Marjorie Dean, High School Junior

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.

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.

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.”