“My shade was flapping; and if there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s a flapping shade. I got up to fix it.”
“What time was it?” queried Ruth.
“Five o’clock.”
“You dreamed it,” jeered Lucile.
“I did not!”
“Maybe she was just coming home from a party,” suggested Mary’s mild voice.
“I saw her one morning, too,” admitted Hazel. “I got up at five to study, wrapped a blanket around me, and was curled up in a chair beside the window cramming French verbs—”
“Now I know that you were asleep, too,” interrupted Lucile.
“When I saw Rhoda,” continued Hazel, throwing a pillow at Lucile, “she was coming out of the back door of Big House. When she passed our window, I said ‘Hello!’ and she jumped a foot.”
“What did she say?” asked Jane.
“Nothing; she just glanced up, put her finger on her lips, and hurried into the Hall. She is always so smiling and good-natured, but she didn’t look at all pleased to see me.”
“How did she get in without ringing the bell?” inquired Clarice eagerly.
Everybody laughed.
“That interests you most, doesn’t it?” inquired Lucile sweetly.
“She went around to the laundry door,” explained Hazel. “I think she has a key for it.”
“That’s an idea!” cried Clarice. “Why can’t we borrow that key some night when we want to go out?”
Four stone steps led down from the path on the east side of the dormitory to a small door which opened directly into the laundry, located under Frances’ and Katharine’s room.
“And spend the rest of the night in the laundry?” exclaimed Hazel. “An ironing board for a bed doesn’t appeal to me.”
“Why not come up?” inquired Anne idly.
“Because, darling, Dolly herself locks that door at the head of the stairs on her eleven o’clock round every night,” replied Ruth.
“Then I don’t see how Rhoda gets up,” said Frances, frowning in perplexity.
“Oh, bother Rhoda!” cried Hazel impatiently. “Let’s plan how we’re all of us and our luggage going to get out to Green Lake and back, when we’ve only two cars available.”
“Pat and I can take the eats and a couple of girls to guard them, and then come back for the rest of you,” proposed Mary, who owned the only other car in the Gang.
“That’s a good idea,” approved Anne; and so the matter was settled.
Saturday proved to be one of those warm, sunny days which often usher in an early summer.
“See that haze on the hills?” said Katharine, as they were packing the cars in the driveway. “That means heat. We’ll be able to swim after all. Isn’t it fine that we all passed the test, even Clarice?”
“Didn’t look much like a picnic at this time yesterday,” observed Patricia with a shiver at the recollection. “Wasn’t it a cold, dismal day?”
“It sure was! Who’s going on this load?” inquired Anne, turning to the girls who were bossing the job of loading.
“Katharine and Frances will go with Pat,” responded Jane, “and I’ll keep Mary company. Don’t any of the rest of you wander off and have us hunting all over for you when we come back. All aboard who’s going aboard!”
By eleven o’clock the whole Gang, including Rhoda, was swarming over the picnic grounds situated on a wooded hill overlooking Green Lake, an oblong body of very deep water. At one end, the lake was bordered by flat, treeless meadows, and the low shore line provided a fairly good sandy beach. At the other end, heavily wooded land sloped down to the water on all sides, giving it a gloomy, deep green cast. A rough path followed the irregular stretch of water on the east side, and wound on up the hill into the woods where a depression between two steep slopes formed a small picnic ground. The few tables, benches, and stone ovens which occupied the space were unclaimed today; so the girls had their choice. They decided on a table from which they could look through an opening in the trees, directly down onto the still, green water.
“Swim first,” announced Katharine, after the food had been placed upon one table, and the extra wraps upon another.
“Will our things be safe here alone?” inquired Betty doubtfully, when they were ready to go down to the lower end of the lake.
“I’ll stay with it,” offered Rhoda.
“Oh, no,” protested Anne. “Come on down with us and swim.”
“I can’t swim,” replied Rhoda, “and I don’t care for bathing. I brought a book along, and I’d just as soon as not stay here and read until you come back.”
Seeing that the maid really meant what she said, Anne followed the rest of the girls who were already half way down the hill.
“Where’s Rhoda?” asked Patricia, looking around, when they reached the beach and were about to dive into the water.
“I should think she’d like at least to come and watch us,” said Patricia, when Anne had explained. “I’ll go up after a while and bring her down.”
Swimming in the open was very different from swimming in a tank, and after fifteen minutes of strenuous exercise the girls came out to lie on the sand in the warm sun for a little rest.
“Lend me your cloak, Anne,” requested Patricia, “and I’ll run up for Rhoda.”
“Don’t believe she’ll come,” replied Anne, handing Patricia her woolly bath cape.
“I’ll make her. The things will be all right. There isn’t a soul here today, except us.”
Wrapping the cape closely around her, Patricia started briskly along the path toward the picnic grounds. Rhoda was sitting on a big stone, half way down one of the sloping sides of the depression, in a pool of sunlight which some broken branches let through. So deeply interested was she in her book, that she did not see Patricia until the girl stood right in front of her.
“I came back to get you,” panted Patricia. “We don’t like to have you up here all by yourself. That’s no fun. Come on!” taking the book out of the maid’s hands.
“I really don’t mind,” began Rhoda.
“But we do,” Patricia cut her short, putting out both hands to help her up from the stone.
Laughing a little in protest, Rhoda got up and the two started down the hill.
“Why, there’s Clarice,” said Patricia, stopping short in surprise, as she caught sight of the girl, swinging carelessly along beside the lake just below them. “She’s all dressed. I thought she was with the rest of the crowd. I wonder what happened.”
“She’s too near the ragged edge,” exclaimed Rhoda sharply.
Hearing voices, Clarice looked up without checking her pace. Her foot struck a hole in the bank beside the path, and with a cry she slid down into the lake. Dropping Anne’s cloak, Patricia dashed down the hill and dove into the water.
A treacherous current had immediately swept Clarice away from the bank and was bearing her out toward the center of the lake. “No use to call for help,” thought Patricia; “the rest of the girls are too far away. Lucky that Clarice learned to swim after all; for she’ll be able to help herself a little. She’s gone down!” Striking out frantically, with legs and arms, Patricia made what speed she could toward the place where she had seen Clarice disappear. Fear and necessity gave her extra strength and speed, so that she was near enough to Clarice when the girl came up to seize her by the collar of her sweater.
With the irresistible inclination of a drowning person, Clarice tried to throw her arms around Patricia, who knew that meant disaster for both of them.
“Stop that!” she snapped. “Swim!”
“I can’t,” moaned Clarice, frantic with fear.
“You’ve got to! We’ll both drown if you don’t. Put your hand on my shoulder and strike out as I do. If you try to grab me around the neck, I’ll leave you.”
Clarice pulled herself together and tried to obey. It seemed to Patricia as if they made no progress at all, so weighed down was she with Clarice’s weight. Just one more stroke, she said to hersel
f, when it seemed as if she could go no farther. Now one more. That wasn’t so bad. Now another. Encouraging herself, straining each muscle to the utmost, she at last reached the bank where Rhoda stood with one arm wound around the tree trunk and the other extended to help them scramble up the rough stones, slippery with moss.
As soon as they were safe again, Clarice threw herself flat on the ground and burst into a violent fit of tears.
“Let her cry,” advised Rhoda, as Patricia bent over the sobbing girl. “She’ll get over the shock more quickly.”
“But she’ll take cold,” objected Patricia, throwing Anne’s cloak over the prone figure.
“And so will you,” added Rhoda, removing her own coat, preparatory to wrapping it around the shivering girl beside her.
“You keep that. I’ll get my own,” protested Patricia, running up the hill to where the wraps were piled on one of the tables. Pulling her long brown coat from under several others, she wrapped it around her and returned to Clarice and Rhoda.
The former was still weeping with her face hidden in a bed of ferns.
“Clarice, get up!” ordered Patricia sternly. “No sense in having pneumonia just because you won’t control yourself. Get up, I said.”
Taking her firmly by the arms, with Rhoda’s help she raised the girl and wrapped Anne’s cape more closely around her.
“It’s a judgment on me!” quavered poor Clarice, as they led her up the hill.
“What’s a judgment?” demanded Patricia rather sharply.
“Being drowned because I cheated.”
“But you aren’t drowned,” objected Patricia, laughing in spite of herself. Clarice was such a child!
“I would have been, if it hadn’t been for you. I’ll never cheat again; I’m sure of that.”
“How and when and where did you cheat?” inquired Patricia, puzzled.
“Swimming test. A girl from upstairs went in when my name was called, passed, and Professor Wilson never knew the difference. She’s about my size.”
Patricia was speechless. What should one say under such circumstances? She shrank from the holier-than-thou attitude; yet to remain quiet might be taken as approval.
“What can we do about dry clothing for her, Miss Randall?” inquired Rhoda, saving the situation.
“I don’t know,” replied Patricia in a worried tone. “I guess I’d better drive her home to get some. It won’t take long.”
“I’d rather stay home, if you don’t mind,” said Clarice, drying her eyes.
“Why?”
“Oh, because.”
“It would be just as well if she’d take a hot bath and go right to bed,” advised Rhoda. “Shall I come, too, to help you?”
“Oh, no,” said Clarice quickly. “I’ll be all right.”
“And you’ll do as Rhoda suggests?” asked Patricia.
Clarice nodded and went toward Patricia’s car, while Patricia said to Rhoda in a low tone: “If any of the girls come back while I’m gone, tell them Clarice didn’t feel very well and I took her home. No point in letting them in on poor Clarice’s story.”
“You’re quite right,” agreed Rhoda.
“Patricia,” said Clarice, when they were on their way out of the parking section, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t bother about it. I’m glad I happened to be there.”
“Should I tell about the test?” inquired Clarice slowly after being silent for several minutes. “I’ve made up my mind to learn to swim before college closes for the summer.”
“Good! Then under those circumstances, you’ll be getting your promotion fairly; and it seems to me that any revelation of your—your—”
“My cheating,” supplied Clarice frankly.
“Would involve too many people. You see, Professor Wilson’s near-sightedness would be revealed, and perhaps cause his dismissal; the girl who subbed for you would be drawn into it, and probably get into trouble—perhaps even be dropped; then the girls in your section who know about it—”
“There aren’t any.”
“How’s that?”
“We were called out of the dressing room one at a time, according to numbered cards; and nobody paid any attention to who was out. It’s such a large section.”
“I see. Well, anyhow, since you’re going to correct the wrong, as far as possible, I can’t see any object in broadcasting the story. That reminds me, I asked Rhoda to tell the girls that you didn’t feel very well and I had taken you home. So the three of us will keep our own counsel.”
“Pat, you’re just the best sport I ever knew!”
“What’s the matter with Clarice?” inquired Hazel, an hour later, as they all sat around the table disposing of steak, potatoes, sugared buns, fried cakes, and coffee.
“She had a chill,” replied Patricia calmly, opening a box of marshmallows; “but she attended to it in time, so I think she’ll be all right tomorrow.”
The subsequent devotion of the black sheep to swimming aroused much comment among the members of the Alley Gang. Many were the theories advanced, but the girl kept her own secret and worked doggedly until she was as proficient as most of her companions.
CHAPTER XVII
A ROBBERY
“Have you seen the paper this morning?” demanded Jane excitedly, waving the Granard Herald overhead as Pat was hurrying down the corridor to her room after breakfast.
“No, what’s in it?”
“Look!” Jane held out the front sheet and pointed to a headline in heavy print:
Daring Robbery. Thieves Make Big Haul.
Victim of losses sits in library while men work in room above. No clews. Mrs. Brock, owner of property, offers reward.
“Why!” gasped Patricia. “How awful!”
A clock somewhere in the Hall struck the quarter hour.
“Oh, I’m going to be late,” cried Patricia, dashing into her room, seizing a couple of books, and running down the corridor. “Have to hear the rest later,” she called back to Jane.
“Pat!” cried Anne, catching hold of her at the door. “Have you seen the paper?”
“Yes, Jane just showed it to me.”
“Isn’t it exciting? All her jewelry, and a lot of money taken.”
“I’m late, Anne; let me go, please!” pulling away from the girl.
At the corner of Wentworth Street, Ruth caught up with her.
“Heard the news?” she panted.
“Yes, but can’t stop; most time for class.”
As Patricia sank, breathless, into a seat in French class, which had already begun, Frances leaned forward from the row behind to whisper, “Know about the robbery?”
Patricia nodded.
“The paper says nobody heard a thing,” continued Frances. “Norman was in his room right next to the one where the robbers were working. Isn’t that thrilling?”
“How do you know?” traced Patricia’s pencil on the margin of her note book.
“Clarice met him this morning, and he told her.”
“Mademoiselle Quinne, continuez s’il vous plait,” requested the Professor’s smooth voice.
It must be confessed that Patricia heard little of the French lesson that day. Her mind was briskly working on the piecemeal information she had received about the disaster at Big House.
“Seems awfully queer,” she commented to Jack later in the day, “that a person or persons would break into a house early in the evening like that. Why, Mrs. Brock or Norman might have walked in on them any minute.”
Jack smiled. “He probably had worked out, by direct observation, when his chances of being undisturbed were greatest.”
“Direct observation?” repeated Patricia.
“Yes; whoever it was knew the layout of the house, the habits of its inmates, and where valuables were kept.”
“Why, Jack!” cried Patricia, her eyes dilating with a dawning suspicion. “Who—”
“Better not put anything into words, Pat,” Jack said quickly; “prob
ably we’re all wrong. I hope so. Let’s try to forget all about it. The authorities will take care of it; it’s their business, not ours.”
In spite of Jack’s good advice, Patricia could not keep from dwelling on the subject rather constantly for the rest of the week, especially since the robbery was the Gang’s principal theme of conversation.
“Mrs. Brock,” announced Katharine on Thursday night, “is offering a large reward for the return of her grandfather’s watch alone. It’s a valuable heirloom, and she cares more for that than for the rest of the jewelry. Don’t I wish I could go out some morning, pick up the timepiece, and take it over to her!”
“I guess none of us would object to some extra money,” laughed Anne. “If you weren’t going home this week end, Pat, we might organize a searching party and beat Kath out.”
“Go ahead, anyway,” advised Patricia, pulling out her bag and beginning to pack it ready for an early start the next afternoon. “You’d better get your things together, Jane; we won’t have any time after lunch tomorrow.”
“Jane going with you?” inquired Anne somewhat wistfully.
“Yes. Want to come, too?”
“Do I! You’re a peach.” Anne hugged Patricia, and departed for her own room, stumbling over the doorstop as she went out.
“Look out, Anne; you’ll break your neck over my coach-and-four,” called Patricia. “She never fails to fall over that,” she added to the girls. “Kath, why don’t you come with us?”
“I’d love to, but what will your mother say to so many of us?”
“She won’t care. My room has twin beds, so I can have guests in comfort whenever I want to; and then we have the regular guest room. You won’t have to sleep on the floor.”
“As if I’d care for that! I’ve done it at house parties.” Katharine departed to announce her good fortune to the rest of the Gang, and then went to pack.
“I envy you, Patricia,” said Jane, the next afternoon, as they were riding through a stretch of woods, “being able to take this lovely ride home any week end you want to.”
“Not whenever I want to,” corrected Pat, “but rather when I have money enough for the gas, and when my work can be left for a couple of days. I can’t do any studying at home, of course.”
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