Marjorie could never quite recall the details of that dreadful walk
home. Only once before in her short life had she been so utterly
crushed. That was on the day she had rushed from the little gray house,
believing that her beloved Constance was a thief. Now it came back to
her with force. Just as she had felt on that terrible afternoon, so must
Miss Archer be feeling now. Miss Archer thought that she, Marjorie Dean,
was unworthy to be a pupil of Sanford High. "If only Miss Archer had
listened to me," surged through her troubled brain as she walked the
seemingly endless road home. What would Captain and General say?
Yet with this thought a gleam of daylight pierced the dark. Her Captain
already knew all. She knew her daughter to be innocent of wrongdoing.
General would believe in her, too. They would not see her thus disgraced
without a hearing. She would yet be able to prove to Miss Archer that
she was blameless of such dishonesty.
"Well, well!" She had mounted the steps of her home when a cheery voice
thus called out to her. The next instant she was in her father's arms.
Delight in seeing him, coupled with all she had just undergone, broke
down the difficult composure she had managed to maintain while in Miss
Archer's presence. With a little sob, Marjorie threw herself into her
father's arms, pillowing her curly head against his comforting shoulder.
"My dear child, what has happened?" Mrs. Dean regarded her daughter's
shaking shoulders with patient anxiety as she cried out the startled
question.
"There, there, Lieutenant." Mr. Dean gathered the weeping girl close in
his protecting arms. "Surely you aren't crying because your worthy
general has come home?"
"No-o-o," came the muffled protest. "I'm--glad. It's--not--that.
I've--been--suspended--from--school."
"What!" Mr. Dean raised the weeper's head from his shoulders and gazed
deep into the overflowing brown eyes.
"It's true," gulped Marjorie. "I'm not--to--blame--though. It's
all--a--misunderstanding."
"Then we'll straighten it out," soothed Mr. Dean. "Come, now. You and
Captain and I will go into the living room and sit right down on the
nice comfy davenport. Then you can wail your troubles into our
sympathetic ears. Your superior officers will stand by you. You take one
arm, Captain, and I'll take the other."
Resigning herself to the guidance of those who loved her best, Marjorie
suffered herself to be led into the living room and deposited on the
friendly davenport, a solicitous parent on either side.
"You're wonderful, both of you," she sighed, possessing herself of a
hand of each. Her brief gust of grief had spent itself. Her voice was
now almost steady.
Mrs. Dean had already made a shrewd guess regarding the reason for
Marjorie's tears. "Is that affair of yesterday responsible for your
suspension from school, Lieutenant?" she questioned abruptly.
"Yes." With an occasional quaver in her speech, Marjorie went over the
details of both visits to the principal's office.
"Hm!" ejaculated Mr. Dean, his eyes seeking his wife's. "Suppose you
tell your general the beginning of all this."
"It strikes me that Miss Archer behaved in a a rather high-handed
manner," he observed dryly when Marjorie had ended her sad little story.
"I can't blame her so much." Marjorie was loyal to the death. "I know
just how terribly it must have hurt her. I suppose I should have told
her everything in the first place."
Mrs. Dean released Marjorie's hand and rose from the davenport, intense
determination written on every feature. "Miss Archer will listen to
_me_," she announced grimly. "I shall go to Sanford High School at once.
My daughter is entitled to justice and she shall receive it. I am
surprised at Miss Archer's unfair attitude. Go upstairs and bathe your
face, Marjorie. General, will you see to the car?"
"But she won't see me, I am afraid."
"Nonsense," returned her mother with unusual brusqueness. Stepping into
the hall, she consulted the telephone directory. "Give me Sycamore 213,"
she called into the transmitter. "Miss Archer? This is Mrs. Dean.
Marjorie has just come from school. I am sure you will accept my word
that she has done nothing dishonest. Will it be convenient for you to
see us at once? Thank you. We will be at the high school within the next
half hour."
During the short telephone conversation, Marjorie stood at her mother's
side, hardly daring to breathe. Mrs. Dean hung up the receiver to the
accompaniment of her daughter's wild embrace. "Go and make yourself
presentable," she chided. Disengaging the clinging arms, she gave
Marjorie a gentle shove toward the stairs.
Youth's tears are quickly dried, its sorrows soon forgotten. Ten minutes
afterward, a radiant-faced lieutenant presented herself in the hall,
renewed buoyancy in her step as she and her captain passed through the
gate to where the automobile awaited them with Mr. Dean at the wheel.
"I'll stay here," he decided as they drew up before the high school.
"Let our valiant captain lead the charge. You can fall back on your
reserves if you are routed with slaughter."
"Captain's won half the battle," joyfully declared Marjorie. "Now I am
sure I can win the other half." Blowing a kiss to her father she set her
face toward vindication.
Miss Archer greeted Mrs. Dean in a friendly, impersonal fashion, which
showed plainly that she was not displeased with the latter for taking
such prompt action. Her bow to Marjorie was distinctly reserved,
however. She had yet to be convinced of the girl's innocence.
"According to Marjorie's story, Miss Archer," began Mrs. Dean with
gentle directness, "she has been the victim of circumstantial evidence.
I am not here to criticize your stand in this affair. I understand that
you must have been severely tried. I merely wish to ask you to allow
Marjorie to tell her story from beginning to end. She came to me
yesterday with it, and asked my advice. I deferred decision until
to-day. It seems I was a day too late. However, I wish her to do the
explaining."
A faint, embarrassed flush stole to Miss Archer's face as she listened.
She was beginning to realize that she had for once been too quick to
condemn. Mrs. Dean was too high-principled a woman to attempt to smooth
over her own child's offences. Under the battery of her friend's clear
eyes, the principal found herself penitently responding: "Mrs. Dean, I
must admit that I am at fault. Had I stopped to listen to Marjorie, I am
now certain that I should have found her explanation satisfactory."
"Thank you." Mrs. Dean extended a gracious hand in which the principal
laid her own with a smile. The two women understood each other
perfectly.
Marjorie's sensitive lips quivered as Miss Archer's hand went out to her
also. "I am only too glad to be able to apologize for misjudging you,
Marjorie," she said with grave gentleness. "The truest atonement which I
can make is to say 'I believe in you' without a hearing."
"But I wish to tell you everything, Miss Archer," assured Marjorie
earnestly. "It was only because I hated the idea of tale-bearing that I
didn't tell you this morning. I thought that Miss Farnham----"
"Would tell me," supplemented the principal. "I quite understand.
Frankly it would help me very much if you put me in complete possession
of the facts of the case. I hardly believe you owe it to Miss Farnham to
conceal anything."
With a charitable striving toward placing the other girl in the least
obnoxious light, Marjorie gave Miss Archer a true but unmalicious
version of all that had passed between herself and Rowena Farnham.
"This is simply outrageous," was Miss Archer's emphatic verdict. "Miss
Farnham is a menace to Sanford High School. In all my experience with
young women I have never met with her equal. I shall recommend the Board
that she be not allowed to enter the school. A firebrand such as she has
shown herself to be is more than likely to spread her devastating
influence throughout the school. We have a duty to perform to the
parents who intrust their daughters to us which cannot be overlooked."
"I agree with you," was Mrs. Dean's grave response. "Still, I am very
sorry for this girl, and for her parents. We all wish to be proud of our
children. It must be dreadful to be disappointed in them."
"You, at least, will never be called upon to bear such a
disappointment." Miss Archer's hearty reply caused an exchange of
affectionate glances between her hearers.
"I hope I shall always prove worthy of Captain's and your trust."
Marjorie's little speech rung with modest sincerity. Hesitatingly she
added: "Miss Archer, couldn't you possibly give Miss Farnham another
chance? When I was at her house the other day she said that her father
and mother wanted her to go to high school. She'd rather go to boarding
school, but they won't let her. If she isn't allowed to enter Sanford
High she will have to go away to school. That might not be the best
thing for her." Marjorie paused, blushing at her own temerity.
"You are a very forgiving little girl." Miss Archer eyed the pleader in
a whimsical fashion. "There is a great deal in your view of the matter,
too. It is a question of one girl's parents against many, however. So
far as I can remember this is the first case in the history of the
school that warranted dismissal. As you have been the chief sufferer in
this tangle, your plea for clemency should be respected. It shall be
mentioned to the members of the Board of Education. That is all I can
promise now. Personally, as _you_ are great-spirited enough to plead for
her, I am willing to do my part. But only on your account. I doubt the
advisability of allowing her to go on with her examinations. However,
'forewarned is forearmed.' Should she be permitted to enter the school,
I shall keep a watchful eye on her."
Real admiration of Marjorie's readiness to help one who had treated her
so shabbily caused the principal to speak as confidentially to her pupil
as she might have to a member of the Board. Marjorie, as well as her
mother, was aware of this. Yet far from being elated at the mark of
confidence, the pretty junior bore her honors almost humbly. She merely
thanked Miss Archer in the sweet, gracious fashion that set her apart
from all other girls with whom the principal had come in contact during
her long service on the field of education.
Almost immediately afterward the Deans said farewell and departed
happily to convey the good news to their somewhat impatient chauffeur,
who sat in the automobile pondering whimsically on the length and
breadth of women's chats. Long after they had gone, Marjorie's winsome,
selfless personality haunted the busy principal. To be truly great one
must be truly good was her inner reflection. Remembering past
circumstances in which Marjorie had figured ever as a force for good,
she marveled that she could have doubted her. And as a vision of the
girl's lovely face, animated by the light from within, rose before her
she mentally prophesied that Marjorie Dean was destined one day to reach
the heights.