A RESCUE AND A REFORM
It was with considerable trepidation that Anne and Grace approached the
Nesbit gate the following afternoon.
"I feel my knees beginning to wobble," Grace observed, as they rang the
bell. "This business of being a reformer has its drawbacks. How had we
better begin?"
"I don't know, the inspiration to say the right thing will probably come,
when we see her," said Anne.
"If she behaves in her usual manner, I shall have a strong inspiration, to
give her a good shaking," said Grace bluntly.
To their relief, the maid who answered the bell informed them that Miriam
had gone out for a walk.
"Do you know which way she went?" Grace asked.
"I think, miss, that she went toward Upton Wood. She often walks there,"
replied the maid.
The girls thanked her and started down the walk.
"Miriam ought never to walk, alone, in Upton Wood, especially this time
of year," remarked Grace. "There are any amount of tramps lurking around.
If David knew it he would be awfully provoked."
"Let's walk over that way, and perhaps we'll meet her," suggested Anne.
"Now that we've started, I hate to turn back. If we don't see her to-day,
we'll keep on putting it off and end up by not seeing her at all."
"That's true," Grace agreed.
The two girls strolled along in the direction of Upton Wood, thoroughly
enjoying their walk. Occasionally, they stopped to gather a few wild
flowers, or listen to the joyous trill of a bird. They were at the edge of
the wood, when Grace suddenly put up her hand.
"Hush!" she said. "I hear voices."
Just then the cry Help! Help! rang out.
"That's Miriam's voice," cried Grace.
Glancing quickly about for a weapon, Grace picked up a good-sized stick
she found on the ground, and ran in the direction of the sound, Anne at
her heels.
Miriam was struggling desperately to free herself from the grasp of a
rough, unkempt fellow who had her by the arm and was trying to abstract
the little gold watch that she wore fastened to her shirtwaist with a
châtelaine pin.
The tramp stood with his back to the approaching girls. Before he was
aware of their presence, Grace brought her stick down on his head with all
the force she had in her strong, young arms.
With a howl of pain he released Miriam, whirling on his assailant. Grace
hit him again, the force of her second blow knocking him over.
Before the man could regain his feet the three girls were off through the
wood. They ran without looking back until fairly out in the open field.
"I don't see him," panted Grace, halting to get her breath. "I guess he's
gone."
Anne was pale and trembling. The run out of the woods had been almost too
much for her. As for Miriam, she was sobbing quite hysterically.
"Don't cry, Miriam," soothed Grace, putting her arm around the frightened
girl. "He can't hurt you now. I am so glad that we happened along. You
ought never to go into Upton Wood alone, you know."
Miriam gradually gained control of herself. Wiping her eyes, she asked,
"How did you ever happen to be out here just at the time I needed help?"
"To tell the truth, we were hunting for you," Grace replied. "Your maid
said that you had gone toward Upton Wood. We walked on, expecting every
minute to meet you. Then we heard you scream and that's all."
"It's not all," said Miriam quickly. "I know I have been a wretch. I have
made things unpleasant for you two girls ever since we started in at High
School. I made fun of Anne, and tried to make her lose the freshman prize.
I sent her that doll a year ago last Christmas, knowing that it would hurt
her feelings. But the things I did last year aren't half as bad as all
I've done this year, I gave----"
"That's just what we came to see you about, Miriam," interrupted Grace.
"We know that you gave the signals to Julia, and we know that you locked
me in the classroom the day of the big game."
Miriam flushed with shame and her lip quivered.
Seeing her distress, Grace went on quickly:
"The janitress found your scarab pin just outside the door on the day of
the game. Anne has it here for you."
Anne fumbled in her purse and drew out the pin.
"But how did you get it?" asked Miriam faintly, as she took the pin with
evident reluctance.
"Miss Thompson gave it to me," Anne answered.
Miriam looked frightened. "Then she knows----"
"Nothing," said Grace softly. "As soon as Anne heard that Miss Thompson
had your pin and knew where it had been found, she went right to the
office and asked Miss Thompson to give it to her. Miss Thompson thought
from the first that I had been the victim of a trick. Anne knew that the
finding of your pin would make her suspect you. She had already sent for
you when Anne reached the office. Luckily you weren't in school. Anne
asked permission to return the pin to you. She wouldn't give any reason
for asking. Finally Miss Thompson handed it to her, and told Anne she was
sure she would do what was right."
"You owe a great deal to Anne, Miriam," Grace continued, "for if she had
not gone to Miss Thompson I am afraid you would have been suspended from
school. Miss Thompson would have had very little mercy upon you, for she
knew about those examination papers last June."
Miriam looked so utterly miserable and ashamed at Grace's words, that Anne
hastened to say:
"I would have given you your pin at once, Miriam, but you were away from
school. Then David told me how unhappy you seemed. I hadn't said a word
to any one about the pin until I told Grace. We decided to come and see
you, and say that we were willing to 'let bygones be bygones' if you were.
We thought it was right to let you know that we knew everything. There is
only one other person who knows. That person is your brother."
"He knew I locked you up the day of the game," faltered Miriam, "The way
he looked at me has haunted me ever since. He thinks me the most
dishonorable girl in the world." She began to cry again.
Anne and Grace walked along silently beside the weeping girl. They thought
it better to let her have her cry out. She really deserved to spend a
brief season in the Valley of Humiliation.
They had now left the fields and were turning into one of the smaller
streets of Oakdale.
"Miriam," said Grace, "try and brace up. We'll soon be on Main Street and
you don't want people to see you cry, do you? Here," extracting a little
book of rice powder paper from her bag, "rub this over your face and the
marks of your tears won't show."
Miriam took the paper gratefully, and did as Grace bade her. Then she
straightened up and gave a long sigh, "I feel like that man in Pilgrim's
Progress, after he dropped his burden from his back," she said. "The mean
things I did never bothered me until just lately. After I saw that my own
brother had nothing but contempt for me, I began to realize what a wretch
I was, and the remorse has been just awful."
It was David, after all, who had been instrumental in holding up the
mirror so that his stubborn sister could see herself as others saw her.
Although she had quarreled frequently with him, she had secretly respected
his high standard of honor and fine principles. The fear that he despised
her utterly had brought her face to face with herself at last.
"Anne has always wanted to be friends with you, Miriam," Grace said
earnestly as they neared the Nesbit home. "You and I used to play together
when we were little girls in the grammar school. It's only since we
started High School that this quarreling has begun. Let's put it all aside
and swear to be friends, tried and true, from now on? You can be a great
power for good if you choose. We all ought to try to set up a high
standard, for the sake of those who come after. Then Oakdale will have
good reason to be proud of her High School girls."
They had reached the gate.
Miriam turned and stretched out a hand to each girl. There was a new
light in her eyes. "My dear, dear friends," she said softly.
A shrill whistle broke in upon this little love feast and the three girls
looked up. David was hurrying down the walk, his face aglow.
"I whistled to attract your attention. I was afraid you girls would go
before I could reach you. Mother wants you girls to come in for dinner.
She saw you from the window. Don't say you can't, for I'm going to call on
the Piersons and Harlowes right now and inform them that their daughters
are dining out to-night. So hurry along now, for mother's waiting for
you."
A minute later he had mounted his motorcycle and was off down the street,
going like the wind.
The girls entered the house and were warmly greeted by Mrs. Nesbit. She
and David had viewed the little scene from the window. She had deeply
deplored Miriam's attitude toward Grace and her chums. It was with delight
that she and David had watched the three girls stop at the gate and clasp
hands. She therefore hurried her son out to the girls to offer them her
hospitality.
Anne had never before entered the Nesbit home. She thought it very
beautiful and luxurious. Miriam put forth every effort to be agreeable,
and the time passed so rapidly that they were surprised when dinner was
announced.
After dinner, Miriam, who was really a brilliant performer for a girl of
her age, played for them. Anne, who was a music-hungry little soul,
listened like one entranced. David, seeing her absorption, beckoned to
Grace, who stole softly out of the room without being observed.
Once out in the hall the two young people did a sort of wild dance to
express their feelings.
"You are the best girl a fellow ever knew," said David in a whisper. "How
did you do it?"
"I'll tell you some other time," whispered Grace, who had cautioned the
girls to say nothing of the adventure for fear of frightening Miriam's
mother. "Let's go back before they notice we're gone."
"Anne is too wrapped up in music to pay any attention to us. Come on up to
my workshop. I want to show you something I'm working at in connection
with my aëroplane. We can talk there, without being disturbed. I want to
know what worked this transformation. It is really too good to be true.
I've always wanted Miriam to be friends with Anne, but I had just about
lost all hope."
Grace followed David up the stairs and through the hall to his workshop,
which was situated at the back of the house.
"Now," said the young man, as he pushed forward a stool for his guest,
"fire away."
Grace began with their call at the house, their walk in search of Miriam,
and their adventure with the tramp, modestly making light of her own
bravery. When she had finished, David held out his hand, his face glowing
with appreciation "Grace," he said, "you've more spirit and courage than
any girl I ever knew. You ought to have been a boy. You would have done
great things."
Grace felt that this was the highest compliment David could pay her. She
had always cherished a secret regret that she had been born a girl.
"Thank you, David," she said, blushing, then hastily changed the subject.
"Tell me about your aëroplane. Is it still at the old Omnibus House?"
"Yes," David answered. "I had it here all winter, but I moved it out there
again about a month ago."
"I should like to see it again," said Grace. "I didn't have time to look
at it carefully the day you invited us out there."
"I'll take you over any time you want to go," said David. "Oh, better
still, here's a duplicate key to the place. You can take the girls and go
over there whenever you please, without waiting for me. You are the only
person that I'd trust with this key, Grace," he added gravely. "I had it
made in case old Jean or I should lose those we carry. I wouldn't even let
the fellows have one, for fear they might go over there, get careless and
do some damage."
"It's awfully good of you, David," Grace replied as she took the key.
"I'll be careful not to lose it. I'll put it on my watch chain. It's such
a small key it is not likely it will be noticed."
Grace took from her neck the long, silver chain from which her watch was
suspended. She opened the clasp, slid the key on the chain and tucked both
watch and key snugly into her belt.
"There," she said, patting it, "that can't get lost. My chain is very
strong. I prefer a chain to a pin or fob, because either one is so easy to
lose."
"That's sensible," commented David. "Girls wouldn't be eternally losing
their watches if they weren't so vain about wearing those silly little
châtelaine pins."
"Why, David Nesbit!" exclaimed Grace, glancing up at the mission clock on
the wall. "It's almost nine o'clock! I had no idea it was so late. Let's
go down at once."
They returned to the parlor to find Anne and Miriam deep in some foreign
photographs that Miriam had collected during her trip to Europe the
previous summer.
"How I should love to see Europe," sighed Anne. "I'm going there some day,
though, if I live," she added with a sudden resolution.
"Mother and father have promised me a trip across as a graduation gift.
Maybe you'll be able to go, too, by that time, Anne," said Grace
hopefully.
"Perhaps I shall, but I'm afraid it's doubtful," said Anne, smiling a
little.
"We've had a fine time, Miriam," said Grace, "but we really must go.
Mother will worry if I stay any later."
"Please come again soon," said Miriam, kissing both girls affectionately.
"I have a plan to talk over with you, but I can't say anything about it
now. I must consult mother first. You'll like it, I'm sure."
"Of course we shall," responded Grace. "Good night, Miriam, and pleasant
dreams."
"They are the nicest girls in Oakdale, and I shall try hard to be like
them," thought Miriam, as she closed the door. "David is right. It
certainly pays to be square."