On reaching home that noon Marjorie's first impulse was to hurry to her
mother with a recital of the morning's events. Greatly to her dismay,
Delia met her at the door with the announcement that her mistress had
motored to a neighboring town to meet Mr. Dean, who had telegraphed her
from there. They would not arrive home in time for luncheon, probably
not until late in the afternoon.
Divided between the pleasure of seeing her father and distress
occasioned by Miss Archer's implied disbelief, Marjorie ate a lonely and
most unsatisfactory luncheon. She could think of nothing other than the
impending session in which she and Rowena Farnham would so soon figure.
She pondered gloomily on the strange way in which the knowledge of
Rowena's unscrupulous behavior had been borne to Miss Archer. Who could
have written that letter? Could it be laid at the door of one of the
several girls who had inquired for the principal and promptly retired
from the scene? If this were so, then some one of them must have
lingered just outside to spy upon herself and Rowena. She knew the
majority of those who had sought the office while she lingered there.
Only one or two had been strangers. Of those she knew, she could recall
no one of them she would deem guilty of spying.
As she left her home for the high school, Marjorie smiled in wry fashion
at the thought of Rowena's anger when she learned that her unfair
tactics had been discovered and reported. If she treated Miss Archer to
a scene similar to that which Marjorie had undergone in Rowena's home,
she was very likely to find herself out of high school before having
actually entered. As it was, Rowena stood a strong chance of forfeiting
the privilege to try the remainder of her examinations.
Twenty minutes past one found Marjorie on the threshold of the
principal's office. At sight of her Miss Archer bowed distantly and went
on with her writing. As yet Rowena had not put in an appearance. Ten
minutes later she strolled nonchalantly in, her bold, black eyes
registering supreme contempt of the world in general. Her smart gown of
delft blue crêpe set off her dazzlingly fair skin and heavy auburn hair
to perfection. She was a stunning young person, and well aware of her
good looks.
"I understand you wish to see me," she drawled in a tone bordering on
impatience. Ignoring Marjorie, save for one swift, menacing glance, she
addressed herself to the woman at the desk.
Miss Archer had already risen. Now she fixed the newcomer with stern,
searching eyes. "Sit over there, Miss Farnham." She waved her to a seat
beside Marjorie on the oak bench.
With an insolent shrugging of her shoulders, Rowena sat down, placing
the length of the bench between herself and its other occupant. "Well,
what is it?" she asked unconcernedly.
Miss Archer's lips compressed themselves a trifle more firmly. "Your
manner is distinctly disrespectful, Miss Farnham. Kindly remember to
whom you are speaking."
Rowena's shoulders again went into eloquent play. "Oh, excuse me," she
murmured.
Ignoring the discourtesy, Miss Archer reached to her desk for the
letter, the contents of which Marjorie already knew. Handing it to
Rowena she said: "Read this letter. You will then understand why I sent
for you."
Looking distinctly bored, the girl perused the letter. A tantalizing
smile curved her red lips as she finished. "This is your work," she
accused, turning to Marjorie.
The latter opened her brown eyes in genuine amazement. The accusation
was totally unexpected. "You know very well it is not," she flung back,
the pink in her cheeks deepening.
"Whatever you have to say, Miss Farnham, you may say to me," reproved
the principal. "I have already gone over the contents of this letter
with Miss Dean."
"I have nothing to say," replied Rowena serenely.
"But _I_ have several things to say to you," reminded Miss Archer
sharply. "I demand a complete explanation of what occurred here during
my absence yesterday morning."
"I am afraid you've come to the wrong person, then." Rowena was coolly
defiant. "Miss Dean can answer your question better than I. No doubt she
has already said a number of pleasant things about me."
"Miss Dean has said nothing to your discredit. In fact she has refused
to commit herself. She prefers that you do the explaining."
Unconsciously Miss Archer sprang into irritated defense of Marjorie.
Rowena's black eyebrows lifted themselves. So the goody-goody had
refused to betray her! This was decidedly interesting. Her clever brain
at once leaped to the conclusion that with Marjorie's lips sealed it
would be hard to establish her own dishonesty. In itself the letter
offered no actual proof. It was merely signed "The Observer." A cunning
expression crept into her eyes. "Someone must have been trying to play a
joke," she now airily suggested. "The very fact that the letter isn't
properly signed goes to prove that."
"_Miss Farnham!_" The principal's authoritative utterance betrayed her
great displeasure. "You are overstepping all bounds. Miss Dean herself
has admitted that she solved an algebraic problem for you. I insist on
knowing whether or not that problem was taken from an examination sheet
that lay among others on my desk. If so, there is but one inference to
be drawn. During my absence you tampered with the papers on my desk. No
such thing has ever before occurred in the history of this school. Now I
ask you pointblank, did you or did you not meddle with my papers?"
Without replying, Rowena's eyes roved shrewdly to Marjorie, as though
trying to discover what the latter intended to do. Were she to reply to
the question in the negative, would this baby of a girl, whom she
already despised, still maintain silence?
Apparently, Marjorie read her thought. "Miss Farnham," she broke in, her
soft voice ringing with purpose, "if you do not answer Miss Archer
truthfully, I, at least, will."
That settled it. Nevertheless, Rowena determined that Marjorie should
pay for her interference. "If you must know," she said sullenly, "I did
glance over them. You had no business to leave them on the desk. Miss
Dean saw me do it, too, but she didn't seem to mind. I even showed her
that problem in quadratics and told her I couldn't do it. So she did it
for me."
"Is this true?" To the distressed listener Miss Archer's amazed question
came as a faint and far-off sound. Driven into a corner by Rowena's
spiteful misrepresentation, Marjorie determined to clear herself of the
opprobrium. "I saw Miss Farnham with the papers," she affirmed. "She
pointed out to me the one she couldn't do and I solved it for her. I
thought----"
"That will do." Never to Marjorie's recollection had Miss Archer's voice
carried with it such unmeasured severity. For once she was too
thoroughly displeased to be just. Only that morning Marjorie had
earnestly proclaimed her innocence. Brought face to face with Rowena,
she had renigged, or so it now seemed to the affronted principal.
Abhoring deceit and untruthfulness, she rashly ticketed her hitherto
favorite pupil with both faults.
"But Miss Archer," pleaded Marjorie desperately, "won't you allow me
to----"
"It strikes me that too much has already been said that might better
have been left unsaid," cut in the principal coldly. "You two young
women are guilty of a most despicable bit of work. If it lay within my
power I would expel both of you from the school you have disgraced. This
matter will be taken up by the Board of Education. All I can do is to
send you both home, there to await the decision of those above me. Your
parents shall be informed at once of what has taken place. As for you,
Miss Farnham, in case the Board decides to give you another chance you
will be obliged to take an entirely new set of examinations. In a
measure I hold myself responsible for this. I should have locked my
desk. I have always trusted my pupils. Dishonesty on the part of two of
them is a severe blow. You may both leave the school at once. _You_,
Miss Dean, need not return to the study hall."
Rowena Farnham received her dismissal with an elaborate shrug that
plainly indicated how little she cared. Without deigning a reply she
strolled out of the office, apparently as self-possessed as when she had
entered. Marjorie, however, remained rooted to the bench on which she
sat. She could not believe the evidence of her own ears. Neither could
she credit the principal's sudden unjust stand.
"Miss Archer," she faltered, "won't you----"
"The subject is closed, Miss Dean. Kindly leave my office." Miss Archer
refused to meet the two pleading eyes that persistently sought hers.
This self-revelation of the girl's guilt had dealt her a hurt which she
could not soon forget. To uncover treachery and dishonesty in a friend
is an experience which carries with it its own bitterness. The very fact
that it is unexpected makes it infinitely harder to bear. Miss Archer's
disappointment in Marjorie was so great as to obscure her usually clear
insight into matters. She had trusted her so implicitly. She felt as
though she could not endure her presence in the office. Now she kept her
gaze resolutely fixed on her desk, nor did she alter it until the echo
of the misjudged lieutenant's light footfalls had entirely died away.