# Betty Gordon at Boarding School/Chapter 18

CHAPTER XVIII
LIBBIE'S SECRET
Gilbert Lane was the first to recover his voice.
"Well, what do you know about that!" he ejaculated. "The old bird was here all the time."
"Are—are—are there any more of them?" stammered Louise.
"No, that old fellow is the only Indian for miles around," said Gilbert carelessly. "He was left behind, the fellows at school say, when that band stole the Macklin treasure. They had a grudge against him, it seems, and they tripped him and left him with a broken leg. He worked around on different farms for years and now does a day's work often enough to keep him in food. Queer old dick, I guess."
"What makes you girls look so funny?" demanded Sydney. "You're not afraid now, are you? That Indian won't come back—he was more afraid of us than we were of him. I figure out he was asleep when we came in and the noise woke him up. What are you smiling about?"
​"My grandmother is Mrs. Marcia Macklin," explained Norma. "And you see it was her gold and silver and jewels the Indians stole. I wonder what he would have said if we had told him?"
"Gee, is that so?" asked Sydney, ignoring the latter half of Norma's sentence. "And is all that stuff down in the chasm yet?"
"As far as we know, it is," said Norma. "And likely to remain there," she added, with a sigh.
Bob and the boys returned in less than half an hour, to announce that they had found the right road and were prepared to pilot the girls expeditiously homeward. Libbie's cheeks were unnaturally flushed and she looked miserable, but she refused to let Bob and Tommy carry her by forming a "chair" with their hands.
"I'm all right," she insisted hoarsely. "I only want to get home."
Knowing the way positively saved much fumbling and time, and soon the familiar buildings of Shadyside loomed up before them. The boys had a long tramp still before them, and if they were not to be late for supper, must walk briskly. They continued on their way, while the girls ran up the steps of the dormitory building.
"There's no use talking, LIbbie, you've got to see the infirmary nurse," said Bobby resolutely. "I promised your mother to look after you, and ​if you're going to be sick you'll at least have the proper care. Wait till we get into some dry things, and I'll take you."
Libbie looked rebellious, but she made no verbal protest, and when they were once more in dry clothes Bobby marched her cousin to the immaculate infirmary. She returned alone, saying that the nurse had detained Libbie for observation over night.
"She thinks she's getting a heavy cold, but it may be more serious," Bobby reported. "Well, anyway, I've done my duty. But romantic people are always forgetting to wear their rubbers."
Betty had just drowsed off to sleep that night, the girls having gone to bed immediately after the study hour, for the afternoon in the wind and rain had made them extraordinarily sleepy, when a soft knock on the door startled her.
She slipped out of bed and ran to the door, opening it carefully so as not to wake Bobby. Miss Morris, the school nurse, and Miss Lacey stood there.
"Elizabeth isn't worse," said Miss Morris hastily, noting Betty's look of alarm. "But she is very restless and wants to see you. Miss Lacey says you may come up. Get your dressing gown and slippers, dear."
Betty obeyed quickly. Libbie was probably lonely, she reflected.
​The infirmary consisted of three connecting rooms, fitted with two single beds in each, and Libbie happened to be the only patient. She was sitting up in bed, well wrapped up, when Betty saw her, her eyes unnaturally bright, her cheeks very red.
"Now I'll leave you two girls together for exactly half an hour," said the nurse kindly. After that Elizabeth must go to sleep."
"Is the door shut—shut tight?" demanded Libbie feverishly, grasping Betty's hand with both her hot, dry ones.
"Yes, dear, yes," affirmed Betty soothingly. "What's the matter, Libbie—is your throat sore?"
"Oh, Betty, I'm in such terrible trouble!" gasped Libbie, her eyes overflowing. "I'm so frightened!"
"Tell me about it, dear," soothed Betty. "I'll help you, you know I will. Has it anything to do with school?"
She was totally unprepared for Libbie's next words.
"I have to have some money—a lot of money, Betty. I've spent my last allowance and I can't write home for more because they will ask me why I want it. I've borrowed so much from Louise that I can't ask her again! I ought to pay ​it back. But I've got to have twenty dollars by to-morrow night."
"What for? What's the matter?" asked Betty, in alarm.
"You'll promise not to tell Bobby?" demanded Libbie intensely. "Promise me you won't tell Bobby? She'd scold so. And Mrs. Eustice would expel me. If you won't tell Bobby or Mrs. Eustice, Betty, I'll tell you."
Betty was now thoroughly aroused. She knew that impulsive novel-reading Libbie went about with her pretty head filled with all sorts of trashy ideas, and she didn't know what lengths she might have gone to. If Mrs. Eustice would expel her, the affair must be serious indeed.
"I'll promise," said Betty rashly. "Tell me everything, Libbie, and if I can I'll help you."
"Well, you remember when we went nutting?" said Libbie. "I carried a bottle with me with—with my name and address written on a slip of paper inside. I read about that in a book. And I said to leave an answer in the same bottle. I—I buried it just at the foot of the hill, before we began to climb. Louise was with me, but she was hunting for specimens for her botany book."
"So that's why you hung back, was it?" said Betty. "I wish to goodness Louise was more interested in what is going on around her. She ​might have stopped you. Go on—what happened to your silly bottle?"
"I buried it," repeated Libbie, "and two days after I went out and dug it up. And there was an answer in it."
"What did it say?" demanded Betty practically.
"I've got it here——" Libbie reached under her pillow and pulled out a slip of paper.
"It says 'Leave ten dollars in this same place to-night, or Mrs. Eustice shall hear of this.' And, of course," concluded Libbie, "I put ten dollars in the bottle, because whoever found it had the slip with my name on it to show Mrs. Eustice."
Betty studied the paper. The handwriting was a strong backhand, not at all an illiterate hand.
"Oh, dear, what shall I do?" wailed Libbie. "He keeps asking for more, and I won't have any money till the first of the month. I only meant to do like the girl in the book—have a thrilling unknown correspondent. I never knew he would ask for money! Suppose he is a horrid, dirty tramp and he comes and tells Mrs. Eustice he found my note? I should die of shame!"
"I'll have the money ready for you in the morning," said Betty firmly. "I have that much. ​But, of course, he'll keep demanding more. I do hope, Libbie, that if you ever get out of this mess, you'll be cured of some of your crazy notions!"
"Oh, I will," promised Libbie earnestly. "I will be good, Betty. Only don't tell Bobby."
She was manifestly relieved by her confession, and when Miss Morris came in to send Betty back to her own room, Libbie curled down contentedly for a restful night.
Not so poor Betty. She turned and tossed, wondering how she could get more money for her chum without arousing suspicion.
"What ever made her do a thing like that!" she groaned. "Of all the wild ideas! The twenty will take every cent I have. I must see Bob and borrow from him."
Libbie was much improved in the morning—so well, in fact, that after breakfast in bed she was permitted to dress and go to her room, though strictly forbidden to attend classes or go out of doors. Betty brought her the twenty dollars and when school was in session, the benighted Libbie sped out to her buried bottle and put the money in it, regaining her room without detection.
Two days later there was another demand for money, and two days after that, another. Libbie visited the bottle regularly, afraid to let a day ​pass lest the blackmailer expose her to the principal. Betty had seen Bob at a football game, and had borrowed fifteen dollars from him. She could not write her uncle, for communication with him was uncertain and her generous allowance came to her regularly through his Philadelphia lawyer.
"He wants twenty-five dollars by to-morrow night!" whispered Libbie, meeting Betty in the hall after her last visit to the buried bottle. "Oh, Betty, what shall we do?"
Both girls had watched patiently and furtively in their spare time in an effort to detect the person who dug up the bottle, but they had never seen any one go near the spot.
As it happened, when Libbie whispered her news to Betty, they were both on their way to recitation with Miss Jessup whose current events class both girls nominally enjoyed. To-day Betty found it impossible to fix her mind on the brisk discussions, and half in a dream heard Libbie flunk dismally.
When next she was conscious of what was going on about her—she had been turning Libbie's troubles over and over in her mind without result—Miss Jessup was speaking to her class about the "association of ideas."
"We won't go very deeply into it this ​morning," she was saying, "but you'll find even the surface of the subject fascinating."
Then she began a rapid fire of questions to which Betty paid small attention till the sound of Ada Nansen's name aroused her.
"Key, Ada?" asked Miss Jessup.
The answers were supposed to indicate definite ideas.
"Key hole," said Ada promptly.
"Purse?"
"Money."
"Bee?" asked Miss Jessup.
To her surprise and that of the listening class, nine-tenths of whom were forming the word "honey" with their lips, Ada answered without hesitation, "Bottle."
"You must have thought I meant the letter 'B,'" said the teacher lightly, passing on to the next pupil.
Betty heard the dismissal bell with real relief. She cornered Libbie in the hall as the class streamed out and announced a decision.
"I'll have to go see Bob—I'll paddle one of the canoes," she said hurriedly.
"If any one asks for me, say I'm out on the lake."
Betty was now an expert with the paddle, and the trip across the lake was easy of accomplishment. She had the great good fortune to meet ​Bob returning from a recitation, and though surprised to see her, he knew she must have come by boat or canoe. The boys had gone the next day and brought back the canoes from the woods where they had placed them during the storm.
"I'm ever so sorry, Bob," said Betty earnestly, "But—could you lend me twenty-five dollars?"
Bob whistled.
"I could," he admitted cautiously. "What's it for, Betsey?"
"That," said Betty, "is a secret."
Bob glanced at her sharply. His chin hardened.
"Come down here where we won't be interrupted," he said, leading the way to the wharf. "You'll have to give me a good reason for wanting the money, Betty."