The Orchard Secret Part 26

"He's alone, thank goodness!" said Sim.

"Help!" cried Arden again.

"Let us out!" shouted Terry.

"Fer th' love of cats, who are you? Where are you?" exclaimed the agent, for the voices were m.u.f.fled.

"In this packing case! You nailed us in!" answered Arden.

With a muttered expression of great surprise, the agent picked up the same scale weight he had used to drive the nails partly in, and by pounding on the lower edge of the cover he forced it up, flung it back, and let the rays of the overhead light, which he had switched on, flood upon the three disheveled girls in the big box.

"My sakes!" cried the man. "What are you girls doin' in there?"

"You shut us in," Sim answered, standing up and stretching, as did her chums. "We didn't want Dr. Bordmust to see us, so we hid in this box."

"Then," continued Terry, "you nailed it shut."

"How was I t' know you was in there?" demanded the agent, with much justification. "It's a lucky thing, after Dr. Bordmust left, not finding what he was after, that I come back here t' make sure I'd switched off the light for th' night."

"Very lucky," agreed Sim.

"I never could of heard you yellin' once I got back t' my office," went on the man.

"We're awfully glad you came here. Thanks, so much!" murmured Terry, with much relief.

"Where you from--Cedar Ridge?" asked the agent.

"Yes," Arden answered, "and we're in an awful hurry to get back. Supper must have started," she told her chums.

"I guess so," sighed Sim. "I only hope there's some left."

"We'll explain to you another time," continued Arden. "Come on, girls!"

she urged.

The girls, a trifle stiff from their cramped positions, climbed over the side of the box. This time there were no ripping or tearing accidents.

The agent stared uncomprehendingly at the trio as they landed on the floor of the baggage room and shook their garments into some semblance of order. Then they hurried out, Sim flinging back a perfunctory but none the less sincere "thank you," as they pushed past the agent and again went out into the cold, damp fog.

As they hurried along the platform they heard the agent muttering to himself:

"What'll them girls do next?"

"Good old air!" breathed Terry as they ran along. "I never thought it could be so welcome, even all messed up with fog as it is."

"We were very lucky to get out," murmured Sim. "Suppose he hadn't come back and no one ever found us until years later, when we'd be only skeletons! What a scandal for the college!"

"Very cheerful, Sim," replied Arden. "Now we're late again and we shall just have to dash back."

"I never did so much das.h.i.+ng in my whole life. I'm always running to some place or hurrying away from it, by golly!" complained Terry. "Tomorrow I'm going to take time out and just _sit_!"

"Well, you can't sit now. It's almost supper time, if not already past it. One more last dash for dear old Cedar Ridge!" pleaded Arden. "Be a sport, Terry. I know it was all my fault. But I'll translate your French to make up for it."

So the girls dashed through the pea-soup fog toward the college. They went around to the rear door, where they would be less likely to be seen.

A few yards ahead of them, as they reached the college grounds, as far as they could see through the swirling mist, were two dim figures. Arden and her chums slackened their pace.

"It's Henny talking to someone!" gasped Sim. "Compose yourselves, girls.

Be very demure!"

"I hope he doesn't stop us," Terry remarked. "Who is he talking to--or should I say 'whom'?"

"You should say 'whom,'" declared Arden.

"Well, anyhow, I said it," countered Terry.

"I knew what you meant," responded Arden. "But look!" she whispered.

"Isn't Henny talking to Tom Scott, the gardener?"

"Yes, he is," said Sim.

Composing themselves, the three girls walked at an ordinary pace along the shrubbery-lined path that led to the rear door of the dining hall.

The chaplain and the young gardener were in earnest conversation, somewhat off the path on the edge of a large round flower bed. Just as the three reached the two men, who did not seem aware of their approach, the girls could hear the Rev. Henry ask, somewhat crossly:

"How much longer are you going to keep this up? It's dangerous! I don't like it at all. I am almost resolved----"

"Just give me a little longer chance," pleaded the other. "I have almost settled it. I'll see you again."

Then Tom Scott faded away in the fog and darkness, and the chaplain, muttering something the girls could not catch, turned back toward his own residence near the chapel.

Now he caught sight of the girls, and turning toward them, and by doing so disturbing more wisps of the swirling fog, he greeted them in his most benign manner with:

"Good-evening, young ladies! Walking in the fog?"

"Yes, Dr. Bordmust, we like it," answered Arden, with a great a.s.sumption of innocence.

"Hum--er--yes," mumbled Henny. "Though it isn't good for old throats,"

and coughing raspingly, he swung on his way.

"That's lucky!" exclaimed Terry as they hurried on.

"What do you suppose they were talking about?" asked Arden.

"As if we could guess," sighed Sim. "But I know one thing," she added as they slipped in at the door, "if that agent at the station doesn't tell anyone what happened, we're all right."

"h.e.l.lo, fres.h.i.+es!" exclaimed a voice close to them. "Rather late to be coming back from the station, isn't it? I was behind you all the way from the post office."

The three whirled around. The speaker was Jessica Darglan, smiling sardonically.

"I thought," she continued, "that you three were campused. But that's your worry," and she brushed past them and went into the dining hall.