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"By the way," said the Preceptress, her brow clouding again and the stern look coming back into her face that had rested on it when Ruth had first entered the room, "you had met Miss Picolet before you arrived at the school?" "She spoke to us in the stage yes, ma'am." "But before that you had seen her?" "Ye-es, ma'am," said Ruth, slowly, beginning to suspect that Mrs.
She spoke English with scarcely any accent. Occasionally she arranged her phrases in an oddly foreign way; but her pronunciation could not be criticised. Old Dolliver, the stage driver, grinned broadly as he closed the door. "Ye allus make me feel like a Frenchman myself, when ye say 'moosher, Ma'mzell," he chuckled. "You are going to Briarwood Hall, then, my young ladies?" said Miss Picolet.
"I thought perhaps that you might believe otherwise," said Helen, softly, "as you made Ruth remove the the provisions," said Helen. "And really, she isn't at all to blame." "She cannot be without blame," declared Miss Picolet, yet less harshly than she had spoken before. "An objection from her would have stopped the feast before it began is it not, Miss Cameron?"
"Then let the Golden Goblet be brought," commanded the leader, her voice still carefully lowered, for even if Miss Picolet was out of the dormitory, Miss Scrimp, the matron, was asleep in her own room, likewise on the lower floor of the building. Somebody produced a vase which had evidently been covered with bright gold-foil for the occasion. "Here," said the leader, holding the vase out to Helen.
"You will give him none of your hard-earned money, Miss Picolet. Tony, here, shall see him off the grounds, and if he ever appears here again, or troubles you, let me know and I shall send him to jail for trespass. Now, remember you Jean Picolet! I have your record and the police at Lumberton shall have it, too, if you ever trouble your sister again."
"Say! we have a dense one at this very table," hissed Heavy, a hand beside her mouth so that the sound of her whisper would not travel to the head of the table where Miss Picolet and the sullen looking new girl sat. "What do you mean?" asked Belle, curiously. "Whom do you mean?" added Helen. "That infant yonder," hissed the fleshy girl. "What about her?" Ruth asked.
She said: "There was an orchestra on that boat that was frozen into the ice, Miss Picolet. One of the musicians spoke to me. He knew you or said he did " The girl hated to go on, Miss Picolet turned so pale and looked so frightened. But it had to be done, and Ruth pursued her story: "I had seen the man before the day we came to school here, Helen and I. He played the harp on the Lanawaxa."
She had looked instantly toward the illuminated window of the French teacher's study at the other side of the campus. The shade had snapped up to the top of the casement, and the shadow of Miss Picolet appeared. The French teacher had heard the voice of the harp. "Oh, poor little thing," murmured Mrs. Tellingham.
"Ah!" gasped the French woman, holding out her hand. "No more, my dear! I understand. Let me have it." But now Ruth hesitated and stammered, and felt in the bosom of her dress with growing fear. She looked at Miss Picolet, her own face paling. "Oh, Miss Picolet!" she suddenly burst out. "What will you think? What can I say?" "What what is the matter?" gasped the French teacher.
She seldom retired early; that is one reason why those girls who considered Miss Picolet their enemy believed she was always on the watch. Three figures came out of the basement door under the tower of Briarwood Hall a lady much bundled up, a girl ditto, and the old Irishman, Tony Foyle.
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