For Bobby had really been drawn as a member of the secret society, and she never ceased to be surprised at the fact. But this school year--especially since early spring--Bobby Hargrew had been much changed. Not that she was not cheerful, and full of fun; but she had settled down to better work in her cla.s.ses, and there was a steadiness about her that had been missing in the old Bobby Hargrew.
They were talking this change over one evening around the Belding dinner table.
"Bobby wouldn"t be herself if she got too strait-laced," remarked Chetwood. "That"s the main good thing about her--the ginger in her."
"Chetwood!" exclaimed his mother, admonishingly. "You speak of the girl as though she were a horse--or a dog. "Ginger" indeed!"
"Well, Little Mum," said her big son. "That"s exactly what I mean. She"s no namby-pamby, Miss Sissy kind of a girl; but a good fellow----"
"I cannot allow you to talk that way about one of your young lady friends," declared Mrs. Belding, with heat. "I am surprised, Chetwood."
Mr. Belding began to chuckle, and she turned on him now with some exasperation.
"James!" she said, warmly. "I believe you support these children in their careless use of English, and in their other crimes against the niceties of our existence. Chet is as boisterous and rough as--as a street boy. And Laura uses most shocking language at times, I declare."
"Oh, Mother Mine! why drag me into it?" laughed Laura, while her father added:
"Isn"t "crimes" a rather strong word in this instance, Mother?"
"I do not care!" cried the good lady, much disturbed. "Chetwood uses language that I know my mother would never have allowed at Her table.
And Laura is so taken up with these dreadful athletics that she cares nothing for the things which used to interest me when I was a girl. She really doesn"t like to pour tea for me Wednesday afternoons."
"I admit it," said Laura, _sotto voce_.
"Do you blame her?" added Chet, grumblingly.
"Thank goodness! I was brought up differently," declared Mrs. Belding, sternly. "We girls were not allowed to do such awful things-even in private--as you do, Laura, in your gymnasium----"
"Hear! hear!" cried Father Belding, finally rapping on the table with the handle of his knife. "I must say a word here. Mother, you are too hard on the young folks."
"No I am not, James," said the good lady, bridling.
"You force me to say something that may hurt your feelings; but I believe you have forgotten it. You complain of Laura"s athletics and gymnasium work. Don"t you see that it is an escape valve for the overflow of animal spirits that the girls of our generation, Mother, missed?"
"I deny that the girls of _my_ day possessed such "animal spirits," as you call them," declared Mrs. Belding, vehemently.
"You force me," said Mr. Belding, gravely, yet with a twinkle in his eyes, "to prove my case. Children! did I ever tell you about the first view I had of your dear mother?"
"No, Pop! Tell us," urged Chet, who kept on eating despite his interest in the discussion.
"Mr. Belding!" gasped his wife, suddenly. "What are you----"
"Sorry, my dear; you force me to it," said her husband, with continued gravity. "But the first sight I ever had of your mother, children, was when she was six or seven years old. I was working for old Mr. c.u.mmings, whose business I finally bought out, and I came to your mother"s house on an errand."
"James!" cried Mrs. Belding. "I cannot allow you to tell that foolish thing. It--it is disgraceful."
"It is indeed," admitted her husband, nodding. "But if you and your school girl friends had been as much devoted to athletics as Laura and her little friends, I doubt if you would have needed the front stairs bannisters as an escape valve for your animal spirits.
"For, children," added Mr. Belding, as his wife, her face very rosy, got up to come around the table to him, "my first view of your mother was her coming down stairs at express train speed, a-straddle of the bannisters!"
Mrs. Belding reached him then, and any further particulars of this "disgraceful" story, were smothered promptly. But Laura and Chet enjoyed immensely the fact that--once upon a time, at least--there had been some little element of tomboyishness in their mother"s character.
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 cla.s.s 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!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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 sc.r.a.ping 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 n.o.body 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 att.i.tude 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 protege.