Molly was delighted to see the craftsmanship of this unusual young woman, who appeared to be a peculiar mixture of pretentiousness and genius.

When, presently, she led Molly into the little den where her silver work was spread out on view it was almost as if she had turned into a little old man and was taking a customer into the back of his shop.

Some of the other girls had followed and they now stood in an admiring circle around the table whereon were displayed rings and necklaces, buckles and several silver platters.

"You are a wonder," cried Molly, deeply impressed.

Millicent accepted this compliment with a complacent smile.

"Papa and mamma think I am," she remarked, "but I have artistic knowledge enough to know that this is only a beginning. When I am able to make a bas-relief of Greek dancing figures on a silver box, I shall call myself really great. At present I am only near-great."

"What are you going to do with these things?" asked Margaret.

"Oh, nothing. They just acc.u.mulate and I pack them away. I don't have to sell any of them, of course."

"Don't you want to exhibit some of them at the George Washington Bazaar?" asked Margaret. "The Bazaar will sell them for you at ten per cent commission. The money goes to the student fund. You can have a booth if you like and dress up as Benvenuto Cellini or some famous worker in silver. I am chairman and can make any appointments I choose."

Molly could hardly keep from smiling over the expression on Millicent's face. The worker in silver and the dealer in antiques were struggling for supremacy in the soul of their descendant.

"Oh," she cried in great excitement, "I will fix it up like a Florentine shop, full of beautiful old stuffs and curios. It will be the most beautiful booth in the Bazaar. And I will choose Miss Brown to a.s.sist me. You shall be dressed as a Florentine lady of the Renaissance. I have the very costume."

Now Margaret, as Chairman of the Bazaar, preferred all appointments to be made officially, but seeing that Millicent was very much in earnest and that such a booth would greatly add to the picturesqueness of the affair, she made no objections.

"There is one thing I would advise you to do, Miss Porter," she said when the plan was settled, "and that is to keep your silver things under lock and key because there is a thief about in Wellington. You might as well know it, because, sooner or later, you'll lose something. We all of us have. My monogram ring went this morning. I left it on the marble slab in the wash room and when I came back for it not three minutes later it was gone."

"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Molly, "I do hate things like that to happen. Why will people do such things?"

Millicent shrugged her shoulders.

"Perhaps they can't help themselves," she answered. "I've lost a few little things myself," she added. "But come into my room, Miss Brown, and let's talk about your costume. I have a gold net cap that will be charming."

For the next half hour Molly was lost in the delights of Millicent's collection of beautiful theatrical costumes, pieces of old brocades and velvets. She drew them carelessly from a carved oak chest and tossed them on the bed in a shimmering ma.s.s of rich colors. Molly lingered so late over these "rich stuffs" that she was obliged to run all the way back to the Quadrangle and fell breathless and exhausted on a stone bench just inside the court as the watchman closed the gates.

Nance and Judy were late, too. Nance had been to a secret conclave of the Octogons and Judy had been having a jolly, convivial time with the Olla Podridas. The three girls met in their sitting room as the last stroke of ten vibrated through the building. They were undressing in the dark stealthily, in order to avoid the eager eye of the housekeeper, who was not popular, when they heard a great racket in the corridor.

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" called several voices through half open doors.

The housekeeper making her rounds for the night pa.s.sed them on the run.

"I've been robbed! I've been robbed!" wailed the voice of Minerva Higgins. "I won't stand having my things stolen from me. Who has dared enter my room?"

"What have you been robbed of?" asked the matron sharply. She was a lazy woman and detested disturbances.

"Two of my best gold medals I won at Mill Town High School. They were pure gold and very valuable."

"Good riddance," laughed Judy. "If anything in school could be spared, it is her gold medals."

"You're only in the same box with all the rest of us, Miss Higgins,"

called a student who roomed across the hall. "Everybody in the Quadrangle has lost something."

"They haven't lost gold medals," cried Minerva. "They haven't had them to lose. I could have spared anything else. I valued them more than everything I possess. They will be heirlooms some day for my children to show with pride."

There were stifled laughs from several of the rooms, and someone called out:

"Suppose you don't have any?"

"Then she'll leave 'em to her grandchildren," called another voice.

"Poor, silly, little thing," exclaimed Molly, as the matron, intensely annoyed, went heavily past.

"Old Fatty's gone now. Let's light a lamp," suggested Judy, who either felt intense respect or none at all for all persons. There was no moderation in her feelings one way or the other.

"It's a queer thing about this thief-business," sighed Molly. "It makes me uncomfortable. I can't think of anyone I could even remotely suspect of such a thing."

"She must be a real klep.," observed Judy, "or she never would want the fair Minerva's gold medals. They're of no use to anybody but Minerva."

"Do you suppose Miss Walker will get another detective like Miss Steel?"

asked Nance. "She was a fine one. The way she tipped around on noiseless felt slippers and listened outside people's doors was enough to scare any thief."

"Oh, yes," said Judy. "She was the real thing. And she wanted everything quiet. If Minerva Higgins had set up a yowl like that at Queen's she would have been properly sat upon by Miss Steel."

If Molly's mind had been especially acute that evening she would have noticed that her two friends were keeping up a sort of continuous duet as they lingered over their undressing. As it was, she barely heard their chatter because she was thinking of something far removed from thieves and detectives.

"We'll be called down about the light if you don't hurry, girls," she cautioned. "Why are you so slow?"

"By the way, did you know there was a package over here on the table addressed to you, Molly?" said Nance.

"Why, no; what can it be?"

Filled with curiosity, Molly made haste to cut the string around a square pasteboard box. Whatever was inside had been wrapped in quant.i.ties of white tissue paper.

"It feels like china," cried Molly, tearing off the wrappings. "Why it's----"

"It's after ten, young ladies," said a stern voice outside the door.

Judy turned out the light.

"It's Martin Luther, girls," whispered Molly.

Judy crept to her room and returned presently with a little electric dark lantern her father had given her. This she flashed on the china pig.

"One sinner hath repented," she whispered. "It is Martin."

Nance reached for the hammer.

"Break him open," she ordered. "Let's, see if the money's safe. He might be filled with stage money, too."

Molly struck Martin Luther with the hammer, m.u.f.fling the sound with a corner of the rug. The flashlight revealed quant.i.ties of silver.