Sometimes the bedding was piled in a heap in the middle of the floor, or Lalla’s school hat was filled with water and her best dress missing only to be found later folded under the mattress. The vandals covered their tracks very neatly, and Miss Howard, knowing the excitable temperaments around her, kept the matter as quiet as possible.
Gincy thought it over carefully until breakfast time, then decided to do some special detective work for the reputation of the Hall. “Some fracas between their kin, I reckon.” Gincy was used to the mountain feuds, which, like a slumbering fire, always broke out in unexpected places. “Mallie’s been left to run till she’s no ’count; why don’t she study to get some learnin’ stid o’ hatchin’ up deviltry? Nancy Jane and she make a team; looks like they don’t show good sense.” Gincy shook her head sadly, thinking how hard she had worked for the privilege which others esteemed so lightly. School had meant for her sacrifice, and long hours of toil.
Saturday was a busy day in the Hall. Its many corridors were thoroughly swept and mopped, the rooms carefully cleaned. Gincy was here and there and everywhere on the third floor. By lunch time there was a sharp twinge in her left ear which sent the blood throbbing to her temples. Her own room was spotless. Urilla’s family photographs were tucked in the wire rack where they would show to the best advantage, the ugly ink spot on the chenille table spread was turned to the wall, and the small stove was shining. But the occupant was not tempted by odours of fresh gingerbread or turnip salad coming from below. Her work for the day was done. She had counted on going to Lee’s Knob with a walking party for a picnic supper. Suddenly, all ambition had left her. When she awoke from her long nap her earache was gone, but there lingered in her memory a curious dream. The room key had been stolen and Miss Howard was in trouble.
Another bell rang. This time it was for dinner, but Gincy still felt little inclination to move, and a curious absence of hunger. There were loitering feet, then hurrying, then the distant clatter from the Annex announced that the meal was in progress. Gincy surveyed the tired face in the glass as she brushed her hair and resolutely choked back the homesick hunger which the free life of the mountains had fostered.
“I might jest as well walk down that way and see if things air all right.” How loud her steps sounded on the bare corridor floor. Gincy paused before trying the door of Number 16. She did hope that Lalla and Kizzie had left it locked. But no, here was the key, and on the outside, too. “I call thet plumb shiftlessness,” she told herself disgustedly. The girls certainly needed a lesson. Gincy stuck her head in, carefully surveyed the room, and then locked the door, slipping the key into her pocket. Let them go to Miss Howard when they wanted to get in. She came back to her own room and sat down by the window. In a few minutes the evening song, in one harmonious chorus, was wafted to her ears, then snatches of it floated up the stairs as the girls returned to their rooms. Some one tapped lightly, then turned the knob, and peered in. It was Mallie Green, and Gincy fancied she looked surprised to see her.
“Howdy! I was passing and I thought—I’d see—why—you wan’t at dinner.” Mallie blurted it out in her usual explosive fashion, her gaze shifting evasively.
“I didn’t feel to want any; my ear aches,” answered Gincy with a sudden accession of coolness toward the small, shrinking figure. She had been a target for Nancy Ping’s ready wit many a time, but to-day Mallie seemed far less likable. Every minute her suspicions grew stronger. Why was Mallie poking into people’s rooms and pretending—Gincy felt it to be mere pretending—to be friends? It was more than mere prankishness to put wet towels on a pile of freshly-ironed clothes, it was malicious, especially as the girls were all trying to economize as much as possible.
A few minutes later Gincy presented the key of Number 16 to Miss Howard. “They haven’t asked for the master key,” said the latter, “so they must be downstairs in the parlour. Sometimes they don’t come up until the study bell rings.”
“Let’s go back and see if there is any one hanging around the door,” suggested Gincy.
To their astonishment they found Lalla and Kizzie entertaining callers. Gincy stood for a moment dumfounded, then dragged Miss Howard to a quiet corner of the hall. “I know,” she whispered, “some one left that key in the door. They heard me coming and didn’t have time to get it out. We’ll keep hit, then I’d like to see them get in.”