Margaret looked round at the other members. All their faces were white. No one spoke for a minute.
Then Fanny rose and said, “Is it fair, for Betty’s sake, that we should break our own rules? The reason of her being no longer a member is at present known only to the rest of us. Is it right that it should be made public property?”
“It must be made my property, Fanny Crawford; and I do not ask you, much as I esteem your father’s friendship, to dictate to me in this matter.”
Fanny sat down again. She felt the little packet in her pocket. That, at least, was secure; that, at least, would not rise up and betray her.
Margaret gave a very simple explanation of the reason why Betty could not remain in the club. She said that Betty had taken the rules and studied them carefully; had most faithfully promised to obey them; and then, a fortnight later, had stood up and stated that she had broken Rule No. I., for she had a secret which she had not divulged to the other members.
“And that secret, Margaret?” asked Mrs. Haddo.
“She had, she said, a packet—a sealed packet of great value—that she did not wish any one in the school to know about. It had been given to her by one she loved. She was extremely reticent about it, and seemed to be in great trouble. She explained why she had not spoken of it at first by saying that she did not think that the secret concerned any one in the school, but since she had joined the club she had felt that she ought to tell. We asked her all the questions we could; and she certainly gave us to understand that the packet was hers by right, but that, rather than give it up, she had told an untruth about it to Fanny’s father, Sir John Crawford. We were very much stunned and distressed at her revelation, and we begged of her to go with the story to you, and also to put the packet in your charge, and tell you what she had already told us. This she emphatically refused to do, saying that she would never give the packet up under any conditions whatever. We had a special meeting of the club on the following night, when we again asked Betty what she meant to do. She said her intention was to keep firmly to her resolve that she would never give up the packet nor tell where she had hidden it. We then felt it to be our bounden duty to ask her to withdraw from the club. She did so. I think that is all.”
“Only,” said Mrs. Haddo, speaking in a voice of great distress, “that the poor, unhappy child seems to have lost the packet—which contained nobody knows what, but some treasure which she prized—and that the loss and the shock together are affecting her life to the point of danger. Girls, do any of you know—have you any clue whatsoever to—where the packet is now? Please remember, dear girls, that Betty’s life—that beautiful, vivid young life—depends on that packet being restored. Don’t keep it a secret if you have any clue whatsoever to give me, for I am miserable about this whole thing.”
“Indeed we wouldn’t keep it a secret,” said Margaret. “How could we? We’d give all the world to find it for her. Who can have taken it?”
“Some one has, beyond doubt,” said Mrs. Haddo. “Children, this is a terrible day for me. I have tried to be kind to you all. Won’t you help me now in my sorrow?”