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Grace Harlowe's Junior Year at High School; or, Fast Friends in the Sororities

<h3>THE ANONYMOUS LETTER</h3> After the parts had been given out, rehearsals for the play went merrily on. There were many hitches at first, but finally things settled down to smooth running order, and as the time for its presentation approached Miss Tebbs had good reason to feel jubilant. Each girl seemed bent on distinguishing herself, and that teacher was heard laughingly to declare that she had an "all star cast." In spite of rehearsals, Grace Harlowe's team found time for a few basketball games, and whipped the senior team twice in succession, much to the disgust of Captain Julia Crosby, who threatened to go into deep mourning over what she called "her dead and gone team." She even composed a mournful ditty, which she sang in their ears in a wailing minor key whenever she passed any of them, and practically tormented them, until they actually did win one hard-fought victory over the juniors, "just to keep Julia from perpetrating her eternal chant," as one of them remarked. Eleanor had outwardly settled down to the routine of school work in a way that surprised even her aunt. But inwardly she was seething with rebellion toward Miss Thompson and hatred of the Phi Sigma Tau. She had fully determined that Anne Pierson should never play Rosalind, and had hit upon a plan by which she hoped to accomplish her ends. The Phi Sigma Tau were completely carried away with Anne's impersonation of Shakespeare's heroine, and any blow struck at Anne would be equally felt by the others. Anne had been absent from one rehearsal and thus Eleanor had had an opportunity to show her ability. She had done very well and Miss Tebbs had praised her work, though in her secret heart Eleanor knew that Anne's work was finer than her own. But the means of gratifying her own personal vanity blinded her to everything except the fact that she wanted to play Rosalind regardless of Anne's superior ability. To settle Miss Thompson was not so easy a matter, and though Eleanor racked her brain for some telling method of vengeance, no inspiration came until one afternoon in early March. Professor La Roche, irritated to the point of frenzy, ordered her from his class, with instructions to report herself to Miss Thompson. As she entered the open door of the principal's office she noticed that the room was empty of occupants. She stopped, hesitated, then went softly in, a half-formed idea in her mind that did not at first assume definite shape. "If Miss Thompson comes in, I suppose I shall have to report myself," thought Eleanor. "While I'm here, I'll just look about and see if I can't find some way to even up that public apology she made me make." Gliding over to the open desk, she ran her eye hastily over the various papers spread out upon it. At first she found nothing of importance, but suddenly she began to laugh softly, her face lighted with malicious glee. "Here's the wonderful paper that Miss Tabby Cat Thompson is going to read before the 'Arts and Crafts Club' to-morrow," she murmured. "I heard her telling Miss Chester about it yesterday. She said it took her six weeks to prepare it on account of the time she spent in looking up her facts. It will take me less than six minutes to dispose of it." Seizing the essay with both hands, she tore it across, and then tore it again and again, until it was literally reduced to shreds. These she gathered into a heap and left in the middle of the desk. Glancing about to see that no one was near, she was about to step into the corridor when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Quick as a flash she flung open the door of the little lavatory just outside the office and concealed herself just as a girl turned from the main corridor into the short passage leading to the principal's office. Eleanor, holding the door slightly ajar, peered stealthily out at the new-comer, who was none other than Grace Harlowe. Having no recitation that hour, Grace had run up to the office to obtain Miss Thompson's permission to use the gymnasium that afternoon for basketball practice. A hasty glance inside the office revealed to Grace that the principal was not there. She hesitated a moment, walked toward the desk, then turned and went out again. The moment she turned the corner, Eleanor darted out of the lavatory and fled down the corridor, just as the bell rang for the end of the period. In a moment the main corridor was filled with girls from the various classrooms, and, joining them, Eleanor entered the study hall without reporting her dismissal from French class. She was somewhat nervous and trembled a little at the thought of her near discovery, but felt not the slightest qualm of conscience at her ruthless destruction of another's property. On the contrary, she experienced a wicked satisfaction, and smiled to herself as she pictured Miss Thompson's consternation when the latter should discover her loss. Best of all, the principal would never find out who did it, for Eleanor vowed never to admit her guilt. She decided to go at once to Professor La Roche and apologize, so that he would not report her to Miss Thompson. Without a doubt an effort would be made to find the culprit, and if it were proven that she did not return to the study hall as soon as dismissed from French, she might be asked to account for it, and thus call down suspicion upon herself. On her way to rhetoric recitation, she stopped at Professor La Roche's door, greatly astonishing him by a prettily worded apology, which he readily accepted and beamed upon her with forgiving good-nature. Feeling that she had bridged that difficulty, Eleanor entered the classroom to find Miss Thompson talking in low, guarded tones to Miss Chester, who looked both, shocked and surprised. She caught the words "entirely destroyed," "serious offence" and "investigate at once," Then the principal left the room and Miss Chester turned to the class and began the recitation. To Eleanor's surprise, nothing was said of the matter that day. School was dismissed as usual, and the girls went out without dreaming that on the morrow they would all be placed under suspicion until the person guilty of the outrage was found. The following morning, after opening exercises, Miss Thompson stated briefly the destruction of her paper. "I was out of my office barely ten minutes," she said, "yet when I returned some one had ruthlessly torn the essay to bits and left the pieces piled in the middle of my desk. As I had spent considerable time and research in getting the subject matter together, the destruction of the paper is particularly annoying. Whoever was contemptible enough to engage in such mischief must have known this. It looks like a deliberate attempt to insult me. It is hard to believe one of my girls guilty, yet it is not probable that any one outside could be responsible. A girl who would wilfully do such a thing is a menace to the school and should be removed from it. I am not going to any extreme measures to find the miscreant. Were I to question each girl in turn I fear the offender might perjure herself rather than admit her guilt. But I am confident that sooner or later I shall know the truth of the matter." As Miss Thompson concluded, she looked over the roomful of girls who sat watching her with serious faces. Which one of them was guilty? Time alone would tell. At recess that morning the subject of the play was for once forgotten in the excitement occasioned by the principal's recent disclosure. Groups of girls indignantly denied even the thought of such mischief. "I don't believe Miss Thompson would ever suspect us of any such thing," remarked Jessica to her friends. "Of course not, goose," replied Grace. "She knows us too well for that." But it was with a peculiar apprehension of something unpleasant that Grace answered a summons to the principal's office just before school closed for the day. "Grace," she said, as the young girl entered the office, "were you in my office yesterday afternoon between half past one and a quarter of two?" "Why, yes, Miss Thompson. I came to ask permission to use the gymnasium, but you were out, so I came back and asked you just before school closed." "Yes, I remember that you did," replied the principal. "However, I want you to read this." Grace took the paper, looking rather perplexed, and read: <div class="blockquot">"Ask Miss Harlowe what she was doing in your office between half past one and a quarter of two yesterday." <div class='right'> "A Passerby." </div> </div> "Why—why——" stammered Grace, her eyes growing large with wonder. "I don't understand. I came here at that time, for I looked at the clock as I came in, but I was only here for a second." Then the truth dawned upon her. "Why, Miss Thompson," she cried, "you surely don't think I tore up your essay?" "No, Grace, I don't," replied the principal. "But I believe that the one who wrote this note is the one who did do it, and evidently wishes to fasten the guilt upon you. It looks to me as though we had a common enemy. Do you recognize either the paper or the writing?" "No," replied Grace slowly, shaking her head. "Vertical writing all looks alike. The paper is peculiar. It is note paper, but different from any I ever saw before. It looks like——" She stopped suddenly, a shocked look creeping into her eyes. "What is it, Grace?" said Miss Thompson, who had been closely watching her. "I—just—had a queer idea," faltered Grace. "If you suspect any one, Grace, it is your duty to tell me," said the principal. "I cannot pass lightly over such a piece of wanton destruction. To clear up this mystery, should be a matter of vital interest to you, too, as this letter is really an insinuation against you." Grace was silent. "I am waiting for you, Grace," said the principal. "Will you do as I wish?" The tears rushed to Grace's eyes. "Forgive me, Miss Thompson," she said tremulously, "but I can tell you nothing." "You are doing wrong, Grace, in withholding your knowledge," said the older woman rather sternly, "and I am greatly displeased at your stubbornness. Ordinarily I would not ask you to betray any of your schoolmates, but in this instance I am justified, and you are making a serious mistake in sacrificing your duty upon the altar of school-girl honor." "I am sorry, Miss Thompson," said Grace, striving to steady her voice. "I value your good opinion above everything, but I can tell you nothing you wish to know. Please, please don't ask me." "Very well," responded the principal in a tone of cold dismissal, turning to her desk. With a half-stifled sob, Grace hurried from the room. For the first time, since entering High School, she had incurred the displeasure of her beloved principal, and all for the sake of a girl who was unworthy of the sacrifice. For Grace had recognized the paper. It was precisely the same style of paper on which Eleanor Savell had declined her Thanksgiving invitation. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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