The man came in, wiping his snowy boots on the mat.
“What is it, Henry?” asked the troubled principal.
“This, Mum,” said Henry, holding out something that glittered in his hand. “I reckon ’tis some gewgaw of the young ladies. I found it under a window with some trash from a wastepaper basket, and I want you to be tellin’ ’em again that I will not have ’em throwing trash out o’ window.”
“My necklace!” shrieked Linda, and leaped to seize it.
But Henry closed his hand, and Linda might as well have tried to open a bank-vault without the combination.
“Give it to me,” said Dr. Prescott, soberly. “When did you empty your basket out of the window, Linda?”
“La—last night—after we got home from the ball. I forgot it yesterday and it was—was too full,” wept Linda.
“And your necklace went out of the window with it,” said Dr. Prescott, sternly.
“Look at that child!” suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Cupp. The matron crossed the room quickly and caught poor Nan before she fell. “She’s just about made sick by this,” she said tartly. “Why! she’s fainted. And she’s feverish! Here’s a pretty to-do!”
The principal hurried to Nan’s side and looked into her pallid face. “There is trouble here—more trouble than we know about,” she whispered. “Don’t take her to her room. In here! You may go, Henry. Thank you! And you return to your room, Linda. We will look further into this affair.”