Cherry Ames Boxed Set 9-12

by Helen Wells

  Sibyl took her time about coming in. Probably, Cherry thought as the evening wore on, she was holding court and recounting her triumphs to practically the assembled school. There was no doubt about it, Sibyl had a way of creating excitement. “Sibyl’s the kind of girl things happen to!” the other girls said enviously. “Only,” Cherry thought, “what sort of things?” She wished she could make Sibyl realize that although it might be exciting to jump off a roof, it would also mean risking a broken neck.

  At nearly ten Sibyl came in. In the white infirmary, the bright colors of her dress and hair were intensified. She dropped into the nurse’s chair.

  “I suppose I’ve missed a shot or pill or something, Miss Ames.” She put on her sweet guileless expression for this official contact.

  Cherry said she only needed a little information to complete Sibyl’s records, and then chatted with her about what fun weddings are, and the Gilbert and Sullivan they had both missed, but the conversation dragged, so Cherry gave up and came to the point.

  “I have something to show you, Sibyl.” The bracelet was in the pocket of her uniform.

  “To show me?” Sibyl sounded bored.

  “Yes. Here. Isn’t this yours?”

  Sibyl started out of her chair. “Why, yes! Yes, of course it’s mine!” She reached for the bracelet but Cherry did not give it to her. “May I ask where you found it, Miss Ames? Or perhaps Lisette returned it to you.”

  Cherry lost her temper. “Stop accusing innocent people! Lisette had nothing to do with your bracelet! But your friend Freddie did.”

  “Wha-a-at?” She lifted her chin. “That’s the silliest thing I ever heard. Freddie is a dear friend of mine.” Sibyl turned haughty, hand outstretched. “I’ll trouble you for my bracelet, Miss Ames.”

  Cherry handed it to her without comment. Sibyl looked the bracelet over and put it on. She glanced at Cherry, but the silence continued. Sibyl wriggled in discomfort.

  “I didn’t mean to sound rude just now, Miss Cherry. I was certain as anything I had left it on my dressing table, but I did wear it on that date. I guess you meant Freddie found my bracelet in his car, didn’t you? It must have come unclasped and fallen on the car floor.” Sibyl arched her wrist, making the pendant stones swing back and forth. “So Freddie returned the bracelet through you. That was cute of him.”

  “I’m afraid it wasn’t that way.” No use mincing words. “I found your bracelet for sale in an antique jewelry shop in Riverton. A young man had brought it in a few days after your date. He told the shopkeeper it would help pay for his next date at the Golden Door Inn.”

  Sibyl was so stunned that her mouth fell open. She was unable to say a single word. Cherry felt sorry for her.

  “Oh, Sibyl, don’t you see? That’s how your gallant Freddie can afford to take you to swank restaurants—by selling your bracelet.”

  “He isn’t a bad character, though,” Sibyl defended him. “Even if he—”

  “He’s weak at least, and that’s bad enough. I want you to promise that you won’t date Freddie secretly again,” Cherry urged.

  Sibyl’s lips trembled. She took a deep breath. “Pooh! I had some more gorgeous dates with Freddie just last week, and I don’t care what you think or about silly school rules, either. And I’m going to go right on dating him. Now don’t be angry, Miss Cherry. At least I’m not lying to you.”

  “Doesn’t the fact that Freddie found and then sold your bracelet indicate—”

  Sibyl jumped to her feet. “Freddie wouldn’t do such a thing! Someone else found it. The garage man found it, probably, and he sold it.”

  Cherry sighed and stood up, too. Since she could do nothing with Sibyl, she decided to approach Freddie himself. If that didn’t accomplish anything, she would report the matter to Mrs. Harrison.

  “Well, maybe Freddie is every bit as gallant as you say. I’d be glad to be proved wrong. Will I see you both at high tea this Friday?” The school was holding open house for visitors from six to nine. “Auntie Collier promises we’ll have mountains of turkey sandwiches.”

  “I suppose Freddie and I will have to put in an appearance. I could wear my black. Freddie is cute, Miss Cherry. When you meet him, you’ll know he wouldn’t do such a thing as sell my bracelet. I—I—Maybe I ought to tell everybody I found it in the closet or something. So the girls will know Lisette didn’t take it.”

  “That’s a nice idea.”

  They parted better friends, yet Cherry felt uneasy. She had been unable to win Sibyl’s complete trust. Perhaps she would have better luck with Freddie.

  Lisette was immensely relieved that the bracelet affair was settled. She declared to Cherry, though, that she would never like lapis lazuli as long as she lived.

  “Now can’t we talk about something interesting? Are the things safe in the drawer?”

  The doll, the key, and the journal were in the drawer, but unfortunately they had to remain there. Work on the search was held up. The infirmary was a busy place, for the first week of October brought three head colds, two cases of hay fever, and one violent case of homesickness. As for Lisette, she was cramming for the first of the monthly quizzes, coming soon.

  By Friday, everybody felt fine again and the tea came as a reward after a vigorous week. Open fires, lighted candles, and fragrant bouquets of late garden flowers—Lisette mourned such prodigal cutting—decorated the downstairs rooms which were all thrown open for the guests. Quite a few mothers, fathers, and brothers had arrived—they would stay overnight in the village and be here Saturday, too. Also present were a group of boys from the neighboring “brother” school. Most of the boys were shy and stayed together, but a few floated around with nonchalant ease. One of these young sophisticates was Freddie Barnes.

  He was attractive looking, Cherry admitted to herself, and about as spoiled as Sibyl. Sibyl, in her grown-up black dress and pearls, looked a sleek twenty years old. She shadowed Freddie, who was busy charming people right and left.

  Cherry lost sight of them when dancing started in the dining room. The tables were gone, the floor was waxed to mirror shininess, and a three-piece dance orchestra from St. Louis struck up a tantalizing beat. Cherry wished Dr. Alan could have come. She danced with three girls’ brothers, with Mr. North and Mr. Phelps, and felt like somebody’s maiden aunt, aged ninety. Turkey sandwiches consoled her, and still more comforting was the sight of Lisette enjoying herself in the happy laughter of a young group.

  Then Cherry saw Freddie and Sibyl slip out to the side porch. She saw them whispering and she was worried. Presently Sibyl came back into the house wearing a secretive expression. That meant Freddie might be alone or easily pried loose from the other boys of his school. Cherry saw her chance to talk with him and hurried down the side porch after him.

  In the hazy evening light he turned as Cherry called: “Mr. Barnes!”

  He had no idea who the saucy-looking girl in red was, with her sparkling coloring and dark curls. Freddie Barnes awarded her a knock-em-dead smile. His expression flattened out when Cherry explained she was the school nurse and wanted his advice about their friend Sibyl.

  “You want my advice?” Freddie said warily. “What’s the angle?”

  “No angle. Sibyl is asking for trouble. The headmistress doesn’t know yet. I’m the only one who knows about her secret dates with you.”

  “Don’t blame me.” Freddie jingled the change in his pocket. “I don’t force Sib to go out with me, you know. She loves every minute of it.”

  “It would be better for her if you’d stop inviting her.”

  “Say, look! I show Sib a slick time. How many girls in this school d’you think ever get their noses inside the Golden Door Inn?”

  “And how many couldn’t care less? It wasn’t nice of you to get money for your expenses by selling her bracelet.”

  Freddie laughed. “What of it? It’s a good joke. Sib isn’t mad, so why should you or anybody care?”

  “Because you’re imposing on her, and she’s a pup
il here, and we care about what happens to her.”

  “You mean, you’re asking me to obey the rules of a girls’ school because old Sib’s just another schoolgirl, hey? Maybe I’d better find a girl a little older. Now if you’ll excuse me, some of the fellows are waiting for me.”

  “Better think over what you’re doing. I’d so much rather not go to the headmistress about this.”

  “I won’t promise you a thing,” Freddie said sulkily. He stalked off to a parked jeep.

  Well, she had tried. Whether Freddie had really paid any heed to what she had said was a big question. She only wished Sibyl would get some sense and acquire a better taste in boys.

  When examination day arrived, Nancy Davenport turned up in the infirmary, sick, just as Mrs. Harrison had predicted she would and generally did. Too sick to take examinations, Nancy moaned.

  To Cherry’s trained eyes the girl was not faking sickness; she was sick. Cherry had seldom seen a more wretched specimen. Nancy sagged and ran a slight temperature; her hair hung limp and dull. She complained of headache and being sick at her stomach. Cherry put her into an infirmary bed and did not say one word about the tests.

  “Miss Cherry, did you ever feel like you’d swallowed two dozen spoiled eggs and then stood on your head? That’s how I feel.”

  Cherry remembered nausea is also a symptom of appendicitis.

  “Well, your complexion has a delicate green tinge. I’ve telephoned Dr. Alan to come over and admire it.”

  Nancy tried to brighten but merely hiccuped.

  “He’s so nice, I don’t want him to see me when I’m the color of pea soup. Ugh, why did I mention that? How soon will he be here?”

  Dr. Alan arrived as the bell rang to announce the second class hour, and the second quiz. These were only fifteen-minute quizzes, both the doctor and nurse knew, just monthly brushups, and no reason for Nancy to go into one of her declines.

  “If we weren’t on dry land,” Dr. Alan declared, after checking Nancy over with Cherry’s assistance, “I’d say you were seasick. Seriously, my diagnosis is an attack of worry, and a probably self-induced upset stomach.”

  “That’s a horrid, unfair diagnosis,” Nancy protested. “I wish you felt as awful as I do.”

  “No, thanks!” Dr. Alan said. “Don’t try to fool a doctor and nurse. Isn’t it a coincidence that last term, and now this term, you managed to get sick at exam time?”

  “Honestly, I don’t do it deliberately. It’s just that, with exams coming, I get so scared I’m sick.”

  “And then you escape taking your exams, and Mrs. Harrison isn’t very strict about makeup exams.”

  Dr. Alan looked across the top of their bedraggled patient’s head to Cherry. “Miss Cherry, as the nurse in this case you will administer bismuth paste, and a diet of plain boiled rice. We’ll cure this girl.”

  He did not say of what. Alan wrote out his instructions and strode out before Cherry had a chance to gesture that in her humble opinion he was judging Nancy pretty severely. She hurried after him in the hall, but he grinned, waved, and ran down the staircase two steps at a time.

  Cherry went back to the infirmary and gave her patient a glass of warm salt water. This was a simple method to empty Nancy’s stomach. Nancy obligingly threw up, then said she felt worse. “You’ll feel better now,” Cherry promised, and lowered the blinds, placed a screen partly around Nancy’s bed for privacy, and urged her to sleep. When the girl dozed, Cherry called in Mrs. Snyder, the housekeeper, to sit there a few minutes. Cherry went downstairs to the kitchen.

  “Good, morning, Auntie Collier. Could you tell me something I need to know, please? Has Nancy Davenport been eating anything beside her regular meals, that you know of?”

  “That child! Is she sick to her stomach? It’s small wonder. Now, mind you, Miss Cherry, 1 didn’t give her all those biscuits. She begs and coaxes ’em from me, at all hours, till I break down and let her have ’em, just to get the child out from underfoot.”

  The biscuits, it developed, were leftover and hard.

  Auntie Collier reported that Nancy had behaved in this manner about once a month last year.

  “She craved biscuits a few days before exams?” Cherry asked.

  “Yes’m, I think so. I tell her not to eat them, I tell her to let me soak ’em in water and toss ’em on the grass for the birds. But that Nancy, she spreads peanut butter all over ’em and—”

  “And I can guess the rest. Thanks, Mrs. Collier.”

  Cherry made a stop at Nancy’s room for her bathrobe. Her roommate, shy little Mary Gray, was in there, cleaning up for luncheon.

  “How are you, Miss Cherry? I spilled paint all over my shoes in arts and crafts this morning, so I—” Mary gulped in embarrassment and held out the shoes.

  “Pink and green dappled shoes. Hmm, you might start a new style. Can you find Nancy’s bathrobe for me?”

  Mary went to one of the two closets, giving the nurse a look half guilty, half puzzled. “I knew Nancy wasn’t feeling right but—ah—Nothing.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” There was a loyal silence. “Can you tell me what Nancy has been gorging herself with?” Mary blushed. “Well, can you give me Nancy’s bathrobe?”

  Mary opened the closet and out tumbled several candy-bar boxes, mostly empty. A peanut- marshmallow-caramel-chocolate-coated conglomeration appeared to be Nancy’s favorite. Its name was Wow and Cherry remarked it should be Ow.

  “She bought ’em wholesale,” Mary said sadly.

  “When?”

  “Well, maybe I shouldn’t tell you this—it’s one of those intimate things between roommates. Well, Nancy got the candy bars a week ago. She said she’d eat them while we crammed for the tests, because she needed extra strength.”

  “Do you mean to say that she consumed four boxes? Singlehanded? What about you, Mary?”

  “I stick to hard candy,” Mary said conservatively.

  Cherry took the bathrobe and returned to her patient. Nancy had made herself ill, if not consciously, then accidentally on purpose. Anybody with a grain of sense would know that even anyone with a cast iron stomach could not digest four dozen Wows plus leftover biscuits.

  Was it, though, a matter for punishment? The gorging looked on the surface like a deliberate plan. Yet it was a known medical fact that some people, when worried or frustrated, stuffed themselves with food. The real question here, Cherry thought, was why did Nancy take this elaborate route to dodge her exams. She was an average bright girl, and her roommate testified that Nancy had been studying. Why were exams such a crisis for her? Other girls had stage fright before exams, but not to this extreme.

  The day wore on. The only visitors to the infirmary were Mrs. Harrison and two sufferers with postquiz headaches. Cherry concentrated on Nancy. To allow her digestive system a rest, Cherry gave Nancy for lunch and supper only the plain boiled rice which Dr. Alan had prescribed. She did not let her have water, either, but gave cracked ice to relieve her thirst.

  By evening, after a back rub, Nancy felt much better. Cherry judged she was well enough to talk.

  “How could you be such a goop?” Cherry asked, point-blank. If she said foolish Nancy might be on guard, but the word goop was comfortably vague and friendly.

  “Was I a goop? Yes, I was. I don’t know why.”

  “Well, think why.”

  “Because I was so hungry. I felt worn to a frazzle when I was getting ready for exams.”

  Cherry did not doubt that. “But why so tired at the mere prospect of exams? If you were tired after exams, that would be more understandable. Nancy, tell me something. What would happen to you if you failed the exams?”

  Nancy groaned. “Don’t mention such a horrible subject. It’s all too likely.”

  “Likely? Then you expect to fail?”

  “Well, I—not exactly—although—”

  “You’re so afraid of failing that you’d rather not risk taking exams?” Cherry persisted. “Is that it?”

>   Evidently she had touched a tender spot. Nancy twisted the ends of her hair around one finger, and gazed at the ceiling.

  “Now listen to me, Nancy,” Cherry said sympathetically. “Almost everybody is scared of something, whether it’s mice or lightning or exams. Sometimes there’s sufficient reason for being afraid—sometimes there isn’t. It helps to figure out what would result if, just if, you happened to fail the exams.”

  Cherry waited. Nancy lay thinking. Her face clouded.

  “My parents would be furious with me. They’d be so terribly disappointed. They’re always saying, ‘We want to be proud of our daughter.’ And what brilliant students they both were in college! And you know how the girls here laugh about anyone who can’t make the grade. They’d act as if I was a feeble minded dodo.”

  “Discouraging,” Cherry admitted, “but look here! Have you ever actually failed an exam?”

  Nancy made an effort to remember. “No, I don’t think I ever failed one. But that doesn’t prove I won’t.”

  “What were your average marks last year?”

  “Between eighty and eighty five.”

  “Why, that’s very good! Especially for a goop, so called. Do you do good work in class when there are no quizzes to unnerve you?” The girl nodded. “Nancy, it looks to me as if your fear of exams is unnecessary, exaggerated out of all proportion to the facts. You’ve blown up a fantasy as one blows up a balloon. Let’s stick a pin in it.”

  Cherry’s idea (depending on the headmistress’s approval) was that Nancy was to take all exams, and, if she failed, no one but the instructor and Nancy would know. Then the other girls could not tease her, and her parents could not be disappointed or furious.

  Nancy was uneasy about trying this system. She looked almost sick again when Cherry insisted she start with taking the quizzes missed today.

  “And if you should fail,” Cherry said gently, “we can ask Mrs. Harrison not to schedule makeup exams until you’ve had a period of study.”

  “Miss Cherry, maybe you’re going to be my ruination, as Auntie Collier says about the biscuits. But I certainly do thank you for opening my eyes, or at least trying to. I think I see a tiny bit of what you mean already.”