Kitabı oku: «Marjorie Dean, High School Junior», sayfa 3
“Where were you that last period?” demanded Jerry Macy, coming up behind her as she stood at the mirror adjusting her rose-weighted hat.
“Oh, Jerry! How you startled me.” Marjorie swung about. “I was up in Miss Archer’s office.”
“So soon?” teased Jerry, putting on a shocked expression. “I am surprised.”
“Don’t be so suspicious,” responded Marjorie, adopting Jerry’s bantering tone. “I had a note, if you please, from Captain, to deliver to Miss Archer. I saw the new secretary, too.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Jerry. “You must have only thought you saw her. So far as I know Miss Archer hasn’t secured a secretary yet.”
“But she must have,” Marjorie insisted. “There was a tall girl in her office when I went there. She must surely be the girl to take Marcia’s place, for she was standing at Miss Archer’s desk, going over some papers.”
“That’s funny. What did she look like? You said she was tall?”
“Yes; tall and very pretty. She had big, black eyes and perfectly gorgeous auburn hair – ” Marjorie broke off with a puzzled frown. Her own words had a curious reminiscent ring. Someone else had said the very same thing about – Who had said it, and about whom had it been said?
“Now I know you didn’t see Miss Archer’s new secretary,” cried Jerry in triumph. “There’s only one person that can answer to your description. She’s that Rowena Farnham I told you about, Mignon’s side partner. I told you she was going to enter the sophomore class. She was probably waiting for Miss Archer herself. She has to try her exams, I suppose.”
“But what was she doing at Miss Archer’s desk?” asked Marjorie sharply. “Why did she answer me and make me think she was the secretary? She told several other girls that Miss Archer was out!”
“Search me,” replied Jerry inelegantly. “If she’s much like Mignon it’s hard to tell what she was up to. Believe me, they’re a precious pair of trouble-makers and don’t you forget it.”
“I ought to have recognized her,” faltered Marjorie. A curious sense of dread had stolen over her. “Don’t you remember Mary described her almost as I did just now, that day you came to see us, when first you got back to Sanford?”
“Well, nobody’s going to kill you because you didn’t, are they?” inquired Jerry with a grin. “What’s the matter? What makes you look so solemn?”
“Oh, I was just wondering,” evaded Marjorie. Outwardly only slightly ruffled, tumult raged within. She had begun to see clearly what had hitherto been obscure and the revelation was a severe shock. All she could hope was that what she now strongly suspected might not, after all, be true.
CHAPTER V – A STORMY INTERVIEW
Marjorie returned to school that afternoon in a most perturbed state of mind, occasioned by Jerry Macy’s identification of Rowena Farnham as the girl whom she had assisted in the working out of the problem in quadratic equations. She was now almost certain that she had unwittingly assisted in a most dishonest enterprise. If the papers on Miss Archer’s desk comprised the trial examination to sophomore estate, then Rowena had no doubt been guilty of tampering with what should concern her only at the moment when the test began. If they were the sophomore examination papers, why had Miss Archer left them thus exposed on her desk? And now what was she, Marjorie, to do about it? She felt that when she delivered her mother’s note to Miss Archer, she ought to inform the principal of what had occurred during her absence. Yet she hated to do this. It was tale bearing. Besides, her suspicions might prove unfounded.
She was still juggling the trying situation when she entered Miss Archer’s office to deliver her captain’s note. Should she speak of it or not? The fact that Miss Archer was now accessible but extremely busy, with several girls occupying the office benches, caused her to put off her decision for a time. She stopped only long enough to receive a kindly welcome from the principal and to perform her mission as messenger. Then she went dejectedly to her recitation in civil government, wondering resentfully if the event of the morning was the beginning of an unpleasant year.
By a determined effort of will, Marjorie put the whole thing aside to attend strictly to her recitations. But during the study hour that preceded dismissal for the day, a way of settling the difficulty presented itself to her. It was not an agreeable way, but her straightforward soul welcomed it as a means toward settlement. She was resolved to seek Rowena Farnham and learn the truth. The question of where to find her was next to be considered. She had not yet made an appearance into the study hall. Doubtless she was in the little recitation room on the second floor that was seldom used except in the case of pupils with special examinations to try. Marjorie mused darkly as to whether the problem she had obligingly solved would figure in Rowena’s algebra paper.
Half-past three saw Marjorie on her way to the locker room, keeping a sharp lookout for a tall figure crowned with luxuriant auburn hair. Her vigilance met with no reward, however, and she left the school building in company with Irma, Jerry, Constance and Susan, deliberating as to what she had best do next. Outside the high school she caught no glimpse of her quarry among the throng of girls that came trooping down the wide stone steps. Although she took part in her friends’ animated conversation, she was steadily thinking of the self-imposed task that lay before her.
“Let’s go down to Sargent’s,” proposed Susan, gleefully jingling a handful of silver that clinked of sundaes and divers delicious cheer.
“You girls go. I can’t. I’ve an errand to do.” Marjorie’s color rose as she spoke.
“Do your errand some other time,” coaxed Susan. “I may not have any money to spend to-morrow.”
“I’ll treat to-morrow,” Marjorie assured her. “I can’t possibly put off my errand. You can imagine I’m with you. Always cultivate your imagination.”
Four voices rose to protest her decision, but she remained firm. “To-morrow,” she compromised. “Please don’t tease me. I can’t really go with you to-day.”
“We’ll try to get along without you, just this once,” agreed tactful Constance. Something in Marjorie’s manner told her that her friend wished to go on her way alone.
“Go ahead then, Marjorie. Do your errand, faithful child,” consented Jerry, who had also scented the unusual and shrewdly speculated as to whether it had anything to do with their conversation of the morning.
Anxious, yet regretful, to be free of her chums, Marjorie said good-bye and hurried off in an opposite direction. Jerry had said that the Farnhams lived in the beautiful residence that adjoined Mignon La Salle’s home. It was not a long walk, yet how Marjorie dreaded it. Given that Rowena were at home, Mignon would, perhaps, be with her. That would make matters doubly hard. Yet she could do no less than carry out the interview she felt must take place at the earliest possible moment.
It was a very grave little girl who opened the ornamental iron gate and proceeded reluctantly up the long driveway to the huge brown stone house, set in the midst of a wide expanse of tree-dotted lawn. For all the residence was a magnificent affair, Marjorie shivered as she mounted the massive stone steps. There was little of the atmosphere of home about it.
“Is Miss Rowena Farnham here?” was her low-voiced question of the white-capped maid who answered the door.
“She hasn’t come home from school yet, miss,” informed the maid. “Will you step into the house and wait for her?”
“Yes, thank you.” Marjorie followed the woman into a high-ceilinged, beautifully appointed, square hall and across it to a mammoth drawing-room, very handsomely furnished, but cheerless, nevertheless. She felt very small and insignificant as she settled herself lightly on an ornate gilt chair, to await the arrival of Rowena.
Her vigil was destined to be tedious, unbroken by the sight of anyone save the maid, who passed through the hall once or twice on her way to answer the bell. Even she did not trouble herself to glance through the half-parted brocade portieres at the lonely little figure in the room beyond. Consulting her wrist watch, Marjorie read five o’clock. She had been waiting for over an hour. She guessed that the girl on whom she had come to call must be with Mignon La Salle. There was at least a grain of comfort for her in this conjecture. If Mignon were at home now, there was small chance that she would be present at the interview.
An impatient hand on the bell sent a shrill, reverberating peal through the great house. An instant and she heard the maid’s voice, carefully lowered. There came the sound of quick, questioning tones, which she recognized. Rowena had at last put in an appearance. Immediately there followed a flinging back of the concealing portieres and the girl who had sprung into Marjorie’s knowledge so unbecomingly that morning walked into the room.
“You wished to see – Oh, it’s you!” The tall girl’s black eyes swept her uninvited guest with an expression far from cordial.
“Yes, it is I,” Marjorie’s inflection was faintly satirical. “I made a mistake about you this morning. I thought you were Miss Archer’s new secretary.” She lost no time in going directly to the point.
For answer Rowena threw back her auburn head and laughed loudly. “I fooled you nicely, didn’t I?” According to outward signs her conscience was apparently untroubled.
“Yes,” returned Marjorie quietly. “Why did you do it?”
Rowena’s laughing lips instantly took on a belligerent curve. The very evenness of the inquiry warned her that trouble was brewing for her. “See here,” she began rudely, “what did you come to my house for? I’m not pleased to see you. Judging from several things I’ve heard, I don’t care to know you.”
Marjorie paled at the rebuff. She had half expected it, yet now that it had come she did not relish it. At first meeting she had been irritated by the other girl’s almost rude indifference. Now she had dropped all semblance of courtesy.
“I hardly think it matters about your knowing or not knowing me,” she retorted in the same carefully schooled tone. “You, of course, are the one to decide that. What does matter is this – I must ask you to tell me exactly why you wished me to work out that quadratic problem for you. It is quite necessary that I should know.”
“Why is it so necessary?”
“Because I must believe one of two things,” was Marjorie’s grave response. “I must have the truth. I won’t be kept in the dark about it. Either you only pretended to play secretary as a rather peculiar joke, or else you did it purposely because – ” She hesitated, half ashamed to accuse the other of dishonesty.
“What will you do if I say I did it on purpose?” tantalized Rowena. “Go to your Miss Archer, I suppose, with a great tale about me. I understand that is one of your little pastimes. Now listen to me, and remember what I say. You think I was prying into those examination papers, don’t you?”
“I’d rather not think so.” Marjorie raised an honest, appealing glance to meet the mocking gleam of Rowena’s black eyes.
“Who cares what you think? You are a goody-goody, and I never saw one yet that I’d walk across the street with. Whatever I want, I always get. Remember that, too. If your dear Miss Archer hadn’t been called to another part of the building, I might never have had a chance to read over those examinations. She went away in a hurry and left me sitting in the office. Naturally, as her desk was open, I took a look to see what there was to see. I wasn’t afraid of any subject but algebra. I’m n. g. in that. So I was pretty lucky to get a chance to read over the examination. I knew right away by the questions that it was the one I’d have to try.
“My father promised me a pearl necklace if I’d pass all my tests for the sophomore class. Of course I wanted to win it. That quadratic problem counted thirty credits. It meant that without it I’d stand no chance to pass algebra. I couldn’t do it, and I was in despair when you came into the office. If you hadn’t been so stupid as to take me for Miss Archer’s secretary and hadn’t said you were a junior, I’d have let you alone. That secretary idea wasn’t bad, though. It sent those other girls about their business. I thought you could do that problem if I couldn’t. It’s a good thing you did. I copied it in examination this afternoon and I know it’s right,” she ended triumphantly.
Sheer amazement of the girl’s bold confession rendered Marjorie silent. Never in all her life had she met a girl like Rowena Farnham. Her calm admittance to what Marjorie had suspected was unbelievable. And she appeared to feel no shame for her dishonesty. She gloried in it. Finding her voice at last, the astounded and dismayed interviewer said with brave firmness: “I can’t look at this so lightly, Miss Farnham. It wasn’t fair in you to deceive me into doing a thing like that.”
“What’s done can’t be undone,” quoted Rowena, seemingly undisturbed by the reproof. “You are as deep in the mud as I am in the mire. You helped me, you know.”
“I will not be included in such dishonesty.” Marjorie sprang angrily to her feet and faced Rowena. “If Miss Archer knew this she would not accept your algebra paper. She might not wish to accept you as a pupil, either. I hoped when I came here this afternoon that everything would turn out all right, after all. I hoped that paper might not be the algebra test you were to have. I don’t wish to tell Miss Archer, yet it’s not fair to either of us that you should masquerade under false colors. You have put me in a very hard position.”
It was now Rowena who grew angry. During the interview she had remained standing, looking down on the girl in the chair with amused contempt. Marjorie’s flash of resentment unleashed a temper that had ever been the despair of Rowena’s father and mother. Her dark eyes glowed like live coals, her tall, slender body shook with fury. “If you dare go to Miss Archer with what I’ve told you, I’ll put you in a much harder position. I’ll make you lose every friend you have in school. I know all about you. You’ve bullied and snubbed poor Mignon La Salle and made her lose her friends. But you can’t bully or threaten or snub me. I didn’t want to come to Sanford to live. It’s nothing but a little, silly country town. I didn’t want to go to your old school. My father and mother make me go. My father doesn’t believe in select boarding schools, so I have to make the best of it. If I pass my examinations into the sophomore class I’ll make it my business to see that I get whatever I take a notion to have. You can’t stop me. I’ve always done as I pleased at home and I’ll do as I please in school. If you tell Miss Archer about this morning, I’ll see that you get more blame than I. Don’t forget that, either.”
Marjorie felt as though she had been caught in a pelting rain of hail-stones. Yet the furious flow of vituperation which beat down upon her did not in the least intimidate her. “I am not afraid of anything you may do or say,” she returned, a staunch little figure of dignified scorn. “I came to see you in all good faith, willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Now that I understand exactly how you feel about this affair, I won’t trouble you further. Good afternoon.”
“Stop! What are you going to do?” called Rowena. Marjorie had already passed into the hall. “You’ve got to tell me before you leave this house.” She darted after her steadily retreating caller, cheeks flaming.
At the outer door, Marjorie paused briefly, her hand on the dead latch. “I said ‘good afternoon,’” was her sole response. Then she let herself out and walked proudly away from the house of inhospitality, oblivious to the torrent of hot words which the irate Rowena shrieked after her from the veranda.
CHAPTER VI – A QUESTION OF SCHOOL-GIRL HONOR
“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.
