CHAPTER XVIII
A STRING OF BLUE BEADS
That very night, during the dancing hour, Marjory Vale was one of agroup of girls clustered about Henrietta, who was demonstrating a newdance, that later became exceedingly popular.
Marjory, in the middle of the floor, was plainly visible when she pulledher handkerchief from her pocket. Something came with it--a long stringof dull blue beads. The metal clasp had been caught in the hemstitchingof the handkerchief but now came loose, allowing the heavy beads to landnoisily on the hardwood floor. Marjory gazed at them for a long moment.
"For goodness' sakes!" gasped Marjory, genuinely surprised. "How did Ido that?"
"My beads!" shrieked Hazel, springing from her chair and pouncing on thenecklace. "Marjory Vale! _You_ took those beads out of my drawer."
"My beads!" shrieked Hazel, pouncing on the necklace]
"I never did," said astonished Marjory, turning crimson and looking thevery picture of guilt. "I noticed those beads on your neck the night ofthe ice cream festival--I haven't seen them from that moment to this. Idon't know how they got in my pocket. Just before dinner time I rushedup and got into this dress--I always dance in this one, you know, and hadlaid it out on my bed before I went to walk. We were late getting backand I had to hurry into my clothes. And this is the first time I'vetaken my handkerchief out tonight."
"I suppose it _is_ your handkerchief," said Hazel, rather unpleasantly.
"Why, no," said Marjory, "it isn't. It has Dorothy Miller's name on it."
"Then you couldn't have gotten it by accident," said Hazel. "The NorthCorridor washing comes up on a different day from yours."
"I don't _know_ how I got it," said Marjory, two large tears rollingdown her cheeks. "But I--I think you're just _mean_ to me, Hazel. And I_liked_ you."
"Come and sit down," said Sallie, slipping an arm about Marjory. "I knowjust how you feel."
A curious thing had happened just after those heavy beads crashed to thefloor. The older Mrs. Rhodes, seated near the wall to watch the dancing,turned her glittering black eyes toward Mrs. Henry Rhodes and the twowomen exchanged a most peculiar look. Then, with one accord, they roseand left the room.
Five minutes later, Mrs. Henry had taken a curious bundle from the veryback corner of Marjory's bureau drawer. She placed it on the bed and thetwo women proceeded to untie a large handkerchief, such as most of thegirls wore with their middies.
The bundle contained two of the purses lost on the night of the concertbut they were now empty, a ring that Mrs. Rhodes herself had lost, awrist watch belonging to one of the Seniors, a number of handkerchiefsmarked with other girls' names, a silk sweater that belongedunmistakably to Augusta and various other small but incriminatingobjects. Nearly everything still bore its former owner's name.
"So it's Marjory Vale!" said Mrs. Rhodes.
"It looks that way," said Mrs. Henry, "but--"
"Tell Doctor Rhodes to come right up here," ordered the older woman."Then you tell the Vale girl that she's wanted in her room."
Marjory found the Rhodes family standing beside her bed and pointingaccusingly at the opened bundle.
"What have you to say to this?" demanded Doctor Rhodes.
"What _is_ it?" asked Marjory.
"Don't try to brazen it out," said Mrs. Rhodes, in her most terriblemanner. "You know very well what it is. We found this bundle in yourbureau drawer hidden under your clothes. Whose sweater is this?"
"It looks very much like Augusta's," returned Marjory.
"Whose watch is that?"
"I don't know. It isn't mine."
"Is this your ring?"
"Not any of those things are mine. Those handkerchiefs seem to be MissWilson's. There's a name on them."
"Where is the money that was in these pocketbooks? Mrs. Bryan lost sevendollars and Mrs. Brown lost five--their cards are still in their purses."
"I'm sure I don't know. I've had my thirty cents a week and that's all.If you really found those things in my drawer, somebody else must haveput them there. I didn't."
The Rhodes family didn't know exactly what to think. Marjory wassometimes thoughtlessly just a little bit impertinent, sometimesinclined to giggle when the occasion demanded sobriety, sometimesfidgety when quietness would have seemed more fitting; but Mrs. HenryRhodes who, of the three, knew her best, had never known her to attemptto lie. If anything, indeed, she could recall times when Marjory hadseemed almost too truthful.
"I think," said Mrs. Henry, with a kind hand on Marjory's shoulder, "wehad better let this matter rest a little until something else comes up.There is something very queer about it. That pocketbook in Sallie's roomand now this. And everything so clearly marked."
"But I don't _want_ this matter to rest," protested Marjory. "I want itcleared up right away tonight. My goodness! This is just awful. I dolove those beads of Hazel's; but I didn't take them. And, oh dear! There_are_ girls that are going to believe I did unless you clear things upat once. I don't _want_ folks to think things like that about me."
"Of course we'll do what we can," assured Mrs. Henry, "but it may take alittle time. You must be patient for a little while, even if you have torest under a suspicion that you don't deserve. Shall I take these thingsaway?"
"Please do."
"And you know nothing at all about them?" asked the older Mrs. Rhodes."You're not keeping them for Sallie Dickinson?"
"For Sallie? Oh, _no_. Sallie wouldn't have taken them--I'm sure ofthat."
"What about your roommate?"
"Henrietta? Why! Henrietta wouldn't either."
"Don't worry too much," advised Mrs. Henry. "You'd better go to bed andforget your troubles for tonight."
When Henrietta went to her room almost an hour later, she found poorlittle Marjory huddled in a small heap on her cot, weeping bitterly.Between sobs she told Henrietta what had happened.
"Cheer up," said Henrietta, kissing Marjory's hot ear because that wasthe only dry spot in sight. "We wanted to come sooner but we didn'tdare; you know it's against the rules to go to our rooms during a socialevening; but Jean is going to slip in after 'Lights Out' and cuddle youa little. That's a good deal for Jean to do, you know, when she alwaysbehaves as well as she can. And it isn't as bad as you think. I believein you--that's one. The rest of the Lakeville girls believe in you--that'sfour more. You believe in yourself, that's six. Sallie and little JanePool adore you, Maude swears by you and there are others--"
"It's the others that worry me," sighed Marjory. "They're going to bejust beastly to me, I know."
Marjory was right. If several of the girls were not "Just beastly" theywere pretty close to it. One of Hazel's beads had been broken and thatfact made Hazel more unforgiving than she might have been. Before long,too, the story of the black bundle found in the little girl's roomleaked out (no one knew just how), and many were the scornful glancescast at poor Marjory. If she had been unpopular before, she wasconsiderably worse than unpopular now. She seemed to shrink visiblyunder the scathing looks of her schoolmates. She even began, it wasnoticed, to wear a guilty look that proved exasperating to Henrietta.
"Hold your head up," Henrietta would say, vigorously shaking her littlefriend. "You haven't a thing to be ashamed of. For mercy's sake, lookfolks right in the eye as you used to. You're not half as bad as you_look_. You're a _good_ child. Well, then, _look_ like a good child."
"I can't help wondering," confessed poor Marjory, "if I took thosethings in my sleep. Those blue beads--I just loved them."
"And that horrible magenta sweater of Augusta's--I suppose you loved thattoo."
"Well, of course, I'd _have_ to be asleep to take that. But _do_ youthink I _could_ have taken those things in my sleep?"
"Of course you didn't, Marjory. You didn't take them at all. It was somekind of an accident. I've thought sometimes that poor old Abbie wasn'tquite right. You know how absent minded she is. I don't think she'dsteal anything; but she goes around in sort of a daze and her hands keepplucking at thing
s, as if her mind were in one room and her body inanother, like the time she set the dining room clock back and thenaccused everybody else of doing it. She's always doing things like that.And you know she's always had to do such a lot of picking up after yearsand years of careless girls--well, perhaps she's gotten the habit ofpicking up things unconsciously and putting them in places where theydon't belong."
"Well, anyway," pleaded Marjory, "do watch me. If you catch me takingthings in my sleep I hope you'll be able to prove that I _am_ asleep.And let's all of us keep an eye on poor old Abbie daytimes. You _might_be right about her."
"A letter for Miss Henrietta Bedford," said Sallie's voice at the door."Charles was late again today. Hope it's a nice one, Henrietta."
Henrietta ripped her letter open hastily and read it.
"It _isn't_ a nice one. It's from my grandmother. That London man thatlooks after Father's affairs has started for China to hunt for him. Mr.Henshaw thinks he went to Shanghai but isn't sure. You see, girls, therereally _is_ cause for alarm. I'd like to go right over there and helpsearch for him; but of course I couldn't. And it's awfully hard to havenothing to do but wait."