A TORNADO

There had been two uneasy consciences in the Orioles’ Nest as the minutes went by and Cecily and Jean did not appear. Adela peeped out into the hall and announced: “There go Jean and Cecily into our room! Frisky, do you suppose—?”

 “Why, girls,” said Adela, “this morning Frisk wanted to make up an ‘apple-pie bed’ for Blanche, so we sneaked up into her room—”

“Well, you hadn’t any business to!” said Blanche.

“Don’t get mad, old maid, we left your ‘apple-pie’ bed for another time,” said Frances. And Adela went on with the confession.

They had found on the table in “Castle Afterglow” the book in which Adela had discovered Jean writing when she had hidden in her closet. In their mood of thoughtless mischief the temptation to look at the mysterious volume had proved irresistible, and honor was forgotten.

“And it’s the queerest thing you ever saw!” said Adela. “She’s written the greatest lot of poems and stories, and odes to—whom do you think? Somebody she’s in love with!”

“A boy?” asked Blanche.

“No, it’s a girl. It’s Carol Armstrong! She’s dead in love with her! Well, we thought it was a shame for Carol not to know Jean was in love with her, and we knew wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of Jean, so we wrapped it up in white tissue paper and tied it with red ribbon, and wrote on it, ‘Miss Carol Armstrong, with love from Jean Lennox’; and we left it on Carol’s bureau.”

“Well! You’re nice girls to belong to the Order of the Silver Sword!” cried Betty, indignantly. “That was a dreadfully mean trick!”

“We didn’t mean any harm. It was only a joke,” said Frances, looking troubled.

“Come along. Let’s go and see what she’s doing in our room,” Adela proposed, as the suspense grew unbearable. The guilty twain left the Orioles’ Nest and crept down the hall, an excited procession tiptoeing after them; and peering in at their own door they brought up face to face with Jean.

“Frances Browne, you’ve stolen my book!” Jean rushed forward and panic seized the culprits. Frances pulled the door to, shutting Vengeance inside the Mouse Hole, and clung to the door-knob with all her might.

“You stole my book! I’ll never forgive you—never!” cried Jean, furiously, struggling to open the door. Adela whipped a key from her belt. She had carried it to the party, intending to run home first and lock her room-mate out; but now she used it to lock Jean and Cecily in. Then she darted away and fled upstairs. Jean rattled her end of the knob till she almost wrenched it off, and beat upon the door, crying wildly: “Let me out! Let me out!”

“Let us out this minute,” Cecily commanded.

“I can’t,” Frances called back. “Whitey’s run off with the key.”

“We’ll catch her, though!” said Betty. “Come girls!”

There was a sound of feet hurrying away, but Blanche lingered to soothe her room-mate. “Jean, don’t make such a fuss. Miss Sargent will hear you,” she called. “They gave your book to Carol Armstrong for a joke, that was all. You can get it back as soon as they let you out.”

“Frances, you and Adela are cruel, wicked, dishonorable girls!” cried Jean, passionately. “I’ll never forgive you as long as I live, and I’ll never forget!”

But Frances hurried away to join the hunt for the White Mouse, and Jean flung herself down in despair on Adela’s bed, and buried her burning face in her enemy’s pillow. She knew Carol was giving a tea to the senior class, of which she was the President. No doubt she was reading the book at that very moment to her classmates, and they were laughing together over those sentimental outpourings. The idea was unbearable!

“I wish you wouldn’t feel so badly,” said Cecily. “I don’t believe Carol’s reading your book at all. I wonder if I could make her hear if I put my head out of the window and screeched. I’d tell her not to read it.”

“We can get out by the window!” cried Jean. She was across the room in an instant and raising the sash. “Come on!” she said, and scrambled upon the sill.

“No, thank you,” replied Cecily, gripping her fast. “I don’t care to break my neck, and you shan’t break yours, either!”

“Fiddle! we won’t get hurt! I’ll go crazy if I stay locked up any longer!” Jean twitched herself free and let herself down to the sloping piazza roof. The bow-window of Carol’s room was open. In it a girl was sitting, and though her back was turned, Jean recognized Nancy Newcomb by the copper-red hair shining in the sun. The sound of laughter came through the open window.

“Cecily,” she said, “I simply must find out if those girls are reading my book.”

Deaf to her friend’s pleading, she made her way slowly and cautiously along the roof and safely reached the bow-window. The curtain sheltered her, and peeping over Nancy’s shoulder, she looked in. There on the divan was Carol, flushed and laughing, and struggling to rise, while her room-mate, Eunice Stanley, held her down and Marion Gaylord sat in her lap, fettering her with arms around her neck. Helen Westover, standing behind, pressed a fat sofa cushion down on the prisoner’s head, and called out: “Now, Nan, go ahead while I have her smothered!”

Furtively Jean craned her neck and saw the lost book open on Nancy’s lap. That was the moment to speak, but she felt paralyzed; and Nancy began slowly and impressively:

 “Take away that cushion, Helen,” said Marion. “I want to measure her shadowy lashes. Hold up your head, Beauty. Let me see if your eyes really are yaller.”

Nancy continued. “Imagine Carol sentimentally lifting a rose to her cheek! She probably presented it to the botany class for dissection.

“Girls, we’ve discovered the rising genius of the twentieth century! I’m sorry the last verse is scratched out, and she’s written ‘apple’ all over it, so you can’t read a word.” She turned a page or two and gave a shriek of glee. “This is the richest yet! Carol is the heroine of a novel! It’s called ‘Hearts of Gold!’ Listen:

“Sunset gleams! Oh, now we know what color Carol’s hair is!” said Marion. “It’s purple and crimson and gold and pink, with streaks of green!”

A peal of laughter interrupted the reader. Poor Jean! She listened, her cheeks burning. But Carol freed herself at last, and flew to recapture the prize.

“You wretch, give me back my property!” she cried. “I’m going to have Jean for my maid of honor when I marry Arthur, and I won’t invite any of you to my wedding!”

There was a laughing battle, from which she came out victorious. The next moment there came an unlooked for diversion.

“Jean Lennox, what are you doing on the roof?” The start that Jean gave nearly made her lose her balance. She looked up and saw Miss Sargent leaning out of the third story window directly overhead. The girls, hearing the voice, looked out, and Jean stood revealed to the senior class.

“You eavesdropper!” cried Nancy. “You scared me to death!”

“Come in, poet laureate!” called Carol; and Jean came in with the precipitation of a bombshell, and in an equally friendly manner. She was quivering with excitement.

“Jean Lennox, you’re a genius!” exclaimed Carol.

“Give me back my book!” Jean demanded fiercely.

“Indeed, I won’t! It’s lovely,” said Carol. “Don’t misunderstand, dear. They were just teasing me.”

“Give me back my book!” Jean repeated.

“No, I won’t. It’s too valuable a present,” said Carol.

“It’s not a present!” and Jean snatched the book away. “I didn’t give it to you. It was Frances and Adela!”

“Frances and Adela! Why, what do you mean!” asked Carol. “Didn’t you leave it here?”

“Do you think I’d be such a conceited idiot?” cried poor Jean. “Frances and Adela stole it out of my room and gave it to you just to plague me!”

“The wicked little monkeys!” exclaimed Carol. “Won’t I pitch into them when I catch them! But you needn’t mind our seeing your book. You ought to be proud of it! I’m sure I’m proud to have such lovely things written about me. And you mustn’t mind Nan and Marion; they’d make fun of Shakespeare!”

“Of course we were only teasing Carol,” said Nancy. “We were afraid she’d get vain with so many compliments! Dear me! I wish I could write half as well!”

“You must write for the ‘Hazel Nut,’ after this, Jean,” said Eunice, who was editor of the school paper.

But Jean was too deeply wounded to take their assurances in earnest. Crimson with shame, she turned toward the door. Carol followed and put her arm over her shoulder.

“You mustn’t feel so hurt, dear,” she began gently. Here the door burst open and in rushed Cecily.

“Frances and Adela came back and let me out, and Miss Sargent caught them!” said she. “I’m afraid she’ll be coming after you now, Jean. Don’t go out or she’ll see you.” And then indignant Cecily told the story of the book stealing and the locking in.

“Those children always were terrors, especially Adela! This is simply outrageous!” declared Carol.

“We shall have to see they’re kept suppressed after this,” said Eunice, with severity in her blue eyes.

“I intend to suppress them!” said Carol, with decision. She stepped out into the hall, and stepped back again with the warning: “Look out, everybody! the sergeant-at-arms is coming!”

The next minute Miss Sargent was in the room. She carried herself with the military erectness that distinguished her, and said sternly: “Jean, I am astonished! You have done a most dangerous thing. Do you not know that it is absolutely forbidden for any girl to venture out on the roof?”

“But she was locked in, poor child!” Carol interposed. “The law doesn’t say you mustn’t get out on the roof if you’re locked in and can’t get out any other way, does it?”

“Miss Armstrong, I think you forget yourself,” said the teacher. “It was most unladylike, most hoidenish, Jean, for a great girl of your age to climb out there as you did. Do you not know that you endangered your life? It is a miracle you did not slip and fall. Now, go to your room. I found it in a most disgraceful state of disorder just now. Put everything in its place at once. You will remain there till Miss Carlton returns from New York this evening.”

Jean felt Cecily give her hand a sympathetic squeeze. She started to leave the room, but Carol’s arm was around her still, and it tightened and held her back.

“Miss Sargent,” said Carol earnestly, “please don’t send her to her room. She hasn’t been the least bit to blame. Some of the girls have been treating her abominably and she’s all excited and upset. Just see how nervous she is: she’s trembling all over! Let me keep her here with me and get her quieted down.”

“Carol, I must remind you that it is not your place to interfere with the teachers,” returned Miss Sargent. “Jean, go to your room instantly.”

Jean obeyed, but as she left the room she gave Carol one grateful look and saw that the clear brown eyes were flashing.

Then she ran upstairs, slammed her door, and imprisoned herself in Castle Afterglow.