. These were the “solids.”

  Cakes, sweet crackers, Babette’s cookies and lady-fingers were heaped on other plates, ready to serve.

  “My!” exclaimed Lluella Fairfax, “isn’t that lay-out enough to punish our poor digestive organs for a month? The last time we were caught and brought up before Mrs. Tellingham she warned us that sweetcake and pickles were as immoral as yellow-covered novels!”

  “And she proved it, too,” laughed the Fox. “She declared that a girl, or woman without a good digestion could not really fill her rightful place in the world and accomplish that which we are each supposed to do. Oh, the Madam always proves her point.”

  “And I was sick for a week afterward,” sighed Lluella. “And had to take such a dose!”

  At that moment, without the least forewarning, there came a smart rap on the door. The sound smote the company of whispering, laughing girls into a company of frightened, trembling culprits. They hardly dared breathe, and when the commanding rap came for a second time neither Ruth nor Helen had strength enough in their limbs to go to the door.

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE HAWK AMONG THE CHICKENS

  Lluella and The Fox, more used to these orgies than some of the other girls, had retained some presence of mind. Their first thought—if this should prove to be the teacher or the matron—was to try and save such of the feast as could be hidden. Each girl flung up a spread to the pillows, and so hid the viands on the two beds. Then Mary Cox went quickly to the door.

  The cowering girls clung to each other and waited breathlessly. Mary opened the door. There stood the abashed Belle Tingley, her plate in one hand, the gilded vase in the other, and beside her was the tiny figure of Mademoiselle Picolet, who looked very stern indeed at The Fox.

  “I might have expected you to be a ringleader in such an escapade as this, Miss Cox,” she said, sharply, but in a low voice. “I very well knew, Miss Cox, when the new girls came this fall that you were determined to contaminate them if you could. Every girl here will remain in her seat after prayers in the chapel tomorrow morning. Remember!”

  She whipped out a notebook and pencil and evidently wrote Mary Cox’s name at the head of her list. The Fox was furiously red and furiously angry.

  “I might have known you would be spying on us, Miss Picolet,” she said, bitingly. “Suppose some of us should play the spy on you, Miss Picolet, and should run to Mrs. Tellingham with what we might discover?”

  “Go to your room instantly!” exclaimed the French teacher, with indignation. “You shall have an extra demerit for that, Miss!”

  Yet Ruth, who had been watching the teacher’s face intently, saw that she became actually pallid, that her lips seemed to be suddenly blue, and the countless little wrinkles that covered her cheeks were more prominent than ever before.

  Mary Cox flounced out and disappeared. The teacher pointed to the chums’ waste-basket and said to Bell, the unfaithful sentinel:

  “Empty your plate in that receptacle, Miss Tingley. Spill the contents of that vase in the bowl. Now, Miss, to your room.”

  Belle obeyed. So she made each girl, as she called her name and wrote it in her book, throw away the remains of her feast, and pour out the chocolate. One by one they were obliged to do this and then walk sedately to their rooms. Jennie Stone was caught on the way out with a most suggestive bulge in her loose blouse, and was made to disgorge a chocolate layer cake which she had sought to “save” when the unexpected attack of the enemy occurred.

  “Fie, for shame, Miss Stone!” exclaimed the French teacher. “That a young lady of Briarwood Hall should be so piggish! Fie!”

  But it was after all the other girls had gone and Ruth and Helen were left alone with her, that the little French teacher seemed to really show her disappointment over the infraction of the rules by the pupils under her immediate charge.

  “I hoped for better things of you two young ladies,” she said, sorrowfully. “I feared for the influence over you of certain minds among the older scholars; but I believed you, Ruth Fielding, and you, Helen Cameron, to be too independent in character to be so easily led by girls of really much weaker wills. For one may will to do evil, or to do good, if one chooses. One need not drift.

  “Miss Fielding! take that basket of broken food and go down to the basement and empty it in the bin. Miss Cameron, you may go to bed again. I will wait and see you so disposed. Alons!”

  But before Ruth could get out of the room, and while Helen was hastily preparing for bed, Miss Picolet noticed something “bunchy” under Ruth’s spread. She walked to the bedside and snatched back the coverlet. The still untasted viands were revealed.

  “Ah-ha!” exclaimed the French teacher. “At once! into the basket with these, if you will be so kind, Miss Fielding.”

  Had Heavy seen those heaps of goodies thus disposed of she must have groaned in actual misery of spirit! But Helen, being quick in her preparations for bed, hopped into her own couch before Miss Picolet turned around to view that corner of the room, and with Helen under the bedclothes the hidden dainties (though she did mash some of them) were not revealed to the eye of the teacher, who stood grimly by the door as Ruth marched gravely forth with the basket of broken food.

  For a minute or two Helen was as silent as Miss Picolet; then she ventured in a very small voice:

  “Miss Picolet—if you please?”

  “Well, Mademoiselle?” snapped the little lady.

  “May I tell you that my chum Ruth had nothing to do with this infringement of the school rules? That the feast was all mine; that she merely partook of it b
ecause we roomed together? That she had nothing to do with the planning of the frolic?”

  “Well?”

  “I thought perhaps that you might believe otherwise,” said Helen, softly, “as you made Ruth remove the—the provisions,” said Helen. “And really, she isn’t at all to blame.”

  “She cannot be without blame,” declared Miss Picolet, yet less harshly than she had spoken before. “An objection from her would have stopped the feast before it began—is it not, Miss Cameron?”

  “But she is not so much to blame, Miss Picolet,” repeated Helen.

  “Of that we shall see,” returned the little lady, and waited by the door until Ruth returned from the basement. “Now to bed!” ejaculated Miss Picolet. “Wait in chapel after prayers. I really hoped the girls of my dormitory would not force me to call the attention of the Preceptress to them because of demerits this half—and I did not believe the trouble would start with two young ladies who had just arrived.”

  So saying, she departed. But Helen whispered Ruth, before she got in bed, to help remove the remaining goodies to the box in the closet.

  “At least, we have saved this much from the wreck,” chuckled Helen.

  Ruth, however, was scarcely willing to admit that that the salvage would repay them for the black marks both surely had earned.

  CHAPTER XVII

  GOODY TWO-STICKS

  To tell the truth the young ladies of the West Dormitory who attended Helen’s sub-rosa supper looked pretty blue when the rest of the school filed out of chapel and left them sticking, like limpets, to their seats. Mrs. Tellingham looked just as stern as Helen imagined she could look, when she ended a whispered conference with Miss Picolet, and stood before the culprits.

  “Being out of bed at all hours, and stuffing one’s self with all manner of indigestible viands, is more than a crime against the school rules, young ladies,” she began. “It is a crime against common sense. Besides, I take a pride in the fact that Briarwood Hall supplies a sufficient and a well-served table. Fruit at times between meals is all very well. But a sour pickle and a piece of angel cake at eleven or twelve o’clock at night would soon break down the digestive faculties of a second Samson.