DISCOVERIES
The whole school was thrown into a ferment of excitement over the discovery of Marcia's disappearance. No one exactly told anyone, but the news flew from lip to lip with the speed of that little bird so famous for its gossiping tendency. The school buildings were searched again, with no result. No one had seen Marcia go out; yet she was certainly not in the school. Miss Harland telephoned to all her friends in the town with whom Marcia might be supposed to be staying, but no one had seen her or heard from her.
In great distress Miss Harland called up Marcia's father, Mr. West, who was staying in a hotel in a nearby town, and asked him if his daughter was with him, and to her intense relief, received a quick and reassuring reply. Yes, his little girl had just arrived by the late train. She was so homesick for her Daddy, she could not stay away from him any longer, she told him.
Could she speak to Marcia herself, Miss Harland asked. There was a brief colloquy at the other end of the line, and then Mr. West spoke courteously. Marcia had just gone to bed with a bad cold, and could not talk that night. Tomorrow he would talk with her. And with a pleasant "Goodnight," he hung up.
Relieved from her fears for Marcia's safety, Miss Harland gladly relinquished the search for the night, and the girls were forced to restrain their excitement and go to bed. The next morning Mr. West came in person to talk with Miss Harland. Marcia was still in bed, and too hoarse to talk, so she had asked her father to explain to Miss Harland why she had left school without a word to her. She could not bear to be away from him, and hearing that he was about to leave for Chicago to accept a position there, had hurried to join him, and being in haste to catch the afternoon train, had not had time to take leave of her friends and teachers. It was foolish, he said indulgently, but he had spoiled his little girl, and could not be hard on her.
Miss Harland asked him quietly whether Marcia had said anything of having borrowed something of one of the girls. But Mr. West shook his head. He would ask her, and let Miss Harland know; and politely bowed himself out. Later, he telephoned to say that he had talked to Marcia, and she had declared she had borrowed nothing of her friends. She and her father were going to start for Chicago the same night, and she would have no opportunity to say goodbye to the girls and Miss Harland. Her cold was better, and she sent her love, and wished them all a merry Christmas.
Miss Harland returned a similar wish, and smiled as she hung up. She was glad Marcia was safe with her father, and was not sorry to have seen the last of her.
So Marcia left Briarwood, and with her departed something that had spoiled the spirit of concord and happiness which usually prevailed in the school. The girls were happy and at peace again. Joan returned to her old place as Alison's roommate, and their room became as before Marcia's coming, the rendezvous of the "Kindred Spirits."
All would have been well with Alison, but for the grief for the loss of her lamp. No trace of it had been found. There was no certainty that Marcia had had anything to do with its vanishing, but Joan, always practical and logical, maintained that since Marcia and the lamp had been alone together the whole afternoon, and since the lamp, having no feet, could not have left the room by itself, it was plain that Marcia must have assisted its departure. Alison said nothing, but she grieved deeply, with no hope of ever seeing her treasure again.
The Christmas holidays were drawing near. The girls were busy with plans for the two weeks' vacation, looking forward eagerly to going home, and the teachers were equally anxious for the coming of the last day of school.