In a chorus Arden, Terry, and Sim breathed audibly in relief.
“And about the bell,” went on Miss Anklon. “I am sorry if, even remotely, I suspected you or any of the girls of that trick. I shall make a public announcement about it. Sufficient to say now that I have dismissed Mr. Yaeger as gardener and we shall have a new one in a few days. I never realized what a strange mind he had until Mr. Scott—I should say Mr. Pangborn—enlightened me.”
Arden and her chums began wondering if this was all the dean had summoned them for—to congratulate them and inform them about old Anson. It was not in her nature to be thus trifling.
“This is not all that I asked you to come here for,” resumed the little dark-faced dean. “It was to warn you——” Her telephone rang, and she had to pause at a most critical point as she answered into the instrument, saying: “I am engaged now. Call me in five minutes.” Then to the waiting three: “I want to warn you not to talk too much about this matter for publication, for I realize that it must get into the papers and I desire no unseemly publicity for the college. Also, I wish to caution you about wildly spending that thousand dollars reward which, Mr. Pangborn informs me, will soon come to you. I wish——”
“Oh, Miss Anklon!” Arden could not refrain from interrupting, though she arose and bowed formally as she did so. “Didn’t Mr. Pangborn tell you what we are going to do with the money as soon as we get it?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Wasn’t that nice of him?” whispered Sim to Terry. “He knew we would get a kick out of telling for ourselves.”
“Why, Miss Anklon,” went on Arden, “we have decided, we three, for Terry and Sim will share the reward with me, we have decided to donate it to the college.”
“To the college?” The dean plainly was startled.
“Yes. To repair the swimming pool.”