Nan Sherwood at Lakeview Hall Part 33

"He was more like a bond-slave than an adopted son, I reckon," Susan told Laura Polk, in her gossipy way. "If you gals yere think Mrs. Cupp is a Tartar, yo'd ought to have some 'sperience with Miss Sadie Vane. I wo'ked fo' her once. Never again!"

"What's happened to the boy?" Laura asked.

"He done run away, and now it tu'ns out that there's money comin' to him an' the 'thorities want to know whar he done gone. It's makin' Miss Vane a sight of trouble--an' sarve her right!"

This story Laura, of course, told to her chums; but n.o.body expressed any sorrow for Mrs. Cupp but Nan. The latter could not help but feel that, after all, the matron had shown her some kindness, even if she had told Dr. Prescott about the boathouse banquet.

Dr. Prescott did not herself attend the Grand Guard Ball. Mademoiselle Loro was very near-sighted, and Miss Gleason, the physical culture instructor, who also went to chaperon the girls, was not of an observant nature.

Therefore, when Linda Riggs suddenly blazed out in all the glory of a diamond and ruby necklace in an old-fashioned setting "more fit," as Amelia Boggs said, "for a Choctaw princess to wear than a white girl!"

there really was n.o.body to forbid the display.

People remarked about it, however. It was plainly a family heirloom and very valuable. If it was done to advertise Mr. Riggs' wealth, it was in poor taste, and Dr. Prescott certainly would be greatly displeased if she heard of Linda's action. However, n.o.body had any concern about that unless it was Linda herself.

The girls enjoyed every minute they were allowed to remain at the ball.

Each girl was allowed three dances, and the question of partners was a burning one.

Walter Mason had done yeoman's duty in this matter. He knew every youth who attended the ball. He was indefatigable in introducing them to his sister and the other girls from the Hall. Even Amelia had partners for her three dances.

In fact, only one girl missed the full complement of dances. That was Linda. She was so angry with Walter that she refused to let him introduce any of his friends, and in return Walter did not ask her to dance at all. So the Linda Riggs' clique, and Nan and the Masons, were very much at odds when they went back to the hall at ten o'clock.

The necklace disappeared from Linda's neck before the Hall was reached.

But in the morning, at breakfast time, it appeared again in a most surprising bit of gossip. Around the tables went the rumor, flying from lip to lip:

"Linda's beautiful necklace is gone! She's in her room in tears and will not be comforted. She declares it has been stolen."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE HUMILIATION OF LINDA

Early in the morning after the Grand Guard Ball in Freeling, Nan Sherwood had an adventure.

She had spent part of the previous day writing another letter to her mother, and that she finished, sealed, stamped and mailed in the school letter-bag. This time she knew that no ill-natured girl would get hold of it. But, of course, the whole school knew by this time that she was going to leave at the end of the term, and that "her folks weren't rich at all, so there!"

Not that Nan had ever talked about the Scotch legacy more than she could help; and certainly she had not boasted to the girls of her wealth.

There are certain natures, however, who envy the successful, and Nan had been very successful in making friends, in finding favor with the teachers, and in standing well in her cla.s.ses.

So even some girls whom she had been kind to, were glad to repeat now the story of Nan Sherwood's coming poverty as first circulated by Linda Riggs and her satellites. Nan had heard many unkind whispers, and when alone she grieved over this.

By reason of her fretting, she did not sleep well after the ball, and she arose long before the gong sounded and when it was still quite dark.

There was a paring of silver moon low on the horizon, which looked as though it had been sewed into the black velvet robe of Night; and the robe was trimmed with sparkling silver and red stars as well.

The air was keen, although there was no wind; and the h.o.a.rfrost hung from the bushes and dried gra.s.s-blades, while there was a rime of it the length of the bal.u.s.trade to the beach. Nan ran down this flight to see if the ice would bear yet. Skating was in the offing, and she and Bess loved to skate.

Professor Krenner had reported the day before that the strait between the lake sh.o.r.e where his cabin stood, and the Isle of Hope, half a mile out in the lake, was skimmed over with ice. Here, at the foot of the flight of stairs and along by the haunted boathouse, the edge of the water was fringed with a crust of thin ice.

"Not much more fun for me at dear old Lakeview Hall," Nan was thinking as she skipped lightly along the edge of this uncertain ice. "But I'll get my skates sharpened, as Bess begged me. That will not be a _great_ extravagance. We'll have some good fun before the term closes and we go home for the holidays. Oh, dear!"

The sigh was not because of the home-going. It was for the reason that Nan felt very sure that she would never see the Hall again.

Just as she was thinking this and watching idly the broken water far out in the strait toward the Isle of Hope, she put her foot upon a strip of ice and, to her amazement, it broke through and she plunged knee deep in the icy water.

"Oh! _Oh!_ OH!" she gasped, in graduated surprise.

For as she strove to pull out the first foot, her other one went--_slump_--right through the ice, too. And it was cold!

Nan was not frightened at first. She was an athletic girl, and very strong and agile. But she was amazed to find that both feet were fast in the half-frozen slime at the bottom of this hole into which she had stepped. She strove to pull her feet free, and actually could not do it!

Then, as she lifted her head to look about for help, she saw a figure in black running hard toward her. It came from the rear of the big boathouse. It was a slight figure, and Nan immediately thought of "the black dog" that had chased Mrs. Cupp the night of the boathouse party.

"I'll get you! I'll get you!" exclaimed the boy, for such in reality he was, and he threw forward a tough branch for Nan to cling to.

She accepted this aid gladly. At first she almost drew him into the water. Then he braced his heels in the bank and flung himself back to balance her weight. First one foot and then the other Nan pulled out of the icy mire, and in half a minute she was ash.o.r.e.

"Oh! how can I thank you?" she cried. "If you hadn't been here----"

"It's all right--it's all right, Miss," the boy stammered, and immediately began to back away. "You needn't thank me. I'd have done it for anybody."

Nan was eyeing the lad curiously. Many thoughts beside those of grat.i.tude for his timely help, were pa.s.sing through her mind.

"Who are you?" she asked abruptly. "Do you live around here?"

The boy was a pale youth, but he flushed deeply now and edged farther away, as though he really feared her.

"Oh, yes! I live near here. I--I'm glad I could help you. Good-bye!"

Before Nan could stop him by word or act, he turned around and ran up the sh.o.r.e of the lake until he was hidden from the girl's surprised view.

"Well! isn't that the strangest thing?" demanded Nan, of n.o.body at all.

Then she realized that she was getting very cold indeed, standing there with wet feet and ankles, and she herself started on a run for the steps to the top of the bluff, and had just time enough to get to the Hall and change her shoes and stockings before breakfast.

At the table she was giving to Bess an eager account of her adventure when Laura Polk said to the chums from Tillbury:

"Heard the latest, girls?"

"Don't know. What is the latest?" asked Bess. "Nan's got a yarn to tell that almost pa.s.ses human belief. She seems to have interviewed a ghost and got her feet wet at the same time."

"That's nothing," declared Laura. "Linda's lost that beautiful necklace."

"Goodness! you don't mean it?" gasped Bess.

"The poor girl!" exclaimed Nan, with sympathy. "How did it happen?"

"The deponent knoweth not," said Laura, tightly. "It's a big loss--bigger than that awful maxim Miss Craven used to teach all us girls: 'Lost! Somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered, for they are gone forever!'"