DISGRACE
"Will the young gentleman or lady who built the snow-woman that stood on
the school grounds yesterday morning go at once to my office?"
Dr. Caton's tone was very even; he might have been asking the owner of
some lost article to step up and claim it, but each word cut like a
sharp-edged knife deep into poor Jerry Travis' heart.
She sat in the sixth row; that meant that, to reach that distant door,
she must face almost the entire school! Her eyes were downcast and her
lips were pressed together in a thin, bluish line. She heard a low
murmur from every side. Above it her steps seemed to fall in a heavy,
echoing thud.
Not one of the Ravens dared look at poor Jerry; each wondered at her
courage, each felt in her own heart that had the unlucky slip fallen to
_her_ lot she could never have done as well as Jerry had----
Then, instinctively, curious eyes sought for Ginny Cox--Ginny, who had
been unjustly accused by her schoolmates. But Ginny at that moment was
huddled in her bed under warm blankets with a hot-water-bag at her feet
and an ice-bag on her head, her worried mother fluttering over her with
a clinical thermometer in one hand and a castor-oil bottle in the other,
wishing she could diagnose Ginny's queer symptoms and wondering if she
had not ought to call in the doctor!
Jerry had had a bad night, too. At home, in her room, Gyp's eloquent
arguments had seemed to lose some of their force. Jerry persisted in
seeing complications in the course that had fallen to her lot.
"It's acting a lie," she protested.
"The cause justifies _that_," cried Gyp, sweepingly. "Anyway, I don't
believe Dr. Caton will be half as hard on you as he would have been on
Ginny Cox. It's your first offence and you can act real sorry."
"How can I act real sorry when I haven't _done_ anything?" wailed Jerry.
"You'll _have_ to--you must pretend. The harder it is the nobler your
sacrifice will be. And some day everyone will know what you did for the
honor of the school and future generations will----"
"And I was trying so hard for the Lincoln Award!" Real tears sprang to
Jerry's eyes.
"Oh, you can work harder than ever and win it in spite of this,"
comforted Gyp, who truly believed Jerry could do anything.
"And I can't play on the hockey team in the inter-class match this
week!"
"Of _course_ it's hard, Jerry." Gyp did not want to listen to much
more--her own conviction might weaken. "But nothing matters except the
match with South High. _That's_ why you're doing it! Now if you want to
just back out and bring shame upon the Ravens as well as dishonor to the
school--all right! Only--I've told Ginny."
"I'll do it," answered Jerry, falteringly. But long after Gyp had gone
off into dreamless slumber she lay, wide-eyed, trying to picture this
sudden and unpleasant experience that confronted her. Her whole life up
to that moment when, in Mr. John's automobile, she had whirled around
her mountain, bound for a world of dreams, had been so simple, so
entirely free from any tangles that could not be straightened out, in a
moment, by "Sweetheart" that her bewilderment, now, made her lonely and
homesick for Sunnyside and her mother's counsel. The glamour of her new
life, happy though it was, lifted as a curtain might lift, and revealed,
in the eerie darkness of the night, startling contrasts--the rush and
thronging of the city life against the peaceful quiet of Jerry's
mountain. It was so easy, back there, Jerry thought, to just know at
_once_, what was right and what was wrong; there were no uncertain
demands upon one's loyalty to the little old school in the Notch--one
had only to learn one's lesson and that was all; even in her play back
there there had not been any of the fierce joy of competition she had
learned at Highacres!
And mother, with wonderful wisdom, had brought her so close to God and
had taught her to understand His Love and His Anger. Jerry dug her face
deep into her pillow. Wouldn't God forgive a lie that was for the honor
of the school? Wouldn't He know how Ginny was needed as forward on the
Lincoln team? It was a perplexing thought. Jerry told herself, with a
sense of shame, that she had really not thought much about God since she
had come to the Westleys. She had gone each Sunday with the others to
the great, dim, vaulted church, but she had thought about the artists
who had designed the beautiful colored saints in the windows and about
the pealing music of the organ and not about God or what the minister
was saying. Back home she had always, in church, sat between her mother
and the little window where through the giant pines she could see a
stretch of blue sky broken by a misty mountain-top; when one could see
that and smell the pine and hear, above the drone of the preacher's
voice, the clear note of a bird, one could feel very close to the God
who had made this wonderful, beautiful world and had put that sweet note
in the throat of a little winging creature.
Then Gyp's words taunted her. "You can back out--if you want to!" Oh,
no--she would not do that--now; she would not be a coward, she would see
it through; she would measure up to the challenge, let it cost what it
might she would hold the honor of the school--_her_ school (she said it
softly) above all else!
Jerry had never been severely punished in her life; as she sat very
quietly in Dr. Caton's office waiting for assembly to end she wondered,
with a quickening curiosity, what it would seem like. Anyway, _nothing_
could be worse than having to walk out of the room before all those
staring boys and girls.
But Jerry found that something _was_! Barbara Lee came into the room,
looking surprised, disappointed and unhappy.
"Jerry," she exclaimed, "I can't believe it."
Jerry wanted to cry out the truth--it wasn't fair. Miss Lee sat down
next to her.
"If you had to make fun of someone, why _didn't_ you pick out me--anyone
but poor little Miss Gray! I think that if you knew how unhappy and--and
_drab_ poor Miss Gray's life has been, how for years she had to pinch
and save and deny herself all the little pleasures of life in order to
care for her mother who was a helpless invalid, you'd be sorry you had
in the smallest measure added any to her unhappiness."
"I wouldn't hurt her feelings for the world," burst out Jerry. Did she
not know more about poor little Miss Gray than did even Barbara Lee?
"Then _why_----" But at this dangerous moment Dr. Caton walked into the
room.
Jerry's sentence was very simple. She listened with downcast eyes. She
was to lose all school privileges for a week; during that time she must
occupy a desk in the office, she must eat her lunch alone at this desk,
she must not share in any of the school activities until the end of
suspension. She must apologize to Miss Gray.
In Jerry's punishment there was an element of novelty that softened its
sting. It was very easy to apologize to Miss Gray, partly because she
was really innocent and partly because a fresh bunch of violets adorned
Miss Gray's desk toward which Jerry had contributed thirty-four cents.
Then a message from the Ravens was spirited to her.
You're _wonderful_! We're proud of you. Keep up your nerve. Blessed
is the lot of the martyr when for honor he has suffered.
The Ravens.
P. S. Coming out of history I heard Dana King say to another boy
that he didn't believe you did it at _all_--that you are shielding
SOME ONE else!
Your Adoring Gyp.
Too, Jerry found the office a most interesting place. No one glanced
toward her corner and she could quietly watch everything that happened.
And on the second day Uncle Johnny "happened"--in a breezy fashion,
coming over and pinching her cheek. Uncle Johnny did not know of her
disgrace; by tacit agreement not a word of it had been breathed at home.
Dr. Caton, annoyed and disapproving, crisply intimated why Jerry was
there. Uncle Johnny tried to make his lips look serious but his eyes
danced. Over Dr. Caton's bald head he winked at Jerry.
Uncle Johnny had come to Highacres to talk over some plans for an
enclosed hockey rink. For various reasons, of which he was utterly
unconscious, he was enjoying "mixing" school interests with the demands
of his business. He lingered for half an hour in the office, talking,
while Jerry watched the back of his brown head and broad shoulders.
Before leaving he walked over to her corner.
"My dear child," he began in a severe tone. He leaned over Jerry so that
Dr. Caton could not hear what he said. A trustee had privileges!
"I wouldn't give a cent for a colt that never kicked over the traces!"
Which, if Jerry had really been guilty of any offence, would have been
very demoralizing. But she was not and she watched Uncle Johnny go out
of the room with a look of adoration in her eyes.
A sense of reward came to Jerry, too, when Ginny Cox returned to school.
Having fully recovered from the funk that had laid her, shivering and
feverish, in bed, that first day she came back in gayer spirits than
ever, declaring to many that she thought Miss Gray a "pill" to make such
a fuss over just a little joke and, to a few, that it was fine in Jerry
to shoulder the blame so that she might play in the game against South
High. But her gaiety covered the first real embarrassment she had ever
suffered, for Ginny, who had always, because of her peculiar charm,
coming from a sense of humor, a hail-fellow spirit, an invariable
geniality and an amazing facility in all athletics, exacted a slavish
devotion from her schoolmates, and was accustomed to dispense favors
among them, hated now to accept, even from Jerry, a very, very great
one! And Jerry sensed the humility that this embarrassment called into
being.
Ginny waylaid Jerry going home from school. Jerry was carefully living
up to the terms of her "sentence"; each day, directly after the close of
school, she walked home alone.
"Jerry, I--I haven't had a chance to tell you--oh, what a _peach_ you
are," Ginny's words came awkwardly; she knew that they did not in any
way express what she ought to be saying.
Jerry did not want Ginny's gratitude. She answered honestly: "I didn't
want to do it. I _had_ to--I drew the unlucky slip, you see. And you
were needed on the team."
"It's all so mixed up and not a bit right. Can I walk along with you?
Who'd ever have thought that just building that silly snow-woman would
have made all this fuss!"
"Dr. Caton says thoughtlessness always breeds inconsiderateness and
inconsiderateness develops selfishness, selfishness undermines good
fellowship and good fellowship is the foundation of the spirit of
Lincoln," quoted Jerry in a voice so exactly like Dr. Caton's that both
girls laughed.
"He's dead right," answered Ginny, with her characteristic bluntness. "I
just wanted to amuse the others and make them think I was awfully clever
and that was plain outright conceit and selfishness. I guess that's the
way I do most things. Well, I've learned a lesson. And there isn't
anything I wouldn't do for you, Jerry Travis. If I don't play better
basketball Friday night than I ever have in my life, well, you can walk
all over me like dirt." There was a humble ring in Ginny's voice that
had surely never sounded there before!
But the hard part of Jerry's punishment came when the others, without
her, trooped off to the game against South High, the blue and gold
colors of Lincoln tied on their arms. It promised to be the most
exciting game of the season; if Lincoln could defeat South High it would
win the Interschool cup.
There had, alas, to be practiced a little more deception to explain why
Jerry remained at home. Gyp had announced that Jerry had a headache and
Mrs. Westley had been much concerned--Jerry, who never had an ache or a
pain! She had gone to Jerry's room, had tucked her in bed and had sat by
the side of the bed gently smoothing Jerry's guilty forehead.
"When I get through this I'll never, never tell a lie for anybody or
anything," vowed Jerry in her heart, as she writhed under the loving
touch.
Two hours later Gyp tiptoed to her door, opened it softly and peeped in.
Jerry, expecting her, sat bolt upright. Gyp bounded to the exact centre
of the bed.
"We _won_! We _won_! But, oh, _Jerry_, it was a squeak! Honest to
goodness, my heart isn't beating right _yet_. _Tied_, Jerry--at the
half. Then Muff Bowling on the South High made two spliffy baskets--they
were _great_, even if she made 'em! Our girls acted as though they were
just dummies, but didn't they wake up? You should have seen their
passing _then_. Why, honest, Midge Fielding was _everywhere_! Caught a
high ball and passed it _under_--before you could _wink_! And, oh,
Ginny--_she_ was _possessed_. She could make that basket _anywhere_.
And, _listen_, Jerry, with _only two minutes more to play_ if they
didn't make _another_ and then Ginny _fell_--_flat_, Jerry, with the
South High guard _right on her chest_ and her wrist doubled under
her--and she got up like a _flash_ and her face was as white as that
sheet--and _she made a basket_! _And we won!_" And Gyp, drawing a long,
exultant breath, dropped her chin on her knees.
"Did--did they all cheer, then, for Ginny?"
"I should _say_ so." With a long yawn Gyp uncurled her legs. "I'm dead.
I'm going to bed." She turned toward the door. "Oh, say, I most forgot.
Ginny told me to tell you that the reason she played the way she did
to-night was 'cause she kept thinking of you and what you'd done for her
and she wanted to prove that she was worth it. Ginny _is_ a good sort,
isn't she?"