Back Aa

Grace Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School

<h3>IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT</h3> How examinations loom up on the fatal day, like monstrous obstacles that must be overcome! How the hours slip past, with nothing to break the stillness save the scratching of pens on foolscap paper, while each student draws upon the supply of knowledge stored up during the winter months! A fly buzzes on the window pane; a teacher rises, tiptoes slowly about the room and sits down again. She can do nothing, now, but keep watch on the pairs of drooping shoulders and the tired, flushed faces. Anne was so absorbed in her work that she was oblivious to everything about her. Her pen moved with precision over her paper and her copy was neat and clear. It was the second day of the examinations and she felt that her fate would soon be decided; but she was too tired now to worry. She worked on quietly and steadily. She had almost finished, and, as she answered one question after another, she was more and more buoyed up by the conviction that she would win the prize. Miriam had finished her work. Her impatient nature would not permit her to do anything slowly. As she gave a last flourishing stroke with her pen, she leaned back, looking about her. She smiled contemptuously as her eyes rested on Anne. "What a shabby, slow little creature she is!" Miriam murmured. "It would be a disgrace for a girl like me to be beaten by her. I'll never endure it in the world." It was not long before the girls had all finished and turned in their papers to the teacher in charge. "Oh, glorious happy day!" cried Nora, as she sped joyously down the corridor. "Examinations are over, and now for a good time!" A dozen or more of the freshman class had been invited to Miriam's to a tea to celebrate the close of school. Anne, of course, was not invited; but Grace and her friends had received invitations and promptly accepted them. Grace had taken Nora and Jessica into her confidence to some extent. She needed their help, but she had not mentioned the letter from Anne's father. The three girls met early by appointment, at the Harlowe house, to discuss matters before going to Miriam Nesbit's. "Here's a list of the people in Oakdale," said Nora, "who have bought sandalwood perfume. I have been to four drug stores and all the dry goods stores." Grace took the list and read: "'Mrs. I. Rosenfield, Miss Alice Gwendolyn Jones, Mr. Percival Butz, etc.' Good heavens!" she cried, "there's not a single person on this list who has anything to do with Oakdale High School. Mr. Percival Butz," she laughed. "The idea of a man buying perfume. Really, girls," she added in despair, "we've been wasting our time. I can't see that any of us has made the least headway. I have called on almost every freshman in the class and inquired what her favorite perfume is, and I know some of them thought I was silly. Anyway, not one of them claimed to use sandalwood." "The stupidest girls would be the ones who would be most likely to want to copy the papers," observed Jessica, "but those girls are much too nice to believe such horrid things about. I went to see Ellen Wiggins and Sallie Moore yesterday afternoon. Neither of them use perfume. Sallie Moore told me she had an orris root sachet that had almost lost its scent. Which reminds me," she continued, "why couldn't this handkerchief have been scented by some other means than just perfume. Perhaps it was put into a mouchoir case with sandalwood powder." "Why, of course," exclaimed Grace. "Jessica, I never thought of asking who had been buying sachet powders. You have a great head." "Must I go back and ask all those storekeepers for more lists?" demanded Nora. "No, child," replied Grace. "Just give us time to think first." "It's time to go to Miriam's anyhow," observed Jessica. "Perhaps some sort of inspiration will come on the way," and the three girls set out for the tea party. As they paused to admire the beautiful flower beds on the Nesbit lawn Jessica said: "Have you inquired Miriam's favorite perfume?" "Oh, yes," answered Grace. "She said she liked them all and had no favorites." "Why are all these strange young women breaking into my premises?" demanded a voice behind them. "David Nesbit," cried Grace, "where have you been all this time? You never seem to find the time to come near your old friends any more." "I have been busy, girls," replied David. "Never busier in my life. But I believe I've struck it at last. It will not be long, now, before I turn into a bird." "Oh, do show it to us!" cried Grace. "Where is the model?" "In my workroom," he replied. "If you are very good, and will promise to say nothing to the others, I'll give you a peep this afternoon. When I signal to you from the music room, by sounding three bass notes on the piano, start upstairs and I'll meet you on the landing. You may ask why this mystery? But I know girls, and if all those chattering freshmen are allowed to come into my room they are sure to knock over some of the models, or break something, and I couldn't stand it." The three girls entered the large and imposing drawing room where Miriam, in a beautiful pink mulle, trimmed with filmy lace insertions, received them with unusual cordiality; and presently they all repaired to the dining room where ice cream and strawberries were served with little cakes with pink icing. It was, as a matter of fact, a pink tea, and Miriam's cheeks were as pink as her decorations. She looked particularly excited and happy. Each of the three chums had just swallowed her last and largest strawberry, saved as a final relish, when three low notes sounded softly on the piano in the adjoining room. In the hum of conversation nobody had noticed David's signal except Grace and her friends, who strolled into the music room where he was waiting. "Come along," he said, leading the way up the back stairs, "and please consider this as a special mark of attention from the great inventor who has never yet made anything go. Where's Anne?" "I suppose she is resting," answered Grace. "She had just about reached the end of her strength to-day." "But she'll win the prize, I hope," continued David. "We are all sure of it," answered Grace, in emphatic tones. David opened the door into his own private quarters, which consisted of a large workroom with a laboratory attached, where he had once worked on chemical experiments until he had become interested in flying machines. "Here they are," he exclaimed, walking over to a large table in the workroom. "I have three models, you see, and each one works a little better than the other. This last one, I believe, will do the business." He pointed to a graceful little aeroplane made of bamboo sticks and rice paper. "Isn't it sweet?" exclaimed the girls in unison. "And it has a name, too," continued David unabashed. "I've called her 'Anne,' because, while she's such a small, unpretentious-looking little craft, she can soar to such heights. There is not room here to show you how good she is, but we'll have another gymnasium seance some day soon, Anne must come and see her namesake." "There!" cried Grace in a tone of annoyance. "I have jagged a big place in my dress, David Nesbit, on a nail in your table. Why do you have such things about to destroy people's clothes?" "But nobody who wears dresses ever comes in here," protested David, "except mother and the maid, and they know better than to come near this table. Can't I do something? Glue it together or mend it with a piece of sticking plaster?" "No, indeed," answered the girl. "Just get me a needle and thread, please. I don't want to go downstairs with such a hideous rent in my dress." "Why, of course," assented David. "Why didn't I think of it sooner? Mother will fix you up," and he opened the door into the hall and called "mother!" Mrs. Nesbit came hurrying in. She never waited to be called twice by her son, who was the apple of her eye. "My dear Grace," she exclaimed when she saw the tear, "this is too bad. Come right into my room and I'll mend it for you." So it happened that Grace was presently seated in an armchair in Mrs. Nesbit's bedroom, while the good-natured woman whipped together the jagged edges of the rent. "What a beautiful box you have, Mrs. Nesbit," said Grace, pointing to a large carved box on the dressing table. "Do you like it?" replied the other. "I'm fond of it, probably because I was so happy when I bought it years ago while traveling abroad with my husband. It smells as sweet as it did when it was new," she added, placing the box in Grace's lap. Nora and Jessica, who had been hovering about the room, now came over to see the sweet-scented box. How strangely familiar was that pungent perfume which floated up to them. Where had they smelled it before? "It is made of carved sandalwood," continued Mrs. Nesbit, opening the lid, "and I have always kept my handkerchiefs in it, you see——" "Mother!" called David's voice from the hall, and Mrs. Nesbit left the room for a moment. "Sandalwood!" gasped Grace. Yes, it was the same perfume that now faintly scented the famous handkerchief. There was a pile of handkerchiefs in the box. Grace lifted the top one and sniffed at it. She examined the border carefully and the texture. "It looks like stealing," she whispered, "but I must have this handkerchief. I'll return it afterwards," and she slipped the handkerchief into her belt. Nora and Jessica had exchanged significant glances, while Nora's lips had formed the words, "exactly like the other one." In the meantime Miss Thompson had been closeted with Anne Pierson for half an hour in the principal's office. By special request she had arranged to have Anne's examination papers looked over immediately and sent to her. The papers were therefore the first to receive attention from each teacher, and were then turned over to Miss Thompson, who hurried with them into her office and locked the door behind her. "It would be a pity if they were too perfect," she said to herself. "That would tell very much against Anne, I fear." But, as her eyes ran over them, she shook her head dubiously. They were marvels of neatness and not one cross or written comment marred their perfection. At the foot of each sheet the word "perfect" had been written. Some of the teachers had even added notes stating that no errors of any sort had been found, while one professor had paid Anne the very high compliment of stating that the perfection of her examination papers had not been a surprise. Never in that teacher's experience had he taught a more brilliant pupil. Miss Thompson looked with interest at the algebra papers. If this had not come up, she thought, Miss Leece would certainly have managed to find a flaw somewhere, even if she had had to invent one. But under the circumstances, it was more to that wily woman's purpose to give Anne her due. For Miss Leece knew that a perfect examination paper would tell more against the young girl than for her. It was after this that Miss Thompson had her talk with Anne, a very kindly, interested talk, in which the young girl's prospects, her work and health had all come under consideration. And then in the gentlest possible way Miss Thompson had produced the letter. "Is this yours, Anne?" she asked. Anne started violently. "O Miss Thompson," she cried, making a great effort to keep back her tears, "where did you find it? I spent one entire afternoon here looking for it. It was the very day you and Miss Leece were here." "Oh, you saw us then," replied the principal. "And where were you?" "I was outside on the steps," replied Anne. "Didn't Miss Leece mention it? She looked up and saw me just as you unlocked the door. Then the other door slammed and some one hurried down the passage. I saw her, too, but——" "But what, Anne?" asked the principal slowly. "But I am not sure who it was." "Have you an idea?" "I could only guess from the outline of her figure," replied Anne. "And it wouldn't be fair to tell her name unless I had seen her plainly. It might have been some one else." Anne had a suspicion that something had happened, and that Miss Thompson had brought her here to find out what she knew. But she never dreamed that she herself was under suspicion. One thing had struck Miss Thompson very forcibly. Miss Leece had known all along that Anne was on the staircase at the very moment the other person was slamming the door in their faces. And yet Miss Leece was determined to condemn Anne to the faculty that very night. She had said so in as many words, in defiance of the principal's arguments against such a course. "Well, good night, my child," she said at last, giving Anne a motherly kiss. "You have done a good winter's work and I am proud of you." Anne hurried away, clutching the letter in her hand. She wondered if Miss Thompson had read it, and somehow she didn't mind so much after all. The principal seemed to her the very embodiment of all that was good and kind. Miss Thompson was destined to have several callers that afternoon. In a few moments Grace hurried in, breathless and excited. "Look at that, Miss Thompson," cried the girl, thrusting a handkerchief into her hand. "Look at it and smell it." "Well," replied the principal, "I've seen it before and smelled it before, too. Only you've had it washed and ironed, haven't you!" Grace took a crumpled handkerchief from her pocket. "Here's the real one," she cried triumphantly. The two handkerchiefs were certainly identical in shape and material and both were perfumed with sandalwood. "Where did you get this one?" demanded the principal. "From Mrs. Nesbit's sandalwood handkerchief box," whispered Grace slowly. "You think it was then——?" "Yes," replied Grace. "I'm certain of it. It's as plain as daylight. She borrowed her mother's handkerchief." "Dear, dear!" exclaimed the principal. "How very foolish! How very unnecessary! And all because she couldn't endure to be beaten! Do you know," she continued presently, "that Miss Leece intends to denounce Anne before the faculty to-night? My authority can't stop her, and I don't believe the similarity of these two handkerchiefs will either." "Miss Thompson," exclaimed Grace, "I tell you I know perfectly well that woman is going to try to ruin Anne for the sake of Miriam. I have known it for months. Why, at Mrs. Gray's Christmas party she did a thing that is too outrageous to believe," and here Grace opened a bundle she had brought with her and produced the marionette of James Pierson. Miss Thompson was shocked at the recital of the story. She, too, recognized the green silk tie, although she had no recollection of Miriam's red velveteen suit, a piece of which formed the waistcoat. But there was something about that green silk which stuck in the memory. Probably because it was so ugly, having a semi-invisible yellow line running through it. "Yes," she said, "I remember it very well. It was the trimming on a blouse Miss Leece wore last autumn. I do not believe anyone could forget such a hideous piece of material." Miss Thompson paused a moment and considered. "My dear," she continued presently, "I believe this is all I shall need to confront Miss Leece with. Your bringing it to me at this moment shows most excellent judgment. It may prevent a painful scandal in the school, as well as saving Anne from disgrace. As for the two handkerchiefs, the evidence is too slight to make any open accusations; but at any rate you may leave both with me. I may need them in my interview with Miss Leece. I may as well tell you I am anticipating a pretty stiff battle with her. I don't believe I should have won with only the handkerchiefs." "Oh, I hope we can save Anne, Miss Thompson," cried Grace. "I earnestly hope so, too," replied the principal. "It would be too heart breaking to have the child go down under this false accusation; and aside from that, such scandals are bad for the school and I would rather deal with them privately than have them made public. But run along now, dear. You have done nobly and deserve a prize yourself." A knock was heard, and as Grace departed through one door Miss Leece opened the other. "If Miss Thompson only wins this battle!" the young girl exclaimed to herself. "I want to believe she will, but I know that terrible Miss Leece will make a tremendous fight." She joined her friends, who were waiting for her outside. "Girls," she cried, "pray for Anne to-night!" Nora, good little Catholic that she was, went straight to her church and burned two candles before the altar of the Holy Virgin, while she offered up a humble petition for Anne's deliverance; while Grace and Jessica, in their own bedrooms, that night prayed reverently and earnestly that Anne might be saved from her enemies. Thus were Anne's three devoted friends working and praying for her while she slept the sleep of exhaustion. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.