CHAPTER III
The Book Club
Mary Louise was a little awe-struck as she sat down alone in her new bedroom. The first time she had ever been away from home by herself, without any friends! Alone in a big city—working on a job! It seemed to her that she had suddenly grown up. She couldn’t be the same care-free high-school girl who had gone coasting only yesterday afternoon with her friends.
A momentary sensation of depression took hold of her as she thought of Jane and the boys and the informal party she was missing that evening. It would be wonderful if Jane could be with her now, sharing her experiences as she always had, helping her to solve this mystery. But such a thing was impossible, of course. Jane wouldn’t want to give up the Christmas gayety at Riverside, and besides, this was a real job. You couldn’t bring your friends along on a real job as if it were only play.
Then she thought of that other Riverside girl alone in this big city. Margaret Detweiler, the girl who had so mysteriously disappeared. What could have happened to her? Suppose something like that should happen to Mary Louise!
“I’m positively getting morbid,” she thought, jumping up from the chair on which she was seated and beginning to unpack her things. “I’d better get dressed and go down and meet some of the young people. I’ll never accomplish anything by mooning about like this.”
She unpacked her suitcase and hung her clothing in the closet. What a neat little room it was, with its pretty maple furniture and white ruffled curtains! So different from the common, ugly boarding-house bedroom! She was lucky to have such a nice place to live in. And Mrs. Hilliard was certainly a dear.
She found the shower bath down the hall, and feeling refreshed, slipped into a new wine-red crêpe, which her mother had bought her especially for the holidays. It was very becoming, and her eyes sparkled as she ran down the steps to the first floor. No use bothering with elevators when she had only one flight to go.
Mrs. Hilliard was at the desk, talking to the secretary, who was putting on her hat and coat.
“Oh, Mary Louise,” she said, “I want you to come here and register and meet Miss Horton. This is Miss Gay,” she explained, “a young friend of mine. She is visiting me for the holidays, and I forgot to have her register when she came in. But as she is using room 206, and not my apartment, I think she had better register.”
Mary Louise nodded approvingly and wrote her name in the book.