Billie Bradley and Her Classmates: or, The Secret of the Locked Tower

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.