Witch Winnie's Mystery, or The Old Oak Cabinet Part 11

She was excited and she spoke loudly. When she finished, there was dead silence in the little parlor. We all felt that Adelaide had put it a little too strongly. That silence was broken by a half-suppressed sneeze on the balcony outside the window. A sneeze which we all recognized as belonging to Miss Noakes. Had she been listening? Had she heard? Winnie balanced the ink bottle over the letter ready to obliterate its contents by an "accident" if Miss Noakes suddenly knocked. No one appeared, and going to the window a moment afterward, I saw Miss Noakes walking between her window and ours, and taking in great sniffs of the keen morning air with much apparent enjoyment.

The bell rang for breakfast and Adelaide and I walked along together, pausing to slip the note under the studio door. It would not go quite through, a little end protruding, but that did not strike us as of any consequence. I had descended one flight of stairs when I found that I had forgotten my geometry and I hastened back to get it. I met Winnie before I turned into the corridor. "Hurry," she exclaimed, "Snooks is just leaving her door; she will mark you for tardiness." I flew along at the top of my speed, but on reaching our corridor I saw a sight which suddenly arrested my footsteps. Miss Noakes stood before the studio door, carefully adjusting her eye-gla.s.ses and looking at the note; presently she stooped, picked it up, and read the address. She hesitated a moment, seemed half inclined to replace it, turned it over as though she wished to open it, then glancing down the hall and spying me, she placed it in the great leather bag which hung at her side. She closed the bag with a savage click and glared at me as I turned and fled, for I had not the courage to meet her.

I reported the calamity at breakfast table in an awe-stricken whisper to Milly, who turned a trifle pale.

"I am afraid it will get Professor Waite into trouble," she said, "Adelaide is still very angry with him, but I am sure she does not want to make him lose his position in the school."

"It may make her lose her own position," Cynthia Vaughn suggested.

"Writing notes to young men is against the rules. It's an expellable offence. But then," she added, "this wasn't exactly a love letter."

"I should think not," I exclaimed.

"It's all the worse," Milly groaned, as she scalded her throat with hot coffee.

"Adelaide can say she didn't write it, you know," Cynthia suggested cheerfully. "Winnie wrote it; and she didn't poke it under the door either--Tib did that."

"Do you suppose, Cynthia Vaughn, that Adelaide would do such a mean thing as not to take the consequences of her own actions?" Milly asked indignantly. Then she clasped my hand, for Miss Noakes stood at Madame's table, and had opened her black bag and was handing Madame the note. We could see even at that distance that the seal was unbroken, but this gave us scant comfort; it was only putting off the evil day.

"Winnie might steal that note for us," Cynthia suggested, "before Madame has a chance to read it."

"Why are you always thinking up sc.r.a.pes for Winnie to get into?" Milly asked.

Winnie p.r.i.c.ked her ears, at the other side of the table. "What about Winnie?" she asked.

"Nothing," Milly replied shortly; but as we went up to the studio a little before ten o'clock, I explained the situation. To my surprise Winnie's eyes danced with merriment. "Snooks listened," she exclaimed, "she heard Adelaide, I knew she did, and now we know how she finds out things that happen in the Amen Corner; often and often I have thought that I heard her, and have opened the door quickly only to find the corridor empty. Of course she is smart enough to know that she would get caught if she listened at the door; she would never in the world have time enough to scuttle down to her own room before we would see her. But the balcony! Strange we never thought of that. I'll lay a trap for her--no, I need not; she has trapped herself; this affair is proof enough that she peeks and listens."

"But I don't see how this helps us," I exclaimed. "This is the worst sc.r.a.pe of the season. Don't you see it is? Such glee on your part is positively idiotic. We may all be expelled and Professor Waite too."

"Fret not your dear little sympathetic, apprehensive gizzard. Don't say one word, except to answer questions. Don't volunteer any confessions, or let Adelaide do so. Remember, the prisoner is not obliged to criminate himself, the burden of proof lies with Snooks, and she will find it a pretty heavy burden."

"Not with that note!" I replied.

"That note! Ha! ha! But I won't tell you. It's too good a joke."

"And Professor Waite's picture of Adelaide?"

"The picture, I had forgotten that," and Winnie became grave at once.

"He must take it right away," she added. "I will tell him to."

"You talk as if you could make him do anything," I said.

"Anything I choose to try," Winnie replied confidently. We were at the studio door a little ahead of time, and Professor Waite threw it open at our knock, and welcomed us in with his palette still on his thumb. "Come and see my picture," he said, with a smile.

"Poor man!" I thought, "he would not look so happy if he knew how angry Adelaide is, and what a mine is waiting to be exploded beneath him."

He led us to the easel and displayed the canvas triumphantly.

It was an effective, striking picture, but it did not in the least resemble Adelaide.

Winnie uttered an exclamation of disgust. "There now, you've spoiled it.

I knew you would. It was just perfect, and you've ruined it. I'm sure I never want to look at that thing again. I told you not to touch it. Why couldn't you let it alone?" and a half dozen other wails of the same order.

Professor Waite did not attempt to put a stop to her somewhat impertinent remarks. He was plainly annoyed, however, and when she had emptied the vials of her indignation, he replied: "I thought you would approve of the change, Miss DeWitt. It was a remark of yours this morning which made me realize that I had no right to paint Miss Armstrong's portrait without her permission; that probably she would be unwilling that I should possess it; and as I would gladly sacrifice any ambition or pleasure of my own for the sake of not offending her, I have, as you see, painted in an entirely new face."

"You are quite right, Professor," I exclaimed warmly; "and Adelaide will be grateful for your consideration."

At this juncture the girls trooped in and took their places at their easels, and Professor Waite laid the picture in the great chest in front of our door. The correction of work went on as usual until the latter part of the hour, when an ominous knock was heard at the door, and Madame, accompanied by Miss Noakes, sailed majestically into the room.

Professor Waite bowed deeply and expressed himself as highly honored.

Madame lifted her lorgnette and surveyed the cla.s.s. Milly was posing in her despised Italian costume. Madame smiled kindly at her, and then pa.s.sed about from easel to easel examining the girls' work. "I do not know whether it is exactly the thing for the young ladies to allow themselves to be painted in this way," she said, "though to be sure the studies are hardly recognizable as likenesses."

"The young ladies have all asked the permission of their parents to sit for each other," Professor Waite explained.

"For each other," Madame repeated doubtfully; "but do you never make sketches of them also, Professor? A parent might well object to having his daughter's portrait exhibited in a public place, sold to a stranger, or even shown among studies of professional models in your studio."

"I have made no studies from life from any of the young ladies,"

Professor Waite replied promptly.

Miss Noakes drew a long breath and seemed to bristle with antic.i.p.ated triumph.

"I am glad that you can a.s.sure me of this," Madame replied in her softest, most purring accents. Then she glanced around the room again and asked, "Are all of the art students present? I do not see Miss Armstrong."

"Miss Armstrong has not honoured me by joining the cla.s.s," Professor Waite replied stiffly.

"But she at least sits for the others, does she not? She is such a strikingly picturesque girl, I should think you would ask her."

"We have asked her," Milly replied, "but she is just as obstinate as she can be. I wish, Madame, you would make her."

Madame shook her little wiry curls. "This is a matter which must be left entirely to individual preference, my dear. It would be very wrong, indeed, for any of you to make a portrait of Miss Armstrong without her consent. I have known young amateur photographers to lay themselves open to an action at law by taking photographs of people without their knowledge. Our personality is a very sacred thing, and whoever possesses himself of that without warrant commits a dishonorable action."

Milly looked as if she were about to faint, while Professor Waite, who felt the intention of Madame's remarks, and his own thoughtlessness, bit his mustache nervously. Winnie was t.i.ttering in an unseemly manner behind her easel, but, thankful as I was that the professor had changed the portrait, I still felt the gravity of the occasion.

Madame's manner changed. "Miss Vaughn," she said to Cynthia, "will you ask Miss Armstrong to step to the studio for a moment." Then turning to our teacher, she added, "I have a very painful duty to perform, my dear Professor, and you must pardon me if my questions seem to you unwarranted. Will you tell me whether, for any reason whatever, you have carried on a written correspondence with Miss Armstrong or with any other member of this school?"

"I have not, Madame."

"Have never either written to her or received letters from her?"

"Never, Madame. Who has charged me with such a clandestine and dishonourable act?"

Madame did not reply, for Adelaide entered the room. She was very stately and pale. Cynthia had not had far to go, and Adelaide had come instantly.

"Why have you sent for me?" she asked resolutely.

"Merely to ask you one or two simple questions," Madame replied. "But first, Professor, may we be permitted to see the picture which you are preparing for the Academy exhibition?"

Adelaide leaned forward eagerly. Professor Waite was about to be punished for his presumption and yet she was not so glad as she fancied that she would be. Her anger had faded out and she almost pitied him.

A hot blush swept up to his forehead as he felt her gaze, and silently placed the painting upon the easel. Madame examined it critically through her lorgnette; it was evidently not what she had expected to see.

Milly, who had not known of the change, could hardly believe her eyes, and seemed to fancy that a miracle had been performed to save her dear professor. Miss Noakes stood at the canvas with a look of disappointed malignity on her unattractive features.