Part 5

The great auditorium was filling rapidly. Happy faces peered down from the galleries, girls and boys elbowed their way past, calling out hearty greetings to those they recognized. There was a short lull when the president made his welcoming speech; after that, it seemed to Gincy a thousand hives had swarmed. Abner and Martin caught the spirit at once and moved constantly from one group to another shaking hands, exchanging jokes, and growing merrier each moment. Gincy watched them astonished. Abner’s light hair was tossed back like a mane, his cheeks were rosy, his eyes alight with fun. Martin took it more quietly, but never had she seen such a look of pleasure in his face.

Gincy forgot her plain dress—plain even in comparison with the simple clothes around her—and the fact that she was surrounded by hundreds of strange faces. The spirit of youth—so often quenched in these young mountain people before it fairly shows itself—was clamouring for expression. She drew a long breath and decided to be one of the gay company.

An hour later as the three girls emerged from the building which the bell in the tower had suddenly hushed, Gincy felt that she had come into her own. Her timidity had vanished, and a pleasant presage of popularity made her innocently merry and once more her own natural self.

VIII THE MASTER KEY

IT was nearly time for the rising bell, and Gincy propped herself up on one elbow to watch the light creeping above the foothills and the ox teams crawling along Big Hill pike.

Suddenly, she remembered her new duties as monitor of the third floor. It was so hard lately to keep order during study hours and after the last bell at night. Gincy could not help connecting it in some way with Nancy Jane Ping and Mallie Green, the two recent arrivals from her own county. They had been reproved time and again for an untidy room, but it seemed to do no good.

“They’re always studyin’ up some foolishness to keep things upset,” she declared disgustedly. Gincy had been feeling particularly lonely now that Urilla had gone home for a whole week; things had been happening, too. Miss Howard was at her wit’s end to discover the offenders, so sly were they, but Kizzie Tipton and Lalla Ponder were always the victims.

Sometimes the bedding was piled in a heap in the middle of the floor, or Lalla’s school hat was filled with water and her best dress missing only to be found later folded under the mattress. The vandals covered their tracks very neatly, and Miss Howard, knowing the excitable temperaments around her, kept the matter as quiet as possible.

Gincy thought it over carefully until breakfast time, then decided to do some special detective work for the reputation of the Hall. “Some fracas between their kin, I reckon.” Gincy was used to the mountain feuds, which, like a slumbering fire, always broke out in unexpected places. “Mallie’s been left to run till she’s no ’count; why don’t she study to get some learnin’ stid o’ hatchin’ up deviltry? Nancy Jane and she make a team; looks like they don’t show good sense.” Gincy shook her head sadly, thinking how hard she had worked for the privilege which others esteemed so lightly. School had meant for her sacrifice, and long hours of toil.

Saturday was a busy day in the Hall. Its many corridors were thoroughly swept and mopped, the rooms carefully cleaned. Gincy was here and there and everywhere on the third floor. By lunch time there was a sharp twinge in her left ear which sent the blood throbbing to her temples. Her own room was spotless. Urilla’s family photographs were tucked in the wire rack where they would show to the best advantage, the ugly ink spot on the chenille table spread was turned to the wall, and the small stove was shining. But the occupant was not tempted by odours of fresh gingerbread or turnip salad coming from below. Her work for the day was done. She had counted on going to Lee’s Knob with a walking party for a picnic supper. Suddenly, all ambition had left her. When she awoke from her long nap her earache was gone, but there lingered in her memory a curious dream. The room key had been stolen and Miss Howard was in trouble.

Another bell rang. This time it was for dinner, but Gincy still felt little inclination to move, and a curious absence of hunger. There were loitering feet, then hurrying, then the distant clatter from the Annex announced that the meal was in progress. Gincy surveyed the tired face in the glass as she brushed her hair and resolutely choked back the homesick hunger which the free life of the mountains had fostered.

“I might jest as well walk down that way and see if things air all right.” How loud her steps sounded on the bare corridor floor. Gincy paused before trying the door of Number 16. She did hope that Lalla and Kizzie had left it locked. But no, here was the key, and on the outside, too. “I call thet plumb shiftlessness,” she told herself disgustedly. The girls certainly needed a lesson. Gincy stuck her head in, carefully surveyed the room, and then locked the door, slipping the key into her pocket. Let them go to Miss Howard when they wanted to get in. She came back to her own room and sat down by the window. In a few minutes the evening song, in one harmonious chorus, was wafted to her ears, then snatches of it floated up the stairs as the girls returned to their rooms. Some one tapped lightly, then turned the knob, and peered in. It was Mallie Green, and Gincy fancied she looked surprised to see her.

“Howdy! I was passing and I thought—I’d see—why—you wan’t at dinner.” Mallie blurted it out in her usual explosive fashion, her gaze shifting evasively.

“I didn’t feel to want any; my ear aches,” answered Gincy with a sudden accession of coolness toward the small, shrinking figure. She had been a target for Nancy Ping’s ready wit many a time, but to-day Mallie seemed far less likable. Every minute her suspicions grew stronger. Why was Mallie poking into people’s rooms and pretending—Gincy felt it to be mere pretending—to be friends? It was more than mere prankishness to put wet towels on a pile of freshly-ironed clothes, it was malicious, especially as the girls were all trying to economize as much as possible.

A few minutes later Gincy presented the key of Number 16 to Miss Howard. “They haven’t asked for the master key,” said the latter, “so they must be downstairs in the parlour. Sometimes they don’t come up until the study bell rings.”

“Let’s go back and see if there is any one hanging around the door,” suggested Gincy.

To their astonishment they found Lalla and Kizzie entertaining callers. Gincy stood for a moment dumfounded, then dragged Miss Howard to a quiet corner of the hall. “I know,” she whispered, “some one left that key in the door. They heard me coming and didn’t have time to get it out. We’ll keep hit, then I’d like to see them get in.”

“Do you really think it’s Mallie?” asked Miss Howard soberly. “I can’t see any reason for her doing it.”

“Nor I, only the Greens and Ponders never did get on back yonder, and Lalla’s always ahead of Mallie—she’s a year younger, too.”

Miss Howard stopped suddenly, she had started back to her room. “No, Gincy, it wasn’t Mallie; she went into the dining-room ahead of me this evening and gave out a notice for the basket ball team. I remember now. Besides, she and Nancy Jane both wipe dishes and are never upstairs until a half-hour after meal time.”

For almost a week after that the upper corridors were peaceful. No one but Gincy doubted that they would remain so. Saturday evening, when Miss Howard was making her tour of inspection, she met Lalla and Kizzie going to choir practice. “I’ll look into your room just the same, girls,” she said. “You don’t know how good it seems, though, to get over dreading it.”

Kizzie sighed. “I couldn’t have stood it another day. It was getting positively ghost-y, having such things goin’ on.”

Miss Howard sighed too as she fitted the master key into the door of Number 16. Had she a real traitor in the house, or was it some prankish girl who had gone too far and was now thoroughly frightened? The room was in perfect order. How well the two had learned their lesson of neatness. It rested the tired little teacher just to look at the clean floor, the fresh curtains, and orderly books. She went over to the window and looked out. Beyond the roof of the new dining-room was a long, regular pile of wood, then the tennis court framed by huge oaks, and still beyond, the mountains.

Miss Howard stood lost in thought for a moment. Each day brought its problems. She was roused by a light footstep, there was a quick click of the lock, and the master key was pulled out from the other side. She was surely a prisoner. Thoroughly impatient at her own stupidity, Miss Howard tried the window. She could only pull it down a few inches from the top. This was the cleverest, most daring piece of lawlessness which had ever occurred in the Hall. With the master key gone all kinds of vandalism were possible in that room and every other. She dropped into a chair irresolute.

A party of seniors had the east parlour until 7:30, which almost emptied the corridor. One might call incessantly and not be heard, unless by the wrong girls—the very ones from whom she wished to keep the matter a secret.

The chapel bell rang for chorus practice. The outer world began to grow dusky, still Miss Howard sat perfectly quiet, apparently reading. She was thinking of a mystery story which led through a labyrinth of baffling events to a most simple solution. She grew more and more doubtful of her ability as a detective.

Presently, two people stopped outside the door for a little chat. It was Martha Spellman—on her way to the linen closet—and Lalla. Miss Howard waited patiently now that immediate release was certain, until the door opened.

Lalla’s face was the picture of astonishment as she noticed the occupant of her room. “You’d better not speak of it, Lalla,” cautioned her teacher after describing the manner of her incarceration. “The girls know enough already; they’ll be going home next thing. No one likes to feel that she’s at the mercy of some lawless person.”

However, Miss Howard made an exception of Gincy, who seemed a link between herself and the mountain people. Besides Gincy’s position as monitor demanded greater confidence. “Whoever it was, knew I was there,” she concluded.

“They were after the key, they didn’t care who was in there,” said Gincy grimly. “Hit ain’t likely they’ll come again very soon, though, after this.”

But the very next evening Number 16 was again invaded. This time Lalla’s little silver pin was missing, and her school books hidden in the woodbox.

“Shall we search Mallie’s and Nancy Jane’s room?” asked Miss Howard as Lalla stood before her after making her final complaint. “This matter is growing serious.”

Lalla hesitated. “You wouldn’t be likely to find anything. They’re both too smart for that. We might watch them a spell longer.”

“Besides,” continued Miss Howard, “Mallie and Nancy Jane are nearly always busy when things happen in your room.”

Lalla shook her head as though unconvinced. “I reckon hit’s jest one person. I ain’t sayin’ who.”

“Lalla,” interrogated Gincy shrewdly, “who do you reckon’s so plumb foolish as to sneak into your room whenever you go out for dinner?”

“Mebbe you can tell me,” answered Lalla with a flash of temper. “I’m goin’ home next week if hit keeps on.”

“Wait a while,” encouraged Gincy, ignoring the insinuation. Personally, she was not fond of Lalla, whose keen wit never spared any one, but of all the mountain pupils she was the most talented—so the teachers had said—and Gincy was working for the good of the school.

“I’ve got hit to work out and I’m goin’ to do hit,” she said to herself that night. “I reckon Lalla’s plumb out of patience or she wouldn’t be so touchy.”

She took a firmer grip on the baffling mental problem, her detective instinct now fully aroused. Things happened at dinner time. Mallie and Nancy Jane were nearly always at meals—and yet—Gincy thought over every other girl in the Hall; not one seemed to have either the disposition or the ability to carry on, undetected, such a warfare.

At six o’clock that evening, she was behind the door of Number 16, the new master key showing temptingly in the lock. She had figured it all out; the room must be watched from the inside. This time both window and door were to be reckoned with. She raised the former to further her scheme, and told no one except Miss Howard, who promised to bring Gincy’s dinner to her own room that she might eat it later.

It was a weary vigil, but Gincy worked out some problems and waited patiently. The hour was almost gone when a slight tap came at the door. She crowded behind a dress in the corner and listened eagerly. The door swung slightly and Nancy Jane Ping looked in. Her small, inquisitive eyes seemed to pierce every corner, and Gincy had a breathless moment of expectancy. Kizzie’s yellow muslin was a feeble barrier for the gimlet glances to penetrate.

For a moment, the intruder stood keenly surveying the room, then withdrew and walked slowly down the hall. Gincy waited, but she did not return. After all, the evidence was very incomplete. Anybody might have looked into a room whose door was slightly ajar. It didn’t matter how much inward conviction one had if she lacked tangible proof. The whole baffling pursuit had to be begun again, and Gincy united her Scotch persistency and Irish wit afresh.

For a week she was absent from the dining-room at the dinner hour, the most sociable time of the day. It had not been necessary to tell Kizzie or Lalla, or, in fact, anybody, as she sat in the Annex dining-room, and they rarely saw each other.

Still nothing happened, and Gincy went on studying her arithmetic and planning her work for rhetoricals. She did not forget to keep the window open, however, and the shining new master key in the door as a bait. “Whoever hit is won’t resk coming in at the window, they’d be suspicioned sure if any one should open the door.”

She reasoned it all out as she sat motionless on the fifth night of her vigil. Almost at that moment the event which she had been anticipating happened. The key clicked in the lock and she was shut in. For one instant she listened to hear in which direction the retreating footsteps were going—there was a telltale squeak which betrayed it—then Gincy bounded across the room and slipped out of the window. She ran noiselessly to where the halls crossed and a door led to a back stair landing. Gincy knew that she could see from there any one who came down the main hall, while the dark corner was a safe hiding-place for herself.

She had barely gained the desired spot, when some one vaulted past and out upon the roof. It was Lalla Ponder who stole cautiously along and deposited a small, shining object in a convenient niche near the cornice. Gincy could hardly believe her eyes, but when Lalla turned her back, she looked into the main hall and saw that it was entirely empty. She knew that Lalla would not attempt to gain her room by the window, but would come back into the hall and either go down the back stairs or come up boldly and unlock her door. Gincy pounded on a nearby door vigorously, knowing that its occupant was probably taking care of the lamps in the lower hall, then she walked noisily to meet Lalla, who had regained the hall when her back was turned.

“May I borrow your dictionary?” she asked in the grip of a sudden courage. “Mary must be out; she doesn’t answer when I knock.”

“Of course you may,” Lalla answered, but Gincy noticed how her hand trembled as she unlocked the door with her own key which hung on a narrow plaid ribbon at her belt. She hesitated before stepping in, and gave a little start of surprise when she saw an empty room. “I’m losing my nerve, I reckon, with all the queer doin’s ’round here lately.”

Gincy’s face hardened. Could Lalla be crazy? She watched the girl narrowly as she searched the closet, peered behind the door with every sign of anxiety, and gave a sigh of relief when she found nothing out of order.

Once in possession of the dictionary, Gincy hurried to Miss Howard with her story.

“Have you been dreaming, child?” the latter asked in astonishment. But Gincy shook her head.

“I’ve been studyin’ ’bout hit since I found her out. Hit’s that feud business and she’s trying to fasten hit onto Mallie. The girls will believe hit too, Mallie’s so ill.”

Miss Howard from her own conviction felt that they would. She followed Gincy to the end of the hall; they slipped out upon the roof and found both keys securely hidden from any casual observer just where Lalla had concealed them five minutes before. Silently the two filed back to Miss Howard’s room. Gincy felt the little teacher’s inward struggle to readjust her point of view. Mallie was not a favourite, while Lalla had quite a following and was counted unusually bright.

“Hit’s this way,” Gincy explained to the bewildered teacher. “The Greens and Ponders have warred hit for years back there in the hills, and they aim never to forget hit. Most of the young folks see how foolish hit is, but they’re a sorry lot.”

Miss Howard sighed. “I must have time to think it over. I’m rather upset this evening, Gincy. Thank you for helping me. Please don’t say anything about it until I see you again. I can’t see why Lalla should want to injure her own clothes to get Mallie sent home, though.”

After Gincy had left, Miss Howard sat for a long time, her hands toying idly with the two keys. If the dean knew of the trouble, Lalla would be suspended at once as she richly deserved. She would go back to the poorest of mountain homes and the bright, keen mind, undirected and bent on mischief, would soon bring the girl to grief.

The next day, at her first opportunity, she called Gincy into her room. Carefully she approached the subject. “What kind of a home did you say Lalla had, Gincy?”

“Mighty pore,” was the answer. “They’re the illest kind of people.”

Miss Howard pondered a moment over the next question. “What do you suppose will become of her when she gets back in the mountains?”

Gincy shook her head gloomily.

“Don’t you suppose it will be worth while for us to try reforming her?” Then Miss Howard explained the probation plan. “Only you and I know that she is the mischief maker. If nothing more happens the pupils will soon forget it. Of course everything depends on how she acts. She must contradict the report about Mallie and promise better behaviour in the future.”

Gincy’s face showed an inward struggle; this was so unlike the code of the mountains. “I’m afraid I couldn’t trust her,” she said at last, “but I’m willing to do anything you say.”

“I’m going to have a long talk with her this afternoon,” Miss Howard continued, “and find out the reason for her conduct.”

There was a light tap at the door, then it was pushed open and Lalla walked in. Her eyes had a sleepless look, her face was colourless. Instantly the two knew her errand. She talked very rapidly, as if fearful of losing her courage. “I started at first to fool Kizzie—she said no one could do it—then I remembered something pretty mean Mallie did to me back home and it seemed like my time had come to get even. When you wanted to search her room I got to studying about it. I was taking away her chance for learning, and she needing it mighty bad—as bad as any one could. I was letting you think her a thief—” Here Lalla broke down completely. “I reckon you’ll have—to—send me h—ome, I’m plumb bad, and—”

Gincy waited for no more. She flung her arms around the weeping girl with sudden tenderness.

“I am glad you were brave enough to confess your wrongdoing, Lalla,” said Miss Howard, much relieved. “I think you deserve another chance, and Gincy and I are going to see that you have it, too. We don’t propose to tell anybody about this, so you’ll have nothing to live down. Just show us a clean record from now on.”

“You don’t mean—” and here the magnitude of Miss Howard’s generosity seemed to transform Lalla’s whole being. She stood up tall and straight before the two. “You’ll never be sorry for trusting me,” she said. “And I reckon if you can forgive me for worrying you so, I ought to forgive Mallie and help her to be a better girl, too.”

IX THE BAPTIZING

GINCY worked hard every day. Each night she went to bed weary in mind and body, but the morning found her anxious to begin again. Saturday afternoon was free for long walking trips to Cowbell Hollow, Blue Lick, or the nearby peaks. Already an early frost had touched the tulip trees with spots of gold, the sumac showed a fiery rim, and Nature was doing her best to woo attention. Gincy and Urilla did not need the lure, their hearts were longing for the hills.

Miss Howard must have read their thoughts. Early Saturday morning she tapped at their door. “Girls, wouldn’t you like to go out to the bungalow on Indian Mountain this afternoon? The college team will take us and we can come back by moonlight to-morrow evening.”

“Of course we would!” both girls exclaimed. Then Gincy hugged the little teacher until she laughingly slipped away, admonishing them to be ready soon after lunch.

“We’ll get the room straightened out in a jiffy,” said Urilla before the door had fairly closed. “I’m so glad we’re going, honey, it’ll make you over.”

Gincy had never seen her calm room-mate quite so enthusiastic—her cheeks were flushed with excitement and she rushed around dusting the furniture with a vigorous hand. “I’d better clear out right away,” she laughed, “and see if there’s any mail. There won’t be enough left of me to go if you keep on the way you’ve started; you suck up the dust like a cyclone.”

“Bring me a letter from Talitha,” Urilla called after her.

It was four miles to Indian Mountain, the last two a steady climb—steep in places and sidling—but the five did not mind it. Zack and Zeke, the two fat mules belonging to the college farm, took a steady jog-trot until they reached the foot, and then slowed down for the long, hard pull. Lalla Ponder was poised recklessly near a mound of provisions guarded by some extra quilts. Her light curls and nimble tongue were in constant motion.

“I like tippy places and caves,” she said. “There’s one back in Clay that’s haunted, they say, but I’ve been in it and never cared a rap.”

“You’re never afraid of anything,” remarked Kizzie, looking up at her room-mate admiringly. “I don’t know where you haven’t been that’s crawl-y and creep-y.”

“Well, there’s one place on this mountain. I’ve never been all the way through Fat Man’s Misery.”

“Let’s all try hit,” Gincy proposed recklessly. “If hit can be done.”

“The boys often do it, but it’s a pretty hard climb for you girls,” said Miss Howard who sat with the driver.

“I’m going to build a fire in the fireplace and pop some corn,” Urilla suddenly remarked.

“Perhaps Gincy will help me sweep the bungalow before she goes exploring,” ventured Miss Howard with a twinkle.

“I reckon I will,” assented Gincy, catching the look of mischief. “You-all no ’count folks kin go on and have your fun; you’ll be back comin’ meal time.”

The wagon suddenly lurched, checking the chorus of protests. Lalla lost her balance, falling on Urilla. The basket of fruit and vegetables overturned and the driver halted for repairs. “Hit’s only a rock that big storm onsettled t’other night. Them ornery mules jest nachelly struck hit,” he said.