from; natural gas, instead. So that's the
_why_ of the fire," Curly said. "I picked that out of her long ago."

"And she was so close-mouthed with us!" exclaimed Ruth.

"She doesn't like it at Briarwood. She doesn't like the girls. She doesn't
like the teachers. Old Scratch!" exclaimed the boy, "I don't blame
her--and I guess I'd run away myself."

"You don't suppose she _has_ run away, Curly Smith? Not for _keeps_?"

"I don't know," answered the boy. "Her folks don't treat her right, I
guess. They sent her to Briarwood to get her out the way. So she says. And
she's afraid of what her father will do to her if he ever hears about that
candle and about how the dormitory got afire."

"That's why she wouldn't write to him for a contribution to the rebuilding
fund," cried Ruth.

"I guess so," said Curly. "She never said much to me about it. I just
wormed it out of her, as you might say. She isn't so awful happy here, you
bet."

"Oh, Curly! I blame myself," groaned Ruth.

"What for?"

"Because I ought to have learned more about her--got closer to her."

"You might's well try to get close to a prickly porcupine," laughed the
boy. "She'd made up her mind to hate the rest of you girls and she's going
to keep on hating you till the end of time. That's the sort of a girl Amy
is."

"And nothing to be proud about," declared Ruth, with some vexation. "Don't
you think it, Curly?"

"Huh! I don't. You're silly, Ruth--but I like you a whole lot more than I
do Amy."

"Goodness! what a polite boy," cried Ruth. "There's the telephone!"

She ran back upstairs, hoping the message would be that Amy Gregg was
found. But that was not it. Over the wire Mrs. Tellingham herself was
speaking to Ann.

"No, Ma'am. We don't know where to look for her," Ann said.

"We haven't any idea."

"Yes, Ma'am; Helen and I have looked. She hasn't taken any of her
clothes."

"Oh, goodness! you don't really suppose she's run away?"

"Do come here, Ruth, and hear what Mrs. Tellingham says!"

Ruth went to the telephone and heard the principal of Briarwood Hall
talking. What Mrs. Tellingham said was certainly startling.

It seemed that Amy Gregg had received a letter that afternoon. It was from
her father, and, of course, was not opened by the principal. But
afterward--after the child had disappeared from the premises, of
course--the letter came into Mrs. Tellingham's hands. It was found by Tony
Foyle down by the marble statue in the sunken