Three Girls from School

Mabel was certainly in a tight hole. To pursue a different metaphor, her little boat was out on a most stormy sea. With Annie as pilot it might get safely to shore, but without Annie it was sure to knock to pieces on the rocks of circumstance. Mabel would tell. What was Annie to do? Why had John Saxon come? How she hated, how she loathed her manly cousin at that moment! What a fool she had been to give him her address! She had done it in a moment of impulse, little, little guessing that he would act upon the information so quickly.

He had come in person. She could not shuffle out of the strong grasp of that iron determination. She must leave all her fun just where she hoped it was really beginning.

It was a pale and worn-out Annie who presently arrived in Mabel’s room. Mabel was pacing up and down, her face quite chalky in colour and her eyes wild with fright.

“Well, now,” she said the moment she saw her friend, “what is to be done?”

“Oh, do think of some one besides yourself!” said Annie. “Have you no pity for me, with my dear uncle so ill – dying?”

“But you don’t really care,” said Mabel, looking full at Annie.

Annie felt inclined to stamp her foot.

“You little wretch!” she said. “Do you suppose I have no heart?”

“To be truthful with you, Annie,” said Mabel, “I do not think you have much; but that’s not the point. Are you really going with that – that dreadful young man?”

“My cousin, Mr Saxon? Yes; we leave here by the midnight train. I have about two hours longer to spend in the hotel.”

“Then what am I to do?” said Mabel.

Annie sat down determinedly.

“Let me think,” she said. She covered her face for a moment with her hand. Already she was beginning, after a fashion, to recover herself, to get back her aplomb, her great talent for double dealing. “Let me think,” she said again.

“Well, don’t be long,” said Mabel, “for time passes.”

“Yes; but if you will be silent I will have thought out something after a minute or two.” Just then Parker tapped at the door.

“Shall I let her in?” whispered Mabel.

In reply to this, Annie herself went to the door, unlocked it, and flung it wide-open.

“Come in, Parker; come in,” she said.

“Why, what is the matter with you, Miss Brooke?” said that astute woman.

“A great deal,” replied Annie. “I have got to go home at once; my cousin, Mr Saxon, has come to fetch me. My dear, dear uncle is – is dying. He has been as a father to me. I must leave by the midnight train.”

“So I heard downstairs,” said Parker, putting on a certain sympathetic manner and trying to penetrate beneath Annie’s apparent grief. “I will pack your things for you, of course, Miss Brooke; you need have no trouble on that score. I came up here to offer my services. What dress will you wear travelling, miss?”

“Oh, my dark-blue serge will be best; but it doesn’t matter,” said Annie.

“I will put in some of the pretty things you wore while you were here, miss,” said Parker. “I know her ladyship would wish it. I don’t suppose your trunks will quite hold them all, but I can get in a good many.”

“Thank you, Parker; I don’t care about them now. I am in dreadful trouble about dear uncle.”

“Of course you must be, miss; but I am sure we are all sorry to lose you, for you do manage her ladyship in the most wonderful way, and I will say that you are as unselfish and pleasant-spoken a young lady as ever I came across. You will find the dresses and other things useful some time, miss, so I will get as many as ever I can into your trunks.” Annie murmured something. She would love to keep her pretty dresses; they would be effective at school. She could think of school and her appearance there, and the looks of envy of her companions even at this supreme moment.

“Then I will go and pack at once,” said Parker, preparing to leave the room.

She had nearly got as far as the door when she turned.

“By the way, miss,” she said, looking at Mabel, “my mistress is quite annoyed about a necklace she bought for you at Interlaken yesterday. She said that it was valuable, although old-fashioned – a pearl necklace set in silver. She thought I had it with the rest of the jewels; but you never gave it to me, Miss Lushington. My mistress said that I was to see it safely in the jewel-case before I went to bed to-night. Where did you put it? Can I get it now, miss?”

Mabel was silent. Her voice quite choked with the agony of the moment. Annie, however, took the initiative.

“Of course you can, Parker,” she said. “It was awfully silly of Mabel not to give you the box that contained the necklace; it was the most idiotic thing I ever heard of. – I am sure, darling, I urged you to do so. But there, no doubt it is safe. You put it into the lid of your big trunk.”

Mabel nodded. She could not bring herself to speak.

“Then we will find it immediately,” said Annie. “Notwithstanding my own great sorrow, it will be a comfort to me to know that the necklace is safe under Parker’s care before I leave; for the fact is, Parker, it was I who discovered it. I thought it was quite a valuable thing, but I am rather afraid now that Lady Lushington paid too much for it. However, that is neither here nor there; we have got to find it.”

“Here are the keys of Miss Lushington’s trunks,” said Parker. She proceeded as she spoke to unlock the largest of the trunks, which happened to be a canvas one, and slightly the worse for travel.

“I am very sorry indeed, miss, you put it in here,” said Parker. “Why, see how loose the cover is. A person could almost put his hand in between the cover and the inside of the trunk. Well, where did you put it, miss?”

“I will find it; I will find it,” said Annie.

She stooped as she spoke and began that examination which she knew beforehand must be fruitless. Mabel stood with her back to the two, looking out of the window. Annie longed to shake her. Was not her very attitude giving the whole thing away?

“I really can’t find it,” said Annie after a moment’s pause. “Do come and look yourself, May. Are you dazed? Have you lost your senses? Oh, I know, poor darling May! it is sorrow at parting with poor little me. – Parker, Miss Mabel just adores me; don’t you, precious one! Well, well, Parker will do all she can for you when I am gone.”

“I can’t take your place, Miss Brooke. I am really sorry you have to go. – But now, Miss Mabel, the best thing to do is just to empty the lid of the trunk. We’ll get to the box that way without disarranging all your pretty things.”

The lid of the trunk was speedily emptied, and of course no necklace was found.

“There!” said Annie. Her heart was beating so fast that the pallor of her face was far from assumed. The fear in her eyes, too, seemed only too natural.

“Some one has stolen it!” she said to Parker. She clasped the woman’s arm. “What are we to do?”

Parker looked distinctly annoyed. Mabel stood stonily silent, apparently almost indifferent.

“Miss Lushington,” said the woman – “do wake up and consider, miss. Perhaps you didn’t put it into the lid of the trunk; perhaps you put the box that held the necklace somewhere else.”

“No, I didn’t; I put it into the lid,” said Mabel. “I won’t say I put it anywhere else; the lid will do; I put it there. I won’t be bothered about it!”

She marched out of the room, got as far as the wide landing, and burst out crying. Her queer conduct and queer words terrified Annie and amazed Parker.

“What is the matter with Miss Mabel, miss?” said the maid, turning to the girl.

Annie put her pretty, white hand on Parker’s arm.

“Leave her alone with me for a little, please, Parker. Just go off and pack my things, like the jewel you are. She is awfully upset at my going – and you know I must, on account of my dear uncle.”

Annie’s voice quavered. Indeed, she herself was very nearly breaking down.

“I must go, you know, Parker,” she said, her pretty eyes filling with tears which only added to their beauty. “But I’ll manage Mabel. It is dreadful about the necklace; but perhaps you will recover it.”