The Crimson Thread: An Adventure Story for Girls

  CHAPTER XXIII MEG'S SECRET

  And what of Florence and Meg? They had not fared so badly after all.Three minutes after her first meeting with the young policeman, Florencewas thinking fine things about Meg.

  "This girl Meg certainly has a way about her," she thought. "She doesthings to people."

  She wondered what Meg had done to the young policeman. "Surely," she toldherself, "she didn't use that iron belaying pin on him the way she did onthat terrible man who had been following me. No, she didn't do that,though I suspect she still has it hidden up her sleeve."

  One thing was sure, she had done something to the young policeman.Florence hadn't heard what Meg had said, but she did know that one momenthe was frightening the very life out of her by demanding that she unlockthe bag and show him the contents, which was quite as much unknown to heras to him, and the next he had let out a low chuckling laugh and had toldher she might run along. How was she to account for that?

  She didn't bother much to account for it. She was too much pleased atbeing able to go on her way, and carrying with her the bag with itssecret securely sealed. She would know about Meg later. Meg had promisedto tell.

  It was only after they had started on that she noticed that the storm hadblown itself out and the stars were shining. They were soon aboard a carbound for home.

  An hour later, in the warmth of her room, and with the bag at their feet,Florence and Meg sat dreamily thinking their own thoughts.

  Florence was not sure that she did not sleep a little. After the wildexperiences of the night, followed by the battle with the storm, thiswould not be surprising.

  She did not sleep long, however, and soon they fell to talking in the waygirls will when the hour is approaching midnight and the strenuousexperiences of an exciting night are all at an end.

  At an end, did I say? Well, not quite. Perhaps you might say not at all;for did not the mysterious brown leather traveling bag, which had beenwondered about and fought over, rest on the floor at their feet? And wasnot the seal unbroken? Did it not still contain Florence's Christmassecret? And now it was just twenty-five minutes until midnight, thewitching hour when secrets are revealed.

  "There is just time for you to finish telling me about yourself beforethe tower clock strikes midnight," said Florence, glancing at the smallclock on her desk.

  "Oh!" laughed Meg with a little shrug of her wonderful shoulders. "Therereally isn't much to tell. I've already told you that since I was a slipof a child I've lived on ships with my uncle. He's a mate. We've been ona lot of ships because he often drinks too much and can't hold hisposition. He's a big gruff man, but kind enough in his way."

  "That man who----"

  "No, the man who told you about the train was not my uncle. That was Tim,a sailor. My uncle sent him.

  "Well, you know," she went on, "at first I was just sort of a ship'smascot and the sailors' plaything. They rode me on their backs andcarried me, screaming with delight, to the top of the mast.

  "That didn't last long. They found I could peel potatoes, so they put meto work. And I've been at work ever since."

  She spread out her hands and Florence saw that they were as seamed andhard as a farmer's wife's.

  "I don't mind work," Meg continued. "I love it. But I like to learnthings, too; like to learn them out of books, with folks to tell me whatit means. I've gone to school all I could, but it wasn't much. I want togo some more.

  "Uncle has signed up for a sea voyage through the Canal to England. Hewanted me to go along as cook. It's a lumber ship; sure to be a roughcrew. I don't mind 'em much."

  Something suddenly clattered on the floor. It was Meg's belaying pin.

  "I--I guess you sort of get rough when you go on the sea," sheapologized, smiling. "That's partly why I didn't want to go. My unclewould have made me go that day you changed places with me, if he'd foundme. He likes to have me along because he can get a better berth himselfif he can bring along a good cook. Good sea cooks are scarce.

  "I'm not going now. His train's gone and he's gone. He left that day."

  "So that was what the man and the woman meant by the train leaving ateleven-thirty?" asked Florence.

  "Yes. That woman was the matron of the Seamen's Home. She thought I oughtto go. She didn't know everything. She didn't understand. I'm eighteen.My uncle hasn't any right to claim me now, and I owe him nothing.Everything that's been done for me I've paid for--paid with hard labor."Again she spread her seamed hands out on her lap.

  "But now," she said after a moment's silence, "now I'm not sure that Iknow how I'm going to school. It costs a lot, I suppose, and besides I'vegot to live. They let me stay on that ship. That's something, but it's along way from any school, and besides----"

  "Wait," Florence broke in. "Let me tell you----"

  But just then Meg held up a warning finger. Loud and clear there rang outover the snow the midnight chimes.

  "Midnight," whispered Florence, reaching out a hand for the bewitchingbag.