“Pos-i-tive!”

“But the burning punk——?”

“Think I’d chuck it in that basket?” demanded Bobby, scornfully.

“Maybe you thought you put it out?”

“Maybe nothing! I know. I carried that punk out and threw it in the gutter.”

“But a spark from it might have fallen in the basket?” said Jess, weakly.

“No, ma’am! I wasn’t near the basket. I was at the other end of the desk when Gee Gee caught me,” said Bobby, firmly. “Either I did, or I didn’t. I say I didn’t set that fire.”

“Then I believe you, dear,” said Laura, suddenly hugging the smaller girl.

“Thanks, Laura. You always were a good sport,” said Bobby, having hard work to keep back the tears. “But Gee Gee won’t believe me, and if I don’t own up to what I didn’t do, she says she will ‘take it up with Mr. Sharp.’ You know what that means. I’ll likely have to leave school—although good old Dad has already paid for the damage done, and bought new goldfish.”

CHAPTER VI—FALSE EVIDENCE

The High School course consisted of four years of study. Laura Belding and most of her friends were Sophomores. Therefore they could join in all the advanced athletics proposed by the Girls’ Branch Athletic Association.

Mr. Sharp was a tall, scholarly looking man; but his seriousness of countenance was belied somewhat by eyes that twinkled cordially behind his spectacles. He had a quick apprehension of character. He understood boys thoroughly—and most of his male pupils liked Mr. Sharp. But he gave over a deal of the management of the girls to his female assistants—especially to Miss Carrington.

The latter was unquestionably an able woman; she knew the science of teaching and her marks in teachers’ examinations were always the highest of any teacher in the Centerport schools. But her outlook upon life was awfully serious! Mr. Sharp could have endured better an assistant with a character more lenient to the failings and weaknesses of humanity.

Of course, however, the fire on Saturday could by no means be condoned. In the first place it had come about through a flagrant piece of impudence upon the part of a pupil. The pupils expected to hear from Mr. Sharp about the fire, and they were not disappointed.

“I am compelled to call the attention of the classes to an accident which occurred downstairs in my office on Saturday,” he began. “When we are good-natured enough to allow the school property, entrusted to our care, to be used for purposes aside from the regular class work, we have a right to expect those pupils enjoying the privilege to be more than usually careful of such property.

“I mean this for the attention of the boys as well as the girls,” he continued. “The girls, however, are at fault in this instance. It was their meeting that was held in the music room, and they had entrance to my office. Now a new rug is to be bought and my desk repaired, to say nothing of the purchase of four goldfish—four, I believe, is the number.

“Fire is a dangerous element to play with. I understand that the accident arose out of a so-called joke that one of our brilliant young ladies evolved—and evolved particularly for the disturbance of her teacher. That was not a nice or lady-like thing to do. I believe the culprit understands that fully now.

“But there is always a greater danger than the commission of such an act. That is the denying of the act after it is committed. I hope you all understand that. The old saw of ‘A fault confessed is half redressed’ has no ‘bromide’ qualities. It is a fundamental truth. Honesty above everything—that should be the motto of us all.

“To deny a fault committed, in short, makes the fault a double one. I think I have said enough upon this topic. The faculty will, of course, judge the guilty young woman in this instance as leniently as possible; but we must be just as well as merciful. You are excused to your classes.”

Not until the forenoon recess did the sophs, who were Bobby Hargrew’s closest friends, have an opportunity of commiserating with her. She had regained her composure by that time, however, and showed a plucky front.

“He intimated that I was untruthful,” Bobby said, angrily. “It isn’t fair. There is no evidence against me but——”

“But the evidence of the fire itself, Bobby,” Nellie Agnew observed, quietly.

“I realize that. It is a mystery. I was last in the office—I was there alone, too. But I know what I did with that piece of punk, and I was not near the basket at any time.”

“Don’t lose your temper,” advised Laura Belding. “That will not help you.”

“It’s all right for you girls to talk,” said Bobby, sadly. “But Mr. Sharp has left it to Gee Gee, and she believes I would tell a story about it.”

“Have patience—and hope for the best,” said Laura. “The truth will surely come out in the end.”

“But when will the end be?” demanded Bobby. “Oh! I think it is too mean for anything!”

“It doesn’t pay to get Gee Gee down on you,” said Jess. “I’m going to be very careful myself.”

“And we’ll all have to be careful if we expect to join in these after-school athletics. Gee Gee doesn’t fancy the new association, anyway,” said one of the Lockwood twins.

“I’m not so awfully eager myself to belong,” said Jess. “We’ve got to wear those ugly suits——”

“And no furbelows,” laughed Laura. “Oh, Jess, we all know your failing. Who is more devoted to the fashion magazines and the powder-puff than Josephine Morse?”

“It is the duty of every girl to look her very best at all times,” declared Jess, confidently. “My mother says so.”

“And that’s what makes the boys laugh at us,” remarked the other twin—no use saying which one, for nobody knew Dora and Dorothy apart. Gee Gee had long since put them on their honor not to recite for each other!

It was at noon that Miss Carrington called Clara Hargrew to her desk.

“Now, Miss Hargrew, I expect you to tell me the truth about this matter,” the teacher said, very sternly.

“I never in my life told you an untruth, ma’am!” exclaimed the girl.

“I have always believed you truthful,” admitted the teacher. “But this is a ridiculous claim you make——”

“I did carry that piece of punk out and throw it in the gutter.”

“Did you look for it there?” asked Miss Carrington, quickly.

“Yes. I looked yesterday morning, even if it was Sunday. But the street men had flushed out the gutters before I arrived.”

“That is curious, Miss Hargrew,” said the teacher, doubtfully.

“It is the truth. I did not set the fire——”

“Then how did it start?”

“I know no more about it than you do, ma’am.”

“Ahem! But you threw something into the basket?”

“I did not. I did not go near the basket.”

“You are determined to stick to that, are you, Miss?” asked the teacher, sharply.

“I am determined to tell you nothing but the truth.”

“Wait!” commanded the teacher. Then she turned and sent one of the lingering girls at the door of the classroom for Hester Grimes. When Hester came she looked somewhat troubled, but she did not glance at Bobby.

“Miss Grimes,” said the teacher, “I have called you to repeat what you said to me before. You must say it before Miss Hargrew.”

“I—I don’t want to get Clara into any trouble,” muttered the red-faced girl.

Bobby looked at her in surprise. “How long since, Hessie?” she demanded. “You never were too tender of me before.”

“Be still!” commanded Miss Carrington, angrily. “Miss Grimes!”

“Well, I was the last to leave the office, and I saw Clara throw something into the wastebasket.”

“Oo-h!” exclaimed the culprit.

“Yes, I did!” ejaculated Hester.

“You need not be so vociferous, Miss Grimes,” said Miss Carrington, tartly. “You see, Clara, we have other evidence than the fire.”

“Do you mean to say you saw me throw that burning punk into the basket?” cried Bobby, with flaming face and sparkling eyes.

“Well, you threw something into it,” replied Hester, weakly.

“That is made up out of whole cloth,” began Bobby, but Miss Carrington stopped her.

“That will do! Not another word. I shall take the matter up with Mr. Sharp. You are unmanageable and—I fear—untruthful. Go to your seat. What the outcome of this will be I cannot tell you now; but of one thing I am sure, Miss Hargrew—you can expect no favors from the faculty of the school after this date.”

CHAPTER VII—THE COMMITTEE ON ORGANIZATION

“Mrs. Case gave each of us a booklet relating to the formation of associations of this character,” said Laura, when the meeting was called to order. “I suppose you have all studied the little book. It gives us a draft of the proper constitution and by-laws, and information on all points likely to come before us. You all understand it, don’t you?”

“My goodness!” exclaimed Lily, yawning. “I haven’t even looked into mine.”

“I’ve looked into it, and I see that the teachers have a lot to do with the thing,” said Hester Grimes. “I don’t like such interference, and right at the start I move we disregard the book and form our own society in our own way.”

“Why, we can’t do that!” cried Celia Prime, one of the Seniors. “There would be no association then.”

“I don’t see why not,” drawled Lily. “I think Hessie’s plan is just grand!”

“It’s a grand way to go about not having athletics at all,” said Mary O’Rourke, another Senior, laughing. “We can’t do business that way, girls.”

“Nor would it be wise if we could,” Laura said, quickly. “Listen! This is the rule that we have got to comply with if we are going to form a Girls’ Branch: Any girl to be eligible for membership, or to take part in athletic events for trophies and pins, must have a physician’s certificate of physical fitness, and the personal approval of Mrs. Case.”

“A doctor’s certificate!” exclaimed Hester, with scorn. “What for?”

“A girl with a weak heart, for instance, will not be allowed to take part in the games and events. You know that. Mrs. Case is dreadfully particular about it.”

“And a good thing,” said one of the juniors. “I knew of a girl who jumped rope so long that she dropped dead. It was awful.”

“Well, who wants to jump rope?” snapped Hester.

“I do,” admitted Jess, laughing. “It’s fun. And Mrs. Case says it is good exercise under careful conditions.”

“I want to learn to dance,” said Lily. “And dancing is going to be part of the athletic exercises, isn’t it?”

“Folk dancing,” said Miss Prime. “And very pretty some of those old-world dances are. No one-steps or glides, Miss!” and she laughed shortly.

“Well, we must make up our minds to follow the rules in the little book,” Laura interposed. “You know, every girl must be approved by the principal of the school as being in good standing both in deportment and scholarship, including the usual work in physical training, or she can’t belong.”

“That’s going to cut out your friend Hargrew, I guess,” laughed Lily.

“And we know who are doing their best to put Bobby out of the games,” snapped Jess, looking angrily at Hester and her chum.

“Order!” exclaimed Laura, bringing down the gavel with a smack on the desk. “No time for anything but business. Here is another thing, girls: No girl who takes part in athletic competitions outside the school under the auspices of any organization other than our Girls’ Branch, can take part in events by the school. If you take part, too, in any sports unsanctioned by our rules, you can be expelled.”

“There! I don’t like that a bit,” flared up Hester again. “I belong to St. Cecelia’s Gymnasium Club. I am not going to give up my church club for this public school association.”

“That’s foolish,” remarked Mary O’Rourke. “I belong to a ladies’ gymnastic class connected with my church, too; but I know that when we get going in the High School it will be lots more fun to belong to this association than the church club.”

Other matters were talked over, as well; but the opinion of the majority was for bringing in a report recommending the new association to follow exactly the line of organization of other Girls’ Branches in other cities. Hester and Lily said they should offer a minority report; but the others only laughed at that.

“You know that’s ridiculous, Hester,” said Mary O’Rourke. “We have to do something besides merely report a form of organization. If we girls—and those who follow us at Central High for years to come—are going to have successful after-hour athletics, we must have equipment—and a field. Just think of that, please. It is going to cost money—a heap of money!—before we get through. And who is going to supply the money? If we go against the opinions and desires of those who are helping us we can’t expect them to supply funds.”

“Oh, I guess my father will give as much as anybody,” said Hester, tossing her head. Henry Grimes was a wholesale butcher and was accounted a very wealthy man in Centerport. He was a member of the Board of Aldermen and wielded much political influence.

“I suppose we must interest more than our parents in the plan,” said Laura, thoughtfully. “From what I read in that little book, some of the girls’ athletic fields in the big cities have cost upwards of a hundred thousand dollars to build and equip. Of course, that includes a clubhouse, and swimming pool, and all that.”

“A nice time we’d have trying to get anything like that in Centerport,” sneered Hester.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” spoke up Celia Prime. “We have some very wealthy people here.”

“Just think what Colonel Richard Swayne might do with some of his money—if he wanted to,” said Laura.

“My father says that of course the burden will come upon the parents who are well-to-do. It’s always the way,” said Hester. “The rich have to do for the poor.”

This was a tactless speech, to say the least, for Mary O’Rourke’s father was merely a day laborer, and several of the other girls on the committee were from poor families.

“I expect that the money part of it will not be within our jurisdiction,” said Miss Prime, sharply.

“No, we haven’t got to worry about that,” laughed Laura.

“That’s all very well,” said Hester. “But my father will be called upon to give more than yours, Laura. He always is.”

“He is better able to give, perhaps,” returned Laura, coolly.

“There will have to be some large donor, if we are to have a real, up-to-date athletic field,” sighed Celia. “The boys have a good baseball and football park. The railroad company gave the land, and public subscription put it in shape. But we have just got to interest some rich person in our project.”

“Colonel Swayne, for instance?” laughed Mary.

“Well, why not?” demanded Laura, suddenly.

“Why, he just hates boys and girls!” cried her chum.

“So they say.”

“You know he won’t allow one of us to step on his grounds—and it’s right next to our bathing place, too,” said Jess, with a considerable show of feeling.

“He doesn’t seem to love a soul but that married daughter of his—you know, the widow. She’s a peculiar acting woman. I don’t believe she’s quite right,” said Miss Prime. “And he certainly is wrapped up in her.”

“And with all that money—and his beautiful estate,” sighed Laura. “He really ought to be interested in girls’ athletics.”

The others laughed. “We’ll appoint Miss Belding a committee of one to try and separate Colonel Swayne from some of his wealth,” said Mary O’Rourke.

“I accept!” declared Laura, suddenly, with flashing eyes. “I believe it can be done.”

“Huh! you think you’re so smart, Laura,” drawled Lily Pendleton.

“But it would be just great if we could get him interested,” sighed Jess.

“Leave it to me,” said Laura, boldly. “I’m going to try!”

CHAPTER VIII—LAURA AND THE PRINCIPAL

In the case of Bobby, some of the girls—especially those of her own age and class, and more especially some who looked up to the harum-scarum Hargrew girl as a leader in mischief—angrily upheld the culprit’s side of the controversy, and declared that Gee Gee had no business to accuse her of setting the fire at all. Bobby’s saying she didn’t do it was enough!

The Central High students—girls and boys alike—were governed on honor. A student’s word was supposed to be taken without his or her going before a notary public and “swearing” to the truth of the statement. That was Mr. Sharp’s own statement. So, why make a divergence from the accepted rule in poor Bobby’s case? Why not believe her when she said she did not throw the burning punk into the wastepaper basket?

Upon the score of Hester Grimes’s testimony against the accused girl there was division, too. Some of Hester’s classmates were for ostracizing her entirely—“sending her to Coventry.” She was a “tattle-tale”—and some of the girls were quite warm over her case.

But they all knew Hester. She had a certain popularity among some of the girls because of her father’s wealth, and the lavish way in which Hester entertained those girls whom she wished to favor. Money will always bring a certain kind of subservience. Although the general opinion was adverse to Hester, nothing was really done about it.

Laura and Jess, with Chet and his chum, Lance Darby, were sitting on the Beldings’ porch, for it was a warm evening.

“Something ought to be done to that Grimes girl,” drawled Chet, reflectively. “She’s always doing something mean.”

“That’s the worst of you girls,” said Lance, with a superior air. “If one of you gets into trouble, the others either stand off or pick on her.”

“Isn’t that so?” cried Chet. “I saw Bobby walking home from school this afternoon all alone.”

“You bet if she’d been a boy,” said Lance, importantly, “there’d been a crowd of fellows with her.”

“Is that so?” flared up Jess. “Don’t you ever fight, you boys? And do you always stand by one another when one gets into trouble? How about what you did to Pretty Sweet last Saturday? Oh! I heard about it.”

Lance and Chet broke into loud laughter. Laura said, hurriedly:

“Stop! here he comes now. And I believe he is coming here.”

In the twilight they saw a rather tall boy, dressed in the height of fashion, with brightly polished shoes and an enormously high collar, coming down Whiffle Street.

“Won’t you come in, Purt?” called Laura, as this youth reached the gate.

Prettyman Sweet hesitated just a moment. Indeed, his hand was really on the gate before he saw the two boys—his classmates—sitting beside the girls on the porch.

“Oh-oo, no! I am afraid I can’t this evening, Miss Laura,” he said, in a high, “lady-like” voice. “Thank you so much! Good-evening,” and he hurried away.

“See how he walks?” chuckled Darby.

“You needn’t have asked him in to sit down, Laura,” said her brother. “He can’t sit down.”

“Takes his meals off the mantelpiece, I understand,” pursued Lance.

“Hasn’t been to school this week. His mother sent a note to Dimple. Pretty is all broken up.”

“Do tell us all about it, boys!” urged Jess, laughing, too, now. “I heard that he had some unfortunate accident up at the railroad fill Saturday. What was it—really?”

The two boys exploded with laughter again, but finally Chet said:

“Some of us fellows were up there at the fill watching that big ‘sand-hog’ at work—the new steam shovel, you know; and Pretty Sweet was along. However he came to walk clear over there in those toothpick shoes of his, I don’t know. But he was there.

“On the old ‘dump’ where the city ashes used to be deposited, one of the boys—Short and Long, I think it was, eh, Lance?”

“It was Billy,” said his chum, decidedly.

“I bet Billy was in it—if it meant mischief,” laughed Laura.

“Oh, the kid was innocent enough,” Chet declared. “He saw something shining on the ground and pointed it out. It really looked just like a lump of gold—didn’t it, Lance?”

“Something like. I didn’t know what it was.”

“Two or three of us handled it. But it took Pretty Sweet to turn the trick all proper. He slipped it in his hip pocket. You know, Pretty is just as stingy as he can be—a regular miser despite all his fine clothes. I expect he believed that shiny lump might be worth something. Maybe he was going to bring it down to father, to see if was sure enough gold,” laughed Chet.

“But what was it? What happened?” cried Jess.

“Why, nothing happened at first. Then, when we were half way back to town, somebody saw smoke spurting out behind Pretty Sweet as though he was an automobile. We yelled and went for him, rolled him in the street——”

“In all those good clothes!” interposed Lance between bursts of laughter.

“And we put the fire out. For he really was afire,” said Chet, when he got his voice again. “And he was burned some—so he said. He declared one of the fellows had played a trick on him—set him afire, you know.

“So he got mad,” continued Chet, “and went off by himself. But going through Laurel Street he burst into flames again, so to speak, and if it hadn’t been that he was right near the fire station, I guess we’d have had a bigger conflagration at that end of the town than there was in Mr. Sharp’s office.”

“But I don’t understand!” cried Laura, puzzled.

“Neither did the fireman, who turned a chemical extinguisher on Pretty Sweet and messed him all up again. It was a serious matter to Pretty, I tell you. For this time the tails of his coat were burned off, as well as a portion of his nether garments. Why, he wasn’t fit to be seen!” roared Chet. “The firemen were for sending him home in a barrel; but Pretty wouldn’t have it. He sent for a cab and paid a dollar to get home.”

“But what made the fire? What did you boys do to him?” cried Jess.

“Nothing at all. We never touched him,” declared Lance Darby. “But when we told Professor Dimp, on Monday, when he inquired about the absence of Sweet, he seemed to suspect what had caused the fire. And he laughed, too.”

“Do tell us what it was?” cried Laura.

“Why, it must have been a piece of phosphorus he picked up and put in his pocket. Dimple says it is very active chemically, and when united with oxygen, even at an ordinary temperature, emits a faint glow as if it were gold. It got in its fine work on Pretty Sweet, however, and they say he’s got a blister on him as big as your hat!” concluded Chet.

The girls could not fail to be amused at this ridiculous adventure of the school exquisite. No other boy of their acquaintance was so dudish or comic in dress and manner.

“You know what Bobby did to Purt at Hester Grimes’s party last winter, don’t you?” said Jess, recovering from her paroxysm of laughter.

“The first time he wore his tall hat, you mean?” demanded Chet.

“Yes.”

“I know he had to have the hat blocked again after one wearing,” said Lance. “But we fellows weren’t in on that joke.”

“And not many but Bobby knew about it. You see, that tall hat—think of a stovepipe hat on a boy of seventeen!—made Purt the tallest person at the party. Bobby is cute, now I tell you,” Jess giggled. “She measured his height with the hat on his head and then went out to the gate and hung a flour bag of sand between the tall gateposts. She hung it so as to clear everybody else’s head, you see; and it was dark there by the gate.

“Out comes Purt, beauing Celia Prime home. The bag was on his side of the path and he got it good, now I tell you!”

“I know he got his new hat smashed,” agreed Lance.

“Great scheme,” chuckled Chet.

“But it was dangerous,” said Laura. “That sandbag was heavy. If any taller person had been coming in, or going out, rapidly, a crack on the crown from that bag would have done him harm.”

“All right, little Miss Fidget,” growled her brother. “But you see, it didn’t do any harm.”

“Only to Pretty’s hat,” laughed Lance. “But the question is, did Bobby set the fire?”

“Of course not!” declared Jess, promptly.

“If she did, she’s getting to be a regular little firebug,” said Chet. “Did you hear about what happened at her father’s store Saturday?”

“No,” said Jess. “What was it? Not another fire?”

“Yes, another fire,” returned Chet, and he went on to repeat the story of the burning-glass, and how Laura had beaten the fire department in putting the blaze out.

“My, Laura! that was a smart idea,” declared Lance, with admiration.

“Isn’t that the greatest ever?” added Jess.

“And Bobby had less to do with setting the fire in Mr. Sharp’s office than she had with starting that one in the store,” said Laura, thoughtfully.

“I hope so,” Lance said.

“I know so! Bobby is strictly truthful.”

“But she can’t prove it,” said Chet, argumentatively.

“She ought not to have to prove it,” declared Laura, with heat. “Her say-so should be enough for Mr. Sharp. I’ve a mind to——”

“You’ve a mind to what?” asked Jess, pinching her arm.

“Never you mind,” returned Laura, suddenly becoming uncommunicative. “I’ve a scheme.”

“One of Laura’s brilliant ideas,” scoffed Chet, with brotherly scorn. “We’ll hear about it later.”

Which was true enough, for none of them heard about it that evening. But the very next morning Laura got to school early and went to Mr. Sharp’s office. The principal chanced to be disengaged, and welcomed her kindly. Besides, Mr. Sharp, like the other teachers, was fond of Laura Belding. Without being a “toady”—that creature so hateful to the normal young person—Laura was very good friends with all the instructors.

“Mr. Sharp,” said the girl, boldly, “one of my classmates is in trouble—serious trouble. You know whom I mean—Miss Hargrew.”

Mr. Sharp nodded thoughtfully.

“I want you to be just as kind to her as you can, sir,” went on Laura. “She is a good girl, if she is mischievous. She never would do such a wicked thing as to set that fire——”

“Not intentionally, I grant you, Miss Belding,” he returned.

“No. Nor did she do it involuntarily. When she said she took the burning piece of punk out of the building, she did so.”

“How do you know?” he asked, quickly.

“I know it,” said Laura, calmly, “because she tells me so. Bobby—I mean, Clara—could not tell a lie. It is not in her to be false or deceitful. That—that is why she is not liked in some quarters.”

“You mean, that is why she is doubted?” said the principal, gravely. “Her careless course in school could not fail to gain her a bad character with the instructors.”

“I presume that is so, sir,” admitted Laura, slowly.

“It is so. You cannot blame the teachers if they are harsh with her. She has made herself a nuisance,” said the principal, yet smiling.

“She has never done a really mean thing——”

“It is mean to trouble the teachers,” said the principal, quickly. “You must admit that, Miss Belding. They are here to instruct and help you students. They should not be made the butt of foolish jokes.”

“I suppose that is true, sir. Bobby has been guilty there. But she would never tell an untruth.”

“You seem very sure of your school friend, Miss Belding?” he questioned, thoughtfully.

“As sure of her truthfulness as I am of my own, sir,” declared Laura, firmly.

Mr. Sharp looked at her for a few moments, tapping the edge of his desk thoughtfully meanwhile. Finally he said:

“Miss Belding, you almost succeed in convincing me against my better judgment. I believe you are wrong, however. I believe Miss Hargrew, frightened by the enormity of her careless act, has slipped in the path of truth for once. But, wait!” he added, holding up his hand. “You may be right; I may be wrong. I am willing, upon your representation, to give the girl another chance. I will wait. Let time pass. If there is another explanation of the fire—if there can be such a mystery—we will give it time to come to light.”

“Oh, Mr. Sharp! You will not suspend her, then?” cried Laura.

“She is very near expulsion, not suspension,” said the principal, gravely. “But I promise you to do nothing until the end of the year. If the mystery is not explained before she finishes her sophomore year, however, I do not believe we can let her go into the Junior class. That is final, Miss Belding.

“Nor can the culprit go scot-free now. None of the good times for her. She must bear herself well in deportment, too. None of the after-hour athletics for her, Miss Belding. And she will have to walk very circumspectly to retain her place in the school.”

Laura went away from the principal’s office, after thanking him warmly, in a much worried state of mind. They needed Bobby Hargrew in the proposed athletics. Part of the girls of Central High were very much interested in rowing. There was a good crew of eight in the sophomore class, and they had practiced in one of the boys’ boats already. And for that eight, Bobby Hargrew was slated to be coxswain.

CHAPTER IX—“THE DAY OF THE TOUCH”

A healthy interest in the sports allowed by the Girls’ Branch would aid in keeping the girls themselves from a more questionable use of their spare time. It was much more healthful and much more wise for them to take part in sports and exercises calculated to build up muscle and mind, than to parade the streets in couples, or cliques, or to attend picture shows, or to idle their time through the big stores in emulation of the adult “shopping-fiend.”

As boys are made more manly by physical exercise and sports, so girls can be made more womanly by them. A healthy girlhood is the finest preparation obtainable for the higher duties of life. As Dr. Agnew, Nellie’s father, was fond of saying: “I don’t care how much of a bookworm a girl is, if she swings a pair of two and a half-pound Indian clubs, she’ll come out all right!”

The report of the organization committee was adopted at an enthusiastic meeting on the following Saturday. Mrs. Case promised that money for equipment of at least one basket-ball court, better swimming facilities, and the preparation of a field for track athletics would be supplied.

The Board of Education would do some of this work. A field on the edge of Lake Luna—right behind the school’s swimming pool, and adjoining Colonel Swayne’s estate—had been obtained and in a few weeks track athletics could be practised there. A fence was to be built to screen the girls from too much publicity, and the paths for running laid out. Tennis courts might be established here, too, if the money held out.

In the basement of the Central High building was a well equipped gymnasium, open to the girls and boys on alternate days. But not many games of skill could be played there. For one thing, the ceiling was not high enough. And the girls—many of them—were eager to learn basket-ball, captain’s ball, tennis, and other vigorous sports approved by the Girls’ Branch Association.

It was approaching that important day in the school year at Central High when the M. O. R.’s “touched” those girls selected for membership. That certain Friday afternoon was looked forward to by most of the sophs and juniors with much anxiety. The freshmen had no part in it. The faculty did not allow the freshmen to belong to the secret society; but it was something for the sophs and juniors particularly to strive for.

Some of the girls passed through the entire four years’ course without being chosen for membership in the M. O. R.’s. But a girl who was popular in her class, stood well in her studies, was approved by the teachers for her deportment, and displayed wit and skill in anything at all, was quite sure of being chosen in either her third or fourth year; but few sophomores were “called.” Therefore it was considered a particular honor to become an M. O. R. in the second year at the school.

This Friday afternoon, known as “the day of the touch,” all the girls of Central High gathered in the girls’ yard. The M. O. R.’s had a modest club house—an old-fashioned three-story, narrow dwelling on the same street as the school, and only a block away—and from that house the committee of nomination marched to the crowded schoolyard.

The committee consisted of four of the seniors who had longest been members of the secret society. They walked through the crowd of girls and with the little be-ribboned baton each carried touched upon the shoulder the girls selected for initiation.

Girls thus indicated were supposed to go home at once and wait for the committee to call for them that evening. Then they would be introduced to the club; but the initiation would come later. There was always something of a novel nature connected with the yearly initiation of candidates.

It was both an honor and a social privilege to be “touched” for the M. O. R.’s. Both Laura Belding and Josephine Morse desired greatly to be among the favored few of the sophomores to gain this boon. But nobody could prophesy which girls would be chosen.

Of course, the freshmen remained to “see the fun” and swell the crowd. And such girls as Bobby Hargrew hung about for the same reason, for there was no more chance of Bobby’s obtaining the honor of a “touch” than that she should go sailing around the moon!

As for Laura and her chum, however, their hearts beat high. They hoped.

And when Celia Prime came toward them with her baton the chums almost held their breaths. You could not tell by Celia’s face whom she intended to touch. She weaved in and out among the girls, many of whom were silent and watchful, others chattering away like magpies. But there was little “fooling” and “carrying-on,” although Laura saw that Bobby Hargrew was following Celia very closely and that the perfect gravity of the mischief-maker’s countenance was sufficient to warn all who knew her well that there was “something up.”

The next moment Laura was startled to feel a touch upon her shoulder—right in the spot where she had been told the baton was always placed. She turned swiftly. Mary O’Rourke had gone past. It was she who had touched Laura instead of Miss Prime.

“Oh, Laura!” whispered Jess in her ear. “I’ve got it!”

“Got what?” demanded Laura.

“The touch. Celia gave it to me. And you?”

“Miss O’Rourke, I believe,” whispered Laura, just as eagerly. “Come on! let’s go home.”

“Goody! Oh, I’m so glad!” gasped Jess.

As they went out of the school premises they saw Hester Grimes hurrying out of the other gateway.

“Do you suppose she is chosen, too?” asked Jess, doubtfully.

“I don’t know. I saw Celia going toward her. Ah! there’s Bobby Hargrew right behind Hester. What’s that she’s got in her hand—a stick?”

“Hey, Bobby!” shouted Jess.

But Bobby, giving her chums one glance, began to laugh silently, pointing at the unconscious Hester’s back, and then ran away, giggling.

“Now, what do you suppose that means?” demanded Jess.

“I really do not know. But Bobby is up to something. I wish she wouldn’t act so,” said Laura, with a sigh.

CHAPTER X—THE JOKE ON HESTER

At the westerly end of beautiful Luna Lake Rocky River flowed into it at Lumberport, another thriving city; at the easterly end of the lake the waters flowed out through Rolling River at Keyport. These smaller cities each supported a good High School, and the rivalry in boys’ sports among the five schools of this district had always been keen.

Now it was proposed that the girls should strive for the honor of the schools and it was reported from Lumberport and Keyport that the Girls’ Branches had been organized in the high schools of those towns with great enthusiasm. Centerport’s East and West schools were slower to respond. Central High usually led the way in most innovations.

The knoll on which Central High and the surrounding residences stood sloped easily toward the shore of the lake. Along the lake shore, although it was in the very heart of the city, lay several fine estates. The city was slowly condemning some of these and turning them into public parks and playgrounds. Here the three high schools had their bathing pavilions, and it was also at this point that Central High had been fortunate in obtaining the field to be devoted to the girls’ athletics.

This was a convenient location for all the scholars attending Central High, a breezy piece of ground with a splendid outlook over the lake and to Cavern Island, in its center. Cavern Island was an immensely popular picnic ground, and in the summer season excursion boats that plied the lake made landings at it. But a portion of the island was wild and woody enough to please the most romantic.

Whiffle Street was shaded with great elm trees. Indeed, all that vicinity of Central High was shady and quiet. Almost all the houses on the street had lawns and well-kept gardens. Henry Grimes’s house—much more ornate and imposing than the Beldings’ home—stood three or four blocks along the street from where Laura and Chet lived.

The nominating committee of the M. O. R.’s appeared in Whiffle Street just about dusk. They had already gathered most of the girls selected for initiation, and quite a column of laughing young people walked, two by two, behind their four sponsors.

They brought forth Josephine Morse from her mother’s little cottage at the end of the street—“the poverty end” Jess always called it—and then approached the Belding house. Laura was on the porch, eager enough; she had noticed ere they arrived, however, an unaccountable gathering of freshmen and other girls farther along the street—toward the Grimes house. Bobby was with that crowd, and much laughter came from it.

“I wonder what those children can be up to?” wondered Laura.

But when the head of the procession of candidates for M. O. R. honors appeared, Laura forgot the freshies and Bobby and ran down the walk to join the older girls; Miss Prime had beckoned to her.

“Fall in line, Miss Belding,” commanded the senior, and Laura did so.

The procession continued along the street, followed by the laughing comments of the adults who leaned upon the gates, or sat on the porches of the houses it passed. At the Grimes’s gate the crowd of freshmen opened solemnly to let the older girls through.

Upon the Grimes’s porch stood Hester and Lily. Indeed, Hester ran down the steps when the head of the M. O. R. candidates reached the gate. But the procession kept right on. Neither Miss Prime, nor Mary O’Rourke, or the other two seniors looked Miss Grimes’s way.

“Why, I thought you said you were touched, Hessie?” cried Lily, in her high drawl.

There was immense giggling on the part of the freshmen crew outside the gate. But Bobby hushed it by a sharp:

“Attention!”

Silence followed among the crew. Bobby stepped forward, drew a baton be-ribboned like those carried by the nominating committee of the M. O. R. She raised it on high. It was noticeable that most of her companions had bits of paper in their hands; from these papers they proceeded to chant the following:

    “Where  Bedelia  wore  her  necklace
    Where  the  cow  had  tonsilitis
    Where  the  chicken  got  the  hatchet
    Where  the  graceful  swan’s  delight  is
            “Oh!
 
    “Where  the  fat  man’s  collar  pinches
    Where  the  hangman  ties  the  noose
    Where  the  lady  wears  the  boa
    Where  the  farmer  grabs  the  goose
            “Oh!  Oh!
 
    “Where  Napoleon  received  it
    When  he  fought  at  Waterloo,
    In  that  very  same  location
    Little  Hester  got  it,  too!
            “Oh!  Oh!  Oh-ho-ho!”

The procession of candidates passed on; but they heard, and the whole street heard! And for fear anybody should fail to understand the trick that had been played upon the unfortunate daughter of the wholesale butcher, Bobby cried:

“Notice my baton? Don’t you want to be ‘touched’ with it, too, Lily? Oh, my!”

Hester could not even speak. She ran into the house to escape the laughter. Never had Bobby Hargrew played so cruel a joke. But she had been stung pretty hard by the false testimony Hester had given against her anent the fire at the school; and for once Bobby had not been above “getting square.”

But had the girl known what would result from this practical joke of hers—had she for a moment suspected how one of her very best friends would be caused to suffer for her sin, honest Bobby would have gone to Hester Grimes there and then and most humbly begged her pardon.

CHAPTER XI—THE MAN ON THE SPIRE

Many a famous athlete has kept himself in perfect training for years by little more than a straight-away walk of a few miles each day. Walking brings into play more muscles than almost any other exercise—and muscles that are of “practical” use, too. Mrs. Case had planned for eight walks during each school year for both her elementary and advanced classes. For the younger girls the longest walk was not over three miles. The advanced girls, however, after training by much walking on Saturdays, were advanced steadily from two, to three, then four, then six, then eight, and finally to a ten mile walk. Only those girls of the sophomores, juniors and seniors in the best physical condition were allowed to take these longer walks.

On the Saturday after “touching day” of the M. O. R. came the first of the two mile walks to be carried out that season. The girls gathered at the schoolhouse at two o’clock and Mrs. Case looked them over carefully.

“Miss Morse, I cannot approve of those shoes. I have told you before that any girl is foolish to wear high heels and attempt to keep up any pace in walking,” was the athletic instructor’s comment.

“But, Mrs. Case! these are only Cuban heels,” cried poor Jess.

“That makes no difference. Some girls might be able to wear that heel with comfort. Not you, Miss Morse. Your instep is not high enough. You are cramping your foot. First thing you know your arches will begin to fall. Then you will know what suffering is, young lady. It is bad shoeing that makes so many people suffer from ‘flatfoot.’ Haven’t you a pair of comfortable shoes in your locker?”

“Yes, ma’am,” admitted the girl who followed the fashions so assiduously.

“And what’s that on your face, Miss?”

“P—p—powder!” stammered Jess, while some of the other girls giggled.

“Well, powder on one’s face may be all right if one has a greasy, coarse skin. But I did not think your complexion was of that nature. Take a little of it off, please. We don’t wish to attract any more attention than possible going through the street. Next thing, I suppose, some of you girls will begin to use rouge—pah!”

Some of the other girls rubbed their own cheeks and noses on the sly. And some smiled knowingly at Lily Pendleton. Lily’s face to-day was almost as highly colored as that of her chum, Hester. But Hester’s complexion was naturally red and coarse, whereas ordinarily Lily had no more color than the flower for which she was named.

Mrs. Case chanced to overlook Miss Pendleton’s rosy cheeks, however, and they filed out of the school house, Mrs. Case walking with the last girl.

Laura and Jess were ahead, for they knew the route selected. There was no attempt in any of these walks to make fast time; nor did the instructor allow them to stroll. The idea was to go at a comfortable, straight-away pace, and to rest when tired. The pace was that at which the least active girl could walk comfortably.

At the resting points Mrs. Case usually gave little lectures upon the exercise, or discussed questions of athletics, or informed the girls upon historical points or public buildings which they passed. This day the route lay down the hill, across Market Street, and out through the east end of the city.

At the corner of Rowan Street they passed a big open lot where boys were flying kites. There was a brisk wind and one youngster was just putting into the air a kite which the girls watched for a few moments. But there was something much more interesting going on a couple of blocks beyond.

There had been a heavy thunderstorm during the week and lightning had damaged the steeple of St. Cecelia’s Episcopal Church a few feet below the apex. How much damage had been done the masonry could not easily be learned without making a close examination and the fire insurance adjuster had sent a professional steeple climber to make it.

Quite a crowd had gathered in the square to watch the work of this expert, and as the girls came up the steeple-jack had just passed out at the belfry at the foot of the spire. Two men came with him to set up and hold a ladder which reached some distance up the steeple.

The man mounted this ladder very quickly. At the top he passed a rope around his body and around the steeple, and then began to work upward. It looked like a very dangerous feat, and the girls were all interested in it. He mounted steadily and soon reached the place where the lightning had struck. Here his progress ceased and he seemed to be trying to adjust the rope.

“He’s stuck!” exclaimed Jess. “Don’t you see?”

“Oh, I guess not,” returned Laura.

But seconds grew into minutes, minutes slipped away, and still he seemed unable to move, and the anxious spectators below became more and more apprehensive.

Finally from his giddy height the man was seen to pause and wave his hand, as if signalling to the men at the foot of the ladder. But they were sixty feet below him and it was evident that they did not hear his words at first. Finally they seemed to understand, and one of them came down inside the belfry and joined a group of men in the porch of the church.

The girls had crossed over to the porch and could hear all that was said.

“I told you he was stuck,” said Jess, excitedly.

And it was a fact. They learned that the steeple-jack’s rope had caught in a crevice where the lightning bolt had forced the stones apart, and he was unable to move up or down. His signal was for help, but the men did not know what to do. Many schemes were hastily suggested; but nobody could climb the steeple to aid him, and how to get another rope up to him was a problem that nobody seemed able to solve.

The man was in a serious predicament. One of the onlookers—a tall old man with a flowing white beard, became much excited.

“That’s Colonel Swayne,” whispered Hester Grimes. “He is one of the church wardens.”

“We must aid the man. He cannot stay in that position long,” declared Col. Swayne. “He’ll fall out of that sling. Come!” he added, addressing the crowd in the square. “I’ll give ten dollars to anybody who will suggest a practical method of getting the man down.”

The girls were so interested that the walking exercise was forgotten for the time being. They gathered around Mrs. Case, and some of them began to cry.

“The man will fall! He’ll be killed!” was the general opinion.

But Laura had separated from the other girls and in a moment was running across the square. Nobody noticed her departure. She disappeared around the corner and in ten minutes returned with two or three boys in tow. One of the boys carried an immense kite.

“Colonel Swayne!” cried Laura, from the outskirts of the crowd, “if you will let us try, I believe we can get a line to that man on the steeple.”

“What’s that, young lady?” demanded the old gentleman, quickly.

“You will pay the boys for their kite if it is lost, won’t you?” the girl asked.

“Of course we will!” exclaimed the warden. “I see your scheme. You’re a smart girl. Can you get that kite up here in the square, boys?”

The boys said they would try. But it was Laura who advised them upon the direction of the wind, and how to raise the kite properly. She had flown kites with Chet more than once.

They tested the wind, selected the point from which to fly the kite, and the increasing crowd of spectators watched with breathless interest. Slowly the kite left the ground and rose above the treetops. The wind was steady and it rose faster and faster as they paid out the line. Finally the kite was above the steeple.

The steeple-jack understood what they were attempting, and waved his hand to them. The kite-string was manipulated so as to bring it within the man’s reach. He grasped it, and a cheer went up from the crowd.