Tears ran down Genevieve's face as she re-read this precious epistle and then crumpling the paper in her hands she ran to her room. Sympathizing friends followed, and "Poor Genevieve!" was heard on all sides.

Judith had been a distressed spectator of this scene. How sorry Catherine would be! How sorry she was for Catherine! Whoever could be writing the letters?

This, indeed, was the sole topic of conversation in the "Jolly Susan"

during the dressing-hour, and before the evening was over the School was enjoying a thoroughly good gossip. One amateur detective had suggested that jealousy must be the motive of the unknown writer, for most of the girls dismissed the suggestion that Catherine was the author. Some one else contributed the story of Genevieve's unsuccessful attempt to obtain a room in the "Jolly Susan," and then some one, who had overheard Sally May's indignation thereat, suggested Sally May as a likely culprit.

As was inevitable these mere suppositions grew by their many tellings into "facts," and by the next evening many of the girls were convinced that Sally May, "who is absolutely devoted to Catherine, my dear," was "wildly jealous of Genevieve," and was actually "seen putting a letter into the box."

Miss Marlowe, who remains in the background in this story, but whom we must never forget, sits in the midst of South House like some omniscient and benevolent providence, decided that something must be done to stop these mischievous wagging tongues, so she summoned her prefects and said frankly:

"A little bird has told me something about these anonymous letters. I know they are very trivial and silly, but when one girl begins to be accused by the others, it is time to clean up the matter. From what I know of Sally May, I cannot believe that she has written them. Don't tell me anything more about it. I leave it to you; please do your best to get them stopped." And she left them to solve the puzzle.

The prefects held a meeting at once and decided that the matter was not serious enough to call a special house meeting. Such meetings called and addressed by the captain were held on very special occasions, and this--"Well, this is _too_ silly," said Patricia Caldwell, giggling.

"Poor Cathy! its a pity you are so bewitching. I don't know how you will manage your affairs after you leave school," she added teasingly. "I'm afraid the morning papers will have to devote front-page s.p.a.ce to the duels fought in Miss Catherine Ellison's honour."

Catherine could stand being chaffed by her peers and equals, but she really hated the gossip of the younger girls.

It was decided that every prefect was to keep ears and eyes open and report to Eleanor anything suspicious. A special watch was to be kept on the mail-box. Two prefects were to make it their business to saunter past the box whenever they could and keep an eye on pigeon-hole "S."

Perhaps they might catch the criminal at the box.

There was much laughter about it, and with the exception of Catherine they rather enjoyed the importance and the mystery. They realized, however, that so much gossiping was bad for the tone of the house. "It must be stopped."

CHAPTER X

JUDITH PLAYS DETECTIVE

WHILE the prefects were sitting in solemn conclave, Judith at her desk, writing to her mother, found that the story of the week's doings centred about Genevieve and the mysterious letter.

"She is hard to describe, Mummy," she wrote; "she isn't exactly pretty, but her face changes so often when she is talking that she is interesting to listen to. She doesn't play many games and I don't see very much of her, but you remember I told you how clever she was as Malvolio in 'Twelfth Night.' She acts awfully well and she just loves doing it. And she's always getting frightfully fond of somebody and feeling badly if they don't like her." Judith sat rolling her pen absent-mindedly up and down her blotter as the picture of Genevieve filled her mind.

Perhaps it was a matter of "thinking of angels and hearing their wings"; at any rate, just at this moment, Genevieve, returning from a fruitless attempt to catch Catherine in her room, knocked at Judith's door.

"Come on down and see me, Judy," she begged; "I've got some biscuits and some Washington coffee and I'll beg some hot water from Mrs. Bronson."

Judith who loved coffee needed no second bidding, and was soon enjoying a steaming cup and listening to Genevieve's woes; but Genevieve was scarcely well started on the subject of the letters when a heavy step was heard in the corridor and she jumped up in alarm.

"Throw the coffee out the window, Judy," she begged--"that's Miss Watson doing laundry--she's in Joan's room now." And with amazing swiftness she emptied her laundry bag on the bed, covered the contents with her eiderdown, spread out two dainty sets of immaculate French underwear, and was seated with a darning-basket and a pair of stockings in her hand, before the astonished Judith could take in the significance of her actions.

"Come in," said Genevieve sweetly as Miss Watson knocked. "Oh, is that you, Miss Watson? I'm just finishing my stockings."

Miss Watson, who was short-sighted and a bit indolent, hated the weekly task of inspecting the newly returned laundry in search of missing b.u.t.tons and rents, all of which were to be recorded in her little black book and checked off when the owners testified that the said garments had been made whole. So remembering the immaculate clothes which awaited her each week in Genevieve's room, she made a cursory examination of the dainty undies and checked O.K. opposite Genevieve's name.

"There's a funny odor in here," she commented as she turned to go; "you haven't--"

"Yes," said Genevieve politely, "I've just had a hot drink. Mrs. Bronson thought I'd better have one because I felt so tired."

And Judith, watching with wide-open eyes, to her amazement saw Genevieve's sensitive mobile face actually grow tired and sad-looking while she watched, and then the moment Miss Watson was safely out of sight, with a slight grimace and shrug Genevieve was smiling triumphantly at her own cleverness, and slyly watching the effect of it all on Judith.

"You'll keep it dark?" she asked, realizing that wholesale neatness would arouse Miss Watson's suspicions and that the game would be up.

"Certainly," said Judith a little stiffly, wondering that Genevieve would ask her--Nancy wouldn't have, nor Josephine; but then neither would Nancy have taken advantage of Miss Watson's short sight in order to present each week the same set of underwear kept especially for the purpose.

"Yes; certainly she's clever, but she's got queer ideas about some things," thought Judith as Genevieve began again on the meanness of the person who wrote the anonymous letter.

"I'd give anything I've got," was Genevieve's parting word, "if I could find out who did it."

"So would I," was Judith's thought as she dressed for a walk. "We've just _got_ to find out, for Sally May and Catherine look perfectly wretched--as if Sally May _would_; but some of them believe it. _How_ Genevieve can act! She just hoodwinked Miss Watson completely; looked like a good little prig who'd done everything she ought to do--and she was thoroughly enjoying herself. I guess she'll go on the stage when she leaves school--it would be interesting to have people applauding. I believe she was glad I was there to see her do it--and I believe--she was glad the girls were round to sympathize when she got the letter--"

Perhaps it was because of her determination to help Sally May and Catherine, perhaps because of the little scene she had just witnessed, or perhaps for no particular reason at all, suddenly a new, and at first glance a crazy, idea popped into her mind.

What if Genevieve enjoyed an audience so much that she wrote the anonymous letter herself!

"Well that _is_ a silly idea--think how she cried and cried--yes, but she had Cathy sympathizing with her--"

Judith started out to find Nancy to share her idea, but before she found her she decided she'd say nothing about it--it was too far-fetched.

Nevertheless, she determined to keep an eye on Miss Genevieve.

Next morning, according to the prefects' plans, Patricia and Catherine haunted the front corridor. Patricia even took up a post just inside the sitting-room door and watched through the crack, but the corridor was deserted all morning. Helen and Esther took the afternoon watch and had no better luck.

Esther saw the mistress distribute the evening mail, putting several letters into pigeon-hole "S," which had been empty until now, and then came a rush of fifty girls crowding round the box. Esther reported afterwards to Eleanor that whoever did it managed very quickly, for she was watching all the time. Genevieve put up her hand, drew out of pigeon-hole "S" another printed letter, and with a faint cry collapsed in a dead faint. At least so her condition was described to those few who were not privileged to be present. Ambulance cla.s.ses had not been held in vain at York Hill, and in less time than it takes to tell Genevieve found herself on the sofa in the housekeeper's room, where she proceeded to indulge in an old-fashioned fit of hysterics.

Judith, who had helped carry her in, wanted to stay and see, if possible, whether Genevieve were shamming, but Mrs. Bronson shooed them all out saying that Genevieve must have an hour's rest and then she could go to the Infirmary.

Judith returned to the corridor where she found excited groups discussing this third terrible letter. Some of the girls talked with lowered voices and several looked almost as white as Genevieve had, and when our heroine entered the "Jolly Susan," it was as little like its name as possible. Sally May was sobbing audibly and Nancy was trying in vain to comfort her.

"Horrid things! I hate them all. Why should they think I would do such a nasty trick?" she heard between the sobs.

Josephine appeared in Judith's doorway.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" she whispered. "I would like to knock their silly heads together. I don't wonder Sally's mad, and I believe that Catherine is crying, too."

Judith was horrified.

"Catherine crying! Why in the world should she cry?"

"Well, you know," said Josephine, "it's rotten for her, and probably she believes that Miss Marlowe thinks she has been silly, too. I don't know for sure, but she wouldn't let Eleanor in a few minutes ago, and her voice sounded shaky."

This was awful! A prefect weeping!

Two days pa.s.sed without any further development and Eleanor was beginning to hope that the nine days' wonder was at an end. On Wednesday evening, however, Judith heard Genevieve's protest when Catherine hurried off to a gymnasium cla.s.s, after a vain effort to get rid of a now increasingly unwelcome visitor.

"You don't have to go yet, Cathy. It's five minutes before the bell will ring. Do stay and talk to me; I'm awfully miserable."

But Catherine was evidently exasperated and held the door open for Genevieve, who had no choice but to go too.