"I've something to report, Captain." Marjorie entered her mother's room
and dropped dispiritedly at her feet. Unpinning her flower-decked hat,
she removed it with a jerk and let it slide to the floor.
"Well, dear, what is it?" Mrs. Dean cast a half anxious look at her
daughter. The long strip of pink crochet work, destined to become part
of an afghan for Marjorie's "house" dropped from her hands. Reaching
down she gave the dejected curly head at her knee a reassuring pat.
"What has happened to spoil my little girl's second day at school?"
Marjorie flashed an upward glance at her mother that spoke volumes.
"I've had a horrid time to-day," she answered. "Last year, when things
didn't go right, I kept some of them to myself. This year I'm going to
tell you everything." Her voice quivering with indignation at the
calamity that had overtaken her unawares, she related the disturbing
events that had so recently transpired. "I don't know what to do," she
ended. "Do you think I ought to go to Miss Archer and tell her
everything?"
"That is a leading question, Lieutenant." Mrs. Dean continued a
sympathetic smoothing of Marjorie's curls. "It is one thing to confess
one's own faults; it is quite another to make public the faults of
someone else. It is hardly fair to Miss Archer to allow this girl to
profit by her own dishonesty. It is not fair to the girl herself. If she
is allowed to pursue, unchecked, a course which will eventually lead to
a great dishonesty, then you would be in a measure responsible. On the
other hand, I abhor a talebearer. I can't decide at once what you ought
to do. I shall have to think it over and give you my answer later. Your
rights must be considered also. You were an innocent party to a
despicable act, therefore I do not believe that you owe the author of it
any special loyalty. I am not sure but that I ought to go to Miss Archer
myself about it. You have suffered a good deal, since you began going to
Sanford High School, through Mignon La Salle. I do not propose that this
new girl shall spoil your junior year for you. Come to me to-morrow at
this time and I will have made up my mind what is best for you. I am
glad you told me this."
"So am I," sighed Marjorie. "I know that whatever you decide will be
best for me, Captain. I am not afraid for myself. It's only that I hate
to make trouble for this girl, even though she deserves it. You see it
may mean a good deal to her father and mother to have her get along well
in school. She said her father wouldn't let her go away to boarding
school. That sounds as though he wanted her to be at home where he could
look after her."
"That must also be considered," agreed Mrs. Dean. "Now don't worry about
this affair any more. I am sure we shall find the wisest way out of it
for everyone concerned. You had better run along now and get ready for
dinner. It's almost half past six."
Marjorie reached for her discarded hat. Scrambling to her feet she
embraced her mother and went to her room, infinitely cheered. As she
left the room, Mrs. Dean sent after her a glance freighted with motherly
protection. She had no sympathy for a girl such as Marjorie had
described Rowena Farnham to be, and she uttered a mental prayer of
thankfulness that her own daughter was above reproach.
No further mention of the affair was made between mother and daughter
that evening. Nevertheless, Marjorie went to school the next morning in
a far from buoyant mood. She had been wakened by a reverberating roll of
thunder, followed by the furious beating of rain against her windows. A
true child of sunshine, the steady tapping of the heavy drops filled her
with a dread sense of oppression which she could not shake off.
By noon, however, it had passed away with the storm. When she went home
to luncheon the sun was high in the sky. The rain-washed streets were
rapidly succumbing to his warm smile. Only a puddle here and there, or a
shower of silver drops from a breeze-shaken tree remained to remind her
of the morning deluge.
Returning from luncheon, she had hardly gained her seat when Miss Merton
stalked down the aisle to her desk. "Report to Miss Archer at once, Miss
Dean," she commanded in her most disagreeable manner.
Marjorie's thoughts immediately flew to yesterday. Was it possible that
Rowena Farnham had gone to the principal of her own volition? It was
hardly to be credited. Remembering her mother's note, Marjorie jumped to
the conclusion that this was the most probable reason for the summons.
"Good afternoon, Marjorie," greeted Miss Archer from her desk, as the
pretty junior appeared in the doorway. "Come here, my dear. I have
something rather unusual to show you." She motioned Marjorie to draw up
a chair beside her own. "I wonder if you can throw any light upon this."
"This" was an open letter, which she now tendered to the puzzled girl.
Marjorie read:
"Miss Archer:
"Yesterday morning, at a little after eleven o'clock, Marjorie Dean
and a girl with red hair and black eyes, whose name I do not know,
meddled with the examination papers on your desk while you were in
another part of the building. Marjorie Dean showed the girl how to
do one of the examination problems in algebra. This I know because I
heard them talking about it and saw them have the list of questions.
Such dishonesty is a disgrace to Sanford High School.
"The Observer."
Marjorie allowed the letter to fall from her nerveless hands. She felt
herself grow hot and cold as she forced herself to meet Miss Archer's
intent scrutiny. Yet she said nothing. Only her brown eyes sent forth
agonized signals of distress.
Noting her strange demeanor, Miss Archer's pleasant face hardened. Was
Marjorie Dean really guilty of such dishonor? If innocent, why did she
not hotly proclaim the fact? "I am waiting for you to explain the
meaning of this note, Marjorie," she reminded sternly. "Can you do so?"
"Yes," came the low monosyllable.
"Then do so at once," crisply ordered the principal.
Marjorie drew a long breath. "I can't explain my part of it without
bringing in someone else," she faltered.
"You mean Miss Farnham, I suppose?"
Marjorie hesitated, then nodded. It appeared that Miss Archer had
already put two and two together.
"I happen to know that Miss Farnham is the only one who could possibly
answer to the description this letter gives," continued Miss Archer
impatiently. "She was also the only one to be interested in the papers
on my desk. I sent for you first, however, because I wished to give you
a chance to explain how you happened to figure in this affair. I have
always had a great deal of faith in you, Marjorie. I do not wish to lose
that faith. Now I must insist on knowing exactly what occurred here
yesterday morning. Did you or did you not assist Miss Farnham in solving
a problem in algebra, which she culled from the examination paper in
that subject?"
"Miss Archer," Marjorie said earnestly, "I did help Miss Farnham with
that problem, but I had no idea that she was trying to do anything so
dishonorable. It all came about through a mistake. I'd rather she would
explain that part of it. The reason I happened to be in this office was
because of the note my mother asked me to bring you. Miss Farnham was
here when I came in. While I sat waiting for you she asked me to help
her with that problem. I solved it for her and she took it and went
away. I waited a little longer, then left the office."
Miss Archer's stern features gradually relaxed as Marjorie made this
straightforward account of her own actions. The principal noted,
however, that she had revealed considerably less regarding the other
girl. "That is a somewhat indefinite statement," she said slowly. "You
have not been frank as to Miss Farnham. You are keeping something back.
You must tell me all. I prefer to know the absolute facts from you
before sending for the other party to this affair."
"Please don't ask me to tell you, Miss Archer," pleaded Marjorie. "I'd
rather not."
Miss Archer frowned, This was not the first time that Marjorie had taken
such a stubborn stand. She knew the young girl's horror of telling
tales. Yet here was something that she deemed it necessary to uncover.
She did not relish being thus balked by a too rigid standard of
school-girl honor. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder how Marjorie
could have been so easily deceived.
"Do you think this is fair to me?" she questioned sharply. "I feel that
I have behaved very fairly to you in thus far assuming that you are
innocent. There are gaps in your story which must be filled. I wish you,
not Miss Farnham, to supply them. Suppose I were to say, it is very
strange that you did not suspect this girl of trickery."
"But I didn't, truly I didn't," sounded the half-tearful protest.
"I am not actually saying that you suspected her. Tell me this, at
least. Did you know that the problem she asked you to solve for her was
from the examination sheet?"
"I--she----" stammered the unfortunate junior.
"You did know it, then!" exclaimed Miss Archer in pained suspicion.
"This places you in a bad light. If you knew the source of the problem
you can hardly claim innocence now unless you give me absolute proof of
it."
"You have my word that I am not guilty." Her desire to cry vanished.
Marjorie now spoke with gentle dignity. "I try always to be truthful."
Miss Archer surveyed the unobliging witness in vexed silence. At heart
she believed Marjorie to be innocent, but she was rapidly losing
patience. "Since you won't be frank with me, I shall interview Miss
Farnham as soon as she finishes her examinations of the morning. I shall
not allow her to go on with this afternoon's test until I have reached
the bottom of this affair. Come to my office as soon as you return from
luncheon. That is all." The principal made a dignified gesture of
dismissal.
The beseeching glance poor Marjorie directed toward Miss Archer was lost
upon the now incensed woman. She had already begun to busy herself at
her desk. If she had glimpsed the reproach of those mournful eyes, it is
doubtful whether she would have been impressed by them. Secretly she was
wondering whether she had made the mistake of reposing too much
confidence in Marjorie Dean.