HAPPY AGAIN
"Gee, that was some slick work!" crowed Teddy Jordon exultantly. "Who'd ever think we would catch the old Codfish. But say——" he broke off, his face growing sober as he looked at the girls. "You haven't told us yet just why you're taking this tramp in the snow. What's the idea—a health cure or something?"
"No, it isn't a health cure," explained Billie, a trifle wearily, for now that the excitement of catching the Codfish was over the girls were beginning to feel cold and hungry and rather forlorn. "We're just leaving Three Towers, that's all."
"Leaving Three Towers!" the boys repeated incredulously. And Teddy added, seeing in a flash the real state of affairs: "Now I get the idea. You're striking, aren't you?"
Billie nodded.
"Say, that reminds me," said Chet. "We sent a telegram to Miss Walters asking her to come back at once. We sent it for you even before we told the police about the Codfish."
The girls brightened, and Billie darted forward eagerly and caught Chet by the sleeve.
"Oh, Chet, what did you tell her?" she cried. "Did you ask her to come back right away?"
Chet nodded importantly. "I told her enough to bring her back on the run, I guess," he said, adding with a grin: "I made up the telegram and Teddy paid for it."
"Oh, you darling!" cried Billie, hugging both the boys to the great delight of Teddy, who made the girls giggle by asking if there was not another telegram he could send.
"Come on, girls," cried Billie, forgetting, in the hope of seeing Miss Walters again before long, that she was tired and hungry. "If we hurry we can get to town before the snow gets too deep."
"But, say," cried Teddy, as the girls started on their way, "aren't you even going to say good-bye to us? That's gratitude for you!"
The girls stopped short and looked surprised.
"Aren't you going to the town with us?" asked Vi.
"You needn't think that because you're on strike that we are, too," said Chet reproachfully. "Captain Shelling didn't give us the whole day off, you know."
"You deserve it just the same," said Connie Danvers. "He'll probably give you a week off and a medal when he learns how you caught the thief."
"But we couldn't have caught him if you girls hadn't come along," protested Teddy modestly. "If we get a holiday we'll see that you get one, too."
"We're taking ours now," laughed Billie. "Good-bye, boys; and thanks awfully for sending the telegram."
Teddy and Chet stood watching the girls as they trudged through the clinging snow, and when they turned away their faces were unusually sober.
"That's a plucky thing to do," said Teddy admiringly. "But I bet they would never have had the nerve to do it if Billie hadn't set them up to it."
"Billie's some class, isn't she?" Chet took him up eagerly. "Just look how she jumped in front of the Codfish. She might have been shot, but she never even thought of it. Say," he added, his chest swelling visibly with pride, "I've always thought I'd like a brother; but Billie's as good as a brother, any day."
"She's a sight better," Teddy contradicted fervently.
Tired but hopeful, the girls trudged the remaining distance to town and started up the main street toward the one big hotel in Molata. They strung down the street in what seemed an endless line, and people passing stared wonderingly and turned around for another look when the girls had passed them.
People gathered at the windows and in the door-ways to look at the strange procession, but the girls were too tired and hungry to notice them.
When they filed into the big summer hotel lobby, how the clerk at the desk and the few men gathered about did stare! A hundred girls, all pretty and daintily dressed, but seeming, by their suitcases and their clothes which were powdered thick with clinging wet snow, to have walked a good distance, were sure to create a sensation.
The girls hung back, realizing for the first time how they must appear to strangers and not quite certain just what to do next. But, as usual, Billie took the lead.
She went toward the clerk with an uncertain, apologetic little smile that would have softened a much harder heart than his and said that she would like to engage rooms for herself and her friends.
Be it said to the credit of the clerk, who was rather a nice looking boy with sand colored hair and eyes to match, that he did not even smile.
Soberly he asked Billie how many rooms she would need, and Billie turned to the girls rather helplessly. Then it was Caroline Brant who came to her aid.
"We can sleep three in a room," she said, regarding the clerk gravely through her horn-rimmed spectacles. "So you can figure out just how many we'll need."
"If we could have cots put in the rooms," Billie ventured, "we could get more than three in one room."
"All right," the clerk answered, still unsmiling, while several people had gathered around and were looking on with interest. "If you don't mind cots I guess I can fix you up all right. It's lucky that it's winter," he added, a little twinkle creeping into his nice eyes, "and that the hotel isn't crowded, or we might have to turn somebody out."
He watched the girls go up the stairway to the rooms above—for they had decided they would rather walk than wait for the elevator—then turned to one of the men lounging near with a chuckle.
"Nice kids," he said, regarding the signatures in the big book before him written in unmistakably girlish hands. "If they weren't dressed so well, I'd say it was an orphan asylum out for an airing."
Meanwhile the girls had decided that they were more hungry than they were tired, and so merely stopped to drop their bags in their rooms and brush a little of the clinging snow from their clothing before setting forth in search of food.
They had decided to separate into groups and to eat in different places so as not to attract too much attention, and they were gathered on the sidewalk in front of the hotel wondering just what to do next when suddenly one of the girls gave a startled cry.
"Girls—no, it isn't—yes, it is!" she cried, clutching the girl beside her hysterically. "Look! There's Miss Walters!"
"Where?"
"Oh, it can't be!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, there she is! There she is!"
And Miss Walters—for it was indeed she—attracted by the hubbub as were some other passersby, looked at the girls first curiously, then in astounded amazement. To her startled vision it seemed as if all the girls in the world were gathered there on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. And they were her girls—the girls of Three Towers Hall!
She hurried forward, feeling that the next moment she must wake up and find it all a dream, and the girls surged around her in an eager flood.
They were so wildly surprised and joyful at the unexpected meeting that they were almost ready to get down on their knees and thank the fates who had sent her to them just when they needed her most.
They all started to talk at once, but Miss Walters, having recovered a little from her first surprise and seeing that a curious crowd was beginning to gather, spoke to them authoritatively.
"Come inside," she said. "I can't imagine what has brought you here like this, but we certainly can't talk about it in the street."
She led the way through the doorway and into the hotel lobby, which was fortunately deserted. Then she sank down upon a couch and the girls gathered eagerly around her.
"Now suppose one of you tell me the meaning of all this," said Miss Walters, her blue eyes a little hard and accusing. She had no idea what had happened, but she knew that if the girls were responsible for this unheard of proceeding it would go hard with them. Miss Walters was fair and just, and because she was just she could be sternness itself where any disobedience on the part of the girls was concerned.
As for the girls themselves, all their old fears of expulsion came back at this attitude of their president, and they looked rather helplessly at each other.
Then Connie Danvers nudged Billie and whispered something in her ear. And Billie bravely did as she was asked, although, as she afterward said, her knees were trembling under her.
"Miss Walters," she began hesitatingly, as Miss Walters turned a steady gaze upon her, "I can explain why we are here and everything that has happened since you left—if you will let me," she finished rather timidly.
"That is just what I want you to do," said Miss Walters gravely.
As Billie told her story Miss Walters' expression changed, became less stern, and she leaned forward in amazement.
"You say that some of the girls were faint and sick from lack of food?" she asked once incredulously. "Why, it's—it's incredible. But go on," she interrupted herself impatiently. "What happened then?"
When Billie told of the raid, her imprisonment in the little room, her escape, and finally the decision of the girls to leave Three Towers and come to the hotel until Miss Walters' return, the latter jumped to her feet, her face flushing angrily.
"I'm glad I came just when I did," she said. "I was tempted to stay longer, but something told me that I might be needed, and that something was right. Come, girls, we'll hire all the taxis in town if we have to, and private automobiles, too, and get back to Three Towers immediately."
"We'll have to get our baggage," Billie suggested timidly.
"Your baggage?" queried Miss Walters absently, her mind on what she would do when she reached Three Towers.
"Yes, we left our bags in our rooms upstairs."
"Your rooms?" Miss Walters asked, then added with a compassionate smile that made her seem more beautiful than ever to the adoring girls: "Why, of course, you poor children! I forgot that you expected to stay over night. All right, run up and get your bags while I see the room clerk and about getting us back to Three Towers."
The girls never forgot that triumphant ride back to Three Towers through the snow. Nor did they forget what happened afterward.
Miss Ada and Miss Cora Dill and the other teachers saw them coming, and Miss Cora's lips tightened grimly. She was the first to greet Miss Walters at the door.
"Go up to your dormitories, girls," said Miss Walters, hardly glancing at the teachers. "We will have lunch in half an hour—a real lunch. Just a minute," she called, as the girls started jubilantly off. "I'd like to speak to Beatrice Bradley in my private office immediately."
Billie came back, wondering just what was going to happen next, while Laura picked up the suitcase she had dropped and hurriedly followed the other girls.
Then Miss Walters turned to the teachers.
"Will you all come with me into my office?" she asked. "There is a very important matter which I must attend to before I do anything else."
She walked down the corridor to her office and opened the door. Then she motioned them inside, stepped in after them and closed the door decidedly.
"Sit down, please," she said, and when they were all seated she sat down at her desk and regarded them gravely. "As you know," she said, "an unheard-of thing happened this morning, and I must have the testimony of every one before I can decide one way or the other."
Then very quietly she told of her meeting with the girls that morning and repeated almost word for word the story of what had happened during her absence as told by Billie and supported by the other girls.
The faces of Miss Ada and Miss Cora had been growing redder and redder, and now as Miss Walters finished and looked about her Miss Cora burst out angrily.
"I hardly expected that you would listen to the girls' account of it, Miss Walters," she said. "What they have said is not true."
"Pardon me, Miss Walters," Miss Race broke in, and they all turned to her, "but I can testify that everything that Beatrice Bradley has told you is absolute fact. I don't think that Miss Cora will deny," she turned to Miss Cora, who was white with fury, "that I have time and time again remonstrated with her and Miss Ada for their treatment of the girls."
"Is that so, Miss Cora—and Miss Ada?" asked Miss Walters, turning to the sisters, whose anger was slowly beginning to change to fear.
"Yes, Miss Walters," said Miss Cora at last, "it is true that Miss Race was continually interfering in our government of the girls during your absence. But," she added, while her mouth set in a grim line, "I still maintain that we did nothing during your absence that you yourself would not have done."
There was deep silence in the room for a minute while Miss Walters' eyes wandered from one intent face to another and then dropped to the blotter on her desk.
Billie's heart was beating so hard she was afraid it could be heard in the room.
Then Miss Walters' voice came to them, cool, incisive.
"I'm sorry," she was saying, looking from Miss Ada to Miss Cora and back again, "but I can't agree with you. Surely while I have had charge of Three Towers the girls have not gone hungry or become faint and sick from lack of nourishment. Neither have they raided pantries and storerooms and deserted Three Towers en masse, Miss Cora." She paused, and one could have heard a pin drop in the room. "I am very sorry, but I think that after Monday Three Towers will have no further need of your services, nor of those of Miss Ada. That is all, I think."
She rose by way of dismissal, and the other teachers rose also. Billie, who was nearest the door, slipped out quietly and ran swiftly up the stairs toward her dormitory. Her head was in a whirl, and all she wanted to do was to get with the girls again and tell them the marvelous thing that had happened.
The other girls were waiting for her, and as she burst in upon them they carried her off, seated her royally on top of a dresser, and gathered around eagerly, all talking at once and demanding to know what had happened.
Somehow, she made them see the scene in Miss Walters' office as if they had been there themselves, the scene in which the girls had won the great victory and the "Dill Pickles" had been dismissed.
They were just at the height of their rejoicing when the bell rang for lunch, and with one accord they stampeded for the dining room.
And it was a real lunch, as Miss Walters had promised—a lunch that disappeared as if by magic, and when it was over the students of Three Towers were really comfortable for the first time in over a week.
And everybody was happy, except Miss Ada Dill and Miss Cora; and Amanda Peabody and Eliza Dilks, perhaps. However, even though her attempt had failed this time, Amanda was by no means discouraged. There would be other chances—and then she would get even with Billie Bradley!
Rose Belser was happier than she had been since she had first become jealous of Billie. She was happy because she had done her best to set Billie right again, and could look at her pretty reflection in the glass once more without feeling ashamed.
It was some time later, and Billie, Vi and Laura were stretched out in comfortable attitudes on Billie's bed in dormitory "C"—for Miss Walters had declared it a half holiday. And, indeed, after lunch was over there was scarcely any of the day left, anyway.
"I feel almost sorry for Miss Ada and Miss Cora," Billie was saying, when suddenly the door opened and Connie Danvers flew in upon them.
"Girls," she cried, plumping herself down between Laura and Vi on the bed, narrowly missing the latter's feet, "I've just got a letter—there are some for you girls down in the box, too—and what do you think the folks are going to do this summer?"
The girls said they could not possibly guess, and before any of them would have had a chance to, anyway, she rattled on again:
"Mother and Dad are going to open our cottage at Lighthouse Island again—we haven't been there for several summers. My old Uncle Tom runs the lighthouse there, and he's a perfect darling. But this is the real thing," she paused and regarded them with sparkling eyes. "Mother says there will be plenty of room in the cottage for two or three of my school chums if I'd like to have them. Think of that—if I'd like to have them!"
The girls sat up and regarded Connie doubtfully. "What do you mean?" stammered Billie.
"What do I mean, you little goose?" said Connie impatiently. "Don't you know I'm asking you and Laura and Vi to go with me?"
"A summer on an island with a lighthouse!" Billie murmured, while Laura and Vi looked as if they could not believe their ears. "Now I know I'm going to just die of it."
"What?" asked Connie curiously.
"Joy," said Billie.
And whether she did actually die of joy or not—somehow one is rather certain that she did not—will be told in the next book of Billie's adventures, entitled, "Billie Bradley on Lighthouse Island; or, The Mystery of the Wreck."
Lighthouse Island was certainly a queer spot, and the girls had any number of unusual adventures there.
"We mustn't forget our own letters!" cried Billie suddenly, and then there was a rush to get the epistles. And here let us say good-bye to the girls of Three Towers Hall.
THE END
Other Books Published by GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY
BILLIE BRADLEY SERIES
BY JANET D. WHEELER
Billie Bradley and Her Inheritance
Or The Queer Homestead at Cherry Corners
Billie Bradley at Three Towers Hall
Or Leading a Needed Rebellion
Billie Bradley on Lighthouse Island
Or The Mystery of the Wreck