Directlyacross the hall from Blue Bonnet Ashe roomed two girls—Angela Dare and Patricia Payne, the latter better known to her schoolmates as "Patty."
Angela Dare was the pride and hope of the school. She was unusually gifted in English, and gave promise of doing something brilliant in verse. She had the face and temperament of a poet—even the name—if names count for anything; for, as Ruth Biddle once said, "a lovely poem wouldn't look half so good with Susie Simpkins signed to it as Angela Dare!"
Angela had large blue eyes, as serene as a summer's day, and oddly translucent. Her head with its crown of yellow hair was charming in contour, and her face, ivory in coloring, gave her an ethereal, lily-like appearance, distinctive and unusual. She lived in a world of her own, which was satisfying and all absorbing.
It was Deborah Watts, practical and efficient, who one day found Angela in the heart of the Boston shopping district, wending her way through thebusy throng, eyes heavenward, her gaze transfixed and rapturous.
"Angela—Angela Dare!" Deborah Watts said, "what are you doing? You'll be killed in all this traffic. Look where you're going. Have you any money? Do you know where you are?"
To all of these questions Angela shook her head in a dazed fashion and burst into tears, because Deborah had spoiled a poem upon which she had been working for hours.
"I almost had it, Deborah, and it was so good. Quite the best thing I've done this year. It went like this:"
Again the gaze sought the skies but the lips faltered.
"Oh, Deborah; now see what you've done! I can't get it! I never shall be able to again—not just that way, and it was so pretty—a sonnet. The lines were in three quatrains and a couplet, with the climax in the octave—you—oh, I'm so annoyed at you."
And it is recorded that the next minute Angela was steeped in regret—- not for the lost verse, but because of her ingratitude and rudeness to Wee, by which it will be seen that she had all the eccentricity of genius, combined with rare kindness of heart, a combination that endeared her to teachers and pupils.
Patty Payne was Angela's balance wheel—arudder that safely steered her through tides and winds. Patty was the complement of Angela; a perfect foil in every way. To begin with, Patty was dark. She had snapping black eyes that could grow as soft and luminous as stars under the right conditions. She had cheeks like a winter apple, so soft and ruddy were they, and she was the president of the athletic association. She adored Angela in a splendid wholesome way; respecting her talent, her amiability, her spiritual nature—qualities negligible in Patty's own make up.
Angela's and Patty's room was known, for some reason, possibly because of Angela's name and temperament, as the "Angel's Retreat."
It was in the "Angel's Retreat" at four-thirty o'clock in the afternoon after Blue Bonnet's return from Woodford, that a number of girls were gathered. The room was filled with them. They sat on the bed, on the couch, on the floor, and the topic of conversation was personal characteristics.
Sincerity had been discussed; truthfulness disposed of; jealousy and temper aired to the satisfaction of all, and courage was now under discussion.
"I haven't very many virtues," Deborah Watts was saying, trying to assume a modest attitude, and failing; "but I think I am fairly courageous—that is, I meet big things rather well: sickness and accidentsand—"
"You don't look as if you'd ever been sick in your life," Blue Bonnet said.
"I haven't," Wee admitted, "but I have absolutely no fear ofit—"
"Were you ever in an accident?" Patty inquired.
"No, I can't say that I ever was—but—what I mean is, I am not nervous. I haven't any fear of things happening when I'm riding, or train wrecksor—"
"How about a mouse?" Sue Hemphill inquired. "You said the othernight—"
Wee stiffened perceptibly.
"Oh, how absurd, Sue—a mouse! Nobody is afraid of a mouse—really afraid—they're just so horrid, that's all. They're such squirmy things—ugh! No, what I mean is—I guess I'm not very clear, but I hardly know whatfearis. I'm never afraid of being outnights—"
"I'm not either," Angela Dare said, "that is, not if my muse is along. I'm soabsorbed—"
A laugh went round the room. Angela's muse was the signal for merriment.
"I think intuition ismylong suit," Annabel Jackson said. "Sometimes it's perfectly uncanny. I can almost read people's thoughts and know what they are going to say and do."
"How?" Sue inquired.
"Oh, I don't know how. No one can account for those things."
"I thought you might help Mary Boyd—she's short on intuition—just at present."
"What's Mary done now?" a half dozen voices inquired.
Sue laughed.
"Mary's furious," she said. "She's preparing for one of her monthly flights to Chicago. She's packing up."
The girls roared with laughter. Mary's flights home were too funny. She packed up several times a month, but she never got as far as the station.
"What's the matter this time?"
"Same old story. Fraulein! I think it is a shame those children have to have her all the time. She's ruining their dispositions. They all just hate her."
"What did Mary do, Sue?"
It was Blue Bonnet who asked this time.
"Oh, you'll have to get the particulars from her. It's as good as a vaudeville stunt to hear Mary tell it. They were having an orgy of some kind lastnight—"
"Was Carita in it?" Blue Bonnet asked rising, all the anxiety of a mother hen for a lost chicken in her attitude.
"I think she was. There was a room full."
Blue Bonnet started for the door.
"I must go and see," she said. "I hope Carita isn't in trouble."
"Come back again," the girls called after her. "We've something to discuss later."
Mary's room was in a state of confusion. In a corner Carita sat, weeping softly.
"Mary's going home," she said, and a sob shook her. "She says she's going to-night. Oh, I'll miss her so, Blue Bonnet."
"Going home?"
Blue Bonnet turned to Mary.
"Well, I should say I am," Mary announced, dragging out one garment after another from her closet. "I wouldn't stay in this school another day for anybody. Fraulein has acted perfectly outrageously. I think she's crazy!"
Blue Bonnet stared in amazement.
"What's she done, Mary?"
"Done! Well, she's done enough to drive me out of this school—that's all!"
She pounded a cork in a bottle of hair tonic she was getting ready to pack. The cork refused to stay in the bottle. Mary gave it another jab—the bottle broke and the contents spilled over the dresser. She tried to rescue an ivory-handled brush and mirror, but it was too late.
"There," she cried, the tears springing to her eyes; "see what I've done—perfectly ruined Peggy Austin's brush! Well, she shouldn't have left it in here."
Blue Bonnet took the brush and tried to wipeoff the spots. She pushed Mary into a chair and drew one up for herself.
"Now," she said, "tell me all about it. What has Fraulein done?"
At first Mary was silent.
"Tell me," urged Blue Bonnet.
"Well, we were having a party in here last night—a sort of feast. It was Peggy's birthday and her mother sent her a box. Peggy's room is so near Fraulein's she never can have anything there, so we had it here. We waited till all the lights were out, and it was as still as could be. We were having a dandy time, when Peggy said she'd forgotten a box of candy in her room and went to get it. We waited for her, and after a while there was a knock on the door—just a little timid knock, as if Peggy were trying to fool us. She knew a knock like that would scare us to death, so we thought we'd fool her. I happened to have a pitcher of water on the stand there, so we opened the door a little way—it was pitch dark—and let her have it, full force!"
"Well?"
"Well—it wasn't Peggy—it was Fraulein! Didn't you hear her scream? It was enough to wake the dead. Miss North came running and Miss Martin—she's on this floor too, now,and—"
Carita's grief had suddenly turned to mirth. Sherocked back and forth in her chair shaking with laughter.
"Oh, Blue Bonnet, you couldn't have helped laughing to save you—it was perfectly killing. Fraulein was so angry she just tore round. She threatened to have us all expelled—disgraced—everything you could think of! At least we took it for that—it was all in German—every word."
"And Miss North has taken away all my privileges for two weeks—two whole weeks! That means that I can't go to the party the girls are getting up for the twenty-second, or anything, and I'm just not going to stand it. I'm going home! You see if I don't—this time!"
She got up and began hauling more things from the closet.
"No, you're not," Blue Bonnet said gently, putting her arm round her. "You're not going to do anything of the kind, you know you're not. You'd be ashamed to. It would look as if you were afraid to face the music—and you can—you must!"
It was Mary's turn to look amazed.
"That's not why I'm going," she said. "I'm not afraid of punishment."
"That's the way it would look."
"I don't care how it would look. I wouldn't be here to see anyway."
"Then you haven't any pride."
"I guess I have as much pride as you have, or any one else!"
"Not if you're going to run away, you haven't. Besides, I can't blame Fraulein so very much for being angry. It isn't so funny to be drenched like that. She was doing her duty, wasn't she?"
"Oh, she's always snooping round, if that's what you mean. Get her on your own hall for awhile and see how you like it."
"I shouldn't like it. Not at all; but that's not the point."
"What is the point?"
"That you've made a mistake and you aren't big enough to take the blame. My uncle says that making a mistake isn't such a very grave thing in itself, it's human nature. The trouble comes in not trying to correct it."
Mary looked out of the window, a frown on her face.
"You'd better not be so preachy," she said. "Everybody hates a goody-goody—here!"
Blue Bonnet laughed.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'll never be called that by any one who knows me! I've done nothing but make mistakes and get in hot water all my life. Wasn't I doing penance last week myself?"
"Then I should think you would know how other people feel."
"I do. That's why I'm trying to advise you. I reckon it's a mighty selfish way to look at it, Mary, but you'll be a heap happier yourself to do the square thing. It gives you such a comfy sort of feeling."
"I'm perfectly comfortable now," Mary said obstinately. "I wish it had been a hose instead of a littlepitcher—"
Blue Bonnet put her hand over Mary's mouth and gave her a little hug.
"You don't wish anything of the kind. You're angry. When people are angry they aren't responsible. I'm going to tell you something I did last summer to one of my very best friends when I was angry."
She told Mary of how she had almost let Kitty Clark drown in the swimming pool of the Texas stream; how Kitty had cut her head on the rock, and of the consternation that followed.
Mary listened almost unbelievingly.
"You did—that, Blue Bonnet?"
"I did, Mary, and it was a dear lesson. I've had a line on my temper ever since—sometimes it gets away, for a while, but not so often. Now come on, be a thoroughbred! Go and talk to Fraulein."
Mary shrank away protesting.
Blue Bonnet shrugged her shoulders and started to pick up the room.
"All right, Mary, if you've got a damp cotton cord for a backbone—"
Mary got up out of her chair instantly.
"That'ssomething I haven't got. I'll just show you, Miss Blue Bonnet Ashe."
She flew out of the room and Carita ran to the door to watch her.
"She's knocking on Fraulein's door, as sure as you live," she announced, coming back.
"Of course," Blue Bonnet said, hanging a couple of dresses back in the closet. "Mary's all right. She doesn't mean half she says."
A few of the girls were waiting for Blue Bonnet in the "Angel's Retreat."
"Hurry up," Ruth Biddle said, as she entered the room. "We've a lot to say to you—too much for ten minutes."
"Go ahead, then, I'm listening."
"You are about to have a great honor conferred upon you," Ruth continued.
"'Some achieve greatness—some have it thrust upon them,'" Blue Bonnet quoted. "This is the thrusting kind, Isuppose—"
"We want you to join our club, Blue Bonnet," Annabel said. "We haven't time to be frivolous. I have a lesson in exactly seven minutes with Mrs. White. Will you?"
Blue Bonnet looked stunned.
"A club!" she said. "What kind of a club?"
"Oh, just a club—something like a sorority. I'm the president, if that's any inducement."
"It certainly would be, Annabel, but—you see I belong to one club—a little one in Woodford. I don't know how the girls would feel about my joining another."
"You won't be in Woodford much from now on," Annabel said. "You'd better take the 'good the gods provide,'—it's some club!"
"I don't doubt that—but—what do you do?"
"We don't give our private affairs to the public," Sue said, laughing to take the edge off the rather bald statement. "Do you, in your club?"
"Well—there isn't much to tell."
"There is, in ours. We have a serious purpose—sometimes."
"Who's in it?"
Ruth counted on her fingers.
"Annabel, Sue, Wee, Angela and Patty—myself, of course, and you, if you'll come."
"Why, it would be another We Are Sevens," Blue Bonnet said. "That's the name of our club. Isn't that odd?"
"Sleep over it, Blue Bonnet, and let us know to-morrow. It'll keep," Wee Watts suggested.
"All right, suppose I do. I'll try to let you know to-morrow if I can. I'd really like to write to thegirls—"
A knock at the door interrupted the sentence.
"Is Miss Ashe here?" Martha inquired. "If she is, Miss North would like to see her in the office."
"Mercy, how popular some people are!" Ruth remarked. "What is it, Blue Bonnet? More trouble?"
"Not this time," Blue Bonnet said, her head up, her eyes shining. "My conscience is clear anyway."
Miss North, as usual, was busy. She motioned Blue Bonnet to a chair and went on with her work. When she had finished, she unlocked a drawer in her desk and taking out a book, handed it to Blue Bonnet.
"Is this your property, Miss Ashe?" she inquired.
Blue Bonnet took the book, opened it, looked it over from cover to cover and handed it back.
"No," she said, "it isn't mine. It's French. I couldn't translate it."
"You are quite sure that it is not your book, or one that you borrowed?"
Blue Bonnet glanced at the book again.
"Perfectly sure, Miss North. I never saw it before."
"That is very strange, Miss Ashe. The book was found in your drawer while you were at home for the week-end. Miss Martin found it covered with some underwear."
The puzzled expression on Blue Bonnet's face would have cleared her in any court of justice; but Miss North had dealt with consummate actresses in her time. She was on her guard.
Blue Bonnet took the book again in her hands and turned over a few leaves, her face still surprised and bewildered.
"Inmydrawer! Who do you suppose could have put it there?"
She looked Miss North clearly in the eyes.
"That is what I am trying to find out. It is the kind of book that is expressly forbidden in the school, Miss Ashe. This is a very serious matter."
Blue Bonnet laid the book on the desk instantly, giving it a little push as if contaminated by the touch.
"And you think, Miss North, thatIwould have a book like that in my drawer?"
"I should not like to think it, Miss Ashe,but—"
Blue Bonnet did not let her finish the sentence.
"Doesn't my word count for anything? I am in the habit of telling the truth."
Miss North hesitated. She believed the girl innocent, but she had had so many experiences—boarding-school was a hotbed for them, she sometimes thought. Her position was a trying one.
"Iwantto believe that you are telling the truth. Miss Ashe, but—I am sorry to say that I haveknown girls, who thought they were truthful, to dissemble—to—"
"I am not one of those girls, Miss North. I give you my word of honor that I never saw that book, or one like it, in my life, until this minute. That is all I can say—you may believe me or not."
She started to leave the room, her head held a trifle higher than usual, her eyes bright and snapping.
"One moment, Miss Ashe. There is no need for anger. This, as I stated before, is a serious matter. It is possible that the girl who brought this book into the school did not realize its full import; its true significance. No girl could read it without taking away much of the bloom that it is our privilege to guard and preserve. Even I, at middle age, should find this book—obnoxious."
"And you think that I would secrete a book of that kind in my drawer? That I would touch it any more than you would?"
Blue Bonnet's eyes were appealing now, almost pathetic in their mute inquiry.
"Do you know of any one who would be likely to put the book in your drawer, Miss Ashe?"
Miss North had ignored Blue Bonnet's question for a moment.
"No, Miss North, I do not. I don't believe any of the girls I know would have done it."
"Very well. You may go now. The matter will be thoroughly investigated."
"And in the meantime I remain under suspicion?"
Blue Bonnet looked as if she had been struck a blow. It was the first time in her life that her word had ever been doubted in the slightest particular. She had a great reverence for the truth. It was an inheritance. "Straight and true like an Ashe, Honey"—the words rang in her ears now—would always—like an armor they wrapped themselves about her—protected her....
"We have many of us rested under an injustice, Miss Ashe, but right always triumphs. I am old fashioned enough to believe that. The matter will be sifted to the bottom."
Blue Bonnet went up to her room feeling that a cloud had settled upon her—a cloud black and ominous.
Joy Cross sat in her accustomed seat by the window, reading. She did not glance up as Blue Bonnet entered, but, if anything, turned her face farther away.
Blue Bonnet sat down listlessly. Her first thought was to question Joy in regard to the book, but she hated to mention it; to have any one know that she was mixed up in such an unsavory affair. Who could have done such a thing—such a contemptible, cowardly thing? Who, in school, disliked her enough to put her in such a position? How had it happened?
Round and round in a groove went her thoughts, bringing no solution. She got up after a while, and opening her top bureau drawer, took out a small box safely guarded in one corner. From the box she drew a miniature which she gazed at long and tenderly.
Joy Cross put away her book and left the room.
Blue Bonnet took the miniature to the light. Her throat ached with the sobs that she had suppressed in Joy's presence. Now the torrent broke.
"Oh, Mother, Mother!" she cried, sinking into a chair, "why can't I have you to tell me what to do?—why did you have to leave me when I needed you so?—other girls have mothers—fathers,too—"
So violent was her grief that she did not hear the door open softly, nor see the gentle, sweet-faced woman who came swiftly toward her and knelt beside her.
"Why, Miss Ashe! Blue Bonnet, dear—what is all this about? What is the matter? Can I help you?"
The girl raised her face and struggled with her tears.
"I just wanted my mother—for a minute," she said slowly. "Sometimes I need her so—want her—nobody knows how much! I suppose girlsnever do get used to being without a mother, do they, Mrs. White—no matter how kind and dear one's friends and relatives may be?"
"Couldn't you tell me what the trouble is? Perhaps I could help you?"
Blue Bonnet shook her head.
Mrs. White lifted the girl's wet face and held it between her cool, firm hands.
"Did you know," she said after a moment, "that I was a mother once—for ever so short a while—a little daughter, dear. She would have been almost your age if she had been spared to me. I, too, know how terrible death is—how it robsus—"
"Oh, were you—were you?" Blue Bonnet cried, her own sorrow for the moment forgotten in another's grief. "It must have been awful to give her up—awful! I'm so sorry."
There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Blue Bonnet thrust the miniature into Mrs. White's hands.
"Did I ever show you this? It's my mother. I got it last year on my sixteenth birthday. I love it better than anything in the world."
Mrs. White gazed at the likeness for some minutes.
"It is a lovely face," she said, handing it back. "A lovely face—betterthan lovely—womanly. One feels the spirit back of it. When you arelonely again, think what a gift such a mother has been. What a privilege to follow in her footsteps—carry out her hopes of you—her ideals."
She was gone, her own cup overflowing, before Blue Bonnet could reply. Just before the gong sounded for dinner she came back for a moment, smiling and serene.
"I brought you this," she said. "I tore it off my calendar a few moments ago. It has a little message for you. Let's pin it up here in your mirror for a day or two, so you will see it every time you dress."
And over Mrs. White's shoulder Blue Bonnet read:
"Life is mostly froth and bubble,One thing stands like stone:Kindness in another's trouble,Courage in one's own."
"Life is mostly froth and bubble,One thing stands like stone:Kindness in another's trouble,Courage in one's own."
Under the "courage in one's own," a faint line had been drawn.
Back to contents
"What'sthe matter with Blue Bonnet?" Annabel Jackson asked Sue Hemphill. "She looks sick—or worried to death. What's happened?"
"I don't know," Sue said, shrugging her shoulders. "I thought myself she looked awfully upset this morning, but when I asked her if anything was wrong, she said—I can't remember what she did say—but I took it that she wasn't going to tell, if there was."
"There's something the matter. That look she's got on her face doesn't spell happiness—not by a long ways."
"Why don't you use your Sherlock Holmes talent on her," Sue inquired flippantly.
"My what, Sue?"
"This intuition business you were telling us about yesterday. You said you could read people's thoughts."
"I didn't say I was a mind reader, did I?"
"Well—something like that."
"Oh, Sue, how perfectly ridiculous! Tell thatto one or two more and I'll be a spiritualistic medium holding seances in my room."
Sue laughed, starting the dimples dancing in her cheeks. Those dimples saved Sue many a scolding. They defended her sharp tongue—exonerated malice. They pointed like a hand on a sign post to mirth and pure good nature. "You can't be angry with Sue when those dimples pop out," more than one girl had said.
The morning had been a trying one for Blue Bonnet. She had great difficulty in keeping her mind on her studies. Even Professor Howe had to ask for closer attention—an unheard of thing.
"Are you ill, Miss Ashe?" she had asked, calling Blue Bonnet to the desk after the class adjourned. "You don't look well. Better go up and show your tongue to Mrs. Goodwin or Miss Martin."
"It isn't my tongue—that is—I'm not at all ill, thank you, Professor Howe," Blue Bonnet replied absently.
She passed on to her Latin class, a little droop in her usually straight shoulders showing listlessness. She sat down by Wee Watts and opened her book, but her gaze wandered to the window.
"You may translate, Miss Ashe," Miss Attridge said for the second time and Blue Bonnet did not hear.
A titter went round the room. Blue Bonnet'sgaze rested on the housetops. She was miles and miles away from the small recitation room.
"Come, Miss Ashe, the third oration, please; begin where Miss Watts left off—Cicero attacks Catiline, saying:"
Blue Bonnet came back with a start, and with Wee's assistance found the line.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Attridge. Where Deborah left off, you say?"
It was the same with French and with Algebra. Blue Bonnet's mind was busy with but one theme—one thought—that revolved round and round again, hemming her in with despair: Who had secreted the book in her drawer? To whom did it belong? How could she establish her innocence?
"Cheer up, cheer up," Sue Hemphill said, as she passed Blue Bonnet in the hall after lunch. Sue was executing a fancy step down the hall and her whole manner betokened the utmost excitement.
"You look cheerful enough for all of us, Sue," Blue Bonnet answered. "What's happened to you?"
"Billy's coming—going to be here for dinner; so is his room-mate, Hammie McVickar."
"Hammie! What a funny name!"
"Hamilton! Funny little chap, too. Wait till you see him."
Sue giggled as she pirouetted back and forth.
"Decided about the club yet, Blue Bonnet?"
"Not yet," Blue Bonnet said. She wondered if her face betrayed lack of interest. The thought of the club had entirely passed out of her mind.
"What do you call this club, Sue?"
Sue took a whirl and a glide and stopped at Blue Bonnet's side.
"The Ancient Order of Lambs," she said, and darted off again.
Blue Bonnet ran after her and brought her to a standstill.
"Sue! tell me. What is it?"
"That's it, of course. Why not?"
"The Ancient Order of Lambs! Really?"
"Really.
"We amble and we gamble,We frolic and we bleat;Something new in lambkinsRather hard to beat!"
"We amble and we gamble,We frolic and we bleat;Something new in lambkinsRather hard to beat!"
"Dear me, is that from Angela's pen?"
"Angela! Mercy, I should hope not! Angela doesn't write doggerel—she writes verse."
"Oh, I beg your pardon," Blue Bonnet said meekly.
"Blue Bonnet, you'd make such a love of a lamb. Do join us."
"I reckon I would," she said, her natural humor coming to the surface. "I'm always being led to slaughter—if that helps any. I can't say I'm a willing sacrifice, however."
"You'll do," Sue said, taking up the step again. "I'll tell the girls you've about made up your mind—and—Blue Bonnet, come here, listen! Put on that white dress to-night; the one with the pink under it, will you? I want you to meet Billy and Hammie, if I can arrange it. Don't forget!"
The day wore on wearily. Blue Bonnet had seen nothing of Miss North; no word came from the office.
At five o'clock she started to dress for dinner. She got out the white dress half heartedly. Only because she wanted to please Sue did she consider it at all.
She tried to talk with Joy as she dressed, but Joy was unusually silent. Her monosyllables were low and indistinct. Twice Blue Bonnet turned to catch a word and Joy's face startled her: it was white and lifeless, almost expressionless save for the eyes—they were troubled.
"Are you ill, Joy?" Blue Bonnet asked kindly; but Joy turned her face away and answered "No," quickly.
Much to her surprise, Blue Bonnet found herself a guest at Miss North's table. She slipped into the place assigned her next to Annabel. In a moment Sue came in with her guests. They found their places just opposite.
As soon as she could gather courage after the introductions Blue Bonnet looked across the tableat her neighbors. She remembered Sue's remark about Hammie McVickar, and laughed outright. Sue had said he was a "funny little chap." Perhaps he was, but he towered six feet two, if an inch; a magnificent, big, clean-limbed fellow with brown eyes and a nice face that attracted Blue Bonnet.
Billy was interesting, too. He was very much like Sue. His eyes twinkled mischievously, and dimples, less prominent than Sue's, showed when he laughed.
These young men showed none of Alec's embarrassment. They chatted and joked, making the best of their opportunity—they considered it such; indeed quite a lark to invade seminary walls.
Blue Bonnet learned before dinner was over that Billy was the illustrious half-back on the Harvard team; had contributed much to the game she had seen in the autumn; that Hammie McVickar also shared honors.
The meal passed all too quickly, and Annabel and Blue Bonnet left the dining-room reluctantly. They had barely reached the gymnasium for the half hour of dancing, when Sue caught up with them breathlessly.
"Come back," she called. "Miss North has given you permission to come to the reception-room and meet Billy and Hammie. Hurry, they can only stay a half hour."
It is needless to say the girls hurried, slowing down modestly before reaching the reception-room door.
It was a pleasant half hour. Blue Bonnet felt as if some one had lifted a curtain and given her a glimpse into another world. It was her first experience in entertaining college men. She enjoyed the good-natured banter—the give and take that passed between them; the college stories. She settled down in her chair and listened to the others talk; wide-eyed, keenly alert, but quiet as a mouse. Sue and Annabel kept up a chatter, and Billy and Hammie were entertaining in the extreme.
"Isn't Billy a dear?" Sue said, running into Blue Bonnet's room to say good night. "And isn't Hammie McVickar splendid? I think he's the best-looking man I know. Billy says he's a prince—the fellows at college all swear by him. So glad you could meet them. Good night. Sleep well."
Strange to say, Blue Bonnet did sleep well. She was worn out with the day's worry and anxiety; but she awoke the next morning with a depression that manifests itself even before the eyes open, sometimes.
"What is wrong with me?" she thought, and, in an instant, she knew. The book—the terrible book! Would she be able to straighten it all out to-day?
But another day was to pass, and yet another before the cloud lifted.
It was on the fourth day after the visit to Miss North's office that Blue Bonnet felt she could no longer endure the strain, and decided to take Annabel Jackson into her confidence. She had thought it all out carefully, and realized that she must unburden to some one. Carita was too young to be helpful—besides, she didn't wish to worry Carita.
"May I see you for a minute after school, Annabel?" she asked.
"Of course," Annabel answered. "I think it is about time you saw me—or somebody! You look as if you had the weight of the universe on your shoulders lately. Are you going to tell me what it is all about?"
"Yes."
"All right. Where shall I meet you?"
"In my room after the walk. Joy practises then. We can be alone."
Strictly on time, Annabel appeared at Blue Bonnet's door, was ushered in and the door locked.
Blue Bonnet laid the whole story before Annabel—all she knew of it.
Annabel listened attentively, her eyes narrowing occasionally, her breath coming quick and sharp. There was a dead silence when Blue Bonnet finished, and then Annabel jumped up from her seat andtook a few turns about the room. She was thinking something over, Blue Bonnet knew.
"I think—I believe I have a clue. In fact I know I have. Leave this to me for a day or two. I wish you had come to me sooner. There was no need of your suffering like this. I think I know the youngperson—"
She stopped abruptly and stooping kissed Blue Bonnet lightly on the cheek. She came back after she had left the room and inquired quite casually where Joy Cross was practising at this hour.
"In number six, I think, Annabel. She used to, anyway."
"Thank you. I want to see her a minute."
In number six Joy Cross was pounding out an exercise. She looked up as Annabel opened the door and went on with her practising.
"May I speak with you a minute?" Annabel said.
Joy wheeled on her stool.
"For a minute," she said. "I'm busy."
"It will only take a minute, I fancy. When do you intend to acknowledge the book you hid in Blue Bonnet Ashe's drawer while she was away?"
The shock was so sudden—so unexpected—that Joy Cross grew faint. Every vestige of color died out of her face.
"I don't know what you mean," she said slowly. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about, all right. Do you remember the day two weeks ago when we were out walking and stopped in that queer little book shop? One of the girls wanted to get her Quatre-vingt-treize. You went to another part of the shop—alone. I came up behind you—something had attracted my attention—you didn't see me. I heard you ask for the book—I will not mention the name. I saw the clerk hand it to you—give you your change. Saw the whole transaction with my own eyes! This is no hearsay."
Joy Cross turned round to the piano and hid her face in her hands.
"I haven't words to express my opinion of you, Joy Cross," Annabel went on. "A girl who would put another girl in the position you have put Blue Bonnet Ashe—as honest and innocent a girl as ever drew the breath of life. You're a coward—amiserable—"
Joy turned and threw out her hand beseechingly.
"Wait," she said, "please wait! I want to tell you. I'm all you say, perhaps—but—if you would onlylisten—"
Annabel had turned away impatiently.
"I didn't mean to hurt Blue Bonnet Ashe—please believe that, Annabel. It was all a mistake—an accident. I thought it would right itself, and I kept still. I did buy the book—I was reading it in my room; some one knocked at the door—I was sitting by Blue Bonnet's bureau—I reached over and laid it in her drawer—just until I opened the door. I meant to take it right out again—but—it was Miss Martin. She was inspecting drawers—she found the book—she—I—oh, can't you see how it was—how it all happened—so quickly? I couldn't think of anything but the disgrace. I wanted to save myself. I wouldn't have cared so much if I hadn't been a Senior. I thought it might keep me from graduating—from some of the honors that I have fought for. I never dreamed it would go so far. I thought—oh, I don't know what I thought—why I did it. I suppose I'm ruined utterly."
She burst into the wildest weeping. Tears sprang to Annabel's own eyes. She was a sympathetic girl. She wished she could bring herself to put her arm round Joy—to give her a word of encouragement—but she couldn't. There was something that repelled her in the convulsed form; the thin body with its narrow, heaving shoulders; the unattractive blond head.
"Well, there is only one thing to do now, of course you understand that, Joy. You must go to Miss North immediately."
Joy raised her head; her eyes wide with terror.
"Oh, no, not that! I can't do that. I can't! I can't!"
"Youwill," Annabel said sternly. "Stop thatcrying! Haven't you any nerve at all? You will go to Miss North at once! Immediately, do you understand? or I will. An innocent girl has suffered long enough."
Annabel had drawn herself up to her full height. Her cheeks blazed. She was a fair representative of her illustrious grandsire as she stood there, her fighting blood up.
"You understand? You go at once—this minute!"
Joy staggered to her feet. Annabel watched her as she started for the door; followed her as she crossed the building to her own room and paused.
Annabel paused too, but only for a second.
"Miss North is in her office at this hour," she said. "Go immediately"—and Joy went, her limbs almost refusing to bear her to the floor below.
What transpired in that office will never be known to any one save Miss North and Joy Cross. The gong had sounded for dinner before Joy emerged, white and silent, and neither she nor Miss North appeared at the evening meal.
Blue Bonnet felt better after she had confided in Annabel. She scarcely knew why, except that Annabel seemed to see a way out of the difficulty, and she had the reputation of being reliable and level headed.
With a lighter heart than she had known forseveral days, she dressed for dinner and entered the dining-room with a smile on her lips.
"Praise be!" Sue said, when Blue Bonnet laughed at one of her jokes. "I thought you had given up laughing, Blue Bonnet. You haven't even smiled since Tuesday. Coming down to the Gym to dance to-night?"
"I think I will. I've got to run up-stairs first and get a clean handkerchief."
She ran up-stairs lightly, and, entering her room, switched on the light. She started for the bureau, but the sight of her room-mate, stretched face downward on her bed, arrested and changed her course.
"Why, Joy," she said, "what on earth's the matter? Haven't you been to dinner?"
Joy Cross sat up. She was as pitiable a looking sight as one could imagine. Her face, always white and expressionless, was ashen, and she shook with nervousness.
Blue Bonnet was horrified at her appearance and started for the door to call Mrs. Goodwin or Miss Martin.
"Wait," Joy called, her eyes burning into Blue Bonnet's. "Wait!"
She pulled herself together, struggling for self control.
"I want to tell you—" the words came with painful effort—"Imusttell you. I've been acoward long enough.Iput that book in your drawer."
The utter hopelessness in the voice swept all thought of anger from Blue Bonnet's heart, and flooded it with pity. She could not find voice to speak for a moment.
"You, Joy? You! I can't believe it!"
A look of pride flashed over Joy's face. In that brief second she stood once more on her old ground—trusted, respected.
"I suppose not," she said dully, and the flush died from her face. "No one would have believed me so wicked! They don't know me as I am."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"Tell me about it, Joy, please. I know you didn't do it on purpose. You couldn't have. I never did anything to make you hate me like that."
She went over to the grate and stirring the embers into a ruddy glow drew up a chair and coaxed Joy into it.
"Now we can talk better," she said, sitting down on the hearth rug beside her. "Tell me how it happened. It's been such a mystery to me."
Joy glanced down into the face upturned in the firelight and almost gasped at its serenity. There was not a trace of anger in the eyes lifted to her own—nothing but kindness—and that look, somehow, made it harder to proceed than any torrent of words.
Between long pauses Joy told Blue Bonnet all that she had told Annabel Jackson and Miss North; and Blue Bonnet listened breathlessly, a little sigh escaping her lips as Joy finished the story.
There was tense silence for a minute, and then Blue Bonnet reached up shyly and took Joy's hand in her own.
"I suppose I ought to be awfully angry at you, Joy, for letting me suffer as I have the past few days—but—somehow—I'm not—at all. I feel so sorry for you that there isn't any room for anger. I think I can understand how it happened."
"You can! It doesn't seem possible that any one could see my side."
Blue Bonnet gazed into the fire and spoke slowly.
"Oh, yes, they could. All but the untruth, Joy—that was the worst, of course—but then—maybe you haven't been brought up on the truth as I have. The truth is a sort of religion in our family. That and 'do unto others.'"
Joy was quick to come to the defence of her family.
"No—I can't find excuse in that. My people are truthful. They're queer, maybe, but they are truthful and honest."
Perhaps it was the gentle pressure of Blue Bonnet's hand, the sympathy in her eyes, that gradually brought forth the story of Joy's life. Before she had finished, Blue Bonnet's tears mingled withJoy's, and the grasp tightened on the hand held in her own.
In that half hour Joy poured out her heart in a way she would have thought impossible an hour before. She told Blue Bonnet of her cold, indifferent father; of the patient, long-suffering mother who had planned and saved, and sacrificed to keep her in school, and of how she had longed to repay the devotion with the highest honors the school could give.
"It was the thought of my mother's awful disappointment that tempted me to lie to Miss Martin," she said. "It all happened so quickly I scarcely had time to think clearly. I was so afraid of being expelled—I will be now, of course. Miss North is going to bring the whole thing before the Faculty to-morrow."
"Oh, no—surely she won't do that!" Blue Bonnet cried. "Did you tell her what you've just told me, Joy?"
"No. I'm not playing for sympathy. I'll take what's coming, if—if only the girls didn't have to know."
"They don't," Blue Bonnet said determinedly. "Nobody knows it but Annabel Jackson and myself. Annabel won't tell, and nobody ever knows what goes on in Faculty. Now, what is that?"
A knock had startled both girls. Blue Bonnet went to the door.
"Oh, dear," she said, "I forgot all about going to study hour. I just know that's Fraulein."
Fraulein it was.
"You were not in the study hall, Miss Ashe," she said, craning her neck to see into the room.
Blue Bonnet stepped outside and closed the door.
"No, I wasn't. I was engaged."
"You were excused?"
"No—I was not."
"Then I shall haf to report to Miss North."
The color came into Blue Bonnet's cheeks and her eyes flashed.
"Do," she said. "I don't mind giving you that little treat."
"I perfectly abominate that woman," she said, going back to the hearth rug. "She can anger me quicker than any one I ever knew. I was terribly rude to her; but she is so aggravating. She adores getting something on me."
When the gong sounded for bed Blue Bonnet had drawn a tub of hot water for Joy's bath, and urged her into it.
"It will make her sleep better," she said to herself as the door closed between them. "Poor girl; my heart aches for her. If she stays here the girls have just got to be nicer to her—that's all! And she's going to stay—shemust, even if I have to send for Uncle Cliff to help straighten things out."
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Itwas the next afternoon after Blue Bonnet's interview with Joy Cross that she ran up to Carita's room to chat a moment during visiting hour.
"Whew!" Mary Boyd said, blowing into the room breezily and tossing an armful of books into the middle of her bed, "what's up? There's been a Faculty meeting. The seats of the mighty were filled to overflowing. I just saw every teacher in the building filing out. You should have seen Fraulein! She had Madam de Cartier buttonholed in the hall talking to her like mad. She dropped her voice as I passed, so I couldn't get a word."
"Mary!" Carita exclaimed, "you wouldn't have listened, would you?"
"Oh, I don't know. Yes, I think I should if I'd had the chance. I'd like to know what's the matter—there's something, all right."
"Mary, you're so curious," remarked Peggy Austin from the couch. "It was a regular meeting, wasn't it?"
"Indeed it wasn't. Faculty's met on Tuesdaysince time began. Guess I ought to know. I've just escaped being up before it twice."
Blue Bonnet was silent. She could have enlightened Mary; but she guarded the secret of Joy Cross's trouble. Blue Bonnet had been called to Miss North's office just before Faculty convened, but not a word as to the outcome of Joy's difficulty had been mentioned. Miss North had merely told her what she already knew; that Joy had put the book in the drawer and that Blue Bonnet was exonerated from all blame. Miss North complimented her on her patience, as well as her silence. She wished the matter to be kept as quiet as possible.
Blue Bonnet had gone out of the office with a lighter heart than she had known in some days—and yet she was troubled for Joy. She hoped Joy would not be sent home—hoped it with all her heart; and once while Miss North was talking, she had almost ventured to speak with her about it; but it seemed rather presumptuous—as if Miss North might not quite understand her own business.
She was wondering as Mary spoke how it would all end, and a little frown wrinkled her brow.
"What's the matter with you, Blue Bonnet?" Mary asked. "You're as sober as a judge. They weren't discussing you in the meeting, were they?"
Blue Bonnet started. Mary had come so close to the truth that it brought the color to her cheeks.
"Oh, I just wager they were! Look how she's blushing."
Carita was indignant.
"The very idea, Mary. What's Blue Bonnet done? You are theworst—"
"I know what's the matter with Blue Bonnet," Peggy Austin said. "She'sscaredpink! She had better be, too. She's going to be initiated into the Lambs to-night. They won't do a thing to her! Why, when they took Angela Dare in, she had hysterics. They had to get a doctor for her. It nearly broke up their club. Miss North said it came near ending sororities for all time in the school."
"Oh, pooh," Mary scoffed. "Angela has no business in one anyhow. She's too emotional. One never knows what she's going to do. She has high strikes over exams—and just anything. Angela's only half human. She's like that Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe—or somebody who was so frail inbody—"
"Mrs. Stowe!" Blue Bonnet exclaimed.
"She means Mrs. Browning," Peggy said loftily. "English isn't Mary's long suit."
"No, but I can add two and two," Mary returned sharply.
Peggy was as weak in mathematics as Mary was in English.
Blue Bonnet finished her visit with Carita andwent back to her room. She opened her desk and getting out an invitation looked it over carefully. At the top of the note-paper reposed a tiny golden lamb, and underneath, the letters A. O. O. L. formed a monogram in blue and gold. A skull and cross-bones had been drawn in ink and a message followed: