BAB’S EXCITING DISCOVERY

A chorus of “Merry Christmas” was heard as the clock in the hall struck the hour of midnight. Olive was seated at the piano. As the strokes of the old clock ceased, she touched the keys softly, then began to sing. The girls knew the song. They joined with her, raising their sweet, young voices in the Christmas anthem:

“Hark the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!”

Ere the song ended, Ruth’s father had slipped away. He had been profoundly stirred. Ruth saw him go. She stole away after him. It was half an hour later that Barbara, on her way to her own room, where Mollie already had gone, saw Ruth’s door slightly ajar. Bab tapped lightly. Ruth’s voice bade her enter. But Bab shrank back when she saw Mr. Stuart sitting there. His face was drawn and sad. There were tears in Ruth’s eyes. Barbara could scarcely keep back her own tears, so keenly did she feel for these two whom she loved so well. The girl stammered an apology and drew back.

“Bab, dear, come in,” called Mr. Stuart.

“Yes, do. We need you. Perhaps you may be able to make daddy smile. I can’t, because I have no smiles left in me.”

“I I am afraid I haven’t, either,” answered Barbara, with trembling lips. “Hadn’t I better go to my own room? Perhaps you wish to talk undisturbed.”

“We want you here,” answered Mr. Stuart. “Please close the door and sit down.” Bab walked to the centre of the room, where she stood leaning against a table gazing down on them questioningly. Ruth nestled on her father’s knee with an arm thrown affectionately about his neck.

“My dear,” he said, addressing Barbara, “I have just been telling Ruth that this may be the last Christmas that she will be able to have all her heart craves. I mean in the way of luxuries. My business affairs are in a very bad way. You already know that Mr. Presby has no hopes of being able to pull through. When he goes, I go. We shall go down together. We have been speculating in wheat. We have loaded up so heavily that I see no possibility of getting out.” He paused reflectively while the lines of his face grew haggard.

“You mean you are going to lose all you have?” almost whispered Barbara.

“Yes. Instead of the price of wheat going up, as it should have done at this season of the year, wheat has been forced down and down by a strong bear market. Behind it all there is a powerful but mysterious force, a master brain that is forcing the price down and seeking to ruin us.”

“Have you no idea who is doing this who your enemy is?” asked Barbara.

“Nothing more than a vague suspicion. You see, the trading is done largely through others. There is no one man, so far as we have been able to discover, who is crowding us, forcing us to load up and to hold at a frightful cost to ourselves. We know, however, that there is an individual force back of this movement. Richard has mortgaged his property to the last cent. After the first of the year, unless there be a turn for better in his affairs, Treasureholme will be taken away from him. After the first of the year I shall be a ruined man financially.”

“Mr. Stuart,” said Barbara in a steady voice, “I felt that you should not have spent all that money on those beautiful gifts for us. I feel even more strongly about it now. Won’t won’t you please take them back? Oh, you understand what I mean,” cried Barbara, flushing hotly as she saw his gaze fixed inquiringly upon her.

“Yes, my dear, I do. And I thank you. You are a noble girl. But even such a sacrifice on your part would do no good. A few hundred dollars would make no difference. I wanted Ruth and her friends to have a happy Christmas; I wanted you all to be remembered as you deserve. As it is, I have not done all that I had wished to do.”

“Oh, you have done too much!” exclaimed Barbara.

“I wanted you as well as Ruth to understand just how matters stand. I feel better for having unburdened my mind.”

“Would it help you in the least if you were to know who this man is who is driving you and Mr. Presby to failure?” asked Bab.

“It might help somewhat, thought it may be too late. Had I known a month ago I might have succeeded in turning the tide against him.”

“Oh, daddy, give it up! It’s a dreadful business,” begged Ruth.

“I am afraid I shall have to, whether or not I wish to do so. I agree with you that it is a dreadful business, and if I get out of the woods this time, I am through with speculation. Now, children run along. I wish to talk with Mr. Presby. He awaits me downstairs.”

Mr. Stuart kissed both girls, but clung to their hands a moment as he gazed into their eyes. Then he released the hands and moved toward the door. Ruth and Barbara stood watching him until Mr. Stuart had passed from their sight and they heard him descending the stairs.

“Good night, dear. I can’t talk any more to-night,” said Ruth, controlling her voice with an effort.

“I I am afraid I can’t either,” answered Bab, with averted eyes.

She left the room rather hurriedly, closing the door behind her. For a long time after Barbara had left Ruth Stuart’s room, she lay in her own bedroom on a lounge staring straight up at the ceiling. Mollie was asleep, her golden head barely visible above the tops of the covers. “If I could only do something for these good friends,” murmured Bab. “But what can a girl do? I wonder how much money it would take to save them? It would take a lot, I know.”

After a time Barbara got up to get her handkerchief. She had dropped hers in Ruth’s room. On the dresser lay Barbara’s hand bag, the one she had carried with her on her way from Kingsbridge. She had not used it since, Ruth having bought her a very handsome bag in Chicago during one of their shopping expeditions. Bab remembered that there was a handkerchief in the bag.

Opening the bag, she drew out the handkerchief which lay under some other articles. As she did so something white fluttered to the floor a few feet from where she was standing. Barbara wiped her eyes, then stood regarding herself in the mirror. She saw that her own face was troubled and that her eyes were red, as though she had been weeping. Then she stepped over, picking up the handsome coat that Mr. Stuart and Ruth had given her for Christmas. With a sigh Bab laid the coat down, smoothed it out and began preparing for bed. She had given no further thought to the little piece of white cardboard that had slipped from her handkerchief a few moments before. Bab was in bed, snuggling down by Mollie, very shortly afterwards, with the lights turned off. The girl lay staring into the darkness until her weary eyelids closed and she dropped off to sleep.

When Barbara awoke the following morning Mollie was still sleeping soundly. Bab, however, rose at once, still rubbing her eyes and trying to recall something that had been troubling her when she went to sleep. Suddenly it all came back to Bab in a flood of disagreeable recollection.

Barbara took her time at making her toilet, thinking deeply as she brushed her thick, fine hair before the mirror. The girl had half turned to call Mollie when all at once she caught sight of the bit of pasteboard lying on the floor.

“I wonder what that is? I remember seeing something fall from the bag last night.”

She picked up the card, glanced at it carelessly and was about to toss it on the dresser top when suddenly Bab uttered a little gasp. Her hand trembled. She gazed with staring eyes at the name on the card. “Mr. Nathan Bonner,” she read.

For the moment Bab continued to stare.

“The man in section thirteen,” she murmured. Bab tried to recall what had been said about Nathan Bonner, but she could not remember. She knew only that what she had heard had left an unpleasant impression on her mind. It was Nathan Bonner whom she had seen in the Pit at the Board of Trade. She shuddered as she recalled the almost demoniac expression on that hard, cruel face. Then all at once the conversation that she had overheard while lying in her berth in the sleeping car on that eventful night came before her.

“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Barbara under her breath.

“What ever is the matter with you, Bab?” demanded a voice from the bed.

“Oh, Molliekins, I’ve made such an exciting discovery. But I can’t say a word about it. I must find Mr. Stuart this very minute. I must hurry. I haven’t a moment to lose. Oh, I do hope I am not too late!”