As he had expected, the live wolves were hungrily eating the dead one and had not apparently even noticed his departure.
The boys and girls in the hut sat breathlessly waiting, while Reddy watched the famished animals gorge themselves with the blood and fresh meat of their comrade.
Reddy had rolled up a fox skin into a small bundle, and was prepared to pitch it out to them the moment they had finished.
Just as they had lapped the last drop of blood, he cast out the skin. They sniffed at it a moment, gave a long, disapproving howl, that sent the cold chills down the spines of the prisoners, and then made off down the trail after Tom Gray.
Reddy gave a loud exclamation and jumped down from the bench.
"They have followed Tom!" he cried, in a high state of excitement.
There was a long pause.
"We'll have to go, then," said David finally. "Girls, you are safe as long as you stay inside the hut, and some of us at least will be able to bring help before long."
With that, all three of the boys, for Hippy was no coward, in spite of his size and appetite, rushed out of the hut and disappeared in the wood.
The afternoon shadows were beginning to lengthen when Grace fastened the latch and returned to the fire where her three friends sat silent, afraid to speak for fear of giving way to tears.
The four girls never knew how long they waited that afternoon in the hunter's cabin. It might have been only minutes, but the minutes seemed to drag themselves into hours. The uncertain fate of the boys, the tragedy that surely awaited perhaps all of them made the situation almost unbearable.
Grace piled the fireplace high with the remaining wood, but the blaze could not keep away the chill that crept over them as the sun sank behind the trees. They shivered and drew nearer together for comfort.
Should they ever see their four brave friends again?
And David?
Anne could endure it no longer. She rose and began to move about the hut. There lay her coat and hat. Almost without knowing what she did she put them on, pulled on her mittens and tied a broad, knitted muffler around her ears.
"Girls," she said suddenly. She had gone about her preparations so quietly the other three had not even turned to see what she was doing. "I'm going. I don't want any of you to go with me, but I would rather die than stay here all night without knowing what has happened to David and the others."
"Wait a moment," cried Grace, "and I'll go, too. It would be unbearable not to know—and if we meet the wolves, why, then, as Tom said, we can climb a tree. Poor Tom!" she added sadly. "I wonder where he is now."
Nora and Jessica rose hastily.
"Do you think I'd stay?" cried Nora. "Not in a thousand years!"
"Anything is better than this," exclaimed Jessica, as she drew on her wraps and prepared to follow her friends into the woods.
Grace opened the door, peering out into the gathering darkness.
"There is not a living thing in sight," she said. "We'd better hurry, girls; it will soon be dark." Then the four young girls started down the trail and were soon out of sight.
When Tom Gray left old Jean's hut, with nothing between him and the ravenous wolves, except the angle of a wall, he took a long, gliding step, his body swinging gracefully with the motion, and was off like the wind, under a broad avenue of trees. But he had not gone far before one of the straps loosened and his foot slipped. He fell headlong, but was up instantly.
It took a few moments to tighten the strap, and it must have been then that the wolves caught the scent, and after hurriedly finishing the meal in hand, galloped off for another without taking the slightest notice of the fox skin that Reddy had tossed to them. Tom made a fresh start, feeling more confident on his feet than he had at first, and he was well under way when he heard the howl of the wolves behind him. Gathering all his energies together he managed to keep ahead of them until the woods became less dense, and he saw through the interlacing branches the open meadows and fields.
"They are too hungry to leave off now," he said to himself as he hurriedly searched the valley below for the nearest farmhouse. In front of him was a very high, steep hill, that same hill, in fact, where Nora's coasting party had taken place. Glancing behind him, he caught a glimpse of the gray brothers trotting through the forest.
"I'll take the hill," he thought. "It's quickest and there must be some kind of a refuge below." With long, swift glides he reached the knob which had hidden Miriam's sled from view as she bore down on Anne the night of the coasting party.
The wolves were right behind him now, and unless something turned up he hardly dared think what would happen.
But Tom Gray had always possessed an indomitable belief that things would turn out all right. It seemed absurd to him that he was to be food for wolves when he had still a long and delightful life before him. Certainly he would not give up without a struggle.
Perhaps it was this fine confidence that his destiny was not yet completed that gave him the strength which now promised to save him. As he fled down the hill he saw below an old oak tree whose first branches had been lopped off. Exerting every atom of strength in him, just as he reached the bottom Tom gave a leap. He caught the lowest limb with one hand, pulled himself up and calmly took his seat in the crotch of the tree.
He was just in time. The wolves were at his heels, snarling and snapping like angry dogs. The boy regarded them from his safe perch and burst out laughing.
"So I fooled you, did I, you gray rascals?" he said aloud. "You think you'll keep me here all night, do you, old hounds? Well, we'll see who wins out in the long run."
Meanwhile, the wolves ran about howling disconsolately while Tom sat in the branches of the tree, rubbing his hands and arms to keep warm. He had removed the snowshoes and was just contemplating climbing to the top of the tree to keep his blood circulating, when three figures appeared on the brow of the hill.
"As I live, it's the boys," he said to himself. "Go back!" he yelled, waving a red silk muffler. "Climb a tree quickly!"
They had seen and heard him, and making for the nearest tree, each shinned up as fast as he could.
"Here's a howdy-do," said Tom to himself. "Four boys treed by wolves and night coming on."
Yet he swung his legs and whistled thoughtfully, while the others shouted to him, but he could not hear what they said, for the wind was blowing away from him. In the meantime the wolves did not all desert him and he could only wait patiently, with the others, for something to turn up.
What did turn up was a good deal of a shock to all of them.
Grace, Jessica, Nora and Anne suddenly emerged from the forest, standing out in bold relief on the brow of the hill.
The three boys at the top of the hill all jumped to the ground at once.
"Run for the trees," cried David, for the wolves had caught the new scent and had started toward them on a dead run.
"Crack, crack," went a rifle. Instantly the first wolf staggered and fell backward.
How was it that the boys had not noticed before that the girls were not alone?
Another shot and a second wolf ran almost into their midst, gave a leap and fell dead. One more dropped; and the sole surviving wolf beat a frenzied retreat.
"We found old Jean!" cried Grace. "Wasn't it the most fortunate thing in the world? And now nobody is killed and we are all safe and I'm so happy!" She gave the old hunter's arm a squeeze.
Old Jean, enveloped in skins from top to toe, smiled good-naturedly.
"It was the Bon Dieu, mademoiselle, who have preserve you. Do not t'ank ole Jean. It was the Bon Dieu who put it in ole Jean's haid to set rabbit trap to-night."
He would accept neither money nor thanks for shooting the wolves.
"I will skin them. It is sufficient."
It was not long before eight very tired and very happy young people were seated around Mrs. Gray's dinner table. Grace was a little choky and homesick for her mother, now that all the danger was over, but the week of the house party was almost up, so she concealed her impatience to be home again.
The softly shaded candles shed a warm glow over their faces, and the logs crackled on the brass andirons. They looked into each others' eyes and smiled sleepily.
Had it all been a dream, their winter picnic, or was old Jean at that very moment really nailing wolf skins to his wall?
Spring was well advanced, full of soft airs and the sweet scents of orchards in full bloom.
Through the open windows of the schoolroom Grace could hear the pleasant sounds of the out of doors. The tinkle of a cow bell in a distant meadow and the songs of the birds brought to her the nearness of the glorious summer time.
She chewed the end of her pencil impatiently, endeavoring to withdraw her attention from the things she liked so much better than Latin grammar and algebra. Examinations were coming, those bugbears of the young freshman, and then vacation. A vision of picnics crossed her mind, of long days spent out of doors, with luncheon under the trees and tramps through the woods. Yet, before all these joys, must come the inevitable final test, the race for the freshman prize. Although, after all, only two would really enter the race, Miriam and Anne. Nobody else would think of competing with these two brilliant students.
How tired Anne looked! She had done nothing but study of late. No party had been alluring enough to beguile her from her books. She had even discontinued her work with Mrs. Gray, and early and late toiled at her studies.
"She will tire herself out," Grace thought, and made a resolution to take Anne with her on a visit to her grandmother's in the country just as soon as the High School doors were closed for the summer.
Miriam was not studying so hard. But then she never did anything hard. She simply seemed to absorb, without taking the trouble to plod. She had been very defiant of late, Grace thought, and more insolent than ever before. She and Miss Leece were "thicker" than was good for Miriam, considering that teacher's peculiar disposition to flatter and spoil her. However, that was none of Grace's business, and certainly Miss Leece had been careful since the sound rating Miss Thompson had given her.
Just then the gong broke in upon Grace's reflections. With a sigh of relief she closed her book and strolled with her friends down to their usual meeting place in the locker room.
There was but one topic of conversation now, the freshman prize.
"Anne," predicted Nora, "you just can't help winning it! I don't believe it's in you to make a mistake. Miss Leece always gives you the hardest problems, too, but she can't stump little Anne."
Anne smiled wearily. It was well examinations were to begin in two days. In her secret soul she felt she could not hold out much longer. Moreover, Anne was worried about family affairs. She had received a letter, that morning, which had troubled her so much that she had been on the point, a dozen times, of bursting into tears. However, if she won the prize—not the small one, but thebigone—the difficulty would be surmounted.
Another worry had crept into her mind. She had lost the letter. A little, wayward breeze had seized it suddenly from her limp fingers and blown it away. She knew the letter was lurking somewhere in a corner of the schoolroom, and she had hoped to find it when the class was dismissed. But the missing paper was nowhere in sight when she had searched for it during recess. Perhaps it had blown out the window, in which case it would be brushed up by the janitress and never thought of again. Not for worlds would Anne have had anyone read that letter.
It was during the afternoon session, in the middle of one of the schoolroom recitations, that she caught sight of her letter again. But after the class was dismissed and she had made haste to the corner of the room, where she thought she had seen it under a desk, it was not there. Disappointed and uneasy Anne put on her hat and started home.
All afternoon she worried about it. Perhaps it was because she was so tired that she was especially sensitive about the letter being found by some one else. If that some one else should read the contents, she felt it would mean nothing lees than disgrace.
"You look exhausted, child," said Anne's sister Mary, who was weary herself, having worked hard all day on a pile of spring sewing Mrs. Gray had ordered. "Why don't you take a walk and not try to do any studying this afternoon?"
"I think I will, sister," replied Anne; and, pinning on her hat, she left her small cottage and started toward High School Street.
Turning mechanically into the broad avenue shaded by elm trees, she strolled along, half-dreaming and half-waking. She was so weary she felt she might lie down and sleep for twenty years, and like Rip Van Winkle awaken old and gray. It was foolish of her to be so uneasy about that letter.
Was it a premonition that compelled her to return to the schoolroom and search again for it? Perhaps the old janitress might have found it. The young girl quickened her pace. She must hurry if she wanted to catch the old woman before the latter closed up for the night.
Anne had not thought of looking behind. Her mind, so trained to concentration, was now bent only upon one object. But would it have swerved her from her present purpose, even if she had noticed Miss Leece following her?
The High School was still open, although Anne could not find the janitress. Perhaps the old woman was asleep somewhere. On several occasions she had been found sleeping soundly when she should have been brushing out schoolrooms and mopping floors. Anne was determined, however, to give one good, thorough search for her letter and she accordingly mounted to the floor where the freshmen class room was situated and entered the large, empty recitation room.
She looked long and carefully under the desks and benches, even going through the scrap baskets, but there was no sign of the letter. Then she went into some of the other class rooms, but her search was unrewarded.
"What's the use?" she asked herself at last. "It's sure to have been destroyed. I think I'll just have to give it up, and try to rest a little before to-morrow, or I'll never be fit to try for that prize."
As she started down the broad staircase she heard the rasping voice of Miss Leece mingling with the principal's cool, well-modulated tones. Anne paused a moment, watching the two figures below. Miss Leece looked up and caught her eye, but Miss Thompson was engaged in unlocking the door, and did not see the little figure lingering on the steps.
Just as the door opened, another door slammed violently, and the next moment Anne heard footsteps running along a small passage that crossed the corridor. Leaning far over the rail she caught a glimpse of a figure. It was—no, Anne could not be certain of the identity. But it looked like—well, never mind whom. Anne meant to keep the secret, for it was evident that the person had been bent on mischief, else why slam a door and run at the approach of Miss Thompson! And now Anne heard the door open again and Miss Thompson's voice calling: "Who is there?" But there was no answer. Deep down in Anne's heart there crept a vague suspicion.
My dear Grace:Will you come and see me at my office after school to-day? I have something very important to discuss.Sincerely yours,Emma Thompson.
My dear Grace:
Will you come and see me at my office after school to-day? I have something very important to discuss.
Sincerely yours,
Emma Thompson.
Grace read the letter over twice. What in the world could Miss Thompson want to discuss with her? Perhaps she had not been doing well enough in her classes. But Grace rejected the idea. She always kept up to the average, and it was only those who fell below who ever received warnings from the principal.
Perhaps it was—well, never mind, she would wait and see. As soon as school was over she hurried to the principal's office and tapped on the door.
"Well, Grace, my dear," said Miss Thompson, as the young girl entered, "did my note frighten you?"
"No, indeed," replied Grace; "I had a clear conscience and I don't expect to fail in exams to-morrow, although I am not so studious as Anne Pierson or Miriam."
"Of course you don't expect to fail, my dear," said the principal, kindly, for, of all the girls in the school, Grace was her favorite. "I didn't bring you here to scold you. But I have something very serious to talk about. While I have threshed out the matter with myself, I believe I might do better by talking things over with one of my safest and sanest freshman."
"Why, what has happened, Miss Thompson?" asked Grace curiously.
"First, let me ask you a few questions," answered the principal. "Tell me something about the competition for the freshman prize. Which girl do you think has the best chance of winning it?"
"I know whom I want to win," replied Grace innocently. "Anne, of course, and I believe she will, too. While Miriam is more showy in her recitations, Anne is much more thorough, and she studies a great deal harder. The fact is, I am afraid she is making herself ill with studying. But she is determined to win not the little prize, but the big one, which is more than even Anne can do, I believe. Whoever heard of having every examination paper perfect?"
"It has not been done so far," admitted Miss Thompson, "but why is Anne so bent on winning the prize? Is it all for glory, do you think?"
"Anne is very poor, you know, Miss Thompson," said Grace simply.
"So she is," replied the principal, "and the child needs the money." Miss Thompson paused a moment, looking thoughtfully out over the smooth green lawn. "Grace," she resumed, finally, "I have something very serious to tell you. Two days ago I made a discovery that may change the fate of the freshman prize this year considerably. You know I keep the examination questions here in my desk. That is, the originals. A copy is now at the printers. So, you see, I have only one set of originals. I had occasion to come back to my office quite late the day of the discovery, and, as I let myself in at that door," she pointed to the door leading into the corridor, "what I thought was a gust of wind slammed the door leading into the next room which I usually keep shut and bolted on this side. My desk was open and the freshman examination papers undoubtedly had been tampered with. I could tell because they are usually the last in the pile and they were all on top and quite disarranged. Whoever had been here, had heard my key in the lock, and without waiting to close the desk had fled by the other door. I feel deeply grieved over this matter. I should never think of suspecting any of my fine girls of such trickery; and, yet, who else could it have been except one of the freshmen?"
"Oh, Miss Thompson, this is dreadful," exclaimed Grace, distressed and shocked over the story. "I don't believe there's a girl in the class who would have done it. There must be some mistake."
"That is why I sent for you, Grace," said the principal. "I want your advice. Now Anne——"
"Anne?" interrupted Grace horrified. "You don't suppose, for a minute, Anne would be dishonest? Never! I won't stay and listen any longer," and she rushed to the door.
Miss Thompson followed, placing a detaining hand on her arm.
"You are right, Grace, to be loyal to your friend," said the principal, always just and kind under the most trying circumstances; "but Anne, I must tell you, is under suspicion."
"Why?" demanded Grace, almost sobbing in her anger and unhappiness.
"The afternoon of the discovery Anne was here long after school hours. She was seen by two people wandering about the building."
"Who were the people?" demanded Grace incredulously.
"The janitress, who saw her from the window of another room, and—Miss Leece."
"I thought so," exclaimed Grace, with a note of triumph in her voice. "It is Miss Leece, is it, who is trumping up all this business? I tell you, I don't believe a word of it, Miss Thompson. Anne would no more do such a thing than I would, and I am going to fight to save her if it takes my last breath. Do you know how hard she has worked to win this prize? Simply all the time. I believe, if she knew what you suspected, it would kill her. I believe it's some tale Miss Leece has made up. And besides, why shouldn't she have come back to the building? Perhaps she forgot a book or something. I'd just like to know what Miss Leece was doing here at that time of day."
"She came here to meet me on business," answered Miss Thompson. "That is why she knows something of the unfortunate affair. She was with me when I found my desk had been broken open and the papers disturbed. She also heard the other door slam and it was then she told me of having seen Anne wandering about the building for which, as you say, there might have been a dozen reasons; I believe, as firmly as you do, that the child is incapable of cheating, and I intend to leave no stone unturned to get at the truth. But there is still another fact against Anne that is very black." The speaker took from a drawer a slip of folded paper. "This was found in the building," she continued, "and since it was an open letter, without address and under the circumstances, so important, it was read and the contents reported to me. I have since read it myself and I now ask you to read it."
Dear Anne:I must have one hundred dollars at once, or go somewhere for a long time. I foolishly signed a friend's name to a slip of paper. I didn't know he would be so hard, but he threatens to prosecute unless I pay up before the end of next week. I know you have rich friends. I have been hearing of your successes. Perhaps the old lady, Mrs. G., will oblige you. I trust to your good sense to see that the hundred must be forthcoming, or it will mean disgrace for us all.Your father,J. P.
Dear Anne:
I must have one hundred dollars at once, or go somewhere for a long time. I foolishly signed a friend's name to a slip of paper. I didn't know he would be so hard, but he threatens to prosecute unless I pay up before the end of next week. I know you have rich friends. I have been hearing of your successes. Perhaps the old lady, Mrs. G., will oblige you. I trust to your good sense to see that the hundred must be forthcoming, or it will mean disgrace for us all.
Your father,
J. P.
Grace limply held the letter in one hand.
"Oh, poor, poor Anne!" she groaned, wiping away the tears that had welled up into her eyes and were running down her cheeks.
"I feel just as you do, my child," went on Miss Thompson. "I am deeply, bitterly sorry for this unfortunate child. But you will agree with me that she has had a very strong motive for winning the prize."
Grace nodded mutely.
"By the way," she asked presently, when she had calmed herself, "who was it that found the letter?"
"Miss Leece again," replied Miss Thompson, hesitatingly.
"There, you see," exclaimed Grace excitedly, "that woman is determined to ruin Anne before the close of school. I tell you, I won't believe Anne is guilty. It has taken just this much to make me certain that she is entirely innocent. Is there no clue whatever to the person who copied the papers?"
"Yes," answered Miss Thompson, "there is. This had been shoved back in the desk under the papers. It does not belong to me, and it could not have gotten into my desk by any other means. I suppose, in her hurry to copy the freshmen sheets, whoever she was, laid it down and forgot it."
Miss Thompson produced a crumpled pocket handkerchief. Grace took it and held it to the light. There were no marks or initials upon it whatever; it was simply a cambric handkerchief with a narrow hemstitched border, a handkerchief such as anyone might use. It was neither large nor small, neither of thin nor thick material.
"There's nothing on it," said Grace. "I suppose the stores sell hundreds of these."
"That's very true," answered the principal, "but I hoped you would be familiar enough with your friends' handkerchiefs to recognize this one."
"No," replied Grace, "I haven't the least idea whose it is. Wait a moment," she added quickly, smelling the handkerchief; "there is a perfume on it of some sort. Did you notice that?"
"I did," replied Miss Thompson. "It was one of the first things I did notice. I am very sensitive to perfumes; perhaps because I dislike them on clothing. But I waited for you to find it out for yourself. In fact, my dear, this will be the only means of trapping the person. Now, what perfume is it, and who in the class uses it? I am not familiar with perfumes, but I thought perhaps you were. And now, I will tell you that this is the reason I sent for you. The reason I showed you this letter, which has only been seen by one other person besides myself—Miss Leece, of course. I do not wish to tell anyone else about this matter. I do not care to put the subject before the School Board for discussion. I do not believe, any more than you, that Anne is guilty and I have taken you into my confidence because I believe you are the one person in the world who can help me in this predicament. Miss Leece, of course, intends to do everything in her power to bring the child 'to justice.' But, until I give her permission, she will hardly dare to speak of it. So far, we three are the only people who know what has happened. In the meantime, I shall turn over this handkerchief to you. Keep it carefully and be very guarded about what you do and say. You are a young girl," she continued, taking Grace's hand and gazing full into her honest eyes, "but I have a great respect for your judgment and discretion, and that is the reason I am asking for your help in this very delicate matter. You may rest assured that I shall do nothing whatever; at least, not until after examinations. I have an idea that we may get a clue through them. We must save Anne, whose life would be utterly ruined by such a false accusation as this. And I feel convinced that it is false."
"Well, I can tell you one thing, Miss Thompson," returned Grace as she opened the door, "and that is Anne Pierson never used any perfume in her life. She hasn't any to use."
Miss Thompson nodded and smiled.
"I was sure of that," she called.
Grace had little time to lose. The examinations, which took place the next day and the day after, would undoubtedly bring matters to a crisis.
She took the handkerchief from her pocket and sniffed at it. Neither was she familiar with perfumes, and this odor was new to her. Suddenly an idea occurred to her and she made straight for the nearest drugstore.
"Mr. Gleason," she demanded of the clerk in charge, "could you tell me what perfume this is?"
The druggist sniffed thoughtfully at the handkerchief for some seconds.
"It's sandalwood," he said at last. "We received some in stock a week ago."
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,doshow 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.
Graduation night in Oakdale High School was one of the great social events of the year. The floor and galleries of Assembly Hall were invariably packed with an enthusiastic audience; for the two schools united at the ceremony of graduation and the senior class formed a mixed company on the stage.
Most of the pupils attended commencement and the freshman class of the Girls' High School was always there in full to witness the triumph of one of its members, who was called forth from the audience to receive the usual freshman prize of twenty-five dollars.
The identity of the winner was always kept a secret until the great night, when she was summoned from the audience to the stage and presented with the money before the entire assembly.
The readers can imagine, therefore, the uncertainty and trepidation that fluttered in the hearts of our four girls as they sat together in the center of the great hall. Anne had passed through a dozen stages of emotions, both hopeful and otherwise, and had finally steeled herself to give up all thought of winning either of the prizes.
Miriam, confident and handsome, sat near them. She wore a beautiful white dress trimmed with lace, and her thick, black plaits were twisted around her head like a coronet.
"She's all dressed up to step up on the stage and get her twenty-five," whispered Nora to Jessica.
"Perhaps she already knows she's going to get it," answered Jessica doubtfully. "Perhaps Miss Leece has told her."
"If Miss Leece knew it, she would certainly have told her," answered Grace, leaning over so that Anne could not hear her; "but I feel sure Miss Thompson has managed it somehow, although I kept hoping all day she would send me a note or something. It may be she hated to tell me the bad news."
Hippy Wingate and Reddy Brooks came down the aisle in immaculate attire. David followed behind, pale and silent.
Did David suspect anything about his sister? Grace wondered. Certainly he had directly or indirectly been the means of balking every one of Miriam's schemes for injuring Anne. Perhaps Miriam had told him she was to win the prize, and he was thinking of Anne's disappointment. All three boys paused when they saw their friends of the Christmas house party. Hippy leaned over to say:
"Hello, girls! Can you guess what has brought us here to-night, all dressed up in our best?"
"Not unless it was to show off your clothes," replied Nora.
"To see Miss Anne Pierson win the freshman prize. Simply that, and nothing more."
"But I don't expect to win it, Hippy," protested Anne.
"If you don't, you aren't the girl we took you for, then," replied Hippy. "I heard from a young person in your class that you hadn't made a mistake in six months."
"But just as many people think Miriam will win," said Anne. "Look at all the people congratulating her already."
Surely enough Miriam's friends had rallied around her at the final test, and numbers of girls and boys and grown people, too, were already prophesying victory.
Just then the audience composed itself, for the exercises were about to begin. Soft music was heard and the graduates filed out and took their seats.
Immediately they were seated, Mrs. Gray, in a beautiful lavender silk gown and a white lace bonnet trimmed with violets, swept down the aisle, bowing and smiling right and left.
"Girls!" cried Grace delightedly, looking over her shoulder, "guess who is with our precious little Mrs. Gray?"
"Tom Gray!" cried the others in unison, just as Tom Gray himself appeared opposite them and waved his hat, regardless of the many eyes fastened upon him, for Mrs. Gray was an important personage not only at these annual assemblages, but in Oakdale itself, of which she had always been a most generous and loyal citizen.
Mrs. Gray nodded cordially when she saw the girls, but shook her head over Anne's pale, drawn little face.
As the ceremonies proceeded after the opening prayer, Anne felt herself drifting further and further away. She was a little boat on a troubled, restless sea, with the noise of the waves in her head, and only occasionally did she hear some one's voice reading a graduating essay or making a speech—she couldn't tell which. She remembered there was a piano solo, very loud and crashing, it seemed to her, and there was a tremendous humming sound. The sea was growing very rough, she thought. A storm was brewing somewhere. Then the wind died down again, there was a complete and utter silence and she seemed to be entirely alone.
"I have great pleasure in announcing," she dimly heard a voice say, "that the annual freshman prize, so generously donated always by Mrs. Gray, is awarded this year to one of the most brilliant and remarkable pupils who has ever studied in Oakdale High School. My language, in this instance, may appear to be rather extravagant, but the pupil, who has been under the eye of the faculty for many months because of her most excellent standing, has achieved a unique success in the history of the school. I may say that she has turned in a set of examination papers absolutely perfect in every detail, and it is with real delight I announce that she has won not only the usual smaller prize of twenty-five dollars, but the premium always offered at the same time, but never before won by any pupil of this school, of one hundred dollars, for a flawless examination. I would, therefore, ask Miss Anne Pierson to come to the platform, that I may have the honor of delivering both prizes to her."
Such a shout as arose after this remarkable speech had never before been heard at a high school graduation. The freshman class was fairly mad with joy, while Hippy and Reddy yelled themselves hoarse.
"Anne!" cried Grace. "Wake up, Anne! Are you asleep, child? Go up to the platform. Miss Thompson is waiting for you."
Tears of joy and relief were rolling down Grace's cheeks as she urged Anne to rise from her seat.
Anne stood up, half dazed, still wondering what it was all about, and made her way through a sea of faces to the platform.
"Hurrah!" roared the pupils of the High School in one voice.
"Hi-hi-hi! Hi-hi-hi! Oakdale, Oakdale, HIGH SCHOOL!"
This was an honor usually accorded only to football and baseball heroes.
When Anne reached the platform she appeared so small and plain, in her simple white muslin frock, that people looked at her wonderingly. It was not everyone in Oakdale who was familiar with the little, dark-haired girl.
"My dear," said Miss Thompson, very handsome and imposing in a gray silk dress, "I am happy to be the one to hand you these two prizes. You have worked hard and richly deserve them both. I am sure everyone in this house to-night is glad that your winter's unceasing labors are crowned with success, and I now recommend you to take a good rest, for such prizes are only earned by earnest and hard application, and hard work carries with it, sometimes, its own penalty." (She placed special emphasis on these last words.) "You have indeed earned the right to a happy vacation."
Two bouquets were handed over the footlights at this point, one a beautiful bunch of pink roses and the other of lilies of the valley.
Mrs. Gray had sent the roses Grace felt sure. It was her custom always to send such a bouquet to the one who carried off the prize. But who had sent the lilies of the valley?
"Very likely David," Grace said to herself, watching the boy's face as Anne took the flowers from the usher.
Had he known then that his sister had lost the prize, or was his faith in Anne so great?
But something had happened.
Suddenly the waves, which for the last half hour had been roaring and tossing about Anne, seemed to submerge her completely. She felt a horrid sensation of sickness for a moment; and then down, down she sank to the bottom of nothing, carrying her flowers and prizes with her.
"She's fainted!" cried some one. "The poor, little, tired girl has fainted!"
A tall young graduate picked up the small, limp figure and carried her off the stage as easily as if she had been a child. The closing exercises were then resumed, the benediction pronounced and the audience filed out somewhat silently.
Grace and her friends hurried around behind the scenes, where they found Mrs. Gray in the act of placing a smelling-salts bottle to Anne's nostrils, while Tom Gray and David Nesbit were cooling her temples with lumps of ice. "She is conscious at last!" exclaimed the old lady, as Anne opened her eyes. "It was entirely too much excitement for this delicate, worn-out child. Tom, order the carriage. I mean to take her straight to my own house and nurse her myself. I am the only person in this town who has time to give her all the care and attention she needs. I feel like such a lazy, good-for-nothing old woman when I see all these bright young people winning prizes and doing so many clever things."
"How you do go on, Mrs. Gray," said David. "You know very well you are the brightest, youngest and prettiest girl in Oakdale."
Anne sat up at this moment, and looked into the faces of her best friends leaning over her anxiously.
"I thought the boat capsized just as I was about to win the race," she said faintly.
"The little boat did capsize, dear," answered Mrs. Gray gently, "but not until after you had won the race. And now, if you are well enough to let this strong nephew of mine carry you, we are going to take you right home. Are all my Christmas children here?" she continued, looking about her. Hippy and Reddy had joined the group just then. "Yes, here you are. Tom and I can't take you all up in the carriage, but I want you to follow us, if your parents and guardians have no objections. I have arranged a little supper to celebrate Anne's victory. I am sorry she can't come to her own party, but she may hear all about it afterwards and the rest of you shall make merry for her."
Not long after, six young people strolled up Chapel Hill in the moonlight, talking gayly of the happy days they had spent together with Mrs. Gray; for Richards, the burglar, seemed now a sort of joke to them, and even the terrible recollection of the wolves was softened by time, and they could only laugh at poor Hippy's plight when his breath gave out and his legs refused their office.
"Oh, well," exclaimed Hippy, pretending to be much offended, "it is a very good idea to remember only the funny things and forget the dangerous ones, when all's said and done. But if I'd have had a stroke of apoplexy just as that young lady wolf began to lick my heels, you wouldn't have been so merry over the recollection."
"Well," retorted Nora, "we would have been just about going into half mourning, by now, and that's always a cheerful thought."
"Grace," whispered Jessica, taking advantage of the talk of the others not to be overheard, "did you notice Miriam when Miss Thompson began her speech?"
"No," answered Grace, "I was too intent upon Anne to look at Miriam. Why?"
"Well," continued Jessica, "you remember that Miss Thompson mentioned no names until almost the very end of the speech!"
"Yes," answered the other; "I remember it particularly, because I kept wishing she would hurry and get to the point."
"Exactly," went on Jessica, "and Miriam thought she had won the prize."
"How do you know, Jessica! How could you tell?"
"Oh, in a hundred different ways. I could tell by the smile on her face that she took every compliment to herself. Lots of people were watching her, too, and I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for her, because she is one of those people who just can't stand losing. When Miss Thompson reached the place where she was about to ask Anne to step up and get the prize, Miriam half rose in her seat. Mrs. Nesbit pulled her back in the nick of time. I honestly believe she would have reached the stage before Anne did, if her mother hadn't stopped her. Hippy told me they left before the benediction. I suppose Miriam was not equal to the mortification."
"I thought perhaps Miss Thompson would have mentioned her name as coming second in the contest," said Grace. "She usually does, you know. But there were good reasons, and plenty, why she shouldn't this time, I suppose. And to think, Jessica, that Miriam need never have done that dreadful thing. She would probably have passed second in the class anyway, and copying the papers didn't help her one little bit."
Mrs. Gray reported Anne to be much better. She had taken some nourishing broth and gone to bed, and she was at that moment sleeping soundly.
So there was no cause for anything but good cheer at the supper party.
And here let us leave them around Mrs. Gray's hospitable table. For, is it not better to say farewell rejoicing so that no shadows may darken the memory we shall carry with us during the long months of separation?
Before Oakdale High School welcomes her children back again, David will sail abroad with his mother and sister; Grace and Anne will set off for the country to visit Grace's grandmother; the others and their families will scatter to various summer resorts, while Mrs. Gray will seek a cool spot in the mountains.
However, in the next volume, which will be entitled, "Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year at High School; Or, the Record of the Girl Chums in Work and Athletics," we shall again meet the four girls and their friends. This book, the record of the girl chums in athletics, tells of the exciting rivalries of the sophomore and junior basketball teams, culminating in a final hard-fought battle. Again Grace Harlowe distinguishes herself by her bravery and good judgment, and again Miriam Nesbit will do her best to thwart her at every point. And we may learn what Anne Pierson did with the prize money.
The End.
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