Ruth Fielding at Briarwood Hall Part 24

For she was much disturbed by this secret. She feared she was doing wrong in carrying the note to Miss Picolet. Yet, under different circ.u.mstances, she might have thought little of it. But after her talk with Mrs. Tellingham about the mystery of the campus, she was troubled to think that she was taking any part in the French teacher's private affairs.

Helen was so filled with the excitement of the day, and of her long talk with her twin brother, that she did not observe Ruth's distraught manner.

"And we'll have such fun!" Ruth finally awoke to hear her chum declare in a whisper. "Father's always promised to get a place in the woods, and Snow Camp is a delightful spot."

"What are you talking about, Helen?" demanded Ruth, suddenly.

"I don't believe you've heard a thing I've been saying," cried her chum.

"I haven't heard everything," admitted Ruth. "But tell me now; I'll listen."

"It's about the Christmas Holidays. You shall go with us. We're going 'way up in the woods--to a hunting camp that father has bought. We were there for a week-end once when Mr. Parrish owned it. Snow Camp is the most delightful place."

"I am sure you will have a fine time," Ruth said, generously.

"And so you will, too," declared Helen, "for you're going."

"My _dear_! I am going home to the Red Mill at Christmas."

"And we'll go home for Christmas, too; but there are three weeks'

holidays, and two of them we will spend at Snow Camp. Oh, yes we will!" Helen cried. "I'd cry my eyes out if you didn't go, Ruth."

"But Uncle Jabez----"

"We'll just tease him until he lets you go. He'll not object much, I'm sure. I should just cry my eyes out if you didn't go with us, Ruthie,"

she repeated.

The plan for the winter holidays sank into insignificance in Ruth's mind, however, when they left the carriages and ran over to the West Dormitory just as evening was falling. Mercy waved a white hand to them from her window as they crossed the campus; but Ruth allowed Helen to run ahead while she halted in the lower corridor and asked Miss Scrimp if the French teacher was in her room.

"Oh, yes, Miss Ruthie," said the matron. "Miss Picolet is in. You can knock."

As Ruth asked this question and received its answer she saw Mary c.o.x come in alone at the hall door. The Fox had not spoken to Ruth since the accident on the ice. Now she cast no pleasant glance in Ruth's direction. Yet, seeing the younger girl approaching Miss Picolet's door, Mary smiled one of her very queerest smiles, nodded her head with secret satisfaction, and marched on upstairs to her own study.

"Enter!" said Miss Picolet's soft voice in answer to Ruth's timid rap on the panel of the door.

The girl entered and found the little French teacher sewing by the window. Miss Picolet looked up, saw who it was, and welcomed Ruth with a smile.

"I hope you have had a joyful day, Miss Ruth," she said. "Come to the radiator--you are cold."

"I am going to run upstairs in a moment, Mademoiselle," said Ruth, hesitatingly. "But I have a message for you."

"A message for me?" said the lady, in surprise.

"Yes, ma'am."

"From the Preceptress, Ruth?"

"No, Miss Picolet. It--it is a letter that has been given me to be handed to you--secretly."

The little teacher's withered cheek flushed and her bright little eyes clouded. By the way one of her hands fluttered over her heart, too, Ruth knew that Miss Picolet was easily frightened.

"A letter for me?" she whispered.

Ruth was unb.u.t.toning her coat and frock to get at the letter. She said:

"There was an orchestra on that boat that was frozen into the ice, Miss Picolet. One of the musicians spoke to me. He knew you--or said he did----"

The girl hated to go on, Miss Picolet turned so pale and looked so frightened. But it had to be done, and Ruth pursued her story:

"I had seen the man before--the day we came to school here, Helen and I. He played the harp on the _Lanawaxa_."

"Ah!" gasped the French woman, holding out her hand. "No more, my dear! I understand. Let me have it."

But now Ruth hesitated and stammered, and felt in the bosom of her dress with growing fear. She looked at Miss Picolet, her own face paling.

"Oh, Miss Picolet!" she suddenly burst out. "What will you think?

What can I say?"

"What--what is the matter?" gasped the French teacher.

"I--I haven't got it--it is gone!"

"What do you mean, Ruth Fielding?" cried Miss Picolet, springing to her feet.

"It's gone--I've lost it! Oh, my dear Miss Picolet! I didn't mean to.

I tried to be so careful. But I have lost the letter he gave me addressed to you!"

CHAPTER XXIV

"WHO IS THE TATTLE-TALE?"

The next day the whole school were at their books again--the short Thanksgiving recess was ended. It had been just a breathing s.p.a.ce for the girls who really were anxious to stand well in their cla.s.ses at Briarwood Hall. Those who--like some of the Upedes--desired nothing so much as "fun," complained because the vacation had been so short, and dawdled over their books again.

But there was no dawdling in Duet Two, West Dormitory. Had Helen been inclined to lapse occasionally, or Ruth sunk under the worriment of mind which had borne her down since the day of the skating party on Triton Lake, Mercy Curtis kept the two chums to the mark.

"No s.h.i.+rking, you young ones!" commanded the crippled girl, in her sharp way. "Remember the hare would have won the race easily if he hadn't laid down to nap beside the course. Come! some tortoise will beat you in French and Latin yet, Helen, if you don't keep to work.

And go to work at that English composition, Ruthie Remissness! You'd both be as lazy as Ludlum's dog if it wasn't for me."

And so she kept them up to the work, and kept herself up, too. There wasn't much time for larking now, if one wished to stand well at the end of the term. The teachers watched for s.h.i.+rkers more closely, too.

Even Mary c.o.x and her friends next door showed some signs of industry.

"Although it does seem as though we were always being worked to death,"

groaned Heavy, one day, to Ruth. "I feel as though my const.i.tution was actually breaking down under the strain. I've written to my father that if he wants to see even a shadow of my former self at Christmas, he had better tell Mrs. Tellingham not to force me so!"

She sighed breezily and looked so hard at the piece of cocoanut pie beside Ruth's plate (having eaten her own piece already) that Ruth laughed and pushed it toward her.