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BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER CLASSMATES
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   :PG.Title: Billie Bradley and Her Classmates
   :PG.Id: 40586
   :PG.Released: 2012-08-26
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Roger Frank
   :PG.Producer: the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
   :DC.Creator: Janet D. Wheeler
   :DC.Title: Billie Bradley and Her Classmates
              The Secret of the Locked Tower
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1921
   :coverpage: images/cover.jpg

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   :lg:`BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER CLASSMATES`

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   :sm:`OR`

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   THE SECRET OF THE LOCKED TOWER

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   :sm:`BY`

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   JANET D. WHEELER

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   :sm:`AUTHOR OF “BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER INHERITANCE,”`
   :sm:`“BILLIE BRADLEY ON LIGHTHOUSE ISLAND,” ETC.`

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   ILLUSTRATED

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   NEW YORK
   CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
   PUBLISHERS

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   Cupples & Leon Company
   Publishers New York

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   Copyright, 1921
   Cupples & Leon Company

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   Billie Bradley and Her Classmates
   PRINTED IN U. S. A.

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.. figure:: images/illus-fpc.jpg
  :align: center
  :alt: “They marched through crying “Way for the Queen.”

  They marched through crying “Way for the Queen.”

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.. contents:: Contents
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CHAPTER I—THIN ICE
==================

Click! click! click! went three pairs of skates
as three snugly-dressed girls fairly flew along the
frozen surface of the lake.

“Isn’t it glorious?” cried the laughing, brown-eyed
one, who was no other than Billie Bradley,
as she threw back her head and sniffed the crisp,
cold air. “Who ever heard of the lake freezing
over in the middle of November? And the ice is
pretty solid, too.”

“In spots,” added Violet Farrington, a slender,
dark girl with black hair and dark eyes.

“What do you mean—‘in spots’?” asked the third
of the trio, Laura Jordon. Laura was as fair as
Violet was dark, and now her blue eyes darted an
anxious glance at her chum. “Do you think we
shall find any thin ice?”

“I don’t know, of course,” Violet answered
quickly. “But you notice Miss Walters told us to
stay close to the shore, and that certainly looks as
if she weren’t any too certain about the ice.”

Miss Walters was the much-loved principal of
Three Towers Hall, the boarding school which the
girls were attending, and to the three chums, Miss
Walters’ word was law.

As Billie Bradley had said, Lake Molata, upon
which Three Towers Hall was situated, had frozen
over unusually early this year. Though it was
not quite the middle of November, there had been
several rather heavy snowfalls. The thermometer
had fallen lower and lower till it had dropped below
the freezing point, and after a few days of this
falling weather a thin glaze of ice had begun to
form over the still surface of the lake.

At first the girls had not been too joyful, fearing
that the ice was too fragile to last and that one good
thaw would do away with it entirely.

But the thaw had not come, and as day after day
the prematurely cold weather continued, the girls
at the Hall had grown more and more excited.
Finally they could stand it no longer and dispatched
a committee of three to Miss Walters—among whom
had been Billie—asking for the unique privilege of
skating over the frozen surface of Lake Molata in
the middle of November.

The petition had been granted, with the reservation,
as Vi had said, that the girls should stay close
to shore and not venture out into the uncertain center
of the lake.

When the jubilant committee of three had
brought back the glad news to the eagerly waiting
girls the dormitories had been the scene of wild but
noiseless fancy dancing in celebration of the great
event.

Soon after was heard the clinking of skates and
the babble of excited girls’ voices as those of the
students who were lucky enough to have prepared
their lessons for the next day, and so had the afternoon
free, made ready for the fun.

Then, down the sloping lawn of Three Towers
Hall, the hard, crusted snow crackling merrily under
their feet, down to the edge of the lake where
skates were put on, mufflers tightened and woolly
caps pulled well down to protect ears that already
were feeling the nip of the cold, rushed the crowd
of excited, happy girls.

Fun! Any one who has tasted the joy of skating
over freshly-frozen ice on a crisp winter day
when the sun, pouring down, seems only to make
the air more chill, any one who has tasted that joy,
knows that there is no other sport like it.

So, singly, in groups of two or three, in parties
of four, the girls spread out over the lake, their
gayly hued caps and sweaters making vivid patches
of color on the surface.

Although they had started out with the rest of
the girls, Billie and Laura and Vi had become separated
from them some way or other, and they now
found themselves skimming merrily along with not
another person in sight. This did not worry them,
however, because they had learned by experience
that whenever the three of them were together they
were always sure of having a good time.

“A week from now,” Billie cried, strands of hair
escaping from under her tam-o’-shanter and whipping
about her glowing face, “the lake will probably
look as though we had dragged a farmer’s
plow across it.”

“A week from now we may not have any ice at
all,” added Vi pessimistically.

Laura, who was skating between them, let go
their hands for a moment to fasten her sweater
still more closely about her throat. The wind had
stung her face to a vivid red.

“I must say you both sound cheerful,” she said
reproachfully, adding with a gay little toss of her
head: “From the way this wind feels, I’d say we
were going to have ice all winter.”

“Don’t wake her up, she is dreaming,” sang
Billie mockingly, adding, as Laura gave her a push
that would have unbalanced a less skillful skater:
“Who ever heard of Lake Molata being frozen over
all winter?”

“Well, who ever heard of its being frozen over
in the middle of November?” Laura retorted, adding
with a grin as Billie looked nonplussed: “I guess
that will hold you for a while.”

“Laura Jordon,” said Vi, folding her mittened
hands and trying to look very prim and teacher-like,
“report to Miss Walters immediately. That
is the third time you have used slang this morning.”

The girls giggled, and this time it was Vi who
got the push.

“Go long with you,” said Billie gayly. “You
can’t imitate the Dill Pickles in a red sweater and
a green cap.”

The Dill Pickles, as my old readers will remember,
were two teachers, Miss Ada and Miss Cora
Dill, who had recently lived at the Hall. The two
had done their best to make the girls’ lives miserable
and had finally, after the students had revolted and
marched out of the school, been sent away by Miss
Walters.

The vacancies had been filled by teachers who
were as different from the Miss Dills in every way
as they could be, and since then life at Three Towers
Hall had been one happy round of study and fun
for the girls.

“Thank goodness the Dills have gone forever,”
said Vi, in response to Billie’s observation.

“Yes,” agreed Laura, reminiscently. “It was a
lot of trouble, getting rid of them, but it was worth
it.”

“There are only nice teachers up at the Hall
now,” said Billie, contentedly. “Especially Miss
Arbuckle.”

“Isn’t she ducky?” said Laura, enthusiastically,
if disrespectfully. “I was afraid she might change
her mind and take up her old job of governess to
those two kiddies.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed her much, if she had,”
Vi said, with a chuckle. “She might make the little
children behave, while with us——”

“She hasn’t a chance,” giggled Billie.

“Just the same,” put in Laura, with unusual gravity,
“you notice that we all do what Miss Arbuckle
says. She isn’t stern like Miss Race, either, nor
nasty like the Dill Pickles used to be. I guess we
just obey her because we all like her,” she finished
simply.

“That’s right, and——” Billie was saying when
suddenly the ice cracked under her skates and with
a cry she lunged forward. Luckily her feet struck
on solid ice beyond the cracked part, and with difficulty
she regained her balance.

“The ice!” she gasped, as Laura and Vi stared
at her. “I struck a thin spot, I guess. Goodness,
that scared me!”

“I should say so,” agreed Laura, with a little
whistle of astonishment as she edged over to the
treacherous place in the ice which was crisscrossed
over with long cracks. “Look here, girls. I could
almost push this ice through with my finger.”

“Well, don’t try it,” advised Vi, backing away
anxiously from the dangerous spot. “I wonder if
there any more places like it.”

“S’pose there are—lots of them,” said Billie, who
had recovered from her fright and was disposed to
treat the whole thing as a joke. “The thing for us
to do is to keep out of their way, that’s all.”

“Sounds easy,” grumbled Vi as they joined hands
again and skated on more slowly over the frozen
surface. “But how are we going to know where
the thin places are unless we step on ’em—and fall
through, maybe?”

“P’r’aps we’d better go back if——” Billie was
beginning uneasily when a sudden, terrified scream
cut her short. It was a child’s scream and it was
followed by another, and yet another.

“Oh!” cried Laura wildly, “somebody’s getting
killed.”

CHAPTER II—NEARLY FROZEN
========================

The screams for help seemed to be quite near
the girls, but whoever was in trouble was hidden
from them by a sharp bend in the lake shore.

Without further thought of danger to themselves,
the chums skated forward swiftly, the long fringed
ends of their scarfs flying out behind them and their
bodies thrown eagerly forward.

“Maybe somebody is drowning!”

“It’s some great peril, you may be sure of that—otherwise
they wouldn’t scream so.”

“They are children!”

“Yes, and little ones at that, if I am any judge of
voices.”

Thus talking excitedly the girls skated forward
along the lake shore. Then came a sudden scream
from Vi. She had skated too close to an overhanging
tree and a branch caught in her hair as she
tried to sweep past.

“Wait! wait!” she cried. “Don’t leave me behind!”

“What’s the trouble?” came simultaneously from
the others.

“I’m caught—my hair is fast in the tree.”

“Pull yourself loose,” cried Billie. “Hurry, do!
Oh, just listen to those cries!” she added, as scream
after scream rent the wintry air.

In frantic haste poor Vi tried to do as bidden.
But the tree was a thorny one, and she had considerable
trouble to liberate herself.

Then came fresh trouble as Billie’s left skate became
loosened.

“I’ve got to fasten it,” she said, and bent down
to do so. Then the classmates swept forward as
before.

They rounded the bend in the lake a minute later
and then drew up suddenly as they came upon a
singular scene.

Three small children, a boy and two girls, were
standing up to their waists in the icy water. Evidently
they had ventured out upon the lake in a
spirit of mischief, and had stepped upon thin ice
which had given way beneath even their slight
weight. Luckily they had not got far from the
shore, for if the ice had broken through in a deeper
part of the lake they must surely have been
drowned. As it was, they were three very badly
frightened children who were beginning to feel
numb with the cold.

At sight of the girls they began to wail afresh
and held out their little arms imploringly.

The sight was too much for Billie, and she began
to edge her way cautiously along the thin ice, calling
to the girls to follow her example.

“Be careful,” she warned. “If we went through,
too, it would be hard to get out, and while we were
trying it the kiddies would probably freeze to death.
Look out!” she exclaimed, as the ice cracked treacherously
under her weight. “It is paper-thin right
here.”

And while the girls are busy at their work of
rescue we will take a few minutes to tell those who
are meeting Billie Bradley and her chums for the first
time something of the good times the girls have had
in other volumes of the series.

In the first book, called “Billie Bradley and Her
Inheritance,” the girls had many and varied adventures,
some of which were thrilling and others
only funny. Just when Billie was wondering how
to raise one hundred dollars to pay for a statue
which she had accidentally broken, a queer old aunt
of hers, Beatrice Powerson by name, died and left
to her an inheritance which had at first seemed a
doubtful blessing, namely a rambling gloomy old
homestead at a place called Cherry Corners.

The house dated back to Revolutionary times and
had many weird and romantic legends attached to
it. The girls, anxious to see the old place for themselves,
had decided to spend their vacation there,
and a little later some boys had joined them.

They had an unusual and exciting time of it and
the climax of the whole outing was the finding of
a shabby old trunk which was hidden away in the
attic. This trunk contained five thousand dollars’
worth of rare old coins and queer postage stamps,
and this small fortune enabled Billie not only to replace
the statue she had broken but gave her more
than enough to send herself to Three Towers Hall
and her brother Chet to Boxton Military Academy.

But we forgot entirely to introduce the boys!
And they at least considered themselves by far the
most important part of the story. Here they are
then—First of all comes Chetwood Bradley, Billie’s
brother, whom his friends called Chet for short.
Chet was a lovable boy, good-looking, quiet, reserved
and devoted to Billie—whose real name, by
the way, was Beatrice.

Then there was Ferd Stowing, an all-around
good-natured boy who always added a great deal
to whatever fun was at hand. And last, but not
least, Laura’s brother Teddy. Teddy was fifteen,
as were the other boys, but, unlike them, he looked
quite a good deal older than he was. He was tall,
with wavy hair and handsome gray eyes and an
athletic build which was the envy of most of the
boys at North Bend, where the young folks lived.
Teddy had always liked Billie a lot because, as he
told his sister, Laura, Billie was the nearest like a
boy of all the girls he knew. She liked sports almost
as well as he did and so as a matter of course
they played tennis and hiked and skated a good deal
together.

Returning from their vacation in the old homestead
at Cherry Corners, the girls went straight to
Three Towers Hall, the boarding school to which
their parents were sending them, partly because the
young folks wanted to go and partly because the
high school at North Bend was hopelessly inefficient
and unsatisfactory.

At the same time, the boys departed for Boxton
Military Academy which was only a little over a
mile from the boarding school and which was also
situated close to Lake Molata.

The good times the young folks had at school
are told in the second volume of the series entitled,
“Billie Bradley at Three Towers Hall.” The most
startling thing that happened during the year was
the capture of the man whom the boys and girls
had named the “Codfish” on account of his peculiarly
fish-like mouth. The latter had once attempted
to steal Billie’s precious trunk, and had later
on been suspected of planning and carrying out a
robbery at Boxton Military Academy. Later, he
had robbed Miss Race, one of the teachers at the
Hall.

The girls had made new friends—and enemies
also,—at Three Towers Hall. Chief among the
enemies were Amanda Peabody and her chum, Eliza
Dilks. The girls were both sneaks and tattletales,
and the former, being jealous of Billie and her
chums, had done her best to make life unbearable
for them at Three Towers. That the disagreeable
girls had not succeeded, was not in the least their
fault.

Another enemy of Billie’s had been Rose Belser,
a pretty, black-haired, very vain girl who was also
jealous of Billie because of her unusual and immediate
popularity with the girls. However, even
Rose was won over to Billie’s side in the end and
became sincerely repentant for her mean behavior.

Connie Danvers, a pretty, fluffy-haired girl, became
a staunch friend of the chums at once, and it
was she who had invited Billie and Laura and Vi
to spend their vacation at Lighthouse Island where
her parents had a summer bungalow. Connie’s
Uncle John, an interesting, bluff character, lived at
the lighthouse on the island.

The girls had become very much interested in a
mystery surrounding Miss Arbuckle, one of the very
nice new teachers who had come to Three Towers
to replace the disagreeable “Dill Pickles.” They
had also met a queer looking man one day when
they were lost in the woods, and they had wondered
about him a great deal.

It seems Miss Arbuckle had been very greatly
disturbed over the loss of an album, and when
Billie, accidentally stumbling upon the book, had returned
it to the teacher, the latter had wept with
joy. Turning over the pages of the album until
she came to the pictures of three beautiful children
she had cried out: “Oh my precious children. I
couldn’t lose your pictures after losing you.”

Of course this exclamation, together with Miss
Arbuckle’s strange conduct, considerably puzzled
the girls, and they wondered about it all during the
vacation at Lighthouse Island. Then one day a
terrible storm came up and a ship was wrecked on
one of the treacherous shoals which surrounded the
island. The girls, helping in the work of rescue,
discovered three children lashed to a rude raft, and
after releasing the little victims, the girls had carried
them to the Lighthouse to be cared for.

Later, Billie saw a marked resemblance in the
three children to the pictures of the children she
had seen in Miss Arbuckle’s album, and what
strange discovery this led to is told in the third volume
of this series entitled “Billie Bradley on Lighthouse
Island.”

And now the girls were all back at Three Towers
again in search of further education, likewise, they
hoped, much fun and adventure.

“Don’t come any farther,” Billie said to Laura
and Vi, as she stretched herself out at full length
on the ice and reached out to grasp one of the children
in the water. “Lie down on the thick ice, both
of you, and hold on to me just as hard as you can.
When I say pull—pull!”

Obediently Laura and Vi flopped down on the
ice, each grasping one of Billie’s feet and holding
on stoutly.

“I’d like to see you get away from us now,”
said Laura.

Leaning over, Billie grasped the nearest child
under the arms and tugged with all her strength.

“Pull!” she gasped to the girls, “I’m slipping.”

The girls pulled and dragged her, child and all,
out on the more solid ice. They set the child on
his poor shivering little feet and then went back
for the next one. A moment more and all three of
the little things were standing huddled together
on the ice, shivering and crying miserably.

“I wanna do home!” wailed the little boy. “I
wanna do home.”

CHAPTER III—POLLY HADDON
========================

“Where do you live?” asked Billie, turning to the
oldest of the three children. “Tell us quick, so
we can get you there.”

“We live wiv our muvver, Polly Haddon,” said
the little one quaintly, pointing with a shivering finger
out across the lake. “We runned away dis
mornin’.”

“So we see,” said Laura, adding, as she turned
to Billie: “I think I know where they live. Teddy
pointed the house out to me one day when we were
taking a hike through the woods. Said he and the
boys had stopped there one day and had bought some
waffles and real maple syrup from Mrs. Haddon.
Of course, I don’t know whether it is the same one
or not——”

“Well, come on—we’ll find out,” said Billie, lifting
the largest of the three children in her strong
arms. “You and Vi can manage the other two
kiddies, I guess. You lead the way, Laura, if you
know where the house is.”

“But hadn’t we better take our skates off and
walk around?” suggested Vi.

“We can make it quicker on skates,” said Billie
impatiently, “because we can cut across the
lake——”

“But the ice!” Laura objected. “It may not be
solid——”

“We’ll have to take a chance on that,” Billie returned,
adding with an exasperated stamp of her
foot, “if you don’t hurry and show us the way,
Laura, I’ll do it myself.”

So Laura, knowing that nothing could change
Billie’s mind when it was once made up, caught the
little boy in her arms and started off across the
lake, Billie and Vi following close behind her.

Luckily the children were not heavy, being thin
almost to emaciation, or the girls could never have
made their goal. As it was, they had to stop several
times and set the children down on the ice to
rest.

And more than once the treacherous ice cracked
under their feet, frightening them horribly. They
made it at last, however, and with a sigh of relief
set the children on the ground while they fumbled
with numbed fingers at their skate straps.

“Is this where you live?” asked Billie of the
elder of the two little girls. Billie had undone the
last strap buckle and was peering off through the
woods in search of some sort of habitation.

“Yes,” answered the little girl through chattering
teeth. “Our house is just a little way off, along
that path.”

She pointed to a narrow foot path, or rather, to
the place where a foot path had once been. For
now it was obliterated by snow and was indicated
only very faintly by footprints recently made.

Billie, seeing that the other girls were ready,
caught up the little girl again, holding her close for
warmth and started down the snow-covered path,
Laura and Vi following.

The snow was hard, which made the going a little
easier, and in a minute or two they came in
sight of a shabby cabin set in the heart of a small
clearing.

If the place had been a mansion, the girls could
not have greeted the sight of it any more joyfully.
They stumbled forward recklessly at the imminent
risk of dropping the poor little children in the snow.

Before they could reach the cottage the door of
it opened and a woman stood on the threshold, hatless
and coatless and staring at them anxiously.

When she recognized the children she gave a
gesture of relief and backed into the house, motioning
to the girls to follow her.

This the girls were not in the least reluctant to
do, for they were chilled through, and the warmth
of Mrs. Haddon’s kitchen was wonderfully comforting.

They set the children on the floor, and the little
ones ran straight to their mother. Polly Haddon
dropped to her knees and put her arms around the
three of them, cuddling them hungrily.

“My precious little lambs, you frightened mother
so!” she said. “She thought you were lost—but
you are wet—or you have been!” She rose to her
feet and faced the girls while the children clung to
her skirts.

“Where did you find my little ones?” she asked
abruptly, looking anxiously from one to the other
of them.

“We found them up to their waists in icy water,”
Billie explained, knowing that no time was to be
lost if the children were to be saved from a bad
cold. “They fell through the ice on the lake.”

“Fell through the ice!” the woman repeated
dumbly, then, seeming suddenly to realize the full
seriousness of the situation, she roused herself to
action.

With a quick motion she swept the children
nearer to the warmth of the coal stove, then started
for a door at the opposite end of the room. Then as
if she realized that something was due the girls,
she paused and looked back at them.

“Draw up chairs close to the fire and warm yourselves,”
she directed. “You must be nearly frozen.”

The girls managed to find three rather rickety old
chairs, and these they drew as close to the stove
as they could without scorching their clothes. They
tried to draw the children into their laps, but the
children were either too miserable to want to be
touched by strangers or they had become a little
shy. At any rate, they drew away so sharply that
one of them nearly fell on the stove. This frightened
them all and they began to cry dismally.

The girls were glad when Mrs. Haddon returned
with three shabby but warm little bath robes which
she hung close to the stove. Then she undressed
the children quickly, rubbed their little bodies till
they were in a glow, then slipped them into the snug
robes.

And all the time she was doing it she kept up
a running fire of conversation with the girls.

“Thank goodness,” she said, “I only missed the
children a little while ago. They have always been
so good to play close to the house, and I was so busy
I didn’t look out as usual. And to think that they
ran away and fell into the lake! Well, it’s only
one more trouble, that’s all. It’s funny how a person
can become used to trouble after a while.”

“But it would have been so much worse,” Billie
suggested, gently, “if the kiddies had fallen through
into deeper water.”

“Eh?” said Mrs. Haddon, looking up at Billie
quickly, then down again. “Yes, I suppose that
would have been worse.” Then she added, with a
bitterness the girls did not understand: “It isn’t
often that the worst doesn’t happen to me.”

Puzzled, the girls looked at each other, then
around the bare, specklessly clean little kitchen.

That Mrs. Haddon was very poor, there could
be no doubt. The shabbiness of the place, her
dress, and the children’s clothes all showed that.
But could poverty alone account for the sadness in
her voice?

Mrs. Haddon had once been a very pretty woman,
and she was sweet looking yet, in spite of the lines
of worry about her mouth. She had lovely hair,
black as night and thick, but she had arranged it
carelessly, and long strands of it had pulled loose
from the pins and straggled down over her forehead.
At this moment, as though she felt the eyes
of the girls upon her, she flung the untidy hair
back with an impatient movement.

“How old are the kiddies?” asked Laura, feeling
that the silence was becoming awkward. “They
look almost the same age.”

“There isn’t more than a year’s difference between
Mary and Peter here,” indicating the taller
of the two little girls and the boy. “And Isabel is
thirteen months younger than Peter. Mary is nine
years old,” she added as a sort of afterthought.

“Nine years old!” cried Vi, in surprise. “Why,
that would make Peter eight and the little girl seven.
I thought they were much younger than that.”

“Yes,” added Laura, thoughtlessly, “they are very
tiny for their age.”

As though the innocent words had been a deadly
insult, the woman rose from her knees and shot the
girls so black a glance from her dark eyes that they
were frightened.

“My children are tiny—yes,” she said in a hard
voice, repeating what Laura had said. “And no
wonder they are small, when for years they have
been half starved.”

Then she turned quickly and herded the three
frightened little ones out of the room.

“You go to bed,” she said to them as they disappeared
through the door.

Left to themselves, the girls looked blankly at
one another.

“Billie, did you hear what I heard?” asked Laura,
anxiously. “Did she really mean that the kiddies
are so little because they don’t get enough to eat?”

“Sounds that way,” said Billie pityingly. “Poor
little things!”

“We must find some way to help them,” Vi was
beginning when Mrs. Haddon herself came into the
room.

She seemed to be sorry for what she had said,
and she told them so. She drew up the only chair
that was left in the bare little room and sat down,
facing the chums.

“You must have thought it very strange for me
to speak as I did,” she began, and went on hurriedly
as the girls seemed about to protest. “But
I have had so much trouble for years that sometimes
I don’t know just what I’m doing.”

“Have you lived alone here for very long?” asked
Billie, gently.

“Ever since my husband died,” answered Polly
Haddon, leaning back in her chair as though she
were tired and smoothing her heavy hair back from
her forehead. “He was an inventor,” she went on,
encouraged by the girls’ friendly interest, to tell of
her troubles. “For years he made hardly enough
to keep us alive, and after the children came we had
a harder pull of it than ever. Then suddenly,”
she straightened up in her chair and into her black
eyes came a strange gleam, “suddenly, my husband
found the one little thing that was wrong with the
invention he had been working on for so long—just
some little thing it was, that a child could almost
see, yet that he had overlooked—and we were
fairly crazy with happiness. We thought we had
at last realized our dream of a fortune.”

She paused a moment, evidently living over that
time in her mind, and the girls, fired by her excitement,
waited impatiently for her to go on.

“What happened then?” asked Vi.

“Then,” said the woman, the light dying out of
her eyes, leaving them tired and listless again, “the
invention was stolen.”

“Stolen!” they echoed, breathlessly.

The woman nodded wearily. She had evidently
lost all interest in her story.

“My husband suspected a Philadelphia knitting
company, whom he had told of his invention and
who were very enthusiastic over it, of having some
hand in the robbery. But when he accused them
of it they denied it and offered a reward of twenty
thousand dollars for the recovery of the models of
the machinery.”

“Twenty thousand dollars!” repeated Billie in
an awed tone. “I guess they must have liked your
husband’s invention pretty well to offer all that
money for it.”

The woman nodded, drearily, while two big tears
rolled slowly down her face.

“Yes, I think they would have accepted it and
paid my husband almost anything he would have
asked for it,” she answered.

“But haven’t you ever found out who stole it?”
asked Vi, eagerly. “I should think that the thief,
whoever he is, would have brought the invention
back because of the twenty thousand dollars.”

The woman nodded again.

“Yes, that was the queer thing about it,” she
said. “When the knitting company first told us of
the reward we were jubilant, my husband and I.
We thought surely we would recover the precious
invention then. But as the weeks went by and we
heard nothing, the strain was too much. Poor
Frank, after all those years of struggle, with victory
snatched away at the last minute, when he had
every right to think it in his grasp—my poor husband
could fight no longer. He died.”

With these words the poor woman bowed her
head upon her hands and sobbed brokenly. The
girls, feeling heartily sorry for her trouble but helpless
to comfort her, rose awkwardly to their feet
and picked up their skates from the floor where they
had thrown them.

Billie went over to the sobbing woman and patted
her shyly on the shoulder.

“I—I wish I could help you,” she ventured. “I—we
are dreadfully sorry for you.”

Then as the woman neither moved nor made an
answer, Billie motioned to Laura and Vi and they
stepped quietly from the room into the chill of the
open, closing the door softly behind them.

CHAPTER IV—GENEROUS PLANS
=========================

The girls talked a great deal of Mrs. Haddon
and her trouble as they put on their skates and
slowly skated back to the Hall.

“It must be dreadful,” Laura was saying thoughtfully
just as the three towers of the school loomed
up before them, “not to have enough to eat. Just
think of it, girls, to be hungry—and not have
enough to eat!”

No wonder this condition of affairs seemed unusually
horrible, in fact almost impossible to luxury-loving
Laura, whose father was one of the richest
and most influential men in rich and influential
North Bend. To Laura it seemed incredible that
every one should not have enough and to spare of
the good things that, rightly used, go to make happiness
in this strange old world. She had never
known what it was to have a wish that was not
gratified almost on the instant.

“Yes, it must be awful,” Billie answered soberly,
in response to Laura’s exclamation. “And I’m
sure,” she added decidedly, “that I won’t be able to
enjoy another good meal until I know that those
three poor little kiddies and Mrs. Haddon have had
all they could possibly eat—for once, at least.”

“What do you mean?” they asked, wonderingly.

“We’ll pack a basket,” planned Billie, growing
excited over the great idea which had just that minute
occurred to her. “We’ll put everything in it
that we can possibly think of, chicken sandwiches
and a bottle of current jelly, a thermos bottle of hot
coffee and another of milk for the children——”

“Say wake up, wake up,” begged Laura, irreverently.
“Where do you suppose we are going to get
all this stuff anyway? It’s too late to go to
town——”

“Who said anything about going to town?” Billie
interrupted impatiently. “I’m going straight to
Miss Walters and tell her all about the Haddon
family and ask her to let us raid the kitchen and
make up the basket ourselves. We can pay for the
things,” she added, as an afterthought.

“It’s a bright idea—but it takes nerve,” said
Laura slangily. “Miss Walters may not like the
idea of feeding the countryside.”

“I’m not asking her to feed the countryside,”
Billie retorted, adding comfortably as a picture of
Miss Walters, white-haired, blue-eyed and sweet,
rose before her: “I’m sure she will let us do it just
this once.”

For Miss Walters, strict though she was at maintaining
discipline in the school, was nevertheless generosity
and kindness itself to every one about her.

“But,” said Laura, uttering one last protest, “I
don’t believe Mrs. Haddon would accept anything
that looked like charity. She’s too proud.”

“We won’t take any chances on her being too
proud to accept it,” said Billie decidedly, adding with
a chuckle: “We’ll do the way the boys used to do on
Hallowe’en, ring the bell and run.”

They had no other chance to talk, for in a minute
they were surrounded by about a dozen of their
classmates who all began scolding them at once
about running away and demanded to know where
they had been, so that plans for the Haddons were
pushed temporarily into the background.

Laughing and shouting to each other the girls
took off their skates and scrambled up the long
terraced hill that led to Three Towers.

If the Hall and its surroundings were beautiful in
the summer time, it was even more attractive in the
winter. The ivy that covered the green-gray stone
of the building was now frosted white with snow
and ice, and this, catching the ruddy gleam of the
afternoon sun, gave the Hall the appearance of a
great, sparkling jewel.

The three towers which gave the school its name
made the place seem like some castle of old, and the
surrounding trees and shrubbery, heavily coated with
snow and icicles, gave to the old building just the
air of mystery that it needed.

The beauty of the familiar place struck Billie
afresh, and she stopped short suddenly and gazed
up at it with loving eyes.

“Isn’t it lovely to have a place like this to come
home to?” she said, as the girls looked at her inquiringly,
“when you are tired and cold and——”

“Hungry,” finished Laura, giving her a shove.
“Giddap, Billie, you’re slowing down the works.”

“Slang again,” sighed Vi, plaintively, as Billie
obligingly “giddaped.” “If I should tell Miss Walters——”

“You would never live to tell another tale,”
prophesied Laura, amid a gale of laughter from the
girls. “Two sneaks and tattletales are enough,”
she added significantly, as she caught sight of
Amanda Peabody and Eliza Dilks walking a little
ahead of them.

“I wonder where Connie and Nellie have kept
themselves,” said Billie, as she with the other girls
crowded through the wide door of the Hall.

“They were up in the dorm, cramming for the
exams when I saw them last,” said a tall girl at
Billie’s elbow. She had evidently not been with
the girls on the lake, for she wore no coat or hat
and she carried a book under each arm as though
she also had been studying.

“Oh, hello, Carol!” greeted Billie, putting an arm
about the tall girl and sweeping her toward the
stairs. “So you’ve been grinding away as usual
when you ought to have been out getting some good
fresh air. My, you look as pale as a ghost.”

For the tall girl, so studiously inclined, was none
other than Caroline Brant, who had been such a
good friend to Billie upon her arrival at Three
Towers Hall the year before. The girls were all
fond of Caroline, in spite of the undeniable fact
that she was one of those usually despised students
commonly known as “grinds.”

“You know I don’t skate,” Caroline said in response
to Billie’s accusation. “And I never could
see why people prefer freezing their toes and noses
to staying comfortably indoors.”

“You’re an old lamb,” said Billie with a squeeze.
“But there are lots of things that you never will
see!”

As Caroline had predicted, the chums found Connie
Danvers and Nellie Bane in the dormitory, curled
up uncomfortably on the bed, heads bent disconsolately
over two thick and bulky history books.

When the door burst open and the chums swung
into the room, skates slung over shoulders, eyes
bright and cheeks glowing from exercise, the two
on the bed flung away their books and looked despairingly
at the newcomers.

“Great heavens, here they are back already,” cried
Connie, running her hands wildly through her
fluffy hair. “And I haven’t learned more than five
dates so I can say them straight.”

“And that’s just five more than I have learned,”
cried Billie gayly, dropping her skates in a corner
and flinging herself on the edge of the bed. “Come
closer, girls,” she added, lowering her voice to a
mysterious whisper while Nellie and Connie
wriggled over to her. “I would whisper in thine
ear. We have met with an adventure!”

CHAPTER V—BEARDING THE LION
===========================

The one word “adventure” was enough to make
the girls all interest at once. Caroline Brant wedged
herself into a square inch of space on the bed between
Connie and the bedpost, and as Rose Belser
came in at that moment the girls motioned her to
join them.

“What’s up?” asked Rose, flinging off her cap
and scarf as she came. “Billie been getting into
mischief again? Or is it only trouble this time?”

“Trouble, I guess,” said Billie, and then she told
them the astonishing tale of what had happened that
afternoon. But instead of being interested as she
had expected them to be, the girls actually seemed
disappointed.

“Well, was that all you had to tell us?” asked
Connie, when she had finished. “I’m surprised at
you, Billie. I thought you had really done something
exciting.”

“Yes,” added Rose, in her aggravating little
drawl, as she rose to get ready for dinner, “it was
awfully good of you to rescue those three annoying
little brats and return them to their distracted mother
and all that. But I don’t see anything dreadfully
hair-raising about it.”

Rose read books that were too old for her and
ran with girls who were too old for her and so she
herself contrived to seem much older than she was.
And sometimes Billie found this manner extremely
irritating, in spite of the fact that she and Rose were
friends—now.

“I suppose it doesn’t seem very exciting to you,”
she said, as she pulled off her cap and unwound the
muffler from about her neck. “But I presume you
would be a little bit more interested if it was *you*
who didn’t have enough to eat.”

“Don’t be mad at us, Billie,” Connie begged, patting
Billie’s hand soothingly. “Of course we all
feel sorry for the poor little kiddies and their mother
and we want to help them all we can. But you can’t
blame us for being disappointed when you said you
had had an adventure.”

“I wonder if you would call it an adventure,”
mused Billie, more to herself than to them, “if
one of us should find that stolen invention and claim
the twenty thousand dollars reward for it!”

Her classmates stopped what they were doing and
stared at her.

“Wh—what did you say?” demanded Connie.

“You heard me,” said Billie, with a grin.

“But, Billie, you know that’s absurd,” said Rose,
in her best drawl. “How could we possibly hope to
find a thing that has been missing for a couple of
years?”

“It may be absurd,” said Billie good-naturedly,
pulling the ribbon from her curls and brushing them
vigorously. “I think it sounds foolish myself. But
while there’s life, there’s hope. Hand me that comb,
will you, Vi?”

A few minutes later the big gong sounded through
the halls, announcing gratefully to the hungry girls
that dinner was ready. And now that the vinegary
Misses Dill had gone, delight reigned supreme in
the dining hall.

The girls had all they could possibly eat of good
satisfying food and they were allowed to chatter
as much as they would as long as they did not become
too noisy.

But although they had chicken for dinner and
cranberry sauce and creamed cauliflower, things all
of which she especially liked, Billie enjoyed it less
than any meal she had ever eaten.

Again and again before her eyes arose the
reproachful images of the three little Haddons, undersized,
undernourished, half-starved.

She could hardly wait until dessert had been
served, and then, with a murmured word to Laura
and Vi, she excused herself from the table and went
in search of Miss Walters.

She found that lady in the act of drinking her
after-dinner coffee in the privacy of her own little
domain.

Miss Walters had a suite of three rooms all to
herself: a bedroom, a dressing-room and a sitting-room,
and all three of the rooms were fitted up in
a manner that befitted a queen.

The sitting-room was done in mahogany and
blue. An exquisite Persian rug of dull blue covered
the floor and the rich mahogany furniture was all
upholstered in blue velour. The curtain draperies
were all of this same rich blue over cream-colored
lace. In the center of the room was a huge mahogany
library table upon which stood a handsome
reading lamp with a blue silk shade.

Billie, who had never been in this sanctum before
and who had seen Miss Walters only in her office,
was amazed when, in reply to her timid knock, the
principal invited her to enter.

For a moment she stood dumbly staring, while
Miss Walters set down her cup and looked up with
a smile. The smile changed to a look of surprise
and then to annoyance as the principal saw who the
intruder was.

“It must be something very important to bring
you here at this hour, Beatrice,” said Miss Walters,
while poor Billie began to wish herself back in the
security of dormitory C. She was too frightened to
explain her presence, and yet she knew that Miss
Walters expected an explanation. “What is it you
wish?” asked the latter, impatiently.

“I—I’m sorry,” said Billie at last, backing away
toward the door. “I shouldn’t have come—but I
thought—that is, I thought it was important.” She
was half through the door by this time, and Miss
Walters, her annoyance changing to amusement,
took pity on her.

“What was important?” she asked, adding, as
Billie still continued to back away: “Come in here,
Billie Bradley, and shut that door. There’s a draft
in the hall.”

Relieved at the use of the familiar name Billie,
the girl obeyed, shutting the door softly, then turned
imploringly to the teacher.

“Sit down,” commanded the latter, pointing to
one of the blue velour armchairs near by. “Now
tell me the ‘important thing’ you came about while
I finish my coffee.”

Billie made poor work of her story at first, for
she was still wondering how she had ever had the
courage to approach Miss Walters in the privacy
of her sanctum sanctorum, but as she went on she
became less self-conscious and was encouraged by
Miss Walters’ unfeigned interest.

And when, at the end of the recital, Miss Walters
reached over and patted her hand and told her she
had been quite right in coming to her as she had,
Billie was in the seventh heaven of delight.

“With poverty behind them, fortune and comfort
ahead, and then again, desolation!” Miss Walters
mused, talking more to herself than Billie.
“How the human mind can stand up under the strain
is a mystery to me. Poor, starving little mites and
pitiful, noble mother, fighting for her young with the
only weapons she has. Lucky mother to have come
to the notice of a girl like you, Billie Bradley,”
she added, turning upon Billie so warm and bright
a smile that the girl’s heart swelled with pride and
adoration.

“Then you will let us help the Haddons?” she
asked breathlessly.

“More than that,” smiled Miss Walters. “I will
*help* you to help them. I think it is too late to
follow out your plan of taking them something to-night.”
But she added as she saw Billie’s bright
face fall: “But we will pack a basket full to the
brim with good things early to-morrow morning and
you and Laura and Violet may take them to the
cottage after breakfast. Only, you must walk
around the lake. I could not take the chance of
your skating after what happened this afternoon.”

Billie stammered out some incoherent words of
thanks, Miss Walters patted her cheek, and in another
moment she found herself standing outside in
the hall in a sort of happy daze.

A girl passed her, eyed her curiously, went on a
few steps and then came back. It was Eliza Dilks.

“In Miss Walters’ room at night,” said the sneering
voice that Billie knew only too well. “No wonder
you get away with everything—teacher’s pet.”

Billie started to retort angrily, but knowing that
silence was the very worst punishment one could inflict
upon Eliza she merely shrugged her shoulders,
turned up her straight little nose as far as it would
go and walked off, leaving Eliza fuming helplessly.

When Billie reached the dormitory she found the
girls waiting for her in an agitated group. There
was not one of them who would have dared to approach
Miss Walters after school hours unless it
had been about a matter of life and death importance,
and they had more than half expected that
Billie would be carried back on a stretcher.

When they found out what had really happened
they welcomed Billie as a hero should be welcomed.
They lifted her on their shoulders and carried her
round the dormitory, chanting school songs till a
warning hiss from one of the girls near the door
sent them scuttling. By the time Miss Arbuckle
reached the dormitory, they were bent decorously
over their text-books, seeking what knowledge they
might discover!

Next morning, true to her word, Miss Walters
herself superintended the packing of an immense
basket with all the dainties at her command. There
were chicken and roast beef sandwiches, half of a
leg of lamb, two or three different kinds of jelly,
some rice pudding left over from the night before,
a big slab of cake, two quarts of fresh milk, and
some beef tea made especially for the Haddons.

And the girls, feeling more important than they
had ever felt before in their lives, marched off after
breakfast, during school hours—Miss Walters having
personally excused them from class—joyfully
bent upon playing the good Samaritan.

“I never knew,” said Laura, as if she were making
a great discovery, “that it could make you so happy
to be kind to somebody else!”

CHAPTER VI—TROUBLE
==================

It was the girls’ intention at first to leave the
hamper of good things before the Haddons’ door so
that Mrs. Haddon would have no chance of refusing
the gift through pride.

But when they came to the little cottage after half
an hour of steady walking, they found to their dismay
that Fate had taken a hand and spoiled all their plans.

For Mrs. Haddon herself, a shawl over her head
and looking even more worried and anxious than
she had when they had seen her before, rounded the
corner of the house and met them just as they
reached the door.

For a moment the girls had a panicky impulse to
drop the basket and run, but on second thought they
decided that that would be just about the worst thing
they could possibly do. And while they were trying
to think up something to say, Mrs. Haddon took
the whole situation entirely out of their hands.

At first she did not seem to recognize them, but
the next instant her face lighted up with relief and
she opened the door of the cottage, beckoning them
to enter.

“Just stay here in the kitchen a minute where it’s
warm,” she directed them in a strained tone, and
before the girls had time to draw their breath she
had disappeared from the room, leaving the classmates
alone.

“Now we’ve gone and spilled the beans,” whispered
slangy Laura, eyeing the blameless hamper
disapprovingly as she warmed her chilled hands before
the stove. “I don’t suppose she will touch a
thing now, and after we went and walked all this
way, and everything, too——”

“Sh-h,” cautioned Billie, a hand to her lips.
“She’s coming back.”

At that moment Mrs. Haddon did indeed come
back into the kitchen. She closed the door very
gently behind her and then came quickly toward the
girls.

“Listen,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t know
who sent you, just now. Maybe it was God.” She
caught her breath on the words and the girls regarded
her wonderingly and a little fearfully. For
goodness’ sake! *what* was she talking about?

“Anyway, you’ve come,” went on the woman,
swiftly. “And if you want to, you can do me a great
favor.”

“What is it?” they asked together.

“Run for the nearest doctor, one of you—or all
of you,” said the woman, her words stumbling over
one another in her agitation. “Peter, my little boy,
is sick. If I don’t have a doctor very soon, he may
die.”

“Oh, where is the nearest doctor?” asked Billie,
breathlessly, her eyes big with sympathy. “Tell me
and I’ll go.”

“Half a mile down the road!” said the woman.
“Dr. Ramsey! In the big white house! These are
his office hours. He should be at home. I just
went to a neighbor’s, but she was not at home and
I could not go myself. Peter would have been
alone——”

“I’ll go, and I’ll have him back here in half an
hour,” promised Billie, running to the door as she
spoke. But Laura grabbed her skirt and held on
to it.

“No, you stay here. I’ll go,” she said, thinking
desperately of the food hamper and fearing that if
Billie went for the doctor she would probably have
to explain their mission.

“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Vi, with the same
thought in mind, and before Billie could do more
than blink, her two chums had flashed through the
door, closing it with a sharp little click behind them.
Then it opened again for an instant and Laura put
her pretty head inside.

“You always could explain things so much better
than the rest of us, Billie,” she said, by way of
excuse, it is to be supposed—and then the door closed
again.

It was good for Billie at that moment that she
had been blessed with a sense of humor. Otherwise,
she might have been a little put out.

As it was, she took it as a joke on her and turned
back resignedly to her task of telling why they had
come to proud Polly Haddon.

The latter was pacing the floor anxiously. Then,
as a little moan came from the next room, she flew
to the patient, leaving Billie entirely alone.

The latter regarded the hamper uncertainly for
a moment, then, with a sigh, she lifted it from the
floor to the rickety kitchen table.

“I’ll let her see all the good things first,” she
decided wisely, as she removed the cover from the
basket, exposing to view its inviting contents.
“Then maybe she’ll be too busy looking at them to
be angry.”

So busy was she that she did not hear Mrs.
Haddon reënter the room. Neither did she know
that the latter was staring unbelievingly over her
shoulder till a slight exclamation of wonder made
her start and whirl round suddenly.

“Where did you get all that?” asked the woman,
her eyes still fixed on the contents of the basket.
“And what is it for?”

“It’s—it’s for you—if you will take it, please,”
stammered Billie, in her surprise and confusion saying
what came first to her mind. “We—we thought
maybe—maybe the kiddies would like the beef tea
and milk and—and—things——” she finished
weakly, thinking resentfully that the girls, or one
of them anyway, might have stayed and helped her
out.

But after all, she need not have worried. For an
instant the look that Billie had expected and dreaded
flared into Polly Haddon’s eyes—a look of outraged
pride. But then the woman thought of the
children—and she had no pride.

“You said you brought some beef tea?” she repeated,
bending eagerly over the basket. “And milk?”

“Two quarts of milk,” cried Billie, joyfully, the
relief she felt singing in her voice. “And we made
the beef tea fresh this morning. Why—why—what’s
the matter?”

For Polly Haddon’s black eyes had filled with
tears and she had turned away impatiently to hide
them. Beneath the worn old shawl, her thin shoulders
shook in an effort to suppress her hysterical
sobs.

Then Billie ran to her and put her young arms
around her and Polly Haddon, who had struggled
so long and so bravely alone, clung to the girl hungrily
while she fought for self-control.

“It’s so long!” she said huskily, “so long since
any one did anything for us—for my babies——”
Her voice broke, and for a minute she just clung to
Billie and let tears wash some of the bitterness from
her heart. Then she straightened up suddenly, wiped
the tears from her eyes with a handkerchief that
Billie had slipped into her hand, and holding the
girl off at arm’s length regarded her intently.

“It seems,” said the woman softly, while Billie
looked up at her out of clear, grave eyes, “that when
things get as bad as they can be the Lord sends somebody
to help. This time he sent you. Hark!
What’s that?”

It was only the restless turning of a feverish little
body in bed, but the mother was instantly alert.

“The beef tea!” she directed, and Billie quickly
handed her one of the bottles. “He has had hardly
any real nourishment since day before yesterday,”
Polly Haddon went on as she poured the liquid
into one of the pans on the stove and sniffed of it
hungrily. “Strong beef tea is just what the little
fellow needs.”

Billie wondered while she watched Mrs. Haddon
with pitying eyes. No nourishment for almost two
days! Why, if they had not come the children might
have starved to death!

“Where are the two little girls?” she asked, remembering
suddenly that she had seen no sign of
them.

Mrs. Haddon said nothing for so long that Billie
began to think she had not heard her question. Then
the woman turned and faced the girl, holding a
steaming cup of beef broth in her hand.

“I’ve kept them in bed, too,” she said. “I was
afraid they had caught cold, and then, too—one
feels less hungry if one doesn’t move about.”

Then abruptly she turned and once more left the
room. Billie would have followed, but the thought
that perhaps Polly Haddon would not wish her to
held her back. The woman had accepted the food
for her children’s sake, because they were practically
starving. But in spite of that she was very proud.
Perhaps she would not wish to have Billie see the
poverty-stricken bareness of the rooms beyond. So
Billie stayed in the kitchen and waited.

Her eyes strayed nervously to an alarm clock that
ticked away on a shelf over the sink. She wished the
girls would come with the doctor. If little Peter
was as sick as his mother thought he was, every
minute might be precious. And besides that, they
must get back to school.

Then she heard the girls’ voices mingled with the
gruff tones of a man—the doctor, of course—and
her heart jumped with relief. The next moment the
door was flung open and Laura and Vi came in,
followed by an immense man who seemed to completely
fill the narrow doorway. Then Polly Haddon
appeared in the doorway between the two rooms,
an empty cup in her hand. At sight of the doctor
she set down the cup and motioned him eagerly into
the other room.

The latter glanced curiously at Billie, flung his
hat on the kitchen table in passing, and disappeared
with Mrs. Haddon into the sick room.

“Just luck that we happened to catch the doctor
on his way out,” panted Laura, for the big man had
hustled the girls back to the cottage on a run. “Say,
Billie,” she added, her eyes lighting on the opened
hamper, “I see you did the trick. Any bones
broken?”

“Tell us about it,” begged Vi.

“I’ll tell you on the way home,” said Billie, her
eye once more on the clock. “Miss Walters told us
not to stay long, you know. We were to come right
back.”

“Gracious, look at the time!” cried Laura, in
consternation, following Billie’s eyes to the clock.
“Miss Walters will think we have eloped.”

“I wish we could wait and see what the doctor
says,” protested Vi, hanging back, and just then
Billie raised a warning finger.

“Listen,” she said.

The doctor had raised his voice for a moment and
his words came clearly to the girls where they stood
near the door.

“The boy is very sick, Mrs. Haddon,” he said.
“It will take good nursing to pull him through and
plenty of nourishing food.” He lowered his voice
again and the rest of what he said was lost in a
meaningless murmur.

In the kitchen the girls stared at each other.

“Plenty of nourishing food,” whispered Billie.
“Where is he going to get it?”

“I guess,” said Laura, as she opened the door,
“it is up to us!”

CHAPTER VII—SETTLING A SCORE
============================

The girls walked back to school in a rather
thoughtful frame of mind. They were sorry for
poor Mrs. Haddon, and they were worried about
little Peter.

“The sandwiches and milk and things that we
brought this morning will last them a little while,”
Billie said. “But I don’t suppose Miss Walters
would want us to take them food every morning.”

“Oh, and that reminds me!” cried Laura. “You
haven’t told us yet what happened after we ran for
the doctor and left you alone with Mrs. Haddon.”

“There isn’t very much to tell,” said Billie. “She
didn’t want to touch the basket at first, but when she
thought of the kiddies she changed her mind. She
said that the children hadn’t had any real nourishing
food since the day before yesterday.”

The girls were silent for a moment, letting this
last remark of Billie’s sink in. Then it was Billie
who broke the silence.

“I wonder,” she said, “how they have ever managed
to get along up to this time. They must have
had something to live on.”

“Why,” said Vi, wrinkling her forehead thoughtfully,
“the doctor said something about Mrs. Haddon
having to give up her work because of ill health.
Didn’t he, Laura?”

“Yes,” said Laura, stuffing her hands deeper into
her pockets. “He seems dreadfully sorry about
poor little Peter. I heard him mumble something
about troubles always coming in a heap.”

“Oh,” said Billie, with a big long sigh, “if somebody
could only stumble across those inventions
someway or other! Then we could all be happy
again.”

For a moment her classmates stared at Billie
blankly. They had all but forgotten about the invention.
Somehow, Mrs. Haddon’s tale of a nearly
won fortune had seemed unreal and vague to them—almost
like a fairy story. And now here was
Billie bringing it all up again and even talking about
finding that knitting machine model!

“If it doesn’t always take you to think up impossible
things, Billie Bradley,” said Vi.

“Just the same,” Laura spoke up unexpectedly,
“you must admit that lots of times Billie has done
what we would think was impossible to do.”

“Goodness, have you got ’em, too?” asked Vi,
with a giggle. “We all know Billie’s a wonder, but
I don’t think she is going to find an invention that
has been missing for a long time. Probably it
wouldn’t be any good, anyway. All rusted and
everything.”

“That wouldn’t make any difference,” Billie
pointed out promptly. “As long as they had the
model to copy from they could make any number of
new machines just like it.”

“All right, rave on, Macduff!” cried Laura, who
was just beginning to read Shakespeare and who
annoyed the other girls by insisting upon quoting
him—incorrectly—upon all occasions. “If you can
find this old thing and get a fortune out of it for
Mrs. Haddon and the kiddies and twenty thousand
nice little dollars for yourself, honey, nobody’ll be
gladder than me.”

“I,” corrected Violet sternly. “Don’t you know
me is bad grammar?”

“Well, me’s a bad girl,” said Laura irrepressibly,
and the girls giggled.

A few minutes later they came within sight of
the school and found to their dismay that it was
lunch hour.

“Do you mean to say we have been gone all
morning?” cried Laura, stopping short at the familiar
sight of the girls pouring out on the campus
for a breath of air before their studies should commence
again. “Goodness, Miss Walters will murder
us.”

“Oh, come on,” cried Billie, hurrying the girls
along. “Haven’t we been on an errand of mercy—and
everything? She can’t kill us for that, even if
we were a long time about it.”

Greetings and laughing gibes were flung at the
girls as they hurried across the snow-covered campus,
but they did not stop to answer. They wanted
to see Miss Walters, explain why they were so late,
and get a bite of something to eat before the afternoon
classes began.

They had almost reached the door when a voice
called to Billie from overhead. She looked up unsuspectingly
and received an avalanche of snow right
in the face, almost blinding her and sending her
staggering back against her chums.

Sputtering and choking, she dashed the snow from
her eyes and looked up to see who had done such a
mean thing. There at a window just over her head
was the grinning face of Amanda Peabody. In a
flash Billie realized that it had been Amanda who
had pushed the snow from the window ledge upon
her.

“Want some more?” asked that disagreeable person
in response to Billie’s stare. “There’s just a
little bit left,” and she made a gesture as if to push
the rest of the snow from the windowsill down upon
Billie’s upturned face.

But Billie did not wait to see whether she would
really have done it. With a cry she made for the
door of the school, pushing through a group of the
girls who had gathered at the first sign of a fracas.
Laura and Vi followed, fuming.

As usual, instead of staying and facing the consequences
of her own deeds, Amanda tried to get
away. But Billie was too quick for her. The
former reached the door of the room just as
Amanda darted through it, bent upon escape.

Her eyes blazing, Billie seized the girl’s arm and
hurried her through the hall, Laura and Vi assisting,
and a delighted crowd following close behind.

“You let me go—you big cowards, you!” spluttered
Amanda, almost crying with rage and fright.
“You let me go, Billie Bradley! I’ll tell Miss Walters.”

“Go ahead and tell Miss Walters, you miserable
sneak!” cried Billie, giving the girl a contemptuous
shake. “But you won’t tell her till I’m through with
you.”

“What are you going to do?” whined Amanda,
too scared now even to bluster. “I won’t do it
again, honest I won’t. Only let me go.”

“Don’t you do it, Billie,” cried one of the girls in
the following crowd. “Don’t let her off so easy.”

But Billie had no intention of letting her enemy
off easily. Having now reached the outside door,
she shoved it open, at the same time motioning to
Vi and Laura to let go of Amanda.

Then she dragged the whimpering, whining girl
over to a spot where the wind had formed the snow
into a small drift. Into this she flung the protesting
girl, and the next instant was upon her, washing
her face with the snow, and it is safe to say that
no girl ever had her face so thoroughly washed before.
And the crowd of girls behind Billie cheered
her on gleefully.

There is no telling just how long Billie might have
kept it up, for she was enjoying herself immensely,
if Laura had not brought her to her senses. The
latter leaned down, took a firm grip of the belt on
Billie’s coat and jerked her to her feet.

“Better let her go,” she warned. “We will have
Miss Walters or one of the teachers out here in a
minute. Come on, Billie. She’s had enough.”

So Billie reluctantly stepped back while Amanda
picked herself out of the snow, wiped her red and
dripping face on her sleeve, and pushed through the
laughing, mocking crowd of girls toward the school.

She stopped just before she reached the door,
however, and faced her tormentors, her face distorted
with rage.

“You think you’re smart, all of you!” she cried
furiously, then added, as her eyes fell on Billie, who
had drawn a handkerchief from her pocket and was
wiping her hands carefully. “And you, Billie Bradley,
standing there grinning! Some day I’ll make
you grin out of the other side of your mouth. Just
wait!”

“Would you like your face washed again?” Billie
demanded, darting forward threateningly. “Come
on, let’s get it over with——”

But Amanda did not wait for the threat to be
carried out. She scuttled precipitately into the Hall
amid delighted giggles from the girls.

Amanda, fairly choking with rage at the laughter,
stopped and shook her fist in the direction of it.
Then, with all sorts of plans in her heart for “getting
even,” she went on toward the dormitory.

CHAPTER VIII—JUST LIKE BILLIE!
==============================

Several days followed during which the girls
settled down earnestly to their studies. For scholarship
was held very high at Three Towers Hall, and
any one who did not stand well in class was apt to
find herself not only in ill favor with the teachers
but with the students as well.

The girls had reported to Miss Walters the result
of their visit to Polly Haddon, and the principal
had seemed unusually interested and sympathetic.

“Now that you girls have taken the Haddon family
under your wing,” she had said, smiling at the
chums, “I think we shall have to see the thing
through—at least until the mother is strong enough
to begin work again. But in the meantime,” she
had added, with a nod of the head that meant
dismissal, “I don’t want interest in the Haddon family
to make my girls neglect their studies. I expect
great things of you this year.”

And so the girls, “feeling warm all over,” as
they always did after a talk with Miss Walters, went
back to their work, confident in the thought that the
Haddons would not be left to starve, at least.

“Saturday we will go over ourselves and see how
little Peter is,” said Billie, as, pencil in hand, she
prepared to wade into a geometry problem. “Listen,
Laura,” she added, looking up at her friend
hopefully, “if you will help me with this geometry
I’ll coach you in history. Is it a go?”

Laura declared it was a “go,” and so they settled
down to work. But no amount of work could keep
their thoughts from straying time and again to the
Haddon family and the mystery of the stolen invention.

As the girls who have read the former adventures
of Billie Bradley already know, Billie and her chums
had been admitted to the “Ghost Club,” a secret society
to which only the most popular girls and those
who stood highest in their studies were admitted.

The membership had never exceeded fifteen, for
the girls knew that to have too large a membership
would only cheapen the club. Rose Belser was the
president of it, and Connie Danvers and several
other of the girls’ good friends were members.
Caroline Brant had been asked to join long before,
but had refused because she thought it would take
too much time from her studies.

Last year’s Commencement had taken two of the
club’s members, so that now the girls were watching
the freshmen for good material. They were very
careful in choosing, however, for it was far easier
to get members into the club than it was to get them
out.

The club was to have its first real meeting in two
weeks, and it was at that meeting that the names of
prospective members were to be tentatively submitted
to the president. After that, a period of close
watching, and then—the fun of initiations.

But first came news that ran through the Hall like
wildfire. Some of the boys from Boxton Military
Academy were coming over to the big hill behind
the Three Towers Hall for the first real sledding of
the year, and they had invited as many of the girls
as they knew—and their friends—to meet them
there.

Chet and Teddy and Ferd were coming over, of
course, and as the day approached, anticipation grew
accordingly until the girls could think and talk of
nothing but the fun they were going to have.

“I wonder if Teddy will bring Paul Martinson
with him,” said Vi, after trying vainly for half an
hour to fix her mind on an essay she must hand in
the next morning. “He’s ever so much fun, don’t
you think?”

It was in Paul Martinson’s motor boat, which he
had named the *Shelling* in honor of Captain Shelling,
who was master of the Military Academy, that the
boys had visited the girls on Lighthouse Island the
summer before.

Paul Martinson was a splendid-looking, fine boy
whom all the girls liked—Rose Belser, in particular—but
who, himself, seemed to prefer Billie. Like
Teddy, Paul thought that Billie was the “very best
sport” he knew, and declared that “a fellow can
have more fun with her any day than he can with
another boy.”

Of course Teddy did not like this a bit. Having
known Billie practically all his life, he naturally felt
that he should have first right to her. And so there
was a good-natured rivalry between the boys that
amused Billie and Vi and Laura and rather piqued
Rose Belser and Connie Danvers and some of the
other girls at the school, who thought that Billie
had more than her share.

“For,” as Connie declared once to a sympathetic
group of girls, “it’s ever so much more fun to be
paddled around in a canoe by a boy than to have to
paddle yourself, and it’s lots of fun to skate with
them because they fairly haul you along. And here
when we haven’t nearly enough to go around, Billie
goes and takes two of the nicest ones. She’s a
darling, of course, but I think she might be content
with one!”

And so when Vi had happened to mention innocently
that Paul was ever so much fun, Rose
Belser, who was preparing for a botany quiz at the
other end of the room, looked up and made a face
at her.

“How do we know whether he’s any fun or not?”
she said. “You had better ask Billie.”

But Billie was too busy studying so that she might
be free for the next day’s fun to hear, and Rose’s
shot was lost.

As though autumn had regretted giving way to
winter so soon, it had been unexpectedly warm that
day and the girls had worried for fear a thaw might
spoil their sledding. But a cold wind rose in the
night and the morning dawned clear and cold enough
to suit even them.

As soon as breakfast was over the coasters donned
sweaters and caps and mufflers and ran down into
the storeroom next the gymnasium to get their
sleds. Then up once more and out into the bright
morning sunshine, their cheeks glowing with health
and their eyes sparkling with anticipation of the fun
ahead of them!

There were twenty-five of them in all, but as they
filed out of the side door of the school they looked
like a small army.

“Isn’t it funny,” giggled Laura to Billie, “how
many more of the girls turn out when they know
the boys are going to be there?”

“It’s sad but true,” admitted Billie, with an answering
chuckle. “After that first heavy snowfall
when we said something about an all-girls’ sledding
party, they didn’t seem awfully anxious about it.
Said it was too early in the season and they hated
dragging sleds up the hill.”

“Now I suppose they will expect the boys to do
the dragging,” laughed Vi.

When they had climbed almost to the top of the
hill that made such a fine toboggan they heard the
sound of boys’ voices.

“Goodness, they must have started before breakfast,”
said Connie Danvers, who was puffing with
the effort to get her plump little body and her heavy
sled up the steep incline. “Say, give me a lift, will
you, Billie? This hill is so slippery.”

“You mean that you’re getting too fat,” said
Laura wickedly, as she reached over and grabbed
Connie’s line. “I told you you were eating too much
candy.”

Billie reached the top of the hill first and with
dancing eyes she looked down at the long, steep, ice-covered
incline. The slight thaw of the day before
had been the one thing needed to perfect the sledding.
For the surface of the snow had melted, then frozen
over again, forming a solid coat of ice.

As she took this all in gleefully, the first of the
boys emerged from the trees at the foot of the hill
and an impish impulse seized her.

With a shout of warning she pulled up her sled,
flung herself upon it, gave a little push, and was off!
Down the hill she hurtled at a terrific rate of speed,
the glaze of ice forming almost no resistance to her
flight.

Taken by surprise, the boys had no more than
time to get out of the way before she literally
dropped among them.

She swung off to the right, where an abrupt rise
of ice-covered ground checked her speed, and, after
almost reaching the top of this small hill, the back
runners of the sled were caught in the ice and she
was tumbled head over heels, to land in an undignified
heap at the boys’ feet.

Then she sat up, rubbed her head and smiled at
them gleefully.

“I went some that time, didn’t I?” she said.

“Yes, and you might have broken your neck, too,”
said Teddy, in an awfully gruff voice, as he took
both her hands and pulled her to her feet. The other
boys were looking on in admiration at Billie’s feat.
“Don’t you know you should never have taken that
turn to the right? That hill’s too steep.”

“I know it is—*now*,” said Billie ruefully, feeling,
for the first time the horrible suspicion that she had
skinned her knee.

“You should have taken one of these paths,”
spoke up Chet, pushing his way through the crowd
of boys and regarding Billie sternly, as an older
brother should. “I thought you knew that.”

“Of course I know that,” returned Billie, mimicking
Chet’s tone to perfection. “But will you please
tell me how I could take either one of the paths when
both of them were chock full of boys?”

The paths about which they spoke branched off
from the foot of the hill. One had been an old
wagon road which had become overgrown with
bushes and stubble and the other was only a foot
path. Nevertheless, either one was wide enough
to permit easily a sled to pass through and the
ground was level for a long enough distance to allow
the sleds to come to an easy standstill.

From the top of the hill the girls had been watching
Billie’s escapade, and now as she started with
the boys up the long slope they looked at one another,
smiling.

“Goodness, there she goes again!” sighed Connie
plaintively. “She isn’t satisfied with two of the
boys any more. Now she has the whole crowd of
them!”

CHAPTER IX—INTO SPACE
=====================

For a glorious hour the girls and boys enjoyed
what was to them the best sledding of their lives.
They coasted down the hill and dragged their sleds
up again, shouting and calling to each other while
their cheeks and, it must be admitted, sometimes
their noses, too, glowed with the sting of the sharp
wind and they had to stamp hard on the frozen
ground to keep their toes from freezing.

“The best sport ever!” cried Paul.

“All to the merry,” came from Chet. “What do
you say, girls?” and he turned to Billie and her
classmates.

What did they say? All shouted at once that such
fine sport couldn’t possibly be beaten.

“Can’t be beat!” sang out Chet gaily. “Just like
old Ma Jackson’s rag carpet.”

“Ma Jackson’s rag carpet? What do you mean?”
asked Laura.

“She couldn’t beat it for fear it would fall apart,”
was the sly reply. And then the merry lad had to
dodge a hard chunk of snow Laura threw at him.

“Burr-r! isn’t it cold?” cried Billie, taking a mitten
from one of her hands and blowing on her
numbed fingers. “I’d never know what it was to
feel cold if it weren’t for my fingers and toes.
Teddy! Stop your pushing! What do you want
now?”

For Teddy had seized her by the shoulders and
had sat her firmly down upon his big bobsled.

“You’ve let Paul Martinson take you down three
times to my once,” he accused her, while he settled
himself comfortably behind her on the sled. “And
now it’s my turn. Hey, look out there, you fellows—we’re
off!”

And before the astonished Billie could do more
than utter a giggling protest, they were indeed “off,”
flying down the ice-glazed hill at a rate that took her
breath away.

“Some speed, eh?” chortled Teddy in her ear.
“This old boat of mine has got ’em all beat. I bet
we could race them all to a standstill.”

“Why don’t we try?” Billie yelled back at him.
“It would be lots of fun. Oh, Teddy, look out!”
she shrieked, for they had reached the foot of the
hill and Teddy had skimmed so close to the trunk of
a tree that Billie afterward declared they had scraped
off a piece of bark.

“Don’t worry,” Teddy said, reassuringly. “Nothing’s
going to happen to you when you’re with your
uncle Ted.”

At which remark Billie could not help giggling to
herself. “Boys did think they were so awfully
much!” Then suddenly she cried out:

“Teddy, that’s the wrong path! We have never
been down it before.”

“That’s why I’m trying it,” said Teddy recklessly,
as he swung down the strange path that ran
at right angles to the one they were on. “The
ground slopes, too, so we ought to have some more
fun.”

Billie said nothing. She would not for the life
of her have Teddy guess that she was afraid. They
had never been down that path before, because never
before had a sled had momentum enough to carry it
that far.

And the ground was sloping more and more and
the sled was going faster and faster with each second.
The path was by no means straight, either, and
if Teddy had not been pretty good at keeping his
head they would most surely have run into something
and have had a nasty spill.

“Oh, Teddy, can’t we stop?” asked Billie at last,
unable to keep her fright all to herself. “We don’t
know where this leads to. Can’t you stop, Teddy?”

“Not very well,” answered the boy uneasily. “We
will surely run on to level ground in a minute.
Don’t worry.”

But even as he spoke he jerked the sled around
a sudden turn in the path and they came, apparently,
to the end of the world. With a nasty little scraping
sound the sled dived off into nothingness!

It all happened so suddenly that Billie did not
have even time enough to scream. She had a sickening
feeling of falling through space, and then she
struck something—something that yielded, luckily,
under her weight, and she sank, down, down, down,
coming to rest at last in a world where everything
was white and slippery and cold—oh, *so* cold.

She must have lost consciousness for a minute,
for when she came to herself again in this strange
new world she heard somebody calling her name
wildly and a moment later Santa Claus poked his
head over a snowbank and peered down at her.

At least, she thought at first it was Santa Claus,
because his face was so very red and the snow was
clinging to his fuzzy cap in such a funny manner.

But in a moment more she realized her mistake,
for the red face and the funny hat disappeared and
in their place were shoved two legs that she was
very sure belonged to Teddy. And in a moment
more Teddy himself slid down beside her.

“Hello,” she greeted him with a smile. “I thought
you were Santa Claus. Why weren’t you?”

Teddy stared at her for a minute, anxiously.

“I say,” he cried, taking one of her hands and
rubbing it gently. “I guess that loop the loop of
ours knocked you silly.”

“I’m always silly,” was Billie’s amazing reply, as
she sat up and began feeling herself all over carefully.
“But it certainly did knock me!”

“Are you all right?” demanded Teddy, watching
her as she stretched out first one leg and then the
other. “You didn’t break anything, did you?”

“Nothing but my dignity,” she answered, with a
giggle that brought an answering grin from the boy.
“Teddy,” she demanded, turning to him suddenly,
“what did happen, anyway?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, except that we came to
the end of that path and jumped off,” answered
Teddy, feeling gingerly of his forehead on which
Billie could see that a large purple lump was beginning
to swell. “If I had had a chance to see what
was coming I could have rolled off the sled and
pulled you with me. But that turn in the road
brought us right on top of it. It’s a sort of precipice,
I guess,” he went on to explain, while Billie
eyed with sympathy the swelling lump on his forehead.
“It’s about fifteen feet high, I think, and if
there hadn’t been snow on the ground we surely
would have got hurt.”

“If there hadn’t been snow on the ground, we
wouldn’t have been sledding,” Billie pointed out,
adding, so unexpectedly as to make Teddy jump:
“Who hit you?”

“Wh—what?” he gasped. Then seeing that her
eyes were fixed on the bump that he was still fingering
gingerly, Teddy’s face grew redder than it already was,
if such a thing were possible, and his
hand fell quickly to his side. “Oh, that!” he said,
loftily, as if it were nothing at all. “I guess the
runner of the sled gave me a whack just as we
dumped over. It doesn’t hurt, though. Not a bit.”

“I bet it does, too,” said Billie, as the boy pulled
his cap down tight over the tell-tale spot. “Where is
the sled, Teddy?” she added.

“Out there, somewhere, sticking in a drift,” answered
the boy. “I didn’t have time to pull it out
because I thought you had been killed or something
and I had to come to look for you.”

“Thanks,” she laughed at him. Then her face
became suddenly serious, and she struggled to her
feet, trying to brush off the snow that seemed to
cover her from head to foot. “How are we going
to get out of this, Teddy?” she asked, looking at
him seriously.

“Ask me an easy one,” he returned, his good-looking
face extremely anxious and puzzled. “The
snow is awfully deep, and I don’t believe we could
ever get up to that path again. It would take us
a couple of hours to go around, and besides, I’m not
sure just how to go.”

“In other words,” said Billie, trying her best to
speak gayly while her heart sank at this unusually
long speech of Teddy’s, “we’re lost, aren’t we?”

“I guess it amounts to that,” Teddy answered
soberly, and for a long minute they just stood staring
at each other.

Then Billie gave herself an impatient little shake.

“Help me out of this,” she said, as she tried to
push through the heavy snow that seemed to press
in upon her from every side. “I’d like to have a
look around, anyway.”

She found that even with Teddy’s help it was
no easy task to clamber out of the snowdrift that
she had fallen into, and both she and the boy were
panting with exertion when they had finally managed
to get out into the open.

Even there they stood up to their waists in the
clinging snow, and Billie, looking desolately out
over the white expanse, began to realize that she
was very, very cold.

“There’s the sled,” said Teddy, pointing to two
runners sticking out of the snow and marking the
spot where the sled had struck. “Wait here and
I’ll get it.”

Billie watched him as he struggled through the
drifts, and suddenly she was aware of an overwhelming
desire to sit down where she was and cry.

“But that wouldn’t do any good,” she told herself
sharply, “even if this place does look more
lonely than a desert. If we don’t get where it’s
warm pretty soon we’ll turn into icicles ourselves, I
guess.”

The wind had become stronger and more biting,
and Billie’s teeth had begun to chatter. She was
glad when Teddy floundered back to her, the rope
of his sled looped over one arm. He slipped the
other arm through hers protectingly.

“We’ll find a way out of this soon,” he said, comfortingly.
“You just watch your uncle Teddy.”

Billie tried to laugh but she could not, her teeth
were chattering so.

“You said that before,” she told him hysterically.
“And we—we—went over the cliff!”

CHAPTER X—THE CAVE
==================

The next minute Billie was sorry for what she
had said. Teddy’s face clouded over and he looked
at her unhappily.

“You ought to know that I didn’t get you into this
on purpose,” he muttered.

“Oh, Teddy, d-dear, I didn’t mean it, you know
I d-didn’t,” she stammered, trying hard to control
the chattering of her teeth. “I’m a bad, mean, horrid
girl. T-truly I didn’t mean it,” and she put her
cold little hand penitently over his great big one.

“I know you didn’t,” said Teddy, his face clearing
instantly. “You’re cold and tired and all upset.
Poor little kid, I wish I could do all the
*feeling*.”

“Well, I’m glad you can’t,” said Billie, snuggling
up close to him for warmth. “For you have troubles
enough of your own. Teddy!” She drew up suddenly
and stared at an object that caught her eye.
“What is that thing over there that looks like a
tangle of twigs and leaves? No, not that way.
Over there—to the left.”

Teddy followed the direction of her pointing finger
and his face lighted up with excitement. The
“tangle of twigs and branches,” as Billie had described
it, was close to the side of the fifteen-foot
“precipice” over which he and Billie had plunged
a little while before.

The fact that the branches were not covered with
snow certainly looked as if they had been put there
rather recently in a crude effort to hide the entrance
to something—perhaps a cave.

“That’s worth having a look at,” he said, jerking
the sled up to him and tightening his hold on Billie’s
arm. “Can you make it, Billie? The snow seems
to be deeper over this way.”

“Oh, I can make it all right,” answered Billie,
stoutly, as she clenched her teeth and shut her eyes
and floundered on through the clinging snow. “I
guess I’ve got to make it!” she added, to herself.

They had almost reached their goal when suddenly
they stepped into a hole hidden by the snow and
sank down in the icy whiteness until Billie was
almost up to her neck.

“Gosh,” cried Teddy, as he struggled out to
higher ground, pulling his thoroughly frightened
companion after him, “I hope there aren’t many
more places like that around here. We’ll make it
all right, Billie. Say! you’re not crying, are you?”
he broke off, with a boy’s utter terror of tears, as
Billie dug two mittened and numbed hands into her
smarting eyes.

“No, I’m not crying,” she answered, giving him
a rather watery smile. “I’m laughing. Can’t you
see I am?”

“Poor little kid,” said Teddy for the second time
that afternoon, and the sympathy in his voice pretty
nearly did send Billie into a downpour of tears.
She was so thoroughly miserable that it was all she
could do to keep from wailing her grief aloud. But
Teddy had put one big protecting arm around her
now and was half carrying her over to that strange
object that looked so dark against the gleaming bank
of snow.

Then he let Billie go, and while she shivered by
herself he laid hold of the branches and pulled with
all his might.

“Ooh, look out!” called Billie. “There might be
a bomb or something at the other end. Oh-h!”
The queer doorway gave so easily before the boy’s
strength that he was sent staggering back against
the snowdrift and sat down in it most uncomfortably.

The next minute he was up again, had swept the
branches and twigs aside, and was examining the
exposed opening with all a boy’s eager curiosity.
Billie peered eagerly over his shoulder.

“What is it?” she asked, breathlessly.

“It’s what I thought it was—a cave,” answered
Teddy, joyfully. “Come inside, Billie. It will get
you out of the wind anyway, and give you a chance
to warm up.” He had put an arm about her again
and was pushing her forward with his usual impetuosity,
but Billie hung back.

“We don’t know what’s in there,” she protested,
but Teddy refused to listen to her.

“We don’t know and we don’t care,” he informed
her, masterfully, adding as she still hung back:
“We’ll freeze to death out there, anyway.”

“But, Ted, suppose some wild animal should be
in there? You know that bears hide in hollow trees
and caves——”

“Bears sleep most of the winter. Besides, I don’t
think there are any bears around here.”

“But there might be a—a fox, or a wildcat.”

“I’ll take a chance on that. You must remember,
the average wild beast will get out of your way if
you give it half a chance. Come on. As I said before,
if you stay out here, in this icy wind, you’ll
surely freeze to death.”

This argument appealed to her, and, with a shivering
look over her shoulder at the desert of whiteness
behind, she stepped gingerly into the blackness
of the cave.

Then with a little nervous giggle she ran back
again, got behind Teddy and pushed him before
her.

“Gentlemen first!” she said. “Anyway you’re
bigger than I am, Ted.”

So Teddy, feeling as important as a boy always
feels when he is protecting a girl that he likes,
walked boldly into the cave, stretching a hand behind
him for Billie to cling to.

“Come on, it’s all right,” he assured her. “You’ll
get used to the darkness in a minute. The snow
blinds you. Ouch! What was that?”

Billie gave a little choked scream and would have
run out into the open again, had not Teddy’s grip
on her hand prevented.

“Don’t get scared,” the boy said, and bent over
to examine whatever it was he had stubbed his toe
against. “I didn’t mean to yell like that, but, gosh,
that thing did give my toe an awful wallop! I say,
look at this!” and he held up an object that shone
wanly white against the blackness of the cave.

Billie, whose eyes had become a little accustomed
to the darkness, saw that what Teddy held looked
like an old, broken water pitcher.

“A pitcher,” she said, adding disgustedly: “And
that was what I was afraid of.”

At the entrance, this queer hole in the mountain
had been so low that the two had been forced to
stoop down to avoid knocking their heads on the
roof of it. But now, as they felt their way cautiously,
they found to their surprise that they could
stand upright. The walls also seemed to have
widened out and they realized with a thrill of excitement
that they were in a real cave, dug into the
side of the mountain.

In here it was darker than it had been at the
entrance, and they had to feel their way about cautiously
to avoid colliding with each other or the
walls of the cave.

It was surprisingly warm and snug in there also,
for the thick snow wrapped them in the warmest
and fleeciest of blankets, and the only place for old
Jack Frost to come in was the narrow entrance of
the cave.

And once assured that the owner of the cave,
whether man or animal, was at that moment not at
home, Billie began to feel a sense of exquisite comfort.
Her teeth had ceased to chatter, they were safe
from the bitter north wind, and she had Teddy to
take care of her. What more could any girl want?

As for Teddy, he had evidently found something
over in one corner of the cave that interested him
immensely. He had stumbled by accident over what
seemed to be a pile of old junk, and now he was
down on his hands and knees trying to satisfy his
curiosity by the sense of touch.

“Now aren’t I the idiot!” he exclaimed suddenly,
and Billie started at the sudden sound of his voice
in the darkness. “Here I go feeling around like a
blind man when I have some perfectly good matches
in my pocket. Come on over, Billie, and see what
I’ve found.”

Guided by the flare of a match, Billie made her
way across the cave and kneeled down beside the
boy. Then they both stared in utter amazement at
what they saw.

Heaped up carelessly in the corner was a mass of
so many and such queerly assorted articles that it
is no wonder the boy and girl were puzzled.

There was an old alarm clock, rusty with age and
disuse, a mirror, several gaudy articles of jewelry
that looked as if they might have been found in ten-cent
prize packages, a telephone receiver, a broken
fishing rod that stood lamely against the wall as
though ashamed of its own decrepit state, a sawdust
doll, an empty tin can that evidently had once contained
bait, a talcum powder box full of scented
violet talc—Billie smelled it—and—but it would
take too long to name all the strange things that
Billie and Teddy found there in the corner of the
funny little cave.

“Teddy,” murmured Billie as the boy’s match
burnt out and he struck another one, “what do you
think these things are for? Who do you suppose
owns them?”

“How should I know?” asked Teddy, getting to
his feet and looking eagerly about the place, illumined
fitfully by the flare of the match. “Somebody
comes here often, that’s a sure thing. And judging
by those things,” he waved toward the conglomeration
of junk in the corner, “he must be pretty
simple.”

“Oh, Teddy!” breathed Billie, moving closer to
him. “Suppose he should come and find us here?”

Teddy looked down at her with a grin.

“Why worry?” he asked. “Haven’t you got your
Uncle Ted?”

He had scarcely spoken when there came a terrifying
sound. It was a snarl of rage, half-animal,
half-human.

The half-burned match dropped from Teddy’s
fingers. They were in the dark.

CHAPTER XI—THE SIMPLETON
========================

Billie did not cry out. She was either too frightened
or too brave. But the next minute Teddy’s arm
had reached out and caught her to him reassuringly.

“It’s all right,” he whispered in her ear. “Just
hold tight and keep still. I’ll do the talking.”

Cautiously he drew her to the back of the cave,
and there they turned and waited for whatever was
to happen. They did not have to wait long.

Some one or something was coming into the cave.
There was a growling and muttering in the tunnel-like
entrance and the sounds increased as the intruder
came slowly nearer.

Then there came a stumbling sound, followed by
a coarse oath that made Billie clap her hands to her
ears.

“It’s a man, anyway,” Teddy whispered, adding
maliciously: “Stubbed his toe on that old pitcher, I
guess. Glad of it.”

“Oh, Teddy, hush,” whispered Billie frantically.
“He’ll hear you.”

Evidently the intruder had heard them. He
stopped short as though listening. Billie and Teddy
could distinctly hear his heavy breathing while they
held their own.

Then a hoarse, strident voice challenged them.

“Who are ye?” it cried, menacingly. “Whoever
y’are ye’ve got to git out. I’ll teach ye to go breakin’
into my cave and meddlin’ with my things. Come
out o’thet, will ye?”

For answer, Teddy lighted a match, holding it
high above his head while he studied the intruder.
The latter, evidently startled by the sudden light,
staggered back a little and flung his hand before his
eyes.

The advantage was all Teddy’s, and for a moment
it looked as though he would fling himself upon the
little man who stood cowering there. But he hesitated,
and while he hesitated the match burned out
in his fingers and they were left in the dark once
more.

“Light another match, Teddy—quick,” whispered
Billie, and he did.

This time the man lowered his hands from before
his eyes and stood blinking at them foolishly. He
was so small and so slight and so puny looking in
every way that the gruff voice with which he had
greeted them in the beginning seemed little short of
ridiculous.

And while they stared at the little man and the
little man stared at them, Teddy’s third match went
out.

“Gosh,” said he, groping in his pocket for another.
“I only hope they hold out, that’s all. I’d
hate to be left in the dark.”

He found a match and lit it rather shakily, for
the whole thing was beginning to get on his nerves.
And as the uncertain light flared out once more he
saw that their queer new friend was holding something
out to him.

“Don’t touch it,” whispered Billie at his elbow.
“It might be——”

“But it’s only a candle, Billie, and——” Teddy
was beginning when the little fellow himself interrupted
impatiently.

“Light it, light it,” he commanded, glancing nervously
over his shoulder into the spooky corners of
the cave. “Your match will be burnt out and we
will be left in the dark. The dark. I’m afraid of
the dark. Hurry, hurry!”

To Teddy and Billie at the same instant came the
startling thought that the man was a lunatic. His
looks, his voice, his manner, were all proof of it.

And while Teddy lighted the candle with his one
remaining match, Billie began to shiver wretchedly.
If only they had not found the old cave everything
would have been all right. They might even have
been home by this time. For the moment she had
forgotten how cold it was outside and that neither
she nor Teddy knew the way home.

While Teddy glanced about for some place to set
the lighted candle, she furtively studied the simpleton,
into whose hiding-place they had been unlucky
enough to stumble.

He was about twenty-one, she guessed, scarcely
more than a boy. His features were as small as his
body, his eyes little and red-rimmed and shifty, with
an expression of vacancy that made Billie’s blood
run cold. His hair, as nearly as she could tell in
the flickering light, was red.

And while Billie watched him, he watched Teddy,
and she was surprised to see his vacant eyes suddenly
fill with terror. Then, when Teddy turned
back, after setting the candle on a projecting piece
of rock, the simpleton came close to him, holding
out shaking, imploring hands.

“Have you come to take me away? Have you?”
he asked wildly, and then as Teddy still continued
to stare at him, he fell to the ground, groveling in
the dirt at the boy’s feet.

It was not a pretty sight, and with a little exclamation
of disgust, Teddy reached down, gripped the
fellow’s collar and jerked him to his feet.

“For heaven’s sake, get up,” he cried. “What’s
the matter with you, anyway? I’m not going to
hurt you.”

“You haven’t come to take me away? You won’t
put me in prison?” whined the simpleton, shaking
and trembling there before them till Billie put her
hands before her eyes to shut out the sight of him.
“I haven’t done anything! Truly I haven’t! Don’t
put me in prison. Oh, I’m afraid of the dark. I’m
afraid of the dark!”

There is no telling how much longer he might
have gone on in that manner had not Teddy put a
hand over his mouth and shaken him into silence.
Billie, cowering back against the wall, had begun
to cry.

“Now,” growled Teddy, giving one extra shake
to the whining wretch, “suppose you keep still for
a minute and try to understand what I am going to
tell you. We didn’t come into your cave to get you,
and we’re not going to hurt you if you will do what
we tell you. We’re lost, and we want to get back
to Three Towers Hall. Do you suppose you can
tell us how?”

The simpleton, relieved of his suspicion that they
had come to do him harm, became suddenly sullen.
Teddy had to repeat his question before the fellow
answered.

“I can,” he said then, “if I want to.”

Teddy was about to answer angrily, but he remembered
that he had heard somewhere that the
only way you can get anything out of a weak-minded
person is to humor him.

So he controlled his temper and said that he hoped
very much that the fellow would want to—and the
sooner the better, or words to that effect.

“What’s your name?” asked Billie suddenly. It
was the first time she had spoken, and both Teddy
and the simpleton started. The latter stared at her
a moment open-mouthed, and then his manner underwent
a bewildering change—became softer, more
normal. Evidently he had not noticed before that
she was a girl, for she had been nearly hidden behind
Teddy.

“What’s your name?” asked Billie again.

“Nick Budd, ma’am,” answered the fellow, never
taking his eyes from Billie’s pretty face. “Son of
Tim Budd, the gardener up at Three Towers Hall.”

“Oh!” cried Billie delightedly, while Teddy himself
felt immensely relieved. “Then you will show
us the way home, won’t you? We’ll be ever so much
obliged to you.”

“Yes’m,” said the poor simpleton, shuffling his
feet as though embarrassed. “I’ll show you right
away. But there’s a powerful lot o’ snow between
us and the Hall,” he added, as he turned to leave
the cave.

Teddy started to take the candle to light them out,
but the simpleton, as though he had eyes in the back
of his head, turned upon Teddy furiously.

“You let thet candle be,” he cried to the astonished
boy, while Billie shrank back in fresh alarm.
“You let thet candle be, I tell you! It’s my candle,
ain’t it?”

“Whew!” whistled Teddy, feeling a wild desire
to shout, yet afraid to do it for fear of angering
still more this poor idiot. “Yes, it’s your candle, old
man. Be sure you take good care of it. It’s very
precious.”

The simpleton stared at him suspiciously for a
moment, then turned his back and led the way out
of the cave.

“Oh, Teddy, I’m scared to death,” whispered
Billie, as the boy grabbed tight hold of her hand and
started to follow Nick Budd.

“You needn’t be,” he whispered back to her. “I
could clean up that little shrimp with one finger.”
Which observation, though extremely slangy, was
very comforting to Billie.

They found the sled outside where Teddy had
dropped it when they entered the cave, and then there
began a long, hard struggle with the snow and the
wind that the boy and girl were to remember long
afterward.

They did not talk much, for they were too busy
trying to keep up with Nick Budd as he floundered
through the snow, and breath was precious. However,
Billie did find a chance to ask the question that
had been looming bigger and bigger with each second.

“Teddy, what do you suppose the boys and girls
will think of our disappearing like that?” she asked
him.

“I suppose they’ll think we went off in an aeroplane
or something,” he answered, trying to be funny
and not succeeding very well.

“Well,” sighed Billie, “I only hope they won’t go
and say anything about it at school—not till we
get back and have a chance to explain, anyway.”

Teddy glanced at her quickly.

“Nobody would be mean enough to do that,” he
said, decidedly.

“No-o, I guess not,” agreed Billie, but in her heart
she was not at all sure. She was thinking of
Amanda Peabody.

CHAPTER XII—THE ACCUSATION
==========================

Nick Budd, plunging on in the snow ahead of
the young folks, hardly once turned his head to look
back. Evidently he had made this trip often and
was used to wading through snow half-way to his
waist, for he went so swiftly that Teddy was
winded and Billie pretty nearly worn out when they
at last reached the road.

Oh, but what a relief it was to step out on its
hard, crusty firmness after the yielding depth of
the snow in the field!

Then Nick Budd turned and addressed them for
the first time since they had left the cave behind
them.

“This here is the road thet leads to Three
Towers,” he told them, evidently in a sullen mood
again. “Jest foller straight and ye’ll git thar.” And
before either Teddy or Billie had a chance to thank
him he turned back without another word and
started to retrace his steps through the heavy snow,
leaving the two standing in the middle of the road
staring after him.

Then Billie turned wonderingly to the boy.

“Teddy, isn’t he the queerest thing?” she
breathed.

Teddy nodded.

“He sure is,” he said, soberly, adding slowly:
“I’m just wondering what made him so afraid that
we were going to put him in prison. He was scared
almost to death until we told him why we had
come.”

“But he’s a simpleton,” Billie pointed out. “Poor
thing, I don’t suppose you could count on anything
he says or does. People who aren’t ‘all there’ have
moods, don’t they?”

“Is that why you act so funny sometimes?” asked
Teddy with a grin, and Billie pouted most becomingly.

“I think you’re horrid,” she said, while Teddy’s
grin became still wider. “Come on, let’s get back.
I’m freezing to death. Don’t stand there grinning
like an ape,” she commanded, with an impatient
stamp of her foot. “You look silly.”

“Like Nick Budd?” asked Teddy good-naturedly,
and Billie had to smile. “Look here,” he added,
jerking the sled toward him and motioning to Billie
to sit on it. “We can get back much more quickly
if you let me pull you. Get aboard, Miss Billie, and
I’ll give you a regular sleighride.”

“Oh fine!” cried Billie, as she settled herself comfortably
on the big sled. “Only I’m ’fraid its rather
a long pull, Teddy. You may get tired.”

“Just watch me!” cried the boy, and galloped off
at a great rate, the sled, with Billie clinging wildly
to it, bumping and swaying over the hard and rough
road.

Meantime the other boys and girls had been considerably
alarmed by Teddy’s and Billie’s abrupt
disappearance. At first they had supposed that the
two were simply playing a trick on them and would
appear when they got good and ready.

But as time passed and nothing happened they
became worried, and even began to talk about a
search party.

“Though how they could have got lost, I don’t
know,” Laura had said to an agitated group. “They
certainly know their way about here well enough.”

“Perhaps they got lost on purpose,” said a nasal
voice, and Billie’s chums turned indignantly to face
the speaker. It was Amanda, of course, and beside
her, so close as to have earned her the title of Amanda’s
“Shadow,” stood her friend and crony, Eliza
Dilks.

Laura was about to retort furiously when Billie’s
brother Chet pushed her aside and faced Amanda.

“If you were a boy, I’d know what to do to you
for saying a thing like that,” cried the boy, such fury
in his face that Amanda was frightened. “But since
you’re a girl I’ll just tell you to lay off that line of
talk. Billie Bradley is my sister.” As Chet said
the last words proudly there was many a girl present
who would have been glad to own a brother as
loyal as Chet Bradley.

As Amanda muttered something to herself and
turned away angrily the boys and girls returned to
the discussion of Billie’s and Teddy’s mysterious
absence.

“I think,” suggested Paul Martinson, his face
looking extremely worried, “that we had better
search through the woods thoroughly in case they
are lost. Something must have happened to them
to keep them away this long.”

He had no sooner made the suggestion than it
was carried into effect, and the girls and boys scattered
through the woods in search of the two who
had disappeared.

They returned in a little while, however, dispirited
and more anxious than ever. There was an attempt
to go on with the fun in the hope that Teddy and
Billie would return in a little while to laugh at their
fears, but it was no use. The fun lagged, and finally
the girls broke up the party altogether by declaring
their intention of going back to the school.

“Billie may be at the Hall now for all we know,”
Connie said hopefully, as they started back along
the road. “She may have been cold or something
and asked Teddy to take her home.”

“Humph,” sniffed Laura, “that sounds a lot like
Billie.”

Nevertheless they did hope that, foolish as it
sounded, Billie had returned to the Hall before them.
But when they reached there and found no sign of
either her or Teddy they were puzzled and more
worried than ever.

The boys had gone on toward the Academy, and
there was not one of them who was not disturbed
in his mind. Teddy was as popular at the Academy
as Billie was at the Hall, and, besides, Billie was a
general favorite with all the lads.

“I’ll wait a little while after I get back,” Chet
told them as they tramped back silently, their sleds
skidding along behind them, “and then I’ll call up
the Hall. If Billie isn’t back by then we’ll have to
notify the police—or something.”

And at the Hall her classmates had decided to
wait a little while also before they reported Billie’s
disappearance to Miss Walters.

Probably nothing serious had happened, they
argued, and if Miss Walters were notified Billie
might have a lot of explaining to do that otherwise
she would be saved.

But as the minutes sped by and still no sign of
Billie, they fidgeted and squirmed and could set
their minds to nothing.

Then suddenly Connie Danvers rushed into the
dormitory, her eyes blazing with wrath.

“What do you suppose?” she cried, while the
girls gathered round her. “I met Caroline Brant in
the hall just now and she said that Amanda and
the ‘Shadow’ were spreading the report that Billie
and Teddy ran away on purpose.”

“Oh, the sneak! The wretched little sneak!”
cried Laura, making a dash for the door. But she
stopped suddenly and ran back to Connie. “Has she
gone to Miss Walters with that report?” she asked,
her hands working as though she longed to get hold
of Amanda.

“I don’t think so,” replied Connie. “She hasn’t
had time yet—Laura! where are you going?” for
Laura had started for the door again.

“To find Amanda, of course,” Laura cried over
her shoulder, as she flung out of the room. “I’ll
see that she doesn’t get to Miss Walters with that
report.”

“She has the right idea, girls,” said Vi excitedly.
“We mustn’t let Amanda say such things about
Billie. Why, if Miss Walters heard it, it would be
dreadful.”

“Come on then,” said Connie, adding recklessly:
“We’ll see that Amanda doesn’t squeal if we have
to gag her.”

They found Amanda and her “Shadow” haranguing
a group of the younger girls at the end of the
hall on the first floor. Billie’s champions, coming
upon the group suddenly, overheard the last of
Amanda’s speech.

“Of course her friends say that she didn’t do it
on purpose,” the girl was saying. “But I know
she did, and I’m going straight to Miss Walters and
tell her about it.”

Laura started toward the sneak, but she drew
back so suddenly as nearly to lose her balance and
had to be steadied by the girls behind her.

For a familiar figure, hidden until that moment
by the shadows about the great entrance door, suddenly
swung into the light and faced Amanda.

“Now, what you have said behind my back,” rang
out a clear voice, “you can tell me to my face!”

“It’s Billie,” gasped Laura, in joyful relief. “Say,
but she looks good to me.”

“Come on. I have a notion she may need a little
help,” said Connie, as she made her way to Billie’s
side, causing the freshmen who had been Amanda’s
audience to scatter in panic. Laura and Vi and
several others followed, but Billie did not seem to
notice them.

Her eyes were still upon Amanda. The latter,
taken by surprise, at first looked about her for some
means of escape. Then, seeing that she was cornered,
she straightened up defiantly and the usual
sneer overspread her mean features.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “I’m not afraid to tell
the truth if *you are*. Did you and Teddy Jordon
have a good time when you ran away to-day?”

“It’s false!” cried Billie furiously. “And I’ll
make you take it back!”

“What’s this? What’s this?” interrupted a cool
voice behind them, and Billie turned with tears of
rage in her eyes to face Miss Arbuckle.

“Miss Arbuckle,” she pleaded tensely, “make her
take it back—what she said about me. It isn’t true!
Oh, it isn’t true!”

CHAPTER XIII—BILLIE IS CHOSEN
=============================

Miss Arbuckle laid a kindly hand on Billie’s
shoulder and looked at Amanda inquiringly. The
latter was smiling triumphantly. Billie had done
what she had hoped she would do. She, Amanda,
would tell what in her mean little mind she really
thought was the truth, and get Billie in bad with
the powers-that-be.

“What is this that you are telling about Beatrice,
Amanda?” asked Miss Arbuckle, adding, impatient
of Amanda’s grin: “Be quick about it.”

“She and Teddy Jordon ran off together to-day
and were gone for about three hours,” she said
triumphantly. “Billie just came in.”

Billie’s eyes, black in her white, set face, looked
up at Miss Arbuckle steadily.

“I didn’t do it, Miss Arbuckle,” she said, her lip
quivering. “I—I couldn’t.”

“I know you couldn’t, Billie Bradley,” said Miss
Arbuckle, so unexpectedly that Amanda’s mouth
dropped open from sheer surprise. “There must be
some mistake.”

“But they were away together for three hours,”
Amanda repeated, angry at having this tempting
morsel of revenge snatched away from her at the
last minute. “I know it.”

“That will do, Amanda,” said Miss Arbuckle
sternly. “You have been guilty several times of
starting stories about the girls that have had absolutely
no foundation in truth. And I warn you that
if you are caught again in this mischief it may mean
serious trouble for you.

“You say,” she added turning soberly to Billie,
“that you and Teddy Jordon did *not* leave the other
boys and girls this morning?”

“Oh, yes, we did,” said Billie, so eager to explain
that her words tripped all over themselves. “Only
we didn’t do it on purpose.”

Miss Arbuckle looked grave and Amanda’s triumphant
leer returned.

“Please let me explain——” began poor Billie,
but the teacher interrupted her.

“Yes, I want you to,” she said. “Only not just
now. Come to me to-morrow morning at nine,
Billie. And I want you to be there also, Amanda.
In the meantime,” she added to the latter, “you will
make no mention of this affair in any way. Do you
understand?”

Amanda nodded sullenly and at Miss Arbuckle’s
command the small group of girls that had gathered
dispersed to their various dormitories, talking
excitedly of what had happened.

Billie was too tired and cold and worn out with
conflicting emotions to talk much at first. But
under the tireless cross-questioning of the girls she
gradually began to give them the story of her
remarkable adventure.

They were very much excited about Nick Budd
and the cave, and declared that they must visit it
and Billie must show them the way.

But Billie, who was comfortably stretched out
on her bed with Vi rubbing one half-frozen hand
and Laura the other, absolutely denied that she
would do anything of the sort.

“It sounds very interesting now,” she said. “But
I tell you I was scared to death while it lasted. I
wouldn’t go back to that place for a million dollars.
Oh, girls,” she added, stretching luxuriously, “you
don’t know how heavenly it feels just to be where
it’s warm.”

“Didn’t Teddy keep you warm?” asked Rose
Belser, wickedly, but just then the door opened and
Amanda came into the room. Needless to say,
Billie did not answer the question.

Promptly at nine o’clock the next morning Billie
went to Miss Arbuckle and told her the story of the
yesterday’s adventure just as it had happened, and
Miss Arbuckle, to Amanda’s immense disgust,
believed her. A little talk by the teacher on the
wisdom of taking fewer chances in the future ended
the interview to which Billie had been looking forward
with not a little dread. And Amanda found
herself once more facing the problem of how “to
get even with Billie Bradley.”

The girls talked and wondered about the queer
little cave and simple Nick Budd, but as the days
went on and they were whirled into a veritable
mælstrom of quizzes and examinations, they gradually
forgot the incident.

It seemed that the school work was to be unusually
interesting that year. There were the usual
number of essays to be written, and for one Miss
Walters had offered a prize to the girl turning in the
best work.

The title of the essay was “The World’s Greatest
Generals,” and any girl in the school was entitled
to try for it. There were other prizes offered, too,
but Billie, whose mark in English was usually the
highest in her class, thought that she would try for
the composition prize.

Laura and Connie and Rose Belser were going
to enter the lists with her, but Vi and Nellie Bane
decided to try for the highest mark in geometry.

“Working for a prize makes the work seem more
like a game,” said Connie as she happily looked up
her “greatest generals.” “I’m as excited as if I
were going to a party.”

“Well, you’d better not get too excited,” advised
Vi, pulling a lock of her hair absently in order to
solve a particularly steep problem in her beloved
geometry. “Billie is sure to come off with the
essay prize.”

“Oh, she is, is she?” spoke up Rose, who had set
her heart on the essay prize herself and who could
never quite stifle her former jealousy of Billie.
“Well, maybe she is, but I’m going to give her a
run for her money just the same.”

“Good!” cried Billie, looking up from her book
and smiling sunnily at Rose. “That’s the kind of
game I like to play.”

“And how about us?” said Laura, smiling ruefully
over at fluffy-haired Connie. “We don’t seem
to be in this at all.”

Besides their studies, the girls had the Ghost Club
to think about and the importance of initiating new
members. They had decided upon two of the freshmen
for the honor, one, a fair-haired intelligent
girl named Ann Fleming and the second a laughing
imp of a girl with red hair and red-brown eyes who
bore the name of Ada Slope.

Both girls stood well in their studies and showed
a remarkable popularity among their classmates
considering the short time they had been at the Hall.

And of course they were overwhelmed with joy
when Billie drew them aside one day and ordered
them to be in the gymnasium at not later than nine
o’clock that night.

They were there before nine, shivering in the
darkness of the big gymnasium and wishing that
this fearful business of being initiated were over
and done with.

A few minutes later the “ghosts” arrived and put
the girls through a series of trials that tested their
courage and endurance to the limit.

They were made to “walk the plank” blindfolded;
they were prepared for “branding with a red-hot
poker” and then touched with a lump of ice that
made them cry out in imagined pain; they were
handed all sorts of slimy things, harmless in themselves
but terrifying to the overstrained nerves of
the girls.

But they came out of the test with flying colors,
and the members of the club were well satisfied with
their choice.

“And now,” said Rose Belser—who was still
president of the club—as the handkerchiefs were
removed from the eyes of the new members, “we are
about to put to the test a new rule suggested by a
fellow ghost.”

The girls held their breath, for the announcement
was a surprise to all but Billie, who had herself made
the suggestion.

“It occurred to this fellow-member of our illustrious
club,” Rose went on in a deep voice, looking
very weird and ghostly in her long white ceremonial
robe, with only slits cut in it for the eyes and
nose and mouth, “that it is only fair to the new
members who have stood the test, to suggest some
difficult feat for one of the old members to perform—this
person to be chosen by the new members
of the club.”

The girls were silent for a moment, sitting there
like so many actual ghosts in their white robes, and
they thrilled with excitement as they realized the
possibilities of the new rule if it should be accepted.

It was fair, for it would give the girls who had
gone through the hazing a chance to “get even,”
and it would also be lots of fun for themselves.
So when Rose called in a sepulchral voice for a vote,
there was a unanimous cry of “aye.”

Billie smiled under her white mask gleefully. She
had known that the girls would be good sports.

“The suggestion has been unanimously accepted,”
Rose rumbled on in the deep voice she adopted for
such occasions. “Fellow ghosts, we will now withdraw
and give our fellow members a chance to consult
upon this important topic.”

“You don’t have to withdraw,” cried red-haired
Ada Slope, with a giggle that she could not entirely
suppress, despite the “seriousness of the occasion.”
“I’ll give a nickel to any girl who will climb up into
tower number three with only a candle to see by.”

“And I’ll give a dime,” said Ann Fleming decidedly.

A ripple of very human laughter ran through
the ghosts, and Rose had to demand order three
times before she was obeyed.

“Very well,” she said then. “Our new members
have decided. It now remains for them to select
one among our number to do this mighty deed.
Advance, new members of the Ghost Club!
Choose!”

Ann Fleming put out her hand and touched one
white-robed figure.

“I choose this one,” she said.

“’Tis done!” cried Ada Slope, dramatically.

Oh, poetic justice! For the chosen one was
Billie!

CHAPTER XIV—A BLOOD-STAINED HANDKERCHIEF
========================================

The next problem was to find the candle for the
“ghost” to carry up to the gloomy heights of tower
number three. Ada Slope, little minx that she was,
had chosen this particular one of the three towers
for which the Hall was named, because of a legend
among the girls, starting from goodness knows
where, that this tower was haunted.

Now Billie was not by any means a coward, and
she had proved by her behavior in the spooky old
mansion at Cherry Corners that she was not inclined
to belief in or fear of ghosts.

Yet when Ada Slope ran hastily up to her room
and returned bearing a tiny Christmas candle, which
was all that Billie was to have to accompany her
on her perilous journey, it must be admitted that her
heart began to beat a little faster and she was guilty
for a moment of wishing that Ada Slope had picked
on any other girl but herself.

However, she acted so perfectly that there was
not one of her chums but who thought that she was
delighted at the chance to explore the gloomy old
tower—with one little candle for company!

“Suppose—” she thought to herself as Laura
lighted the candle for her—or at least she thought
it was Laura; they all looked pretty much alike in
their ghostly robes—“suppose it should go out when
I reach the top of the tower and I should have to
find my way back in the dark!”

“Courage,” Rose Belser cried, as she pushed
Billie toward the door, the candle flickering in her
hand. “There are those who say that tower number
three is haunted. But let me remind you, friend,
that a ghost is never afraid of a ghost. Farewell!”

This was not a very encouraging speech, though
Billie could not help giggling about it as she climbed
the back stairs to the first floor.

The house was as still as death, for it was after
ten o’clock now, and everybody, even Miss Walters,
seemed to be in bed.

Billie almost ran up the second and third flights,
stumbling over her white robe and shielding the
flickering candle with her hand for fear it would
go out.

When she reached the fourth floor, which was
really the attic, she went more slowly, for the place
was dark and “spooky”—so she said—and the noise
of her footsteps frightened her. The tiny light of
her candle seemed to make the shadowy corners of
the place all the more startlingly black.

Once she thought she heard a noise and stopped
short, her heart beating suffocatingly in her throat.
But it was only the wind sighing drearily around
the place, and she went on again, more slowly now,
starting at every real or imaginary sound.

The stairway that led to the third tower was at
the very end of the long attic, and as she came near
to it Billie’s courage almost failed her. It seemed
to her that something sinister and terrible was
closing in around her, and she pressed her hand
against her mouth to keep from screaming.

She could see the dim outline of the stairway
right before her, but she was afraid to go forward—and
she dared not go back.

What would the girls say if she went back to them
and confessed that she had been too cowardly to
stand the test? She would be disgraced forever in
the eyes of her chums, her reputation for daring and
bravery would be gone, she might even be asked to
resign from the Ghost Club.

For a long minute she stood there, fighting the
desire to rush back to friends and human companionship.
Then, with a sharp intake of breath, she
forced herself to approach the stairs.

With every step she stopped and listened, glancing
about her fearfully. But nothing save the sound
of her own rapid breathing broke the musty, heavy
silence of the place.

“I must go on, I must go on!” she kept telling herself
over and over again. “To the very top of the
tower—to the top of the tower——”

What was that?

A rattling, a scurrying, a scratching of tiny feet
across the floor. Billie screamed, but stifled the
sound half way by stuffing a handkerchief into her
mouth. Her eyes were wide with terror, her hair
began to stand on end, and with a little moan she
made a rush for the stairs up which she had come
a minute before.

She had almost reached them when by the light
of her candle she saw something running across the
floor. It was a mouse. Weakly she leaned against
the wall, trying to summon what remained of her
courage.

“They’re only mice, silly—they can’t hurt you,”
she told herself, while her hand shook so that she
could scarcely hold the candle. Then a sudden
thought made her start back for the tower stairs
almost on a run. The candle was burning low.
She must hurry or she would be left in the dark.
Just a quick dive up the stairs to the tower room and
the deed would be done. She could go back then,
to friends and lights and adulation. For she would
be able to tell them proudly that she had done what
no other girl had dared to do—climbed to the top
of tower three.

With such thoughts she bolstered up her courage
and ran swiftly up the stairs. But the “swish” of
her garments in that silent place frightened her and
she stopped before she had quite reached the top.
She listened intently.

Was it imagination, or had she really heard that
eerie whisper in her ear, felt the soft brushing of a
dress against hers? Of course it was only imagination.
She mustn’t think such things or she could
never climb to the top of those hateful stairs. She
must go on and on—to the top—the very top—Again
that scurrying and squealing as she disturbed
another nest of mice. She grasped the banister
frantically to steady herself.

She must go up—up——Finally she had reached
the top of the stairs, and for one joyful minute she
thought that she had climbed to the top of the tower.
She could go back again to the girls—she had turned
toward the stairs when her eye fell on an object that
made her breath catch in her throat.

Revealed by the uncertain flare of the candle was
a ladder, leading apparently to some room above.
Of course, that must be the tower room. Then she
still had some climbing to do before her task was
finished.

Billie’s heart sank as she approached the ladder,
stumbling over bits of junk and rubbish that littered
the floor. She must hurry, too, for the candle was
burning down and she must not be left in the dark
in that place. She would go crazy—or something.

Outside the wind was rising, and it wailed around
the corners of the old building with an unspeakably
weird and mournful sound that filled Billie with a
dreadful premonition of evil.

She really felt, as she hesitated at the foot of the
ladder, that she must get back to the girls or she
would go mad. Her knees were trembling so that
she was afraid she could never climb the ladder to
the top.

But she must do it or go back to the girls disgraced.

One hand grasped the rung above her head while
the other held aloft the flickering candle and she
began the difficult climb, hampered by the long white
robe that clung like something alive about her
ankles and by the necessity of holding the candle.

Four rungs, five rungs, six rungs—was the ladder
a mile long? she wondered, while the wind wailed
still more dismally about the house.

Then at last she reached the top. Her candle
showed a small door not more than four feet high—the
door to the tower room.

Her hand felt for the knob. She grasped it.
The door was locked. To make sure, Billie gave
the door a vigorous shake, and as it did so something
white and soft fluttered to her feet and fell on
the top rung of the ladder.

For a minute Billie felt faint and dizzy, and she
had to cling to the ladder desperately to keep from
falling.

The next moment she saw that what had frightened
her was only a handkerchief, and she stooped
to pick it up. It was old and stained. What was
that stain upon it?

She brought the little square of linen closer to her
eyes and then with a stifled scream she flung it from
her while the candle fell from her nerveless fingers
and went out, leaving her in the dark.

The stain on the handkerchief was *blood*!

Billie never remembers to this day how she got
out of that awful place. Someway she half fell,
half scrambled down the ladder, stumbled and fell
and stumbled again in her mad rush across the pitch-black
attic to the head of the stairs.

Then down, down, down, a countless number of
stairs that came up and hit her in the face—down,
down to the gymnasium where thousands of ghostly
figures rushed at her——

“Oh, what could have happened to have frightened
her so?” she heard a voice saying from a long,
long distance, and she opened her eyes to find
Laura’s white face bending anxiously over her while
other white-faced girls stared at her pityingly.

She struggled to her feet, but her knees wavered
so that she sat down again quite suddenly.

“What’s the matter with you all?” she asked, then
as the memory of what had happened came back to
her in a flood she shuddered and instinctively she
looked down at her hands to see if they still held
that piece of linen with the stains upon it.

“Oh, I remember,” she murmured, as though
talking to herself. The girls were watching her
anxiously. “I threw it away.”

“What, honey?” asked Laura gently.

“The blood-stained handkerchief!”

CHAPTER XV—A DISCOVERY
======================

It took the other girls some time to get the whole
story from Billie, but when she had stammered it
out to them they broke into a babel of excited
exclamations that threatened to bring one of the
teachers to their hiding place.

It was Billie herself who thought of this danger
and who finally managed to calm them down a
little.

“Not so loud,” she entreated, still feeling faint
and shaky from her experience. “You know what
will happen if somebody finds us here.”

“But Billie,” protested Laura, though her voice
sank to a more cautious whisper, “we’ve got to do
something about it, you know. There may have
been a murder or something up there.”

“Perhaps we’d better all go back with Billie and
try to get into that little room at the head of the
ladder,” suggested one of the girls, but the mere
idea made Billie shudder.

“You can go,” she said decidedly. “But I’m
through for to-night.”

“Oh, well, if you won’t go,” said the girl dejectedly,
“it’s all off, of course. We need a guide——”

“I don’t see why,” protested Billie. “Nobody
gave me a guide.”

“No. And it was a shame to send you away up
there all alone,” said Vi, putting a protecting arm
about her. “It’s a wonder you didn’t die of fright.”

“I suppose,” said Ann Fleming, thoughtfully,
“we might tell one of the teachers about it—or
Miss Walters, perhaps—and she could go with us
up to the tower——”

“Say,” interrupted Rose Belser with her most
pronounced drawl, as she looked contemptuously
upon the freshman who had proposed so foolish a
thing, “it’s easy to see you haven’t been at Three
Towers long, Ann. Now just what do you suppose
would happen if we told Miss Walters that we were
up after hours initiating and doing stunts?”

“I—I didn’t think of that,” stammered Ann,
completely crushed.

“I thought you didn’t,” answered Rose dryly.

For some time afterward the girls discussed in
awed whispers the startling thing that had happened,
and then somebody suddenly conceived the idea that
it would not be a bad thing to go to bed.

Billie was looking very white and shaky after her
ordeal. Then, too, it was getting late, and there
was always the chance of discovery by some “over-curious
teacher.”

“But I’ll never, never, sleep a wink,” said Vi, as
they filed ghost-like out of the gymnasium. “I know
I’ll be dreaming of blood-stained handkerchiefs all
night long.”

“And I don’t think it’s fair,” pouted Connie,
“for Billie to have all the adventures. First she gets
lost with Teddy and discovers a perfectly good cave,
and then she unearths a thrilling mystery, like this.
Too much good luck for one person.”

“Good luck!” repeated Billie ruefully. “Well, if
you call *that* good luck, I certainly would hate to
be the one to find out what bad luck is.”

“Hush,” ordered Rose, once more assuming the
deep voice of the head of the ghosts. “Some one
may hear you and we’ll all be shot at sunrise.”

“I never get up that early,” giggled Laura.

Many and varied were the plans the girls made
for a storming of tower number three in the hope
of solving the mystery of that little locked door and
the blood-stained handkerchief. However, there
seemed to be so many obstacles in the way of carrying
out these plans that they reluctantly decided to
give up the idea, at least for the time being.

“And, anyway,” Laura had said in one of their
discussions, “the blood stains on that handkerchief
might not have meant anything mysterious at all.
Maybe somebody had a nose-bleed.”

“How romantic!” drawled Rose while the other
girls giggled at the idea.

Their studies and the race for prizes absorbed
the classmates in the days that followed and gradually
the mystery, if indeed it was a mystery, faded
from their minds.

Billie worked hard, and thought she was getting
along finely. She commenced to grow a trifle pale,
and at this Vi and Laura shook their heads.

“Don’t overdo it, Billie,” said Vi.

“No kind of prize is worth one’s health,” added
Laura.

“Don’t worry about me,” declared Billie, with a
smile. “I know what you want to do—make me
let up so you can pass me.”

“Oh, you know better than that!” cried Laura.

“Of course she does,” came from Vi. “Now remember,
don’t study so hard that you get sick.”

“No danger,” retorted Billie airily.

It was nearly a week later when Billie suddenly
realized that there was another thing they had
almost forgotten, and that was Polly Haddon and
her unhappy little family.

“And poor little Peter!” said Vi penitently, when
Billie spoke to her about it. “He must be either
better or dead by this time.”

“Suppose we go over to-morrow”—the next day
being Saturday—Laura suggested. “We can walk
to town first. Or maybe we can get Tim Budd to
drive us over in the wagon. We can get some good
canned stuff, soups and things, and take them over
to the Haddons when we go.”

The next day the girls sought out Tim Budd, who
was the gardener at the Hall and who was also, alas!
the father of poor, simple Nick Budd with whom
Teddy and Billie had had so queer an experience.
After a great deal of coaxing, they succeeded in getting
the gardener to take them to town in the carryall.
From this it may be seen that Tim acted as
chauffeur also upon occasion.

They were in hilarious spirits all the way to the
town and back again, and it was not until they had
almost reached Three Towers that Vi made a suggestion
that somehow clouded their faces.

“Suppose she won’t accept these things?” she
said, giving the well-stocked basket at her feet a
little shove. “You said yourself she was awfully
proud, Billie.”

Billie looked sober for a moment, but Laura, as
ever, found something to laugh at.

“Why worry about that?” said the incorrigible
one, gaily. “If she doesn’t want ’em we’ll have a
midnight feast and use them ourselves.”

Tim Budd let them out at the Hall and they
walked the rest of the way to the little cottage.
Mrs. Haddon herself opened the door, but she
looked so pale and wan that they hardly recognized
her.

The woman welcomed the girls absently, as if
her mind were a great way off, but when her eyes
fell on the basket a resigned little smile played about
her lips.

“More charity,” she muttered, as though to herself.
“Well, I will take it because I must. But I’ll
pay it back.” She turned proudly upon the girls
and her fine eyes flashed. “No one can say of
Polly Haddon that she left her debts unpaid.”

Taken aback by this unexpected declaration, the
girls said nothing, but shifted their feet uneasily,
wishing fervently that Polly Haddon would turn the
fire of her black eyes on something else.

But almost instantly the woman’s mood became
softer, and, seeing the girls’ embarrassment, she
tried to put them at their ease.

“Thank you so much,” she said. “Won’t you sit
down? The basket is heavy and you have come a
long way.”

The girls, not knowing what else to do, sat down
on the three spindly chairs awkwardly enough, and
Laura and Vi sent distress signals Billie-wards.
For Billie was always their spokesman.

So Billie, who had been as much abashed as any
of them at their rather queer reception, found her
tongue with difficulty and asked Mrs. Haddon how
Peter was.

“He is dreadfully low,” Mrs. Haddon answered
softly. Her head drooped wearily and her hands
were crossed listlessly in front of her. “The doctor
says it is not even an even chance whether he lives
or dies.”

The girls murmured their very real sympathy,
and Billie started to ask another question when the
door at the other end of the room opened and the
two little girls, Mary and Isabel, entered.

At sight of the visitors they looked startled and
started to retreat, but their mother called to them.

“Come here,” she said, and the children sidled
slowly up to her where they stood, their large eyes
fixed shyly on the girls. “Don’t you know these
young ladies?” asked the mother, putting an arm
about each of the poor little thin things caressingly
and drawing them up close to her. “They are the
ones who brought you home that day that you were
naughty and ran away, and they have been very kind
to us since.”

There was a slight sound from the room beyond
where poor little Peter lay so desperately ill, and
Mrs. Haddon rose suddenly, leaving the two little
girls and the three big girls together.

It would have been hard to tell at first who was
the most embarrassed. But as no children had ever
known to resist Billie for very long, the two
little Haddons were soon won over and chatted to
the three big girls in careless, innocent child fashion.

“We get good things to eat now,” said Isabel,
confidentially, speaking of the thing that loomed
biggest and most important in her starved little life.
“A man comes almost every night with a basket—just
like this,” and she eyed the basket which the
girls had brought with hungry eyes.

“Yes, an’ he’s a funny little man, too,” added
Mary, her big eyes round with eagerness. “He has
whiskers and he stoops—dreadful.”

A glance of understanding passed between the
chums.

“That description——” Vi began.

“Suits Tim Budd——” added Laura.

“To a T,” finished Billie.

CHAPTER XVI—CHRISTMAS CHEER
===========================

So Miss Walters was seeing to it that Polly
Haddon received food regularly—“almost every
night!” Of course Miss Walters had promised to
look out for the family, but the girls had hardly
expected her to be so generous.

And while they were still turning the revelation
over wonderingly in their minds, Polly Haddon
called to them softly from the other room.

It was a bare little room into which they stepped—barer
and poorer than even they had imagined.
And in the midst of a little iron bed lay Peter, so
pathetically white and emaciated that it tore their
hearts to look at him.

“Is he very bad?” asked Billie, turning to weary-eyed
Polly Haddon.

“The doctor says he almost surely will die,”
answered the latter in a toneless voice. “He has
just one chance out of a hundred.”

And as though speaking the doctor’s name had
brought him there, the big man himself entered at
that moment and the girls took that opportunity to
say good-bye.

“Poor little Peter,” sighed Billie, as they walked
slowly homeward. “I suppose if he dies poor Mrs.
Haddon will nearly die too.”

“I wish there was something we could do,” said
Vi, frowning.

“I don’t know what more we could do than we
have done,” said Laura gloomily.

“Except,” said Billie thoughtfully, her eyes fixed
on the far horizon, “find that invention of hers.
I imagine that would make her so happy that she
might even persuade poor little Peter to live.”

“Good gracious!” cried Laura, throwing up her
hands in a despairing gesture. “She’s raving again,
girls, she’s raving again!”

Billie laughed, but her eyes were still very thoughtful.

But the holiday season was upon them and it
was impossible for the girls to be gloomy or unhappy
for very long. They wished with all their hearts
that Polly Haddon and her pathetic little brood
might be made happy and prosperous once more,
but even while they were wishing they could not
shake off the exultant thought that Christmas was
coming. And Christmas to most of them meant
home and family and turkeys and cranberry sauce
and presents—oh, oodles of presents!

“No holiday quite as good as good old Christmas,”
observed Laura, gaily, as she danced around
with a package she had just been doing up in a red
ribbon.

“I’m with you on that,” declared Billie. “Oh,
do you know, sometimes I can hardly wait until
Christmas comes!”

“But you’ll wait just the same,” drawled Vi.
“We all will.”

“It’s waiting that makes it worth while,” declared
Billie. “It’s like the small boy and the circus.
Tell him in the morning that you will take him in
the afternoon and it doesn’t amount to much. But
tell him a month ahead and he’ll get a whole month’s
fun out of it before it comes off.”

“All right, Billie, I’ll tell you a secret,” whispered
Vi, with a twinkle in her eyes. “About a year from
now we’ll have another Christmas. Now is your
time to start thinking about it.” And then there
were giggles all around.

“I’ll wait for one Christmas to be over before I
think of the next,” declared Billie.

Billie had asked Connie Danvers to come home
with her for over the holidays, but Connie, after,
writing eagerly home for permission, had had to
refuse the invitation. Mrs. Danvers thanked Mrs.
Bradley and Billie, but there was to be a big reunion
of the Danvers family that Christmas and they had
all counted on having Connie with them. If Billie
could come home with Connie for Christmas—but
here Billie shook her head decidedly, though the
invitation was an enticing one. She knew that her
mother would certainly want her at home for the
most wonderful day in all the year.

And so when the time came, the classmates went
their several ways after many fond embraces had
been exchanged—to say nothing of various mysterious
little green- and red-ribboned parcels.

The Christmas spirit is a wonderful thing, intangible,
yet so real that even the most hardened old
reprobate will thrill to the magic of it. And as these
girls were neither hardened nor reprobates, they
were kept in a continual state of excitement and joyful
anticipation for two whole weeks before the
great day arrived.

Ever since the opening of Three Towers Hall in
the fall, the girls had used their spare moments to
sew on little mysterious things which were immediately
hidden upon the arrival of any of their fellow
students, and now these same pieces of needlework
began to blossom forth in gay be-ribboned
boxes that passed between the girls in a continual
stream.

Sometimes one would be found between the sheets
of a girl’s bed when she jumped in at night and the
touch of it would elicit a muffled shriek, to be followed
by hysterical giggles when the gift was pulled
from its hiding place and disclosed in all its glory to
be admired and exclaimed over by the girls who had
not been lucky enough to bark their shins on gifts
of their own.

And sometimes another be-ribboned parcel would
find its way into the stocking of a lucky maiden
while she slept or be discovered in an out-of-the-way
corner of her desk, nearly covered by books and
papers.

And as the time drew still nearer, even interest
in their studies flagged, and the teachers, wisely
forbearing to force them, entered into the fun themselves,
knowing that one could not study much while
the Christmas cheer was in the air.

The girls had fondly hoped that Teddy and Chet
and Ferd would be able to make the return trip
with them, but as Boxton Academy did not close
for the holidays until the day after the official closing
of Three Towers, the girls were forced to give
up the idea.

“Oh, well,” Billie said resignedly, “as long as they
get there for Christmas it will be time enough.”

The day of release came at last and found the
three North Bend girls doing a two-step of impatience
on the station platform, waiting for the train,
which was already half an hour late.

“Goodness, but your bag looks stuffed, Billie,”
remarked Laura, stopping before Billie’s big suitcase
whose bulging sides did look as though they might
burst at any moment and disgorge the contents.

“It has twenty presents in it,” confided Billie,
surveying her fat property with a loving eye. “I
only hope it holds out till we get home, that’s all!”

Then the train puffed around the bend and slowed
up to the station. And several hours later three very
much flushed, very much excited, and very pretty
young girls popped off the train at North Bend and
straight into the arms of their doting families.

“Merry Christmas!” they cried to every one in
general and no one in particular. “Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Oh,
isn’t it glorious to be at home!”

The boys arrived the next day, and they all had a
great reunion at Billie’s home, where they exchanged
presents and talked in hushed tones of what they
hoped that Santa Claus would bring them—to-morrow!
For this was Christmas Eve!

But the party broke up soon, and they all went
to bed early so that they could get up at six o’clock
the next morning—at the very latest.

Oh, the fun of anticipating and the joy of Christmas
Day. First of all, the bulging stocking with
its lumps of coal and pieces of carefully wrapped
sugar with really pretty things stuck in between.

Then the mad rush for the Christmas tree and the
admiring exclamations over its glittering beauty.
And then—the opening of the gay, be-ribboned
boxes. The laughter, the joy, the tears, as each
little parcel disclosed something prettier or funnier
or dearer than the last. It was all so wonderful
that it was a pity it could not have lasted forever.

Then, after Christmas, one glorious, ecstatic week
of fun that passed like a day. There were dances
and parties and sleighrides and so many other festivities
that there was hardly a minute of the day
that was not accounted for.

It was not till the week was almost over that the
girls thought penitently of the Haddons.

“I wonder,” said Billie, as she turned over and
over in her fingers a ten dollar gold piece that had
been a gift from an aunt, “what kind of Christmas
poor little Peter has had.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Billie!” Laura replied a
little impatiently, “what is the use of spoiling all our
fun by bringing up the unhappiness of some one
else? We can’t help it if the Haddons haven’t had
as nice a Christmas as we have. We certainly have
done all we could.”

But Vi had been eyeing Billie’s gold piece, and
suddenly she had a bright idea all her own.

“Listen,” she said, pulling out her pocket book
and fumbling in it eagerly. She brought out a glistening
five dollar gold piece. “We all got a little
money in gold this Christmas. Suppose we do it up
in a box and leave it at the Haddons’ door when we
get back. We have enough money to get along with
for the rest of the term, anyway.”

For a moment Laura looked a little undecided, but
Billie jumped up, ran over to Vi and hugged her.

“You’re a perfect angel!” she cried. “That’s just
exactly what I was thinking myself. Only I wasn’t
going to ask you girls. I was just going to leave
mine and say nothing about it.”

“Oh, well,” grumbled Laura, taking her own
bright coin from its hiding place and handing it over
reluctantly. “If you girls are going to be foolish
I suppose I’ve got to be too. Only it’s no joke,”
she added, in a plaintive tone that made the girls
giggle, “when you think of all the sodas and candy
it would buy!”

At last the long anticipated holidays were at an
end and after a few days of readjustment at the
school, the classmates settled down to work in earnest.
For the rest of the semester was crowded with
work and the prizes were held out as a glittering bait
to spur them on to fresh endeavor.

Only once, after their return to the Hall, the
girls found time to run over to see the Haddons,
hoping to be able to hide the generous gift they had
decided to make in some inconspicuous place where
it would not be discovered until they had had time
to make their escape.

Polly Haddon seemed very glad indeed to see
them, but she had no good news to report of Peter.
He was still very low, but the doctor, great man
that he was, was bending every energy to bring him
through.

“But he will die,” said the mother, despairingly.
“There is so little left of him now that I wonder
that every breath he draws is not his last. Oh, my
little boy! My poor little boy! I’ll not let him be
taken from me!”

They comforted her as best they could, and then
Billie, to the astonishment of her chums, began asking
questions about the knitting machinery model,
the disappearance of which had so changed life for
this distracted woman.

“Was the model large or was it small, so that it
could easily be stolen and hidden away?” she asked,
while Polly Haddon looked up at her with something
like surprise in her black eyes.

“It was large,” she answered. “And rather
heavy. It could not be easily stolen, and neither
could it have been hidden away in any small place.
That is why we wondered. But why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” answered Billie honestly. “Perhaps
it is just because I would like to help you so
much.”

The woman reached over and patted her hand
gently, but her eyes had become listless again.

“You—everybody—have been so good to me,” she
said, tonelessly. “I don’t know why you have been
so good—no one ever was before. But there is one
thing you can not do for me. You can not restore
my poor husband’s invention, the loss of which
caused his death. That would be a miracle. And in
these days no one is working miracles.”

Mrs. Haddon left the room for a moment, and in
that moment Billie slipped the little box containing
their three precious gold pieces behind the alarm
clock that stood on a shelf over the sink.

The woman returned before Billie had quite finished,
but she was too worried and anxious and
unhappy to notice anything unusual. And the little
box was still safe in its hiding place when the girls
took their leave a few minutes later.

“Won’t she be surprised when she finds it?”
crowed Vi delightedly. “I feel like Santa Claus.”

“Well, you don’t look like it,” returned Laura,
“Your face isn’t red enough.”

CHAPTER XVII—BILLIE ON GUARD
============================

From this remark of Laura’s it may be easily
seen that she was still a little grouchy about having
to give up five dollars’ worth of sodas and candy.
But away down in her heart she derived more real
pleasure from the thought of what her gold piece
would buy for the Haddons than she would out of
a great deal more than five dollars’ worth of pleasure
for herself.

“Billie,” spoke up Vi suddenly after they had
walked some little way in silence, “what did you ask
Mrs. Haddon about that lost invention for?”

“Yes, it sounded as if you really knew something
about it,” Laura took her up eagerly. “You don’t,
do you?”

“Not a thing in the world,” Billie replied quickly.
“Only,” she added slowly, the same thoughtful look
in her eyes that had been there before, “so many
queer things have happened to me lately that I’m
getting sort of queer myself, I guess. I can’t help
thinking about that cave Teddy and I found.”

“Well, I don’t blame you for thinking of it,” said
Laura, looking curiously at her chum. “I think of it
myself—quite often. But what has that to do with
the stolen machinery models?”

“Nothing, of course,” said Billie, adding as the
three towers of the grand old Hall loomed into
view. “But I would like to have a look at the inside
of that cave again. Maybe the models were taken
there and broken up. The cave was full of junk.”

Laura, really curious by this time, was about to
put a question when she saw Amanda and the
“Shadow” approaching, and the question died in her
throat.

The three classmates, who never deliberately
“cut” anybody, nodded to the two girls in a friendly
enough manner, but the latter looked straight at
them and never so much as winked an eye.

“Whew!” whistled Laura, softly, as the chums
stopped and looked back after the unmannerly girls.
“Cut, by jinks!”

“And by Amanda, of all people!” added Vi, in the
same tone.

“Well, come on,” said Billie, and she turned and
led the way up the steps. “There’s no use standing
there and looking after them like a lot of wooden
Indians. I’d like—” she added, her temper getting
the better of her for the moment, “I would like to
wring that girl’s neck.”

“Do you know,” said Vi a few minutes later
when they were washing themselves in the dormitory,
“that Amanda has entered for the composition
prize?”

The girls looked at her unbelievingly.

“Amanda!” cried Billie, laughing at the absurdity
of the thing. “Why, Amanda can hardly write her
own name. You know that.”

“Of course I know it,” agreed Vi, scrubbing her
face vigorously. “That’s why it seems so silly.
Unless she has something up her sleeve,” she added
meaningly.

“How did you find out?” asked Laura, curling up
on the bed and regarding her chum severely. “Did
she tell you?”

“Tell me!” repeated Vi with a chuckle. “That *is*
a good one. No, I just happened to overhear her
telling Eliza that she had entered for the composition
prize and that she was going to give Billie
Bradley the surprise of her life.”

“She surely does love me,” sighed Billie, as she
pulled her pretty curls into place. “I don’t see why
she doesn’t pick on somebody else for a change.”

“Well, you’d better look out, that’s all,” said Vi,
wrinkling her forehead seriously. “I’m almost sure
she is planning some crooked work, and it’s up to us
to double cross her.”

“Hear, hear!” cried Laura delightedly. “And Vi
is the one who is always calling me down for using
slang. Fine for a beginner, Vi darling. Keep it up.”

The result of this revelation of Vi’s was to make
the girls watch Amanda and the “Shadow” more
carefully than ever before. And if it had not been
for just this watchfulness there is no telling what
might have happened to Billie Bradley, and through
her, to her classmates.

And this was the way it happened.

Luckily for the three North Bend chums,
Amanda and her “Shadow” shared the dormitory
with them and Rose Belser. And so it was that
Billie, coming in unexpectedly one day heard the
very end of a sentence spoken in a loud whisper
by Amanda. And though it was only the end of
the sentence, it told a great deal to Billie, whose suspicions
had already been aroused.

“—at ten to-night, in Miss Race’s room,” were
the words she caught. The fact that Amanda
stopped speaking at sight of her and grew an
unsightly brick red, gave Billie further proof that
the girl was plotting mischief. Very probably the
scapegoat was to be—herself.

She gave no sign that she had heard anything
out of the ordinary, but when she had found the
book she had come for and was out in the hall once
more, her heart was pounding heavily and her face
was hot.

Ever since they had come to Three Towers
Amanda had done her best to discredit Billie. She
had not succeeded so far, but some time she might.
Was this the time? thought Billie, a dull rage taking
possession of her.

No! She would not let Amanda get the better
of her. She would outwit her, now that she had
been warned. Then a dreadful thought came to
her.

Suppose Amanda, thinking she had given her
secret away, postponed her miserable plot, whatever
it was, until another time? No wonder Billie
answered questions queerly that afternoon, so
queerly, in fact, that one teacher asked her if she
were ill and would like to be excused!

But Billie did not want to be excused—that would
mean more time to herself to think. And so she
blundered through the miserable afternoon and her
heart jumped with relief when the last gong sounded
that meant liberty.

Connie and Laura overtook her in the hall on the
way to the dormitory and Laura looked actually
anxious.

“What was the matter with you this afternoon?”
she asked. “Why, you answered ‘no’ three times
when it should have been ‘yes,’ and it sounded so
silly I’d have had to laugh if I hadn’t been scared
to death!”

“What is it, Billie?” added Connie, putting an
arm about her friend. “You look dreadfully white.
Aren’t you feeling well?”

Then, pulling them into a secluded corner of the
dormitory, Billie told them what she had heard, and
as Vi came in just as she had finished, she had to tell
it all over again, just for her benefit.

Of course the girls were all angry, and Laura
wanted to go and have it out with Amanda at once,
but Billie, who had had all the afternoon to think
out the best thing to do, commanded her to say
nothing about it to any one.

“Listen,” she said, tensely. “Somebody’s apt to
come in at any minute, and then I can’t say it. This
is what we will do to-night.

“We’ll pull our nighties on over our clothes, get
into bed and pretend to go to sleep. Then we’ll wait
till Amanda starts whatever she’s going to do, and
we’ll follow her and see what she’s up to.”

“And then,” said Laura, driven to more forceful
slang by the necessity for emphasis, “we’ll just about
*settle* her!”

True to their plans, they retired to the dormitory
that night before Amanda or the “Shadow” or Rose
Belser arrived there, and they hurriedly slipped their
nightgowns over their clothes and got into bed.

“Poor Connie’s wailing her heart out,” chuckled
Laura, “because she’s in another dorm and can’t
be in at the death. I say, Vi, push the collar of your
dress down. It shows outside your nightie.”

“Sh-h,” warned Billie. “I hear somebody coming——”

The somebody proved to be no other than
Amanda and Eliza, and when they entered they
found Billie and Laura and Vi sleeping peacefully
with a cherubic expression of utter innocence on
their faces.

It seemed to the girls that they had never lived
through an hour so long as that between nine o’clock
and ten that night. And it was with more than
relief that they heard a slight stir at last and saw
a shadowy figure slip out of bed and make noiselessly
for the door. And while they held their
breath for fear their breathing might betray them,
they saw a second shadow flit after the first one.
“The Shadow,” in fact!

They waited till the conspirators had had time to
get well down the hall, then they too slipped quietly
out of bed, pulled their nightgowns off, and started
in pursuit.

“Sh,” whispered Billie. “Take your time. We
want to let them do it before we catch them at it.”

When they reached Miss Race’s door they were
surprised to see a light in the room. Was it possible
Amanda had been brazen enough to turn on
the light herself?

Cautiously Billie peeped into the room and saw
that Amanda and Eliza were busily at work doing
something to the teacher’s desk at the other end of
the room. They were alone, so it must have been
Amanda who had switched on the light. The girl
was bold with the courage of stupidity.

Laura uttered a stifled exclamation, and would
have pushed past Billie but the latter held her back.
For still another minute she hesitated, then called to
the girls softly.

“Now,” she said, and ran swiftly into the room,
Laura and Vi beside her. So quickly and silently
did they come that they were almost upon the two
girls before either of them looked up. Then——

“Amanda Peabody!” cried Billie, her voice
choked with anger. “We’ve caught you this time!
Now let’s see what you were doing!”

CHAPTER XVIII—AMANDA’S REVENGE
==============================

Amanda’s jaw dropped and she sprang back
while Eliza cowered behind her. The former held
an ink bottle which she had been about to turn
upside down in Miss Race’s desk.

With a quick movement Laura snatched it from
the girl’s hand and held it aloft triumphantly.

“Look, Billie,” she said in a loud whisper.
“Amanda was going to spill this in the desk and
then blame it on you.”

Amanda made a quick dart for the door, but
Billie ran after her and pulled her back.

“Not yet,” she said, grimly. “You’ll wait till
we’re through with you or I’ll go to Miss Walters
and report the whole thing. You had better not try
to get funny.”

Amanda started to bluster, but on second thoughts
decided not to. Billie and her chums had the argument
all on their side this time, and the thought
made her fume inwardly.

As for the “Shadow,” her homely face was pale
with fright, and she stood motionless and scared
on the spot where the girls had first discovered her.

The plan of the two conspirators had evidently
been to upset the teacher’s desk and then blame the
whole thing on Billie. But how could Amanda hope
to prove that Billie had done it all?

Thus thought the girls as they rummaged through
the desk in search of some further trick. And then,
they found it.

“Look at this!” cried Billie, holding aloft a little
square of linen at sight of which Amanda grew
more sullen and Eliza quaked. “It’s my handkerchief
with my initials and my laundry mark on it.
Those—those—girls—were going to leave it here
after spilling the ink, and when Miss Race found it
she would of course think that I was the guilty one.
Oh—what shall we do to them?”

She glared at the tricksters while Amanda tossed
her head defiantly and Eliza shrank still farther back
into the corner.

“But that would have been so silly,” cried Laura,
who had snatched the handkerchief from Billie and
was examining it eagerly. Vi, in her turn was trying
to pull it from her. “Miss Race would know
that you would have sense enough not to give yourself
away by leaving your handkerchief. Their
heads sure are made of bone,” and she favored the
girls with a contemptuous glance that was harder to
bear than Billie’s anger.

“I wouldn’t leave my handkerchief on purpose of
course,” Billie pointed out. “I might have dropped
it by accident, though.”

“But how did they get the hanky,” wondered Vi,
wide-eyed at this example of depravity.

“Probably stole it out of my pocket when I
wasn’t looking,” said Billie contemptuously, and at
that Amanda made a show of defense.

“You needn’t call me a thief, Billie Bradley!” she
exclaimed, but Laura cut her short with a flippant
observation.

“Would you rather she would call Miss Walters?”
she asked, which effectively closed the girl’s mouth.

“Let’s make ’em clean up,” suggested Billie. “I’d
call Miss Walters, only they’re not worth spoiling
her sleep for. Come on over here, you two, and get
busy.”

“We won’t do it,” said Amanda, but as Billie
started toward her she quite suddenly changed her
mind.

“Oh, all right,” she said angrily, as she flounced
over to the desk, pulling the limp “Shadow” after
her. “We’ll do it this time. But you just look out,
Billie Bradley. I’ll make you pay for this.”

Laura struck a dramatic attitude.

“Look out,” she cried. “The worm is turning.
Let us nip it in the bud!”

It was all right for them to laugh at Amanda’s
discomfiture then and treat the whole thing as a joke,
but in the morning they were not quite sure that they
had done the right thing.

“I think we ought to have reported her to Miss
Walters,” worried Vi. “Then she and the Shadow
would have been expelled, or suspended at least,
and we would have had no more trouble with them.
As it is——”

“Oh, don’t be an old gloom hound,” commanded
Billie, seizing her chum round the waist and whirling
her about the room in a fantastic dance.
“They’ve never been able to do anything to us yet,
so what’s the use of worrying?”

“Sure,” agreed Laura, busy marking passages in
her “Life of Washington.” “That’s what I say.
We’re too many for ’em.”

But in spite of their optimism, in their hearts
the girls decided to watch Amanda and her cowardly
“Shadow” more closely than ever in the
future.

And the girls would have been put even more on
their guard if they could have peeped into the
library one afternoon and overheard the curious
conversation that took place between two girls seated
in a far corner of the big room.

“I’ve got it at last!” gloated one of the girls, who
was no other than the plotting Amanda herself.
Eliza, of course, was her inevitable companion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said
the latter rather snappishly. For, since the fiasco
in Miss Race’s room, she had not entered into
Amanda’s schemes quite so whole-heartedly as she
had before. “I don’t see why you should be so
pleased about finding a musty old book.”

“Of course you don’t see,” said Amanda, patronizingly.
“That’s what I’m going to explain to you.”

She paused a moment, regarding the “musty old
book” in her hand lovingly. Eliza moved impatiently
in the seat beside her and Amanda grinned at
her.

“You remember I told you I was going to try for
the composition prize?”

“Yes,” said Eliza crossly, adding with a frankness
that might have been disconcerting to anybody
but Amanda: “And I thought you were crazy even
to think of it. You haven’t a chance in the world
beside Billie Bradley or Rose Belser or any of those
girls.”

“I know I wouldn’t as a rule,” admitted Amanda,
her small eyes gleaming with triumph. “But with
this book,” she caressed the little volume fondly,
“*they* won’t have a chance against *me*!”

“And still I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re
talking about,” snapped Eliza. “I wish you’d stop
grinning to yourself and get to the point—if there
is one,” she added under her breath.

“All right,” said Amanda, too delighted with her
own cleverness to notice her shadow’s bad temper.
“Listen then, and I’ll tell you just how I came to
think about it.

“I was rummaging through some books on the
top shelf one day, trying to find one I needed, when
down behind the rest of them I happened to come
across this little old book of biographies of the
great generals of the world. It was covered with
dust, and so old and shabby-looking that I was sure
it hadn’t been touched in an age.”

“Yes,” said Eliza impatiently, as Amanda paused
for breath.

“Of course that was before the composition prize
was offered, so I put the book back where I found
it and forgot all about it. But now——” she paused
and the “Shadow” saw a gleam of light.

“And now,” Eliza finished, “you think you are
going to get material enough out of this musty little
old book to take the prize away from Billie Bradley.
I see.”

“Oh no, you don’t see.” It was Amanda’s turn
to be impatient. “I’m not going to try to write
an original composition at all. Listen,” she lowered
her voice to a whisper although they two were the
only ones in the large room. “I’m going to copy
it from this book—word for word!”

For a moment Eliza stared at the grinning girl,
pop-eyed. Then as the daring of the thing sank
into her muddled brain she sank back in her chair
and shook her head slowly.

“Don’t do it,” she said. “If they should find
out——”

“But nobody’s going to find out,” cried Amanda,
as gleeful as though the coveted prize were already
in her hands. “This is an old book, and probably
nobody in this place has even heard of it. Say,
won’t that Bradley girl’s eyes stick out when she
sees me walking off with the prize? Oh my, oh my!
This is the time I’m going to settle *her*!”

It was just about this time that a furor was
caused in the school by the disappearance of articles
belonging to the students.

The articles were small and seldom valuable—so
insignificant were some of them, in fact, that the
owners never missed them until the report of
numerous other losses spread through the school
and woke them to the realization that they, too, were
victims of the petty thief—whoever she was.

For that the guilty one was one of their schoolmates
there seemed to be little doubt. For what
outsider would care for such things as pencils and
erasers and old jackknives?

It was true that one or two of the losses were
valuable. A gold-mounted fountain pen for
instance, which had been a Christmas present to
one of the girls, who lamented her loss with “loud
wailings and gnashings of teeth,” as Laura
described it.

It was when the excitement over this strange
series of events was at its height that Billie drew
Laura and Vi aside one day and whispered a
startling decision in their ears.

“Girls,” she said, “I’ve dreamed of that locked
room in tower three two nights in succession, and
I’ve found an old bunch of keys and one of them
may fit. Are you willing to come with me? Or
have I got to go alone?”

CHAPTER XIX—THE TOWER ROOM
==========================

For a moment the girls looked as though they
thought Billie had gone mad. The proposal had
been made to them so suddenly that it took their
breath away.

“But, Billie, aren’t you afraid—after finding
that blood-stained handkerchief and everything?”
demanded Vi, round-eyed.

“Of course I’m afraid! But I’m going just the
same,” said Billie stoutly. “I’ve wondered and
wondered about what might be in that locked room
till I’m nearly crazy. And if you won’t go with me,
I’m going alone,” she repeated.

“Don’t be foolish,” commanded Laura. “If you
go, of course we’ll go. But suppose none of your
keys will fit?” she added, glancing at a half dozen
rusty keys on a still more rusty key ring which
Billie was jingling nervously. Billie had found the
key ring on a nail in a dark corner of her locker the
day before. She had been about to deliver it to the
lost and found office when the inspiration had come
to her. She would try the keys first to see if by
any chance one of them could be used to unlock the
little door in tower three. It would be time enough
afterward to report her discovery.

Now at Laura’s question she looked somewhat
provoked.

“Don’t you s’pose I’ve thought of that?” she said,
adding, with a twinkling smile: “Somebody is
always taking the joy out of life!”

“We can try ’em, anyway,” said Laura doubtfully,
still speaking of the keys. “But they don’t
look very promising.”

“But, girls,” Vi protested weakly, “suppose we
should find something horrible up there—a skeleton
or something?”

“Well, the poor old skeleton couldn’t hurt us,”
returned Laura, adding with a giggle: “Probably it
would be glad to see us after being up there alone
so long.”

“But the blood-stained handkerchief”—Vi whispered.

“Oh, that!” said Laura, with a lofty wave of her
hand. “That’s nothing. I told you before that
probably somebody had a nose-bleed.”

Which made even Vi giggle and had the effect of
stilling her fears for the time being, at least.

They had hard work getting away from their
classmates without arousing their suspicion, but
they succeeded at last. The three girls ran lightly
up the three flights of stairs that led to the musty
old attic.

Now that the moment was at hand they were
more excited than nervous, and their hearts beat
high with the hope that they might really find a
mystery hidden behind that locked door. But what
could it be?

The queer sounds and heavy musty smell of the
attic that had seemed so dreadful to Billie on that
never-to-be-forgotten night seemed natural and even
funny in the revealing daylight.

The shadowy corners that had seemed so sinister
when lighted only by one tiny flickering candle were
only corners now, cobwebbed and dusty, to be sure,
but harmless.

Mice scuttled across the floor squeaking angrily
at being disturbed, but although Vi screamed and
Laura side-stepped nervously, Billie only laughed.
To-day they were only little mice more afraid of
her than she was of them. That night they had
been monsters waiting to devour her.

But just the same, some measure of her nervousness
returned when they reached the stairway down
which she had nearly tumbled in her wild flight.

Laura and Vi seemed to share her uneasiness, for
they stopped at the foot of the stairs and held back
a little.

“Who goes up first to meet the skeleton?” asked
Laura, with an attempt at a laugh that sounded
strained even to herself.

“You do,” said Vi, adding maliciously: “You
were the one who said he wouldn’t hurt us.”

Seeing that Laura was about to argue the point,
Billie pushed impatiently past them both and ran
defiantly up the stairs. Laura, thus challenged, took
the stairs two at a time after her and Vi followed
reluctantly.

“Look! There’s the handkerchief,” said Billie,
kicking the tiny square of blood-stained linen over
toward Laura, who jumped nervously out of the
way.

“Well, you needn’t wish it on me,” she said
resentfully, picking up the handkerchief by the very
tip of a corner and presenting it to Billie with a low
bow. “Here, take back your gold——”

“What are you two whispering about?” demanded
Vi, petulantly, for by this time she was beginning to
wish she had not come.

At her question Laura whirled suddenly about
and poked the blood-stained handkerchief directly
beneath Vi’s startled nose.

“There,” she said. “Want it?”

Vi gave one look, screamed, and fled down the
stairs. She had gone only halfway, however, when
Laura overtook her and dragged her back.

“None of that,” she cried. “You can’t back out
now. Besides, we’re only beginning to have some
fun.”

“Fun!” groaned Vi, keeping a wary eye on the
handkerchief that Laura still held. “Well, I’m glad
I know what to call it.”

“Come on,” said Billie, jingling her rusty keys
and starting up the ladder. “Now we’ll see whether
one of these keys will fit.”

“I hope it doesn’t,” said Vi, under her breath, but
Laura caught her up sharply.

“What did you say?” she demanded.

“Oh—nothing,” said Vi.

By this time Billie was on the top rung of the
ladder and her fingers trembled as she tried to fit
the first of the keys into the lock. She had more
courage than Vi, yet almost she echoed the other
girl’s wish—that she would not be able to find a key
to fit.

She wanted to see what was on the other side of
that locked door, yet for some reason—perhaps the
blood-stained handkerchief—she was afraid to find
out.

She had tried every key till she came to the next
to the last, while Laura and Vi fidgeted at the foot
of the ladder.

“Won’t they fit?” asked Laura, impatiently and in
a high-strung tone.

“Yes,” said Billie unexpectedly, as the key slipped
into the lock and turned easily under the pressure
of her fingers. She hesitated and looked down at
the two girls before swinging the door wide.

“Aren’t you coming?” she asked, and she could
not, for the life of her, keep a little scared quality
out of her voice.

“Of course,” cried Laura, recovering from her
surprise—for she had really not expected that any
of Billie’s keys would fit—and ascending the ladder
hand over hand. “‘Lead on, Macduff, to victory or
to death!’”

Vi groaned again and gingerly put a foot on the
ladder. She did not know which was worse, to
remain there by herself or to follow the girls to—goodness-knew-what.
But the squeak of a mouse
behind her made her decide in favor of company,
and she scurried in a panic up the ladder.

Meanwhile Billie and Laura were experiencing
rather severe pangs of something—they could not
have told whether it was disappointment or relief.

They had braced themselves to find something
horrible—or at least interesting—in the tower room,
and they were rather taken aback at finding themselves
confronted with a large amount of nothing
at all.

There seemed to be a great deal of junk scattered
about, but in the gloom of the place they could not
even make that out very clearly.

There were windows all about the tiny room, but
they were so encrusted with ancient dirt and cobwebs
that the bright sunlight of the out-of-doors
was reduced to a weird and spooky twilight, which
seemed somehow to correspond to the forlorn
aspect of the place.

“Well,” said Laura, drawing a deep breath, “we
come up here expecting to find something interesting
and we get—stung!”

“It does look that way,” admitted Billie ruefully.
“Seems as if we might at least have met a good
live ghost or two.”

“Live ghost!” sniffed Laura crossly, for she was
really feeling very much injured. “All the ghosts
that I ever heard about were as dead as a doornail.”

“For goodness’ sake, stop talking about dead people,”
said Vi querulously from the doorway. “If
there isn’t anything in here—and thank goodness
there isn’t—let’s go back.”

“Not yet,” said Billie. Her eyes, become more
accustomed to the dim light, had lighted upon something
interesting among the junk. What had caught
her attention was a large, clumsy-looking thing like
a queerly shaped wooden box. The girls watched
her curiously as she bent over to examine it.

“You haven’t found your ghost, have you?” asked
Vi, in a voice that was meant to be sarcastic.

“No,” said Billie, a thrill of wonder and excitement
creeping into her voice. “But I may have
found something! Girls, come here and have a
look at this!”

The girls picked their way over the rubbish that
littered the floor. What had seemed like a peculiarly
shaped box proved on closer inspection to be
some cunningly fashioned wooden machinery.

The girls looked at each other in awed silence.
To them all in an instant had come the same thrilling
thought.

“The lost invention!” murmured Billie. “And we
thought there was nothing here!”

CHAPTER XX—STOLEN
=================

“Oh, but how do we know?” protested Laura.
“It looks like machinery of some kind, but we have
no way of proving that it is the stolen invention.”
“No,” said Billie, still in a kind of daze. “It may
be just some old worthless thing that has been put
up here because it is of no use to anybody. But then
again——”

“Oh, I think Laura’s right,” put in Vi, to whom
this new find of Billie’s was not very interesting. It
seemed absurd to put any value on that queer-looking
thing. And besides, she was anxious to get out
of that musty, ill-smelling place. “I thought of
Mrs. Haddon at first too, but——”

“Hello! I wonder what this is,” Laura interrupted
her. There had been some blue prints lying
on the floor near the wooden machinery. In the
poor light they had remained unnoticed until Laura
had stumbled upon them quite by accident.

In her eagerness, Billie forgot to be polite. She
snatched the papers from her chum and made her
way to the nearest dust-begrimed window.

She scanned the prints eagerly and finally came to
the thing she had so wildly hoped to find. It was
only a name, but it told a great deal.

The blue prints were evidently the design of some
sort of machinery, and down at the foot of one page
the designer had put his name—Henry Haddon.

“Girls, girls, look!” cried Billie, almost beside
herself with excitement at her discovery. “Now
maybe you’ll dare to say I’m crazy and I don’t know
what I’m talking about. I dreamed of it two nights
in succession, and now my dream has come
true——”

“Well, for goodness’ sake, stop waving that thing
around and tell us what you’re raving about,” commanded
Laura, snatching the blue print from Billie
in her turn, while Vi crowded close, looking curiously
over her shoulder.

“Here! At the bottom of this page!” crowed
Billie, pointing out the name. “See it? Henry
Haddon!”

“Henry Haddon!” repeated Laura excitedly.
“Then it looks as if that really were his invention.”

“It is the knitting machinery model!” cried Vi,
forgetting that a moment ago she had scoffed at
the idea.

“Of course it is, you gooses—I mean you geese,”
cried Billie, incoherent in her happiness. “I told
you so right along, didn’t I? Next time maybe
you’ll believe your Uncle Billie.”

“I—guess—yes!” said Laura, still staring at the
blue prints as though she could not believe they were
real. “You surely did have the right idea that time,
Billie.”

“Of course I did!” cried Billie impishly, bubbling
over with excitement. “And now I’ve got an idea
that’s righter yet. Let’s go to Mrs. Haddon and tell
her about it.”

“Agreed!” cried Laura. Then she glanced uncertainly
at the blue prints. “Shall we take these
along?” she asked.

Billie hesitated, then shook her head.

“No,” she said, “I think we had better leave
everything just as we found it.”

So Laura put the important papers back on the
spot where she had found them, or as near to it as
she could remember.

She then backed out of the room and felt her way
down the ladder. Vi followed, treading on her fingers,
so that she let go and very nearly tumbled to
the floor.

Billie came last, for she was to lock the door.

But a strange thing happened. Either excitement
had made Billie’s fingers clumsy or something had
really happened to the rusty lock. At any rate, she
could not get the door locked again and after a few
minutes of nervous fumbling, interspersed with
remarks from the girls that were anything but
encouraging, she gave up the attempt.

“Oh, well, we’ll be back in a little while, anyway,”
she said, as she came down swiftly hand over hand
and dropped to the floor beside the girls. “Come on
now, let’s hurry and find Mrs. Haddon.”

They scurried down the stairs and were hurrying
to their dormitory to get on coats and hats when a
voice hailed them and they stopped impatiently to
find Rose Belser hurrying toward them.

“Have you heard the latest, girls?” asked the
dark-haired girl excitedly, for once forgetting her
sleepy drawl.

“No,” said Billie, trying not to sound as impatient
as she felt, while Laura and Vi frowned openly.

“It’s up on the bulletin board,” Rose told them,
too full of her own news to notice their annoyance.
“Connie Danvers has lost a gold wrist watch and
Miss Walters is very much upset about it. She
says that the thief, whoever it is, must be found.
And she has ordered that no girl leave the Hall until
to-morrow morning.”

The girls looked at each other and groaned.

“Till to-morrow morning!” said Billie, her face as
long as though a death sentence had just been pronounced
upon her. “Oh, why couldn’t Connie have
held on to her old watch!”

Rose’s look of surprise was so genuine that it
put Billie instantly on her guard. The chums were
not ready yet to take anybody into their confidence
about the new discovery.

And so she covered her slip as well as she could,
and they went on together to the dormitory, exclaiming
sympathetically over Connie’s loss.

The next morning came at last, however, and as
it was Sunday, the girls were free to go as soon as
the morning chapel hour was over. But as Miss
Walters would not allow any girl to leave the building
without special permission from her, the classmates
were forced to go to her and tell her about
their invasion of the tower room and their discovery.

She was displeased that they had not asked her
consent before taking such a step. But she was also
very much interested in their story, and readily gave
them her permission to go to Polly Haddon.

“Bring her back with you, if you can,” she said,
“and we will all go together to the tower room.”

“Now for the fun!” cried Laura, as a few minutes
later they stepped out into the crisp air. “Whew!
I think we got off lots better than we expected. I
thought Miss Walters would be awfully mad.”

“Probably she would have been if she hadn’t had
so many other things to worry about,” said Vi.

“Poor Connie!” said Billie. “It surely is too bad
about her watch. It was a beauty, and she was so
proud of it.”

“I hope Miss Walters finds the thief pretty soon,”
said Laura, frowning. “Everybody thinks it is one
of the girls, and I’m even beginning to feel guilty
myself.”

“Do you think——” Vi began, then flushed as the
girls looked at her and stopped.

“What?” asked Laura adding, as Vi still hesitated.
“Come on—we won’t eat you.”

“Nothing—only—I was wondering if the thief
might not be Amanda.”

“Oh, no,” cried Billie quickly. “I’m sure it
couldn’t be, Vi.”

The suggestion from Vi startled her, and it troubled
her too, for the very reason that the same idea
had been in her own mind.

And suddenly Laura spoke up in support of Vi.

“I shouldn’t wonder if Vi is right,” she said.
“Amanda is mean enough for anything.”

Billie had no answer for that, and so she said
nothing. But she was more than ever troubled.

As they neared the little white cottage that had
seen so much trouble, they forgot Amanda in anticipation
of Polly Haddon’s joy at the good news they
were bringing her.

They knocked on the door, and the moment it was
opened pushed eagerly inside and turned to face the
astonished widow.

Billie started to speak, but Laura, with her usual
impulsiveness, was before her.

“We’ve got good news, Mrs. Haddon,” she
blurted out. “We’ve found your lost invention.”

Billie gasped with dismay as Mrs. Haddon turned
deathly white and grasped the back of a chair for
support.

“Oh, Laura, you shouldn’t!” cried Billie, as she
put an arm about the woman and helped her into a
chair. “Get some water, quick! There’s a glass in
the sink.”

But Mrs. Haddon brushed her impatiently aside.

“I’m not going to faint,” she said brusquely.
“Tell me why you said that. Hurry!”

But Laura thought she had done enough speechmaking
for one day, and it was Billie who answered
the woman’s questions.

“It must be ours,” said the latter, at last. “I will
go with you and make sure. Peter? Yes, he will
be all right till I get back. He is much better. I
will be ready in a moment.”

She returned in less than a minute, a hat perched
carelessly on her head and a shawl around her
shoulders. Her eyes burned bright in her thin face.

No one spoke on the way back. Mrs. Haddon,
her lips set and her eyes fixed straight ahead, said
not a word, and the girls were too awed by her emotion
to break the silence.

Miss Walters met them in the hall, said a few
words to Mrs. Haddon, then, seeing that the woman
was keyed to the breaking point, led the way straight
to the tower room.

The girls ran up the ladder ahead of the two
older women. The latter followed more slowly.
Billie pushed open the little door and entered the
room.

Then she started, gasped, rubbed her hand across
her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming. For
the spot where the queer wooden machinery had
stood was empty. The invention was gone; and
the blue prints were gone, too!

CHAPTER XXI—MORE MYSTERY
========================

Billie Bradley turned cold all over. To have
brought Polly Haddon here—to have practically
promised her a fortune—and then to find—nothing!

“Billie! They’re gone!” said a voice at her elbow,
and she turned sharply to find Laura and Vi peering
inquisitively over her shoulder.

“I know they’re gone,” she cried, almost sobbing
in her rage and disappointment “Oh, girls, what,
can we do? We can’t tell Mrs. Haddon——”

“What’s this you can’t tell me?” asked Polly
Haddon herself, and Billie looked at the woman
miserably.

“The model,” she said, her voice almost inaudible.
“It was here yesterday, and now it’s gone.”

“*Gone!*” cried Miss Walters sharply. “How can
that be? Is it possible that somebody else is in the
habit of visiting this tower?”

But Mrs. Haddon pushed her aside.

“Do you mean that the model is gone—again—after
bringing me here?” she cried wildly. “Oh, you
could not be so cruel, you could not!” The last word
caught in a sob, and Miss Walters put an arm about
her compassionately.

“Listen to me a moment,” she said, in a gentle
voice of authority. “If the girls are certain that
the machinery and the blueprints were here as late
as yesterday——”

“Oh, we are, we are!” cried Billie eagerly.

“Then whoever has taken them since could not
have got very far away with them in this short
time,” she went on reassuringly. “Your husband’s
invention—if indeed it was his model the girls found
here—must still be in this neighborhood, perhaps
in this very building. Though who,” she added
thoughtfully, “in this place could wish to steal such
a thing is indeed a mystery.”

“Oh, Miss Walters!” cried Billie eagerly, “I’m
sure nobody here in the Hall has stolen the invention.
Nobody would have any use for it, and besides,
it isn’t a thing that could be hidden very
easily.”

Suddenly Laura had what she thought was a
bright idea.

“Maybe somebody stole it who had a grudge
against Mrs. Haddon,” she suggested.

Miss Walters looked inquiringly at the woman
who had drawn away from her embrace and was
wiping her eyes resignedly.

“Is there any one you know of who might hold
a grudge against your family?” Miss Walters asked.

Mrs. Haddon went over to one of the dust-begrimed
windows and stood there for a moment
looking out, her fingers tapping a restless tattoo on
the windowpane. Then she slowly shook her head.

“No, I can’t think of any one,” she said, adding
bitterly: “We were too poor and unimportant to
make enemies of any one. But what does it matter?”
She turned quickly from the window with one
of her fierce changes of mood. “The invention is
gone. I was a fool to think that any good fortune
would ever come to me. Let me go home.”

She brushed fiercely past Miss Walters, but the
latter put out a gentle hand and detained her.

“Wait a little,” she begged. Her heart ached
for the other woman’s suffering. “Come into my
office with me while I make inquiries and find out
if any suspicious person has been seen about here
lately. I am confident,” she added with an assurance
that reached the other woman, “that before
long we shall be able to recover your property. Will
you trust me and believe that I want to help you?”

“Yes,” said Polly Haddon, faint hope once more
stirring in her heart. “You are more than kind to
me.”

With what different emotions the classmates left
the tower room from those with which they had entered
it so hopefully only a few minutes before.

The girls supposed that now that Miss Walters
had taken charge of Mrs. Haddon’s affairs, they
would have no further interest in the matter. But,
to their surprise and gratification, Miss Walters motioned
them into her office also.

Then she summoned the teachers to her one after
another and questioned them carefully as to whom,
if anybody, had been seen around Three Towers
since the afternoon before.

Through it all Mrs. Haddon sat with an expression
of utter hopelessness on her face. Evidently the
faint hope that Miss Walters had for the moment
revived had died away again.

It seemed that none of the teachers had seen anything
that might arouse suspicion, and even the girls
were beginning to despair when they were at last
given a clue to work on.

It was Miss Arbuckle who gave it to them.

She showed considerable surprise at first at being
questioned. But after wrinkling her forehead
thoughtfully for a few minutes she remembered
having seen somebody loitering about the building
late on the preceding afternoon.

“Could you identify the person?” asked Miss
Walters quickly, alert at once.

“No,” said Miss Arbuckle, hesitantly, “I couldn’t
be at all certain because it was dusk and I saw him
only from the window. But it looked like that
simple son of Tim Budd, the gardener.”

“Nick Budd!” cried the three girls together, and
at the name Polly Haddon also roused from her
reverie.

“You could not say certainly that it was Nick
Budd?” said Miss Walters, questioningly.

“No, I couldn’t,” returned Miss Arbuckle. “But
I remember thinking at the time that the fellow was
acting in a rather peculiar manner, and I even
thought of reporting him. I was called away by
some duties then, however, and when I looked from
the window again he was gone.”

“Nick Budd!” cried Polly Haddon, in an agitated
tone, her hands clasping and unclasping in her lap.
“You asked a while ago if there was anybody who
might bear a grudge against my family, and I said
there was no one. But I had forgotten poor foolish
Nick Budd!”

“Yes, Mrs. Haddon?” prompted Miss Walters,
while the girls exchanged excited glances.

“At one time my husband employed him as a
handy man about the place,” the woman hurried on.
“But after a while we noticed that things began to
disappear—things that were worthless to any one
else, but dear to us because of their associations.”

The girls and Miss Walters were intensely interested
now. They were thinking of the numerous
petty thefts that had taken place in the Hall during
the past few weeks. Could there be any connection
between that and Polly Haddon’s story?

“My husband charged the simpleton with taking
the things,” the woman went on. “He did it gently
enough, too, for he was sorry for the poor fellow,
but Nick fell into one of his rages and slammed out
of the house, muttering to himself. He never came
back, and we never saw him again.”

“Then this boy did have some reason for wishing
to get even with your husband,” said Miss Walters,
all interest. “It begins to look as if he were the one
who stole your invention in the first place. And if
this was really Nick Budd whom Miss Arbuckle
saw loitering about the school yesterday, it is probable
he had something to do with its second disappearance——”
she broke off suddenly, for Polly
Haddon had risen to her feet.

The girls thought they had never seen such a
picture of concentrated fury. She stood clutching
the back of a chair fiercely and her eyes flashed fire.

“If it is proved that Nick Budd did this thing,”
she said in a low, tense voice, “I think I shall—shall——”

“But you must remember that he is a simpleton
and not accountable as sane people are,” put in Miss
Walters hastily; but apparently the woman did not
hear her.

“We must catch Nick Budd and make him confess,”
she said impatiently: “Then perhaps we shall
find out where he has hidden my property.”

“Miss Walters!” cried Billie excitedly, jumping
up, and walking over to the principal, “I think I
know where we can find everything that Nick Budd
has ever stolen.”

“What do you mean?” asked Miss Walters.
“Speak quickly, Billie.”

“In Nick Budd’s cave!” cried Billie, triumphantly.

CHAPTER XXII—FIRST PRIZE
========================

“Billie, you’re a wonder! Come on, let’s go!”
cried Laura, then clapped her hand over her mouth
and turned a panicky red as she caught Miss Walters’
eye upon her.

But Miss Walters was looking through and beyond
Laura, and her gaze came quickly back to
Billie. Polly Haddon’s eyes were fixed on the girl,
too, with passionate intensity.

“Tell us what you mean, Billie,” commanded Miss
Walters. “Quickly!”

Billie, remembering suddenly that Miss Arbuckle
was the only one of the faculty who knew of her
adventure with Teddy, was embarrassed for a moment.
But she plunged bravely in and told them
the whole story from beginning to end, sparing no
details.

Miss Walters was intensely interested, and when
she had finished even Polly Haddon looked encouraged.
The latter wished to set forth at once in
search of the cave, but Miss Walters proposed a
plan that appealed to everybody, especially the hungry
girls.

“Wait and have lunch with me in my rooms,” she
said to Mrs. Haddon. “For it is almost lunch time
now. Then we can start to hunt for the cave as soon
as we have finished.”

Mrs. Haddon looked tempted, but she shook her
head.

“There are the children,” she said. “And little
Peter. There is no one with them.”

But Miss Arbuckle settled this objection by offering
to go over and stay with the children and see
that they were well taken care of during their
mother’s absence.

“I was a governess and sort of children’s nurse
combined, at one time, you know,” and she smiled
graciously upon the mother. “And I assure you
that I know how to care for children.”

Almost upon her words the lunch gong rang, and
Miss Walters thereupon dismissed the girls to the
dining-hall.

“Remember, we will start directly after lunch,”
she said to them as they fled.

“Billy, it’s just like a story book or a movie!”
cried Vi joyfully, as they took their places at the
table among the noisy, chattering girls.

“Are you certain you can find the cave again,
Billie?” asked Laura, as she attacked her heaped-up
plate of good things ravenously.

Before Billie could answer Rose Belser leaned
across the table and asked with a drawl where they
had been keeping themselves all morning.

“We’ve made a snowman,” she chuckled. “But
we needed Billie’s artistic touch to make the face.
I can’t get the nose to look right.”

Instinctively the girls glanced out the window and
saw that it was snowing. And they had never noticed
it!

“Why, it’s snowing, girls!” remarked Vi brilliantly.
“It looks almost like a blizzard.”

“Are you just waking up?” asked Connie Danvers,
a little crossly. Connie was cross because it
was the first time in her intimate friendship with the
girls that they had had a secret from her. “Now I
know you’re crazy.”

Billie guessed at Connie’s grievance and, reaching
over, she pressed the hand of her classmate under
the table.

“We’ll tell you all about everything to-night,” she
promised, and Connie’s face brightened miraculously.

The snowstorm did indeed look like the beginning
of a blizzard, and as the girls went to get their wraps
they worried not a little for fear this new development
might put an end to their adventure.

However, Miss Walters decided that they would
try it, at least, and Mrs. Haddon was eagerly anxious
to be off.

“We’ll try anything once,” whispered Laura to
Billie, as they went out into the already ankle-deep
snow, the wind lashing bitingly against their faces.
“Thank goodness, we can die but once!”

“Die but once is right,” said Billie grumpily. She
was worried for fear she would not be able to find
the path leading to the cave.

It would have been hard enough if the ground
had been clear, but with the snow rapidly obliterating
every landmark, it was well-nigh impossible.

“I wish Teddy were here,” she said, half to herself,
and her voice was very wistful.

“Don’t you though!” echoed Laura, heartily. “It
seems an age since we’ve seen any of the boys.”

“Say, Billie,” broke in Vi, who was shivering in
the bitter cold despite her warm furs, “are you sure
you are going right? It wouldn’t be any fun to be
lost in these lonely woods with maybe a blizzard
coming on.”

At this observation Billie stopped and turned to
Miss Walters and Polly Haddon, who were following
close behind.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at Miss Walters
appealingly. “If it weren’t snowing I might be able
to find the way, but as it is I’m afraid I would only
get you all lost. I’m lost myself now.”

“All right, honey. Don’t look so distressed about
it,” said Miss Walters, patting her kindly on the
shoulder. “You would have to know the way pretty
well to be able to find it in this storm. We shall
have to give it up to-day, and try again as soon as
we can.”

“Yes, that will be best,” said Polly Haddon,
through chattering teeth. Her thin shawl formed
scarcely any protection against the freezing weather.
“Thank you all so much for bothering with my affairs.
Now I must get back to the children. Good-bye.”

Before they had fairly realized she was going,
she was gone, and the girls and Miss Walters turned
back to the Hall.

“Bother the old snow,” said Laura crossly. “I
always liked it before, but now I hate it.”

They were all glad when the warmth of Three
Towers Hall closed in about them again. Miss
Walters said a few words to them about saying
nothing of this affair to any one. Then she dismissed
them to the dormitory while she herself hurried
off to do a little work that she had neglected all
day. For around examination time, Miss Walters
was not always free, even on Sunday.

Some of the girls had seen Billie and Laura and
Vi come in with Miss Walters, and they demanded to
know what “all the excitement was about.” And
the fact that the girls would not talk made their
classmates all the more curious.

Connie was the only one to whom they would tell
the story, for they knew that they could trust her as
they trusted themselves.

“And it’s still snowing,” mourned Billie, as she
cleared a space on the misted window and looked
out at the snow-covered world. “It looks as if we
shouldn’t get out of here for weeks!”

Billie’s gloomy prophecy was fulfilled. The storm
developed into one of the worst blizzards that part
of the country had ever known, and for almost two
weeks the occupants of Three Towers were practically
house-bound.

It was good that the school boasted a well-stocked
larder. Otherwise the girls might actually have gone
hungry. And they wondered a great deal about
Polly Haddon and her little brood.

“Suppose she hasn’t enough in the house to eat?”
worried Vi. “Why, they may starve!”

“Maybe she used the gold pieces we left her to
stock up when she saw the blizzard coming on,”
suggested Billie, and the suggestion comforted them
a great deal.

The day was approaching when those competing
for the composition prize were to hand in their essays.
Billie and Laura and Connie and Rose Belser
and the half dozen other girls who had entered the
lists were writing like mad—and biting their pens
to bits—in an effort to get their essays in on time.

And in the heart of each was the fervent hope
that she would be the winner. Only Amanda had
no need to hope. She was sure! The prize was
hers!

She had carried out her intention of copying her
essay straight from the little musty book. So sure
was she that her ruse would not be detected that
she had not bothered to alter a word. And while the
others worked, she smiled.

At last came the day when the finished essays were
to be handed in, and all day long Miss Walters was
closeted in her office with Miss Race and one or
two of the other teachers, reading and tabulating the
manuscripts as they came to her.

So busy had Billie been in rewriting a phrase here,
changing a word there, that she handed in her essay
the very last of all—just a scant half hour before
the time was up. But she was happy, because she
knew that she had given her best effort.

“I imagine we shall enjoy reading this,” Miss
Walters remarked to her associates, tapping Billie’s
manuscript with a thoughtful finger. “Billie Bradley
has real literary talent.”

The result of the contest was to be announced the
next morning in the auditorium and the prizes to
be awarded to the winners.

When the longed-for, yet dreaded, moment arrived,
the girls filed into the auditorium, the contestants
near the front, and almost the entire school
occupying the seats behind them.

Billie’s heart was hammering so loudly that she
glanced about her to see if anybody else seemed to
notice it. But the majority of the girls were babbling
away too excitedly to hear anything but themselves.

Billie was surprised to see that even the girls
who were expecting to hear their fate within the
next few moments were talking—chattering away
excitedly, to be sure—but still talking. As for herself,
she was sure she could not have uttered a word
just then if her life had depended upon it. She did
want that prize so dreadfully!

“Cheer up, Billie,” whispered Vi, slipping a loyal
hand into hers. “You’re not afraid of missing the
prize, are you? Why, you couldn’t miss it if you
tried.”

Billie did not say anything, but she gripped Vi’s
hand hard. And she was still holding on to it when
Miss Walters ascended the platform and a deep
hush spread over the room.

“As you all know,” came the clear, sweet voice
of the head of Three Towers Hall, “I have come
here this morning to announce the winners of the
composition prize.

“I and my associates have had difficulty in choosing
the winning essays, for the reason that they are
all so excellent. We are only sorry that we have
not a prize to attach to each.”

A buzz broke out in the audience, but when Miss
Walters raised her hand it instantly died down
again.

“And now,” she said, “not to keep you any longer
in suspense, we will announce the winners.”

Billie’s grip on Vi’s hand tightened till it hurt.

Then into the tense silence Miss Walters threw
the bomb of her announcement.

“The first prize goes to Amanda Peabody,” she
said. “Will she please step up upon the platform?”

CHAPTER XXIII—DISGRACED
=======================

For a moment there was intense silence while
Amanda rose triumphantly and flounced up to the
platform.

Then an amazed, angry buzz rose from the
audience of indignant girls. Amanda, who was
proverbially stupid, to have taken the prize from
some of the brightest girls in the school! It was
impossible—incredible! And yet it was only too
true!

Miss Walters, with a few words of congratulation,
handed the prize—a fine set of books—to
Amanda, and the latter swept haughtily back to
her seat, triumph in every line of her figure as she
passed the other pupils.

She had beaten Billie Bradley at last! And her
revenge was sweeter than even she had dreamed it
would be.

But Billie, tears of anger and disappointment
stinging her eyes, felt sure that she had not been
beaten fairly. Amanda had played a trick on her,
on the rest of the contestants for the prize, on Miss
Walters herself. But, in Teddy’s vocabulary,
Amanda had “gotten away with it.” The prize was
in her possession.

“It’s a shame,” she heard in angry protest all
about her.

“She never did it honestly.”

“Somebody ought to tell Miss Walters. She
doesn’t know Amanda as well as we do.”

But Miss Walters had raised her hand for silence,
and in a few seconds the angry murmurs died down
again.

“I have the pleasure of awarding the second
prize,” the principal announced, “to Beatrice Bradley.
Will you step up on the platform, Billie?”

The second prize! She didn’t want the second
prize, Billie told herself, when Amanda had come
in first. To march up there on the platform with
that girl’s gloating eyes upon her——

But Vi and Laura were pulling her out of her
seat, pushing her out into the aisle—and while Billie
hesitated Miss Walters had impatiently repeated her
summons.

Someway Billie found her way to the platform,
thanked Miss Walters incoherently for the fine volume
of poetry which was the second prize, and
stumbled back to happy oblivion among her schoolmates.

“It’s a shame, honey,” Laura whispered in her
ear, generously forgetting her own disappointment
in Billie’s. “But never mind, you got the second
prize anyway—which was more than the rest of us
did,” she added, with a little stab of regret at her
own failure.

“And you would have won the first prize if it
hadn’t been for that cat,” added Vi fiercely.

Billie pressed their hands gratefully and glanced
for the first time at her prize.

“I’d like to throw it away!” she cried fiercely.

“Sh-h,” whispered Vi, for Miss Walters was
making an interesting announcement.

“The winning compositions will now be read,”
she said. “Miss Arbuckle has volunteered to give
us that pleasure.”

There was a great clapping of hands as Miss
Arbuckle stepped on the platform and smiled down
at them. For the little teacher was a great favorite
with the girls.

“We will read Amanda’s composition first,” she
said, “as it has had the distinction of winning the
first prize.”

Again there was tense silence in the Hall. The
girls were agog with curiosity to hear this wonderful
composition which had been written by one of
the notoriously stupid girls of the school.

As for Amanda, she had not foreseen this event.
She had not expected to hear her stolen composition
read aloud, and before all this assembly of
stern young critics. The prospect made her a trifle
nervous, but her smile was as proudly triumphant
as ever.

Her chief concern was with Eliza. For the girl
was so white and scared that she threatened to give
the deception away.

Amanda gave her a sharp nudge with her elbow.

“Cheer up, will you?” she muttered fiercely.
“You’re not at a funeral.”

Miss Arbuckle began to read, and as she read
the well-rounded phrases, the telling metaphors, the
girls became more than ever stupefied with astonishment.

“Could it be,” they asked themselves incredulously,
“that Amanda had remarkable literary ability
that they had never suspected? Could she really
have written a thing like that?”

The same thought seemed to be in Miss Arbuckle’s
mind, for as she read on her brow became clouded
and she paused now and then as though she were
trying to recollect something.

Finally she stopped altogether, looked across at
Amanda for a thoughtful moment, then laid the
manuscript down and turned to Miss Walters. She
said something that the girls could not catch, then
hurried from the room.

This was something no one had counted upon.
Amanda, her triumphant smile gone at last, quaked
as she heard again the excited buzz of the girls
about her.

Miss Walters’ voice rose over the murmur, clear
and very grave.

“Miss Arbuckle thinks she has made a discovery,”
she said. “She will be back in a moment, and
until then I must ask that there be absolute silence
in the room.”

Miss Sara Walters possessed that rare gift of
authority that needed no raising of the voice or
undue emphasis to command obedience.

Instantly the murmuring stopped and the girls
waited in breathless silence for Miss Arbuckle’s return.

They did not have to wait long. A moment later
the teacher reëntered the room, holding a book in
her hand, the sight of which made Amanda’s craven
heart sink in consternation.

The book looked like an exact copy of the one
from which she had copied her “original” prize
composition!

“Miss Walters,” said Miss Arbuckle in a voice
which indignation made vibrant, “I am sorry to have
to admit that one of the students of Three Towers
Hall has been guilty of so disgraceful an act. But
the composition that I have just read, the essay
that was handed in as original by Amanda Peabody,
has been copied word for word from this
book.

“It is an old book that has been in my possession
for years—was my father’s before it was mine—and
doubtless the girl thought herself perfectly safe
in copying from it. Here is the passage.” She
had been marking a place with her finger, and now
she opened the book at the place and handed it to
Miss Walters to read.

What a hideous minute for Amanda! If she had
been awaiting a death sentence she could hardly
have felt more terrified.

To be publicly disgraced, to have all the girls
laughing at her, gloating over her——

With intense gravity Miss Walters closed the
book and laid it on the table. Amanda knew that
her moment had come.

“Amanda,” said Miss Walters sternly, “will you
please stand up in your place?”

Amanda stood up, conscious of a score of curious
and contemptuous glances focused upon her.
Her heart was beating suffocatingly, her hands were
clenched tight at her side.

“You have been guilty to-day,” Miss Walters’
clear voice pronounced sentence, “of blackening the
good name of Three Towers Hall by a most disgraceful
act. But by your wretched duplicity you
have injured yourself far more than you have injured
any one else. You will go to my office. I
will see you there.”

There was intense silence while Amanda, her
head hanging, walked from the room. Then the
eager murmur rose once more, but again Miss Walters
lifted her hand for silence.

“I am sorry,” she said. “More sorry than I can
express that such a thing could have happened here.
Of course the first prize will now go to Beatrice
Bradley and I will decide later to whom the second
prize belongs. That is all.” With a little gesture
she dismissed them and she herself walked quickly
from the room.

Then the riot that had been suppressed so long
broke loose and the girls formed into little groups
talking excitedly and all at once about the dramatic
turn events had taken.

Billie, the center of a little group of her own, was
fairly overwhelmed with congratulations.

“We knew all along that you should have been
the winner!”

“To think that Amanda should try to get away
with a thing like that!” said Laura, disgustedly.

“She might have, just the same,” Connie reminded
her. “It was just luck that Miss Arbuckle
happened to have that book.”

“My, but I bet you’re happy, Billie Bradley!”
sighed Vi. “I shouldn’t let anybody speak to me
if I were in your place.”

“What’s the matter, honey?” asked Laura, regarding
Billie’s sober face curiously. “I say, cheer
up, old dear. What have *you* got to gloom about?”

“I was just thinking about Amanda,” said Billie,
with all her sweet sympathy for the unfortunate.
“I was wondering how it would feel to be in her
shoes now.”

“Out, out upon such doleful thoughts,” Laura
sang out airily. But Billie, who had turned toward
the window, suddenly clutched her by the arm.

“Look!” she said, excitedly. “There’s Nick
Budd!”

CHAPTER XXIV—TRIUMPH
====================

Before her classmates knew what she was about
or had fairly taken in what she had said, Billie had
darted from the room and was flying toward the
dormitory.

“She’s crazy again,” cried Vi. “Come on,” and
she and Laura and Connie flew after her, overtaking
her as she reached the stairs.

“What’s the big idea?” gasped Laura, as they
ran together down the hall toward the dormitory.
“What do you expect to do to poor Nick—sandbag
him?”

“Something like that,” returned Billie, slipping
hurriedly into her coat and hat and motioning impatiently
for the girls to do the same. “If we can
only get hold of him we may be able to frighten him
into telling us where the machinery is.”

“Oh, and maybe I’ll be able to get my watch
back!” added Connie, pulling a dark cap down over
her fluffy hair and carefully adjusting it at the right
angle.

“We won’t get anything if you don’t hurry,” said
Billie, regarding her impatiently. “What do you
think you’re going to, anyway? A party?”

“You had better put on your leggings,” suggested
Vi, looking doubtfully at the rubbers Billie had
pulled on over her shoes. “The snow’s awfully
deep.”

“Haven’t time,” cried Billie, adding distractedly:
“For mercy sake, hurry! While you girls are dolling
up for a party, Nick Budd will be gone.”

At this dreadful thought the girls stopped fussing
and followed Billie hurriedly down the stairs. They
slowed down in the lower hall, however, for there
they were apt to meet a teacher, and undue haste
might be thought suspicious by one of these “unreasonable
beings.”

At sight of Nick Budd, a plan had come to Billie.
She remembered how terrified he had seemed when
he had found Teddy and her in the cave that day
and thought in his crazy mind that they had come
to arrest him.

So she was going to take a chance of so frightening
him with a threat of arrest that he would confess,
and perhaps even be prevailed upon to lead
them to the cave.

In case this plan should fail, she had not an idea
in the world what she would do next. But the plan
did not fail. It worked more perfectly than she
had dared to hope.

They caught up to the simpleton just as he was
sneaking around to the janitor’s entrance of the
school, and the fellow shrank from them like a
frightened animal.

“Wh-what do you want?” he stammered, his
hands out as though to ward them off. “I haven’t
done nothin’. Ye can’t arrest me. I haven’t done
nothin’, I tell you.” His terror was pitiful, but
Billie followed up her advantage ruthlessly while
the girls stood by in admiring silence.

“You *have* done something,” she told him sternly,
while he cowered still further back from her.
“You’ve stolen things—lots of things. And we *will*
have you arrested——”

“Oh no—oh no,” he cried out, fairly gibbering
in his terror and slinking further back against the
wall. “Ye’re tryin’ to scare me. I haven’t done
nothin’, I tell ye.”

But Billie took him by the sleeve and shook him
as she would a bad child.

“I tell you I *know*,” she cried, conviction in her
tone that carried even to the poor muddled brain
of the simpleton. “And I know where they are,
too. They are in your cave, hidden away. Every-last-one-of-them!”

Of course Billie was taking a big chance, but the
shot went home.

The simpleton stared at her for a moment out
of his blood-shot eyes while his big mouth dropped
open. Then he began to cry, great tears that ran
down his grimy face and made crooked streaks
upon it.

It was an indescribably terrible and pitiful sight,
the poor silly fellow in his abject terror, and ordinarily
Billie would have felt sorry for him. But
she thought of Polly Haddon, and the thought gave
her courage. Polly Haddon had suffered, and now
if it was this poor simpleton’s turn, it was no more
than he deserved, after all.

“Listen to me carefully,” she said, pulling at his
sleeve again and speaking very distinctly. “If you
will take us to the cave and promise to give back
everything you have stolen to the people you have
stolen from, we will try to keep you from being
arrested.”

“You won’t put me in jail?” jabbered the simpleton.
“You won’t let the policemen get me?”

Billie shook her head, adding quickly: “But you
must take us to the cave right away and help us
bring back the things you have stolen. Otherwise
we will have you arrested to-night.”

They were hardly prepared for his sudden acceptance
of the ultimatum. He turned, with the
swiftness that had surprised Billie and Teddy before,
and strode off through the heavy snow, the
girls, after a minute of indecision, following.

“What do you suppose Miss Walters will say?”
Laura whispered in Billie’s ear. “Do you suppose
she will mind our running away like this?”

“I don’t know,” answered Billie, adding with a
hint of premature triumph in her voice: “I don’t
imagine she will say anything though if we come
home with the knitting machinery models, the blue
prints, and an armful of stolen things besides.”

“Oh, if I can only get back my watch, I’ll be
happy,” sighed Connie, as she plodded along beside
Vi.

“‘If’ is right,” said Laura, ruefully. “We
haven’t got anything yet, you know.”

“Now who’s the wet blanket?” cried Billie gayly.
She was feeling amazingly happy and confident all
of a sudden. For had not she just won the first
prize for the best composition? After that she felt
that she could accomplish anything.

It was no easy task to make their way through
the woods. Nick Budd trudged along sturdily,
hardly looking at the girls.

“He may be simple-minded, but he is as strong
as a horse—at least, when it comes to walking,” remarked
Laura in a whisper.

“Many simple-minded folks are strong,” answered
Billie. “Why, some lunatics are noted for their
strength—I once heard my father say so.”

They had to pass over an exceedingly rough rise
of ground and then down through a hollow where
the bushes grew close together. Here the walking
was very uneven and Connie gave a sudden cry of
pain.

“What’s the matter?” demanded Billie quickly,
and came to a halt beside her classmate.

“I slipped into a hole and I—I guess I wrenched
my ankle,” and Connie made a wry face.

“Can’t you go on?” questioned Vi.

“I—I guess so, but I’ll do a little limping,” was
Connie’s reply.

“We’ll have to be careful,” warned Billie. “We
don’t want to hurt ourselves if we can help it.”

After an hour of trudging through the snow they
came at last to the twig-entwined entrance to Nick’s
cave. Luckily the simpleton had beaten a sort of
path through the snow from Three Towers to the
cave—a fact which showed that he had made frequent
visits to the school—or the girls almost surely
could not have made the trip.

Nick pulled aside the twigs that concealed the
entrance and dived inside, leaving the girls to follow
as best they could.

But the girls did not follow—immediately. They
were no cowards, but the sight of that yawning dark
mouth was enough to make them hesitate. And besides,
there was a simpleton at the other end of that
dark passage, a simpleton who might be mad enough
by this time to do any desperate thing.

“You go first, Billie,” Vi urged nervously. “He
is afraid of you——”

But at that moment a dancing light flickered down
the dark passage and immediately Nick Budd himself
appeared, carrying a lighted candle which he
carefully shielded from the wind.

The terror had not left his face, and he looked
at Billie abjectly, like a beaten dog.

“Will ye come in?” he asked in a barely audible
voice. “Or shall I bring the things out here?”

But as the latter course would give the simpleton
an excellent chance to retain some of his loot, Billie
replied firmly that they would come in and see for
themselves.

Vi made a noise that sounded something like a
groan, and Connie echoed it pathetically. But they
joined the queer little procession just the same, following
Nick Budd down the dark passage to the
still darker cave, guided only by the flaring light
of his one candle.

It was a dangerous thing for the girls to do.
The simpleton, with the cunning of the mentally-deficient,
might have decided to attack them all there
in the darkness of the cave. And he would have
had a good chance of doing it, too.

But the gods that favor the daring watched over
the girls that day and brought them safely through
their adventure.

Billie had evidently thoroughly cowed the simpleton,
and his one thought was to get rid of his
stolen goods as quickly as possible and thus evade
the dreadful prison that loomed more horrible to
him than death.

There in a corner of the cave the girls found the
knitting machinery model and the precious blue
prints, besides a great pile of small trinkets that comprised
pretty nearly everything that had been stolen
from the girls during the last few weeks.

They were no more eager to linger in the cave
than Nick Budd was to have them. So they
eagerly pocketed as many of the trinkets as they
could—Connie snapping the precious recovered
wrist watch about her wrist with as much joy as
though it had been three times as valuable as it really
was—and Billie, taking the candle from Nick Budd’s
fingers, ordered him to carry the wooden machinery.
She herself took charge of the blue prints.

When they had reached the outside world once
more, Billie blew out the candle, threw it into the
cave, and readjusted the twigs at the entrance as
best she could.

Then she ordered Nick Budd to lead the way back
to the Hall. This the simpleton did, although he
sometimes staggered under the weight he carried and
several times had to put his burden down.

But in spite of the delays and the cold, the return
journey seemed short to the girls, for they were triumphantly
happy and chattered like magpies all the
way back.

“I’ve got my wrist watch! I’ve got my wrist
watch!” crowed Connie over and over again till
the girls got tired of hearing her and Laura asked
her if she would mind changing her tune.

“And won’t the girls be surprised when we tell
them what sleuths we are,” added Vi.

“Humph,” sniffed Laura. “Billie is the real detective.
We’re only—what do you call ’em?—‘also
rans.’ We come in at the end and clap noisily.”

“Nonsense,” laughed Billie. “I couldn’t have
done a thing without you girls. Look out,” she
cried sharply, as Nick Budd stumbled and almost
dropped his load. “If you should break that thing,
Nick Budd, I’d murder you.” But this last was
delivered in an undertone. The poor simpleton had
troubles enough without being threatened.

“Oh,” giggled Laura, incorrigibly, “ain’t she the
vicious thing?”

One would have thought that the girls had had
about enough excitement that day, but it seemed
that fate still held a little more in store for them.

They were coming up the winding path that led
to the Hall when they saw a black-clad figure that
looked strangely familiar hurrying on before them.

“Isn’t that Polly Haddon?” asked Vi, eagerly.
“Yes, it is. Oh, what luck!”

She was about to call out, but Billie stopped her.

“We’ll want to break it to her gently,” she
warned, but her warning came too late. Polly Haddon
had heard their voices and had glanced back
indifferently.

Then, recognizing the girls, she turned and came
hurrying toward them. At sight of her, Nick Budd
dropped his burden in the snow and ran for all he
was worth back the way he had come.

Billie tried to put herself between Polly Haddon
and that bulky object in the snow, but once more
she was too late. For the woman had seen.

With a little cry, Polly Haddon crumpled suddenly
and lay out in the snow, as inert as a bundle
of old clothes.

“Good gracious!” cried Laura frantically. “Now
just when everything is beautiful and lovely, she’s
gone and died!”

CHAPTER XXV—PRETTY FROCKS
=========================

But Polly Haddon had not died. One very seldom
does—of happiness. Some way the girls managed
to get her inside the Hall and administer hot
drinks and hot food and in a surprisingly short time
she was herself again.

Not quite herself, for she was beautified and
transfigured with happiness into a very different
Polly Haddon from the one the girls had known.

Miss Walters was summoned and made her come
into her own private rooms. Of course the girls
went also, and while Mrs. Haddon was stretched
luxuriously on a couch in Miss Walters’ sitting-room,
Billie told how she had frightened the simpleton
into confessing his guilt and restoring the
stolen goods.

Billie was so modest about her leading part in
the affair that Laura was forced to interrupt occasionally,
and, disregarding Billie’s frowns, add a
bit of explanation here and there that enabled her
audience to visualize the thing just as it had happened.

The machinery model had been brought inside and
deposited in one of the study halls, and now Miss
Walters asked Mrs. Haddon what she wished done
with it.

“We can keep it here for you, in the big school
safe,” she suggested, “or we can have it carried
over to your house, just as you wish.”

“Oh no, leave it here,” said Polly Haddon quickly.
“I will notify that Philadelphia knitting company
that the invention has been recovered, and if they
still wish to buy it, it probably will not remain here
long. Oh, how can I thank you all——” her voice
broke, and for a little while all of them felt a bit
uncomfortable while Polly Haddon sobbed out her
happiness and gratitude.

It was over at last, however, and the girls were
free to go back to their dormitory and the curiosity
of their friends.

Here, perched on the bed with Connie and Vi,
Laura gave a graphic account of everything just as
it had happened to a sympathetic audience of some
twenty girls.

She rang Billie’s praises to such an extent that
the poor girl tried to hide herself in an inconspicuous
corner, only to be dragged forth into the limelight
again by a couple of laughing and heartless
maidens.

“You get up there where you belong,” cried one
of them, shoving Billie up into the center of the bed
which was already over-crowded with giggling girls.
“Don’t you know that you’re a real, honest-to-goodness
heroine?”

“And for the second time to-day,” drawled Rose
Belser, her eyes fixed a little enviously upon Billie’s
pretty, flushed face. “Wasn’t it enough to win the
prize, without going and getting yourself in the limelight
*again*?”

Laura and Vi flushed angrily, for there was a
little malice under the question. But Billie took it
all good-naturedly.

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose—not the last
part, anyway,” she said.

“We know you didn’t, honey,” said Connie, ruffling
Billie’s dark curls fondly. “You’re just naturally
talented.”

“By the way,” asked Laura, after an interval
of skylarking, “does anybody know what happened
to Amanda?”

“She was suspended,” replied one of the girls.

“And I thought it was a pity she wasn’t expelled,”
spoke up another.

“Poor Eliza!” drawled Rose. “I wonder what
she will do without her master.”

“Does anybody know who won the second prize?”
asked Laura carelessly.

“What a queer question to ask,” said Caroline
Brant, who had been dreaming about the thesis she
was going to write and had hardly heard a word of
the conversation. “*You* did, of course!”

It took a little time for this to sink in, for Laura
had long ago given up hope of winning a prize for
herself. But when it did finally beat its way into
her mind she straightway proceeded to turn the
place upside down in her hilarity.

She found Billie’s sewing basket, dumped out its
contents, and turned it upside down on her head for
a crown.

Then she draped a bedspread about her shoulders,
queen fashion, and two of her classmates caught up
the dangling ends that formed a train.

Then they marched through the halls crying,
“Way for the queen!” and gathering a crowd of
giggling girls as they went.

“What’s it all about?”

“Queen indeed! Just look at her with that workbasket
on her head!”

“They are having the sport because Laura took
the second prize in that composition contest.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it? Well, I’m glad they showed
up Amanda—and Billie Bradley certainly deserved
the first prize.”

The merriment grew louder, and presently the
crowd made Laura mount a stand and deliver what
they called “an oration.”

“Tell us about making linen dusters for the Laplanders,”
suggested one girl.

“Or overcoats for the heathens in Africa,” suggested
another.

“Or how to make sponge cake from live sponges.”

“Or why Washington didn’t use submarines when
his army crossed the Delaware.”

“I can talk but I can’t make a speech,” declared
Laura. “In other words, I could say something if
I could only frame my speech, properly—that
is——”

“If she could only get her tongue to working,”
broke in Vi, and at this the assembled girls roared.

It was only when rumor said that Miss Walters
was coming their way that the hilarious party broke
up and scurried for home and safety.

“Take off that ridiculous thing,” cried Billie, jerking
at the bedspread, herself weak from laughing.
“And give me back my work basket, woman, before
Miss Walters catches you and sends you after
Amanda.”

“Goodness,” said Laura, meekly handing Billie
her property, “do you think she would? It may
suit Amanda fine to be suspended, but I’m more
comfortable the way I am.”

And so the time wore on with studies and lessons
and fun until the girls woke up one day to
find that the summer holidays were almost upon
them.

Mrs. Haddon had sold the knitting machinery
model to the Philadelphia concern at a price that
was a fortune to her.

The little white cottage had been remodeled and
furnished prettily, and Polly Haddon had grown
prosperous and handsome and oh, so happy.

But the most remarkable thing to the girls was
the change in Mary and Isabel and Peter Haddon.
The children, who had been such sorry little waifs
in their poverty, had grown almost beautiful in the
days of their prosperity. Polly Haddon’s pride in
them and their pretty clothes was almost pathetic.

The North Bend girls and Connie were often visitors
at the little cottage, and sometimes the boys
went with them on their visits and were treated to
a dinner of waffles and maple syrup that, to quote
Chet, “would make an Indian’s hair curl.”

And now, as the girls realized how fast the time
was flying, they conceived the idea of giving a party.
Not a small party, but a real one with cake and ice-cream
and snappers and everything.

“I wonder,” breathed Vi daringly, “if Miss Walters
would mind if we should ask a few of the boys—just
a very few, you know.”

“There would have to be enough to go around,”
interposed Billie.

“I should say so!” said Connie with emphasis.
“Especially as Billie is sure to have at least two
of them. I want to dance with Teddy and Paul
Martinson once or twice myself, my dear,” she said,
eyeing the laughing Billie sternly.

“And I’m quite sure dear Rose will, too—especially
Teddy,” murmured Laura, maliciously.

They found that Miss Walters was quite willing
to let them have the party and the boys, too—provided
the latter did not stay too late—and then the
plans began in earnest.

They sent invitations to about twenty of the boys
at the Academy and the invitations were accepted
promptly and eagerly.

About two days before the great event, the girls
decorated the two big sitting-rooms on the ground
floor which Miss Walters had said they could use,
and when they had finished no ballroom ever looked
prettier—even the girls said so.

Then at last came the morning of the great day,
then the afternoon and then—the evening—and time
for the girls to dress.

They had brought out their best party frocks for
the occasion and the closest chums had compared
colors carefully so that they would be sure not to
“clash.” Billie was to wear pale green net with a
touch of pink, Laura light blue, Connie had chosen
a lovely rose pink that went well with her fluffy
fairness, and Vi had decided on golden yellow that
made her look like a queen. Rose Belser was
dressed in an expensive black frock that was far
too old for her but that set off her dark prettiness
admirably.

There was Nellie Bane in white, and a number
of other girls were in pretty frocks of varied hues.
All were flushed and laughing and excited, and
their happiness made every one of them pretty.

“Oh, aren’t I beautiful?” cried Laura with engaging
frankness as she pirouetted before the mirror.
Then she turned to Billie and hugged her rapturously.
“And you’re gorgeous, honey,” she
cried. “I see where we don’t get even a boy apiece
to-night.”

The boys arrived early. It was lucky that Billie
could dance with only one boy at a time—or there
might not have been “enough to go around.”

“I say, Billie,” Teddy cried once, waltzing her
over into a corner and gazing at her wonderingly,
“I never knew you could look like that. What is
it, anyway? This green and pink thing?” lifting a
piece of filmy net gingerly between his thumb and
finger.

Billie looked up impishly in his face while one
foot kept time with the music.

“Don’t ask *me*,” she said. “It’s because I’m so
happy, I guess. Oh, come on, Teddy, let’s dance!”

It was some time later that the three classmates
happened to find themselves together and alone.

“Desoited!” cried Laura dramatically. “Where’s
yours, Billie?”

“Gone to get me some ice-cream,” said Billie.

“Wonderful,” cried Laura. “So has mine!”

“And mine!” added Vi.

They giggled happily for a minute and then Billie
reached out and put an arm about each of her chums.
She hugged them close, regardless of pretty frocks.

“Girls,” she said contentedly, “I think I’m the
very happiest girl in the world.”

“Except me,” said Laura.

“And me!” echoed Vi. “And to think——” she
added, after they had contentedly watched the happy
crowd for a few moments. “To think that in a few
short weeks vacation will be here.”

“Well,” said Laura decidedly, “if we have any
more fun this summer than we’ve had this winter,
we’ll have to go *some*!”

“We shall indeed,” said Billie, happily.

.. vspace:: 2

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   THE END.

.. clearpage::

.. class:: center

    | :lg:`BILLIE BRADLEY SERIES`
    | 
    | By JANET D. WHEELER
    | 
    | *12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors*
    | *Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid*

\1. BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER INHERITANCE, *or The Queer Homestead at Cherry Corners*

    Billie Bradley fell heir to an old homestead
    that was unoccupied and located far away in
    a lonely section of the country. How Billie
    went there, accompanied by some of her
    chums, and what queer things happened, go
    to make up a story no girl will want to miss.

\2. BILLIE BRADLEY AT THREE-TOWERS HALL, *or Leading a Needed Rebellion*

    Three-Towers Hall was a boarding school for girls. For a short
    time after Billie arrived there all went well. But then the head of
    the school had to go on a long journey and she left the girls in charge
    of two teachers, sisters, who believed in severe discipline and in very,
    very plain food and little of it—and then there was a row! The girls
    wired for the head to come back—and all ended happily.

\3. BILLIE BRADLEY ON LIGHTHOUSE ISLAND, *or The Mystery of the Wreck*

    One of Billie’s friends owned a summer bungalow on Lighthouse
    Island, near the coast. The school girls made up a party and visited
    the Island. There was a storm and a wreck, and three little children
    were washed ashore. They could tell nothing of themselves, and
    Billie and her chums set to work to solve the mystery of their
    identity.

\4. BILLIE BRADLEY AND HER CLASSMATES, *or The Secret of the Locked Tower*

    Billie and her chums come to the rescue of several little children
    who have broken through the ice. There is the mystery of a lost
    invention, and also the dreaded mystery of the locked school tower.

\5. BILLIE BRADLEY AT TWIN LAKES, *or Jolly Schoolgirls Afloat and Ashore*

    A tale of outdoor adventure in which Billie and her chums have a
    great variety of adventures. They visit an artists’ colony and there
    fall in with a strange girl living with an old boatman who abuses her
    constantly. Billie befriended Hulda and the mystery surrounding
    the girl was finally cleared up.

.. class:: center

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.. clearpage::

.. class:: center

   | :lg:`THE BARTON BOOKS FOR GIRLS`
   | By MAY HOLLIS BARTON
   | 
   | *12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored jacket*
   | *Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid*

May Hollis Barton is a new writer for girls
who is bound to win instant popularity. Her
style is somewhat of a mixture of that of
Louise M. Alcott and Mrs. L. T. Meade, but
thoroughly up-to-date in plot and action.
Clean tales that all girls will enjoy reading.

.. vspace:: 1

\1. THE GIRL FROM THE COUNTRY, *or Laura Mayford’s City Experiences*

    Laura was the oldest of five children and when daddy got sick she
    felt she must do something. She had a chance to try her luck in New
    York, and there the country girl fell in with many unusual experiences.

\2. THREE GIRL CHUMS AT LAUREL HALL, *or The Mystery of the School by the Lake*

    When the three chums arrived at the boarding school they found
    the other students in the grip of a most perplexing mystery. How
    this mystery was solved, and what good times the girls had, both in
    school and on the lake, go to make a story no girl would care to miss.

\3. NELL GRAYSON’S RANCHING DAYS, *or A City Girl in the Great West*

    Showing how Nell, when she had a ranch girl visit her in Boston,
    thought her chum very green, but when Nell visited the ranch in the
    great West she found herself confronting many conditions of which
    she was totally ignorant. A stirring outdoor story.

\4. FOUR LITTLE WOMEN OF ROXBY, *or The Queer Old Lady Who Lost Her Way*

    Four sisters are keeping house and having trouble to make both
    ends meet. One day there wanders in from a stalled express train an
    old lady who cannot remember her identity. The girls take the old
    lady in, and, later, are much astonished to learn who she really is.

\5. PLAIN JANE AND PRETTY BETTY, *or The Girl Who Won Out*

    The tale of two girls, one plain but sensible, the other pretty but
    vain. Unexpectedly both find they have to make their way in the
    world. Both have many trials and tribulations. A story of a country
    town and then a city.

.. class:: center

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.. clearpage::

.. class:: center

   | :lg:`THE RUTH FIELDING SERIES`
   | 
   | By ALICE B. EMERSON
   | 
   | *12mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors*
   | *Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid*

Ruth Fielding was an orphan and came to
live with her miserly uncle. Her adventures
and travels make stories that will hold the interest
of every reader.

.. vspace:: 1

Ruth Fielding is a character that will live
in juvenile fiction.

.. vspace:: 1

1. RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL
2. RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOODHALL
3. RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP
4. RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT
5. RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH
6. RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND
7. RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM
8. RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES
9. RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES
10. RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE
11. RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE
12. RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE
13. RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS
14. RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT
15. RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND
16. RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST
17. RUTH FIELDING IN THE GREAT NORTHWEST
18. RUTH FIELDING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE
19. RUTH FIELDING TREASURE HUNTING
20. RUTH FIELDING IN THE FAR NORTH
21. RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS
22. RUTH FIELDING IN ALASKA

.. clearpage::

.. class:: center

   | :lg:`THE BETTY GORDON SERIES`
   | 
   | By ALICE B. EMERSON
   | 
   | *12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors*
   | *Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid*

A series of stories by Alice B. Emerson which
are bound to make this writer more popular
than ever with her host of girl readers.

.. vspace:: 1

\1. BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE FARM, *or The Mystery of a Nobody*

    At twelve Betty is left an orphan.

\2. BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON, *or Strange Adventures in a Great City*

    Betty goes to the National Capitol to find
    her uncle and has several unusual adventures.

\3. BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL, *or The Farm That Was Worth a Fortune*

    From Washington the scene is shifted to the great oil fields of
    our country. A splendid picture of the oil field operations of today.

\4. BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL, *or The Treasure of Indian Chasm*

    Seeking treasures of Indian Chasm makes interesting reading.

\5. BETTY GORDON AT MOUNTAIN CAMP, *or The Mystery of Ida Bellethorne*

    At Mountain Camp Betty found herself in the midst of a mystery
    involving a girl whom she had previously met in Washington.

\6. BETTY GORDON AT OCEAN PARK, *or School Chums on the Boardwalk*

    A glorious outing that Betty and her chums never forgot.

\7. BETTY GORDON AND HER SCHOOL CHUMS, *or Bringing the Rebels to Terms*

    Rebellious students, disliked teachers and mysterious robberies
    make a fascinating story.

\8. BETTY GORDON AT RAINBOW RANCH, *or Cowboy Joe’s Secret*

    Betty and her chums have a grand time in the saddle.

\9. BETTY GORDON IN MEXICAN WILDS, *or The Secret of the Mountains*

    Betty receives a fake telegram and finds both Bob and herself held
    for ransom in a mountain cave.

.. class:: center

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.. clearpage::

.. class:: center

   | :lg:`THE RADIO GIRLS SERIES`
   | 
   | BY MARGARET PENROSE
   | 
   | *12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors*
   | *Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid*

A new and up-to-date series taking in the
activities of several bright girls who become
interested in radio. The stories tell of thrilling
exploits, out-door life and the great part the
Radio plays in the adventures of the girls and
in solving their mysteries. Fascinating books
that girls of all ages will want to read.

.. vspace:: 1

\1. THE RADIO GIRLS OF ROSELAWN, *or A Strange Message from the Air*

    Showing how Jessie Norwood and her chums became interested in
    radiophoning, how they gave a concert for a worthy local charity, and
    how they received a sudden and unexpected call for help out of the air.
    A girl wanted as witness in a celebrated law case disappears, and the
    radio girls go to the rescue.

\2. THE RADIO GIRLS ON THE PROGRAM, *or Singing and Reciting at the Sending Station*

    When listening in on a thrilling recitation or a superb concert number
    who of us has not longed to “look behind the scenes” to see how it was
    done? The girls had made the acquaintance of a sending station manager
    and in this volume are permitted to get on the program, much to their
    delight. A tale full of action and fun.

\3. THE RADIO GIRLS ON STATION ISLAND, *or The Wireless from the Steam Yacht*

    In this volume the girls travel to the seashore and put in a vacation
    on an island where is located a big radio sending station. The big
    brother of one of the girls owns a steam yacht and while out with a
    pleasure party those on the island receive word by radio that the yacht
    is on fire. A tale thrilling to the last page.

\4. THE RADIO GIRLS AT FOREST LODGE, *or The Strange Hut in the Swamp*

    The Radio Girls spend several weeks on the shores of a beautiful lake
    and with their radio get news of a great forest fire. It also aids them
    in rounding up some undesirable folks who occupy the strange hut in the
    swamp.

.. class:: center

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.. clearpage::

.. class:: center

   | :lg:`THE GIRL SCOUT SERIES`
   | 
   | By LILIAN GARIS
   | 
   | *12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors*
   | *Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid*

The highest ideals of girlhood as advocated
by the foremost organisations of America
form the background for these stories and while
unobtrusive there is a message in every volume.

.. vspace:: 1

\1. THE GIRL SCOUT PIONEERS, *or Winning the First B. C.*

    A story of the True Tred Troop in a Pennsylvania town. Two runaway
    girls, who want to see the city, are reclaimed through troop influence.
    The story is correct in scout detail.

\2. THE GIRL SCOUTS AT BELLAIRE, *or Maid Mary’s Awakening*

    The story of a timid little maid who is afraid to take part in other
    girls’ activities, while working nobly alone for high ideals. How she
    was discovered by the Bellaire Troop and came into her own as “Maid
    Mary” makes a fascinating story.

\3. THE GIRL SCOUTS AT SEA CREST, *or The Wig Wag Rescue*

    Luna Land, a little island by the sea, is wrapt in a mysterious
    seclusion, and Kitty Scuttle, a grotesque figure, succeeds in keeping
    all others at bay until the Girl Scouts come.

\4. THE GIRL SCOUTS AT CAMP COMALONG, *or Peg of Tamarack Hills*

    The girls of Bobolink Troop spend their summer on the shores of Lake
    Hocomo. Their discovery of Peg, the mysterious rider, and the clearing
    up of her remarkable adventures afford a vigorous plot.

\5. THE GIRL SCOUTS AT ROCKY LEDGE, *or Nora’s Real Vacation*

    Nora Blair is the pampered daughter of a frivolous mother. Her dislike
    for the rugged life of Girl Scouts is eventually changed to
    appreciation, when the rescue of little Lucia, a woodland waif, becomes
    a problem for the girls to solve.

.. class:: center

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.. clearpage::

.. class:: center

   | :lg:`THE LINGER-NOT SERIES`
   | 
   | By AGNES MILLER
   | 
   | *12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors*
   | *Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid*

This new series of girls’ books is in a new
style of story writing. The interest is in knowing
the girls and seeing them solve the problems
that develop their character. Incidentally, a
great deal of historical information is imparted.

.. vspace:: 1

\1. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE MYSTERY HOUSE, *or The Story of Nine Adventurous Girls*

    How the Linger-Not girls met and formed their club seems commonplace,
    but this writer makes it fascinating, and how they made their club
    serve a great purpose continues the interest to the end, and introduces
    a new type of girlhood.

\2. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE VALLEY FEUD, *or The Great West Point Chain*

    The Linger-Not girls had no thought of becoming mixed up with feuds or
    mysteries, but their habit of being useful soon entangled them in some
    surprising adventures that turned out happily for all, and made the
    valley better because of their visit.

\3. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THEIR GOLDEN QUEST, *or The Log of the Ocean Monarch*

    For a club of girls to become involved in a mystery leading back into
    the times of the California gold-rush, seems unnatural until the reader
    sees how it happened, and how the girls helped one of their friends to
    come into her rightful name and inheritance, forms a fine story.

\4. THE LINGER-NOTS AND THE WHISPERING CHARMS, *or The Secret from Old Alaska*

    Whether engrossed in thrilling adventures in the Far North or occupied
    with quiet home duties, the Linger-Not girls could work unitedly to
    solve a colorful mystery in a way that interpreted American freedom to
    a sad young stranger, and brought happiness to her and to themselves.

.. class:: center

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.. clearpage::

.. class:: center

   | :lg:`THE CURLYTOPS SERIES`
   | 
   | By HOWARD R. GARIS
   | *Author of the famous “Bedtime Animal Stories”*
   | 
   | *12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors*
   | *Price per volume, 65 cents, postpaid*

.. vspace:: 1

\1. THE CURLYTOPS AT CHERRY FARM, *or Vacation Days in the Country*

    A tale of happy vacation days on a farm.

\2. THE CURLYTOPS ON STAR ISLAND, *or Camping out with Grandpa*

    The Curlytops were delighted when grandpa took them to camp on Star
    Island.

\3. THE CURLYTOPS SNOWED IN, *or Grand Fun with Skates and Sleds*

    The Curlytops, with their skates and sleds, on lakes and hills.

\4. THE CURLYTOPS AT UNCLE FRANK’S RANCH, *or Little Folks on Ponyback*

    Out West on their uncle’s ranch they have a wonderful time.

\5. THE CURLYTOPS AT SILVER LAKE, *or On the Water with Uncle Ben*

    The Curlytops camp out on the shores of a beautiful lake.

\6. THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PETS, *or Uncle Toby’s Strange Collection*

    An old uncle leaves them to care for his collection of pets.

\7. THE CURLYTOPS AND THEIR PLAYMATES, *or Jolly Times Through the Holidays*

    They have great times with their uncle’s collection of animals.

\8. THE CURLYTOPS IN THE WOODS, *or Fun at the Lumber Camp*

    Exciting times in the forest for Curlytops.

\9. THE CURLYTOPS AT SUNSET BEACH, *or What Was Found in the Sand*

    The Curlytops have a fine time at the seashore, bathing, digging in the
    sand and pony-back riding.

\10. THE CURLYTOPS TOURING AROUND, *or The Missing Photograph Albums*

    The Curlytops fall in with a moving picture company and get in some of
    the pictures.

.. class:: center

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.. vspace:: 6

.. pgfooter::