Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
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[Illustration: As Right Guard, Jane proved herself worthy of the
position.]
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JANE ALLEN: RIGHT GUARD
By
Edith Bancroft
Author of Jane Allen of the Sub-Team
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Akron, Ohio
New York
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Copyright MCMXVIII
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Jane Allen, Right Guard
Made in the United States of America
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
I DAY DREAMS 1
II A COUNCIL OF WAR 11
III BAD NEWS 17
IV THE REASON WHY 27
V THE UNKNOWN MISCHIEF MAKER 34
VI THE PLOT THICKENS 42
VII AN UNPLEASANT TABLEMATE 51
VIII A HAPPY THOUGHT 63
IX SEEKERS OF DISCORD 72
X A VAGUE REGRET 82
XI REJECTED CAVALIERS 91
XII NORMA'S "FIND" 101
XIII THE EXPLANATION 111
XIV OPENLY AND ABOVEBOARD 122
XV THE RECKONING 132
XVI PLAYING CAVALIER 140
XVII THE EAVESDROPPER 151
XVIII DIVIDING THE HONORS 157
XIX RANK INJUSTICE 167
XX THE RISE OF THE FRESHMAN TEAM 182
XXI REINSTATEMENT 197
XXII MAKING OTHER PEOPLE HAPPY 210
XXIII A NEW FRIEND 224
XXIV THE LISTENER 241
XXV THE ACCUSATION 258
XXVI THE STAR WITNESS 273
XXVII CONCLUSION 299
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JANE ALLEN: RIGHT GUARD
CHAPTER I
DAY DREAMS
"Come out of your day dream, Janie, and guess what I have for you."
Hands behind him, Henry Allen stood looking amusedly down at his
daughter.
Stretched full length in a gaily striped hammock swung between two great
trees, her gray eyes dreamily turned toward the distant mountain peaks,
Jane Allen had not heard her father's noiseless approach over the
closely clipped green lawn.
At sound of his voice, she bobbed up from the hammock with an alacrity
that left it swaying wildly.
"Of course I was dreaming, Dad," she declared gaily, making an
ineffectual grab at the hands he held behind him.
"No fair using force," he warned, dexterously eluding her. "This is a
guessing contest. Now which hand will you choose?"
"Both hands, you mean thing!" laughed Jane. "I know what you have in one
of them. It's a letter. Maybe two. Now stand and deliver."
"Here you are."
Obligingly obeying the imperative command, Mr. Allen handed Jane two
letters.
"Oh, joy! Here _you_ are!"
Jane enveloped her father in a bear-like hug, planting a resounding kiss
on his sun-burnt cheek.
"Having played postman, I suppose my next duty is to take myself off and
leave my girl to her letters," was his affectionately smiling comment.
"Not a bit of it, Dad. I'm dying to read these letters. They're from
Judith Stearns and Adrienne Dupree. But even they must wait a little. I
want to talk to _you_, my ownest Dad. Come and sit beside me on that
bench."
Slipping her arm within her father's, Jane gently towed him to a quaint
rustic seat under a magnificent, wide-spreading oak.
"Be seated," she playfully ordered.
Next instant she was beside him on the bench, her russet head against
his broad shoulder.
"Well, girl of mine, what is it? You're not going to tell me, I hope,
that you don't want to go back to college."
Henry Allen humorously referred to another sunlit morning over a year
ago when Jane had corralled him for a private talk that had been in the
nature of a burst of passionate protest against going to college.
"It's just a year ago yesterday, Dad," Jane returned soberly. "What a
horrid person I was to make a fuss and spoil my birthday. But I was only
sixteen, then. I'm seventeen years and one day old now. I'm ever so much
wiser. It's funny but that is really what I wanted to talk to you about.
Going back to Wellington, I mean. I want to go this time. Truly, I do."
"I know it, Janie. I was only teasing you."
Henry Allen smiled down very tenderly at his pretty daughter.
"Of course you were," nodded Jane. "I knew, though, that you were
thinking about last year, when I behaved like a savage. I was thinking
of it, too, as I lay in the hammock looking off toward the mountains.
Dear old Capitan never seemed so wonderful as it does to-day. Yet
somehow, it doesn't hurt me to think of leaving it for a while.
"Last year I felt as though I was being torn up by the roots. This year
I feel all comfy and contented and only a little bit sad. The sad part
is leaving you and Aunt Mary. Still I'm glad to go back to Wellington.
It's as though I had two homes. I wanted to tell you about it, Dad. To
let you know that this year I'm going to try harder than ever to be a
good pioneer."
Raising her head, Jane suddenly sat very straight on the bench, her gray
eyes alive with resolution.
"You don't need to tell me that, Janie." Her father took one of Jane's
slender white hands between his own strong brown ones. "You showed
yourself a real pioneer freshman. They say the freshman year's always
the hardest. I know mine was at Atherton. I was a poor boy, you know,
and had to fight my way. Things were rather different then, though.
There is more comradeship and less snobbishness in college than there
used to be. That is, in colleges for boys. You're better posted than
your old Dad about what they do and are in girls' colleges," he finished
humorously.
"Oh, there are a few snobs at Wellington."
An unbidden frown rose to Jane's smooth forehead. Reference to snobbery
brought up a vision of Marian Seaton's arrogant, self-satisfied
features.
"Most of the girls are splendid, though," she added, brightening. "You
know how much I care for Judy, my roommate, and, oh, lots of others at
Wellington. There's Dorothy Martin, in particular. She stands for all
that is finest and best. You remember I've told you that she looks like
Dearest."
Jane's voice dropped on the last word. Silence fell upon the two as each
thought of the beloved dead.
"Dad, you don't know how much it helped me last year in college to have
Dearest's picture with me," Jane finally said. "It was almost as if she
were right there with me, her own self, and understood everything. I've
never told you before, but there were a good many times when things went
all wrong for me. There were some days when it seemed to me that I
didn't want to try to be a pioneer. I wanted to pull up stakes and run
away. I sha'n't feel that way this year. It will be so different. I'll
walk into Madison Hall and be at home there from the start. I'll have
friends there to welcome----"
Jane's confidences were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Pedro,
the groom, leading Donabar, Mr. Allen's horse, along the drive.
"I've got to leave you, girl." Mr. Allen rose. "I've an appointment with
Gleason, to look at some cattle he wants to sell me. I'll see you at
dinner to-night. Probably not before then."
With a hasty kiss, dropped on the top of Jane's curly head, her father
strode across the lawn to his horse. Swinging into the saddle, he was
off down the drive, turning only to wave farewell to the white-clad girl
on the beach. Left alone, Jane turned her attention to her letters.
Those who have read "JANE ALLEN OF THE SUB-TEAM" will remember how
bitterly Jane Allen resented leaving her beautiful Western home to go
East to Wellington College. Brought up on a ranch, Jane had known few
girls of her own age. To be thus sent away from all she loved best and
forced to endure the restrictions of a girls' college was a cross which
proud Jane carried during the early part of her freshman year at
Wellington.
Gradually growing to like the girls she had formerly despised, Jane
found friends, tried and true. Being a person of strong character she
also made enemies, among them arrogant, snobbish Marian Seaton, a
freshman of narrow soul and small honor.
Due to her interest in basket-ball, Jane soon found herself fighting
hard to win a position on the freshman team. She also found herself
engaged in a desperate struggle to rule her own rebellious spirit. How
she won the right to play in the deciding game of the year, because of
her high resolve to be true to herself, has already been recorded in her
doings as a freshman at Wellington College.
"You first, Judy," murmured Jane, as she tore open the envelope
containing Judith's letter and eagerly drew it forth.
She smiled as she unfolded the one closely written sheet of thin, gray
paper. Judith never wrote at length. The smile deepened as she read:
"DEAR OLD JANE:
"It's about time I answered your last letter. I hope to goodness
this reaches you before you start East. Then you'll know I love you
even if I am not a lightning correspondent. I just came home from
the beach yesterday. I had a wonderful summer, but I'm tanned a
beautiful brown. I am preparing you beforehand so that you will
not mistake me for a noble red man, red woman, I mean, when you
see me.
"I'm dying to see my faithful roommate and talk my head off. I
shall bring a whole bunch of eats along with me to Wellington and
we'll have a grand celebration. Any small contributions which you
may feel it your duty to drag along will be thankfully received.
I'm going to start for college a week from next Tuesday. I suppose
I'll be there ahead of you, so I'll have everything fixed up comfy
when you poke your distinguished head in the door of our room.
"I've loads of things to tell you, but I can't write them. You know
how I love (not) to write letters, themes, etc. You'll just have to
wait until we get together. If this letter shouldn't reach you
before you leave El Capitan, you will probably get it some day
after it has traveled around the country for a while. Won't that be
nice?
"With much love, hoping to see you soony soon,
"Your affectionate roommate,
"JUDY."
Jane laughed outright as she re-read the letter. It was so exactly like
good-humored Judy Stearns. She did not doubt that she was destined
presently to hear at least one funny tale from Judith's lips concerning
the latter's pet failing, absent-mindedness.
Picking up Adrienne's letter from the bench, Jane found equal amusement
in the little French girl's quaint phraseology.
"WICKED ONE:" it began. "Why have you not answered the fond letter
of your small Imp? But perhaps you have answered, and I have not
received. _Ma mère_ and I have had the great annoyance since we
came to this most stupid studio, because much of our mail has gone
astray.
"We have finished the posing for the picture 'The Spirit of the
Dawn.' It was most beautiful. _Ma mère_ was, of course, the Dawn
Spirit, allowed for one day to become the mortal. She had many
dances to perform, and was superb in all. I, too, had the dance to
do in several scenes. When we meet in college I will tell you all.
"We shall not pose again in these motion pictures for the directors
are, of a truth, most queer. They talk much, but have the small
idea of art. It became necessary to quarrel with them frequently,
otherwise the picture would have contained many ridiculous things.
It is now past, and, of a certainty, I am glad. I am longing to
make the return to Wellington. It will be the grand happiness to
see again all my dear friends, you in particular, beloved Jeanne.
"_La petite_ Norma will soon finish the engagement with the stock
company. We have the hope to meet her in New York, so that she and
your small Imp may make the return together to Wellington. Take the
good care of yourself, dear Jeanne. With the regards of _ma mère_
and my most ardent affection,
"Ever thy IMP."
Jane gave the letter an affectionate little pat. It was almost as though
she had heard lively little Adrienne's voice. How good it was, she
reflected happily, to know that this time she would go East, not as a
lonely outlander, but as one whose place awaited her. There would be
smiling faces and welcoming hands to greet her when she climbed the
steps of Madison Hall. Yes, Wellington was truly her Alma Mater and
Madison Hall her second home.