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CHAPTER XXI – MARGIT’S MYSTERY

To the amazement of the girls of Central High – particularly those seven who had been on the early Spring tramp to Fielding and had first seen the Gypsy girl when she ran away from Queen Grace Varey and the other Romany folk – Margit Salgo, as she called herself, appeared suddenly in the class rooms of the school. And, to complete their bewilderment, she appeared as the attendant of Miss Carrington!

Margit spoke little to any of the other girls. She came to Eve and Bobby and told them how she had been made to leave the farmhouse by the Vareys, who had come after her in the night; but how she had finally got away from them, and her connection with Miss Carrington, she would not explain, although Bobby was very curious.

“Well, doesn’t that beat all!” ejaculated Bobby, to Eve Sitz. “And we thought we might be able to help Margit. She seems to have helped herself, all right.”

“I am glad, if she is now in good hands; but I do not understand it,” rejoined Eve.

“Say! there can’t be any mistake about her wanting to get to Miss Carrington before. Now she’s got to Gee Gee, all right. Guess there’s nothing to be said by outside parties, eh?”

“Well, we can wonder – eh?”

“Oh, there’s no law against it. Take it out in wondering. You can be sure that Gee Gee will be as mum as an oyster.”

“But where is Queen Grace – and the others?” added Eve.

“That’s so,” Bobby returned. “If Miss Carrington hasn’t settled with the Romanies and given them what they wanted, you can make sure that they will take a hand in the matter again.”

Margit, however, seemed to have cut loose from the Gypsies altogether. When she appeared at Central High with the teacher she was dressed like any other girl coming from a well-to-do home. Her Gypsy garb had been discarded.

Margit sat by herself and she had special lessons. She did not recite with the other girls, nor did she have much to say to any of them, save to Eve and Bobby. Even Mother Wit was not very successful in scraping an acquaintance with the Austro-Hungarian.

Indeed, when one of the girls tried to talk with her, Margit answered in German; or, if the girl was taking German and could understand the spoken language pretty well, Margit used the outlandish dialect of the Romany folk, and that settled it.

Either she did not wish to make acquaintances, or she had been warned by Miss Carrington not to satisfy the curiosity of the girls of Central High about herself.

Of course nobody dared to question Gee Gee. If Mr. Sharp understood the reason for the new girl’s presence he gave no sign – ignored her entirely, in fact. So the girls were vastly excited about Margit Salgo, her presence at Central High, where she came from, and – particularly – what relationship she bore to Gee Gee.

One day the teacher was particularly short-tempered and found reason for taking Bobby Hargrew to task over some trivial fault.

“I am amazed, Miss Hargrew, that so light-minded a girl as you ever won your way into the M. O. R. chapter. I do not see, Miss, but that you are just as mischievous as ever. Neither time nor place changes you.”

She said it very spitefully, and some of the other girls laughed. But suddenly Margit popped up and said something vigorously in German – speaking so quickly that the other girls did not understand her; but Gee Gee evidently understood.

Her face flamed and she glared at the Gypsy girl in a way that would have quelled any other in the room. But Margit did not wither under her glance. She stared back, her head up and shoulders squared; and it was plain by her attitude that she defied Gee Gee.

Bobby was as amazed as the others. Margit had taken her part against the teacher. And for the moment it seemed as though there would be a serious breach between Gee Gee and her protégé.

However, the incident effectually called Gee Gee’s attention away from Bobby, and the latter heard nothing more of her fault. But it seemed that the connection between the teacher and Margit Salgo was not founded upon love. There was some other reason than affection that made Gee Gee care for the half-wild Gypsy girl. Some of the others whispered that Gee Gee must have done some awful thing, and Margit knew it and so held the teacher in her power. But that, of course, was a silly explanation of the mystery.

It was plain, too, that the teacher would not let Margit out of her sight on the street. They came and went to school together, walking side by side. At the place where Miss Carrington had boarded so long, nobody ever saw Margit in the yard, but Miss Carrington was with her.

One might have thought the girl a prisoner.

Bobby was hurrying over to Laura’s house with her books, one morning, wishing for a little help in one of the problems to be discussed that day, and she started through the grounds surrounding the Widow Boyce’s house, from the back street.

Suddenly she saw a man crouching in the shrubbery. Weeks before she had seen a man spying about the house, and believed him to be one of the Gypsies. Now Bobby halted and spied on the Peeping Tom himself.

In a moment she saw that it was the man with the gold rings in his ears whom Eve had told her was Jim Varey, the husband of the Gypsy Queen. He was lurking there for no good purpose, that was sure.

Having carried Margit off from Farmer Sitz’s house in the middle of the night, the Gypsies would doubtless attempt to steal the girl away from Gee Gee, as well. The school teacher had evidently not settled with the Romany folk. They had not yet got money through the girl, as Margit had said they hoped to do.

Bobby turned back toward the street, intending to look for a policeman, or for some neighbor; but as she did so she heard wheels grating against the curb, and there stood a covered wagon, with two sleek horses attached, and another Gypsy man driving them.

The man on the seat of the wagon whistled, and Jim Varey raised his hand as a signal. Then the latter darted around the corner of the house toward the front.

These manœuvers were only too plain to Bobby. There was not time to look for a policeman – and, in any case, an officer was hard to find in the Hill section of Centerport.

Bobby ran along the hedge, stooping so as not to be seen by the man on the wagon seat, and came around to the front of the house from the direction opposite that which Jim Varey had taken.

Just as she reached the front porch there was a wild scream from Miss Carrington, and Bobby saw the man leap from the far end of the porch with Margit in his arms.

Margit did not scream; she only beat the man about the head and – perhaps – left the marks of her nails in his dark face.

It was plain that she was being carried away from Gee Gee against her will. She had no desire to go back to the Gypsies.

Now, Miss Carrington could not run. She had been brought up in no athletic school, that was sure. She followed the kidnapper clumsily enough, and he would have gotten well away in the covered wagon with the girl, had it remained to Gee Gee to intervene.

But Bobby screamed, dropped her books, and went at the fellow as though she were playing football. She “tackled low,” seizing with both arms about the knees, and Jim Varey, screeching and threatening, fell forward on the sward – and Margit escaped from his arms.

“Oh!” gasped the girl.

“Quick! get into the house!” cried Bobby, bounding to her feet.

Margit whisked past her, and past Miss Carrington, and fled indoors as she was advised. Jim Varey leaped up and confronted the little girl who had overturned him. His fists were clenched and he gabbled in the Romany tongue a string of what were evidently threats and vituperation.

“Now, it isn’t me you want to carry off,” said Bobby, bravely. “I wouldn’t be any good to you. Get away, now, for I see Mr. Sharp coming down the street.”

Which was true enough – although the school principal was still a long way off. Jim Varey seemed to see the wisdom of the girl’s remarks, however, for he turned and fled.

The next minute they heard the heavy wagon being driven furiously away from the garden gate, and Bobby turned to find Gee Gee, sitting very faint and white, upon the porch steps.

CHAPTER XXII – LOU POTTER SCORES ONE

“Has he gone?” gasped Gee Gee, weakly.

“They’ve driven off, Miss Carrington. Margit is in no danger now,” said Bobby, eyeing the teacher curiously.

“You – you know about it, too, do you?” murmured the teacher.

“I guess I know something about it,” replied Bobby, promptly. “We girls saw Margit up there in the hills when she ran away from the Gypsies the first time. And I was over to Eve Sitz’s the night the Vareys stole Margit away again. I’d see the police if I were you, Miss Carrington.”

“The police – yes!” returned the lady. “It will all have to be dragged into publicity, I suppose.”

Bobby didn’t know what to say, for she did not understand Gee Gee’s present character, anyway! Nobody before had ever seen Miss Grace Gee Carrington so disturbed in her mind.

Bobby saw the front door open again, and Margit appeared on the porch.

“Come in! Come in! It’s all right now,” said the Gypsy girl. “There is nothing to fear from them now – Ah! who is this?”

Bobby turned quickly and saw a little, stooped old man, turning in at the gate. Miss Carrington saw him, too, and she came to her feet in a moment. The color came back into her face and she began to look very grim again – more like her usual self.

“Morning! morning!” cackled the old gentleman, nodding at the school teacher, but looking hard at Bobby. And the latter recognized him as Eben Chumley, a queer, miserly old man who owned a great deal of property on the Hill.

“Good morning, Mr. Chumley,” said Miss Carrington, quietly.

“Now, don’t tell me this is the gal,” said Mr. Chumley, pointing a long finger at Bobby. “For that’s Tom Hargrew’s young ’un – I know her well enough.”

“This is the girl I wish you to see and talk with, Mr. Chumley,” said Miss Carrington, beckoning Margit forward. Then she added, in her severest tone: “Miss Hargrew! you are excused.”

“Well, the mean cat!” muttered Bobby, as she went out of the yard. “I had no intention of listening to their private affairs. But she might at least have thanked me for tumbling over that Gypsy.”

Margit came to her, however, that morning, and thanked her warmly.

“You’re a brave girl, Miss Hargrew,” she said. “And I think that Jim Varey will let me alone hereafter. At least, he had better keep his distance.”

And so it seemed, for thereafter, when Miss Carrington and her charge walked to and from school, a policeman strolled behind them. The girls – especially those of the junior class, however – were almost eaten up with curiosity.

Luckily, as June approached, they had something else to think about out of regular recitation hours. The rivalry on the athletic field became very keen indeed. Mrs. Case did her best to impress upon the girls’ minds that a spirit of rivalry between classes would perhaps injure the chances of the school at large at the final meet.

“Loyalty to Central High!” was her battle cry. But all of the girls – especially a certain portion of the seniors – forgot the “good of the greater number” in the petty class differences.

Lou Potter, the senior, was backed strongly for first place in putting the shot and for the broad jump. Nobody but Mrs. Case, indeed, knew just how Lou and Eve Sitz stood in those two events.

The Saturday afternoon came when Mrs. Case was to try out the girls with the highest scores in the various events to be featured on the Big Day. Relay teams from each class had been gradually made up, and now these were to compete for the honor of representing Central High at the meet.

The Junior Four was made up of Laura Belding, Jess Morse, and Dora and Dorothy Lockwood, with Bobby Hargrew as substitute. They were not only all fast, but they were quick-witted. A relay race isn’t altogether won with one’s feet.

The seniors averaged taller girls, and heavier. The sophomores were nearer the weight and size of Laura and her mates; and of course, it was scarcely to be expected that the freshman four would stand a chance at all.

When the three heats were run off, however, the freshmen proved better than the seniors once, and surpassed the sophomores in two of the heats. The juniors won all three heats in fast time.

“Those squabs are coming on to be jimdandies!” declared Bobby, enthusiastically. “They’re going to be just such another class in athletics as ours.”

“And of course,” remarked Lou Potter, who overheard her, “the junior class of Central High is just the most wonderful crowd of girls that was ever brought together.”

“Now you’ve said it,” admitted Bobby, with satisfaction. “But I never did expect to hear a senior say that about us!”

Mrs. Case came over and her presence halted further bickering. But the rivalry of the two upper classes rankled.

Bobby took the hundred-yard dash from all competitors. Later she easily beat all the other entries in the quarter-mile race.

Interest centered after that in the broad jump and the shot-putting contest. Eve was in her usual good form and equalled, in her three trials, her best previous record. Just what that record had been the girls as a body did not know; but on this occasion the distance was made public. Eve had bested all competitors by a full inch and a half. Her nearest rival was Lou Potter.

“Favoritism!” was the cry among the seniors, but they were very careful not to allow their physical instructor hear it.

In truth, Mrs. Case, as she always had been, was opposed to inter-class trials on the field or track. It lowered the standard of loyalty to the school as a whole, and was frequently the cause of bickerings and heart-burnings, as in this present case.

But she was bound by the rules of a committee in which she had but one vote. She was glad to learn, however, that other instructors in other schools were having the same trouble. The Girls’ Branch Athletic League is truly against rivalry between classes of the same school.

In putting the shot the same unfortunate feeling arose between backers of Lou Potter and Evangeline Sitz. Eve carried the day; she put the twelve-pound shot far ahead of her rival. But the seniors were not satisfied. Their class would make a poor showing indeed at the meet.

“I’d just like to get square with that Swiss doll!” exclaimed Lou Potter, as she turned out of the gate of the athletic field, after it was all over and Mrs. Case had announced who would be the representatives of the school in each department of athletics, at the June meet.

“She is a foreigner, anyway. Laura Belding got her to come to this school. She’d much better have gone to Keyport, where she belongs,” cried one of Lou’s classmates.

They could not see that Eve’s presence at Central High was likely to give the school at least two points in athletics; that Keyport might have won had the country girl attended the Keyport High, as she had first intended.

“There she goes now – aiming for the railroad station,” said Lou Potter. “I wish something would keep her from getting to the field on the day of the meet.”

It was this mean thought in her mind, perhaps, that made Miss Potter notice Eve particularly as she followed behind the country girl. Lou’s friends separated from her, but her way led toward the railroad station, too.

And before that was reached Miss Potter suddenly became aware of the fact that a woman and a man were following Eve Sitz.

She saw them first standing at a corner, and whispering, and pointing after Eve. They were dark-faced people, foreign-looking, and the man wore hoops of gold in his ears.

“There are a lot of those Gypsies around this Spring,” was Lou’s first thought. “Hullo! those people are watching that Sitz girl.”

She became curious, as she saw the Gypsies dog Eve’s footsteps for block after block. Whether they wished to speak to the big girl, or were just watching her, Lou could not tell.

She was a bold girl herself, and not at all afraid of the Romany folk. When Eve disappeared into the railroad station and the man and woman remained outside, Lou walked up to them.

“What are you following that girl for?” she asked, and when Queen Grace and her husband would have denied it, Lou made her reason for asking plain.

“If you don’t like her, neither do I. I’d like to have her out of the way for at least one day – one day next week,” and she named the day of the Athletic Meet.

“This is a plot to trap us,” growled Jim Varey to his wife.

But the Gypsy Queen was, as we have seen, a very shrewd student of human nature. She could see just how bad a heart Lou Potter had. Queen Grace possessed no occult power. No so-called fortune-teller has. They are all wicked people, and liars. But she had long made a study of the worst side of human nature.

She saw that Lou Potter was ripe for mischief. She talked to her softly and insinuatingly, putting Jim out of the way. Then she agreed to meet the senior again and learn just what she wished done to Eve Sitz.

For the Gypsy Queen saw a chance to make a few dollars and, as Margit Salgo had said, the woman was very avaricious. She and her husband had been following Eve idly enough. They dared not approach Margit while she was under the protection of Miss Carrington and the police; but they laid to Eve a part of the blame for the Gypsy girl’s escape from their hands before they had made any money out of her.

Lou Potter went away from her conference with the Gypsies very much delighted.

“I guess we’ll show them that the seniors have something to say about athletics at Central High,” she muttered, over and over again. “I reckon I’ve scored one on Miss Eve Sitz, too!”

CHAPTER XXIII – THE FIELD DAY

There was a tall, gaunt, gray man who came to the Widow Boyce’s to see Miss Carrington on certain occasions. He always carried a blue bag, stuffed with papers and books, and it was well known by the neighbors that he was Miss Carrington’s lawyer.

There was nothing suggestive of romance about Aaron MacCullough; but like all old attorneys he had dabbled in many, many romances. There were a score of old families of Centerport who had entrusted their cupboard secrets to Mr. MacCullough.

He came in one evening, with his blue bag, and sat down in Gee Gee’s sitting room. The Central High teacher was quite as dry in appearance, and as grim as the lawyer himself. She sat on one side of the table, and he on the other, and the papers which he first examined and read aloud he passed to her, and she scrutinized them through her spectacles.

“So,” she said, at length, “these correspondents of yours in Buda-Pesth seem to know all about Salgo’s affairs, do they?”

“It is notorious, Miss Carrington,” said the old man, nodding. “There can be no mistake. Belas Salgo was a strange man. All geniuses, perhaps, are strange – ”

“He was a wicked foreigner!” declared Miss Carrington, sharply.

“Wicked in your eyes, perhaps. He married and carried away with him your dearest friend.”

“My cousin Anne – yes,” said she, slowly. “She had been in my care. She was musical. She went mad over the man – and he no better than a Gypsy.”

“Gypsy blood he confessed to – yes,” said the lawyer, shaking his head. “But he could make wonderful music. I remember hearing him once in this very town.”

“Oh, he charmed everybody – but me,” said Miss Carrington, vigorously. “And he would have charmed me, perhaps, with his fiddle if Anne had not gone mad over him. I knew how it would be for her – misery and trouble!”

“We do not know that,” said the old gentleman, shaking his head. “Her few years with Belas Salgo were happy enough, by all account.”

“But she never wrote to me!” cried the Central High teacher.

“Nor she never wrote to her father’s partner, Mr. Chumley. Eben Chumley, by the way, is for denying the identity of this girl, Margit?”

“Well! so was I,” admitted Miss Carrington. “Though heaven knows it was for another reason! I did not think poor Anne would have had a daughter and never written me a word about it.”

“Ahem!” said Mr. MacCullough, clearing his throat significantly, “your last word to her, I understand, was a harsh one?”

“Ah! But I never meant it. She must have known I never meant it,” exclaimed Miss Carrington, her voice trembling.

The old lawyer shook his head. “We never do mean the harsh words,” he murmured.

“However,” he added, after a moment’s silence. “The fact remains that this girl, Margit Salgo, is assuredly the daughter of Belas Salgo and Anne Carrington. The money – what there was of it – left in the hands of Eben Chumley by his partner, Anne’s father, belongs to the child, and Eben must be made to disgorge.”

“It will hurt Chumley dreadfully to give up the money,” said Gee Gee, quickly. “How much is there?”

“Less than a thousand dollars. You know, Chumley & Carrington were in the real estate business in only a small way, back in those days. With interest, and all, it will be but a modest fortune.”

“I suppose those Gypsies thought the child was a great heiress,” said the teacher.

“That is probable. They undoubtedly think so now. It is my advice that you allow me to go to the police and explain the matter fully. Let them gather in this Jim Varey, and the others, and tell them just how little the sum is that is coming to Margit Salgo. It is about enough for her education – and that’s all.”

Miss Carrington nodded. “Nevertheless,” she said, with finality, “she is Cousin Anne’s child. I shall make her education and future keeping my affair. I have not worked, and taught, all these years for nothing, Mr. MacCullough.”

“Quite true – quite true,” admitted the old man, briskly. “And if you wish to adopt the girl – ”

“I intend to do so,” announced Gee Gee.

“Then there is nobody to gainsay you, I am certain,” declared the lawyer, rising. “I congratulate the child upon falling in with so good a guardian, Miss Carrington. And – perhaps – you are to be congratulated, too,” he added to himself as he left her sitting grimly by the table.

For more than Lawyer MacCullough noted the change that was gradually coming over the martinet teacher of Central High. Whether it was the influence of Margit’s presence, or not, it was true that Miss Carrington was not half so harsh as she used to be.

“Change of heart – she’s sure to die, I’m afraid,” announced Bobby Hargrew, one day, when Gee Gee had failed to seize the opportunity to berate that young lady for a certain fault.

But later, Miss Carrington put herself out to speak to Bobby on the street, and upon matters not connected with the school work.

“Clara, I never properly thanked you for taking my ward’s part the other morning when that dreadful man attacked her,” said Miss Carrington, quietly. “But I am grateful, nevertheless.”

“Your ward!” gasped Bobby, her curiosity and wonder passing all bounds of politeness. “Oh, Miss Carrington! is she really related to you?”

“Margit? Not in the least – at least, no relation that the law would allow. For that reason I propose to adopt her. She will be known as Margaret Carrington – and I hope, Miss Clara, that you and the other girls of Central High will be kind to her.”

Bobby smiled. “I think Margit will take care of herself, Miss Carrington, if we don’t treat her right. But I know all the girls will be glad to have her join.”

“Thank you. She is foreign to your ways, as yet,” pursued the teacher, a little doubtfully. “From what she says, she is much interested in Mrs. Case’s classes – in the physical culture classes, and the like. I – I expect you will introduce her at the gymnasium, Miss Clara?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Bobby, half stunned. “Why – why Margit’s the surest-footed girl I ever saw. You ought to see her running that day along the top of the stone wall!”

“Er – I presume that such unseemly conduct will not be necessary if Margaret becomes a votary of athletics as taught the young ladies of Central High,” returned Miss Carringtan, stiffly.

“Just the same,” Bobby said, in talking over the matter with Laura and the rest of the girls, afterwards, “just the same, Margit Salgo will be a splendid addition to our fighting force some day. Why, she’s got biceps like a boy, and she says she can swim, and skate, and ride. We’re going to have another A-1 champion for Central High in Margit Salgo some day!”

It must be confessed that, about this time, many of the Central High girls gave more thought to athletic matters than they did to their lessons. Still, the unbending rule that only those who kept up with their studies would have a part in the after-hour athletic contests was a solvent for any serious trouble.

The day of the meet was at hand. The athletic teams of the five high schools – three of Centerport and one each from Lumberport and Keyport – were to meet on the Central High field. There were several important trophies, as well as the usual league pins for the winners, and interest in the field day – not alone among the girls themselves – ran high.

Laura Belding and her mates had figured out very carefully just what events Central High was sure to win, and how many of the “uncertain” points were needed to clinch the championship.

They felt sure of the hundred-yard dash; as far as they could learn no girl in any of the five schools had developed the speed of Bobby Hargrew over that short course.

The two hundred and twenty-yard dash and the quarter-mile run were doubtful, despite Bobby’s splendid showing in the latter. The hurdle races were doubtful, too, as well as the shuttle and potato relays.

In the high and broad jumps, as well as the shot-putting, there was serious doubt. The best Laura could figure, Central High would go into the contest needing four points more than they were sure of winning.

Those four points might be supplied by Bobby in the quarter-mile run, one of the chief events of the day, and Eve Sitz in the broad jump and putting the shot.

“You girls have got to do your very best – don’t forget that!” Laura told them, as they separated the night before the meet. “Central High just about leans her whole weight on you.”

It was on Friday and the whole school was excused at noon; but those taking part in the events of the day were not obliged to report until one o’clock – and then only to the committee at the gymnasium building.

The crowds from Lumberport and from Keyport came in chartered steamers. They marched into the field just before one o’clock, and the classes from the East and West Highs followed them a few minutes later. The girls in their light dresses, and with the flags fluttering, were a pretty sight.

Of course, the grandstand was rapidly filling with adult spectators, and with the boys, when the girls of Central High came in. There was some marching and counter-marching, before all were seated. Already some of the girls, in their gymnasium clothes, began to appear on the courts for warming-up practice.

Suddenly Bobby Hargrew burst into a knot of Central High girls gathered around Mrs. Case, on the main floor of the gym. building, and fairly shouted:

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who?” asked Laura, curiously. “Is this one of your jokes? Who are you looking for?”

“Where’s Eve? Who’s seen Eve Sitz?” repeated Bobby, anxiously.

“Why, I think you’ll find her around somewhere. What’s the matter? Got to see her right this moment, Bobby?”

Bobby’s tone of tragic despair stopped the joking at last, however, as she cried:

“She’s not reported. She isn’t here. Nobody’s seen her. She hasn’t come into town, as far as I can find out. And certain sure she hasn’t come into this building – and it’s one o’clock now!”

“Why, Clara! what do you mean?” asked the physical instructor of Central High. “It is not possible that Evangeline Sitz would fail to appear at such a time as this?”

“And with so much depending on her?” shrieked Jess Morse. “Impossible!”

“Something has happened to her,” said Laura, aghast.

“Has nobody seen her?” demanded Mrs. Case.

Nobody had.

“I’ll run to father’s office and telephone,” suggested Nellie Agnew. “They have a telephone at the Sitz farm, haven’t they?”

“Of course,” rejoined Laura. “Do run, Nell!”

The group, mostly made up of juniors, was horror-stricken by the fact that one of the most dependable of the girls was missing. But a senior who stood near said, scoffingly:

“Oh, I guess that girl won’t be missed. We’ve got Lou Potter to put right in her place – in both the shot-put and the broad jump. And the chance belonged to Lou, anyway. Now she’ll get her rights, perhaps.”