Loe raamatut: «Marjorie Dean, High School Junior», lehekülg 4

CHAPTER VII – FAITH AND UNFAITH

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.

CHAPTER VIII – FOR THE GOOD OF THE ARMY

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 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.