CHAPTER XIX
THE SWORD OF SUSPENSE
When Miss Wharton sent Jean Brent and Grace Harlowe from her office withthe threat of dismissal hanging over them she fully intended to keep herword. From the moment she had first beheld Grace Harlowe she hadconceived for her a rooted dislike such as only persons of strongprejudices can entertain. Her whole life had been lived narrowly, andwith repression, therefore she was not in sympathy with youth or itsenthusiasm. According to her belief no young woman of Grace's age andappearance was competent to assume the responsibility of managing anestablishment like Harlowe House. She had again delivered this opinionmost forcefully in Miss Wilder's presence after Grace had left theoffice on the afternoon of their first meeting, and Miss Wilder'searnest assurances to the contrary served only to deepen Miss Wharton'sdisapproval of the bright-faced, clear-eyed girl whose quietself-possession indicated a capability of managing her own affairs thatwas a distinct affront to the woman who hoped to discover in her suchfaults as would triumphantly bear out her unkind criticism.
Miss Wharton had held the position of dean in an unimportant westerncollege, and it was at the solicitation of a cousin, a member of theBoard of Trustees, that she had applied for the office of dean atOverton, and had been appointed to it with the distinct understandingthat it was to be for the present college year only. Should Miss Wilderbe unable to resume her duties the following October, Miss Wharton wouldthen be reappointed for the entire year. The importance of being thedean of Overton College, coupled with the generous salary attached tothe office, were the motives which caused Miss Wharton to resign hermore humble position, assured as it was, for an indefinite period ofyears, for the one of greater glory but uncertain length.
Possessed of a hard, unsympathetic nature, she secretly cherished thehope that Miss Wilder would not return to Overton the following year.She also resolved to prove her own worth above that of the kindly,efficient dean whom the Overton girls idolized, and began her campaignby criticizing and finding fault with Miss Wilder's methods whenever theslightest opportunity presented itself. At first her unfair tactics badefair to meet with success. The various members of the Board, and evenDr. Morton, wondered vaguely if, after all, too much confidence hadbeen reposed in Miss Wilder.
Wholly intent on establishing herself as a fixture at Overton College,Miss Wharton allowed the matter concerning Jean Brent and Grace to restwhile she attended to what she considered vastly more important affairs.The thought that she was keeping both young women in the most cruelsuspense did not trouble her in the least. On the contrary she decidedthat they deserved to be kept in a state of uncertainty as to what sheintended to do with them, and deliberately put over their case untilsuch time as suited her convenience.
Both Jean and Grace went about, however, with the feeling that a swordwas suspended over their heads and likely to descend at any moment.Grace expected, daily, to be summoned to Miss Wharton's office, there torefuse to divulge Jean Brent's secret and then ask the pertinentquestion, "Do you intend to lay this matter before the Board?" If shereceived an affirmative answer, then she planned to return to HarloweHouse, write her formal resignation as manager of it and mail it toPresident Morton. But day followed day, and week followed week, andstill the dread summons did not come. Grace discussed frequently thepossible cause of Miss Wharton's negligence in the matter with Emma,her one confidante. Emma was of the opinion that, in trying to fill MissWilder's position, Miss Wharton had her hands full. Although Emma wasapt to clothe the most serious happenings in the cloak of humor, she wasa shrewd judge of human nature.
"Just let me tell you one thing, Gracious," she remarked one blusteringMarch evening as the two young women fought their way across the campusagainst a howling wind. They were returning from an evening spent withKathleen West and Patience Eliot. "Miss Wharton is no more fitted forthe position of dean at Overton College than I am for the presidency ofthe United States. She may have been successful in some little,out-of-the-way academy in a jerkwater town, but she's sadly out of placehere. She has about as much tact as a rhinoceros, and possesses theaesthetic perceptions of a coal shoveler. I'm just waiting for thesesimple truths to dawn upon the intellects of our august Board. Iunderstand that cadaverous-looking man with the wall eyes and thespade-shaped, beard, who walks about as though he cherished a grudgeagainst the human race, and rejoices in the euphonious name of DariusDutton, is responsible for this crime against Overton. He recommendedher appointment to the Board. It seems that he is Miss Wharton'scousin. Thank goodness he isn't mine, or Miss Wharton either."
Grace laughed at Emma's sweeping denunciation of Miss Wharton and theoffending Daniel Dutton. Then her face grew sober. "You mustn't allow mygrievances to imbitter you, Emma, toward any member of the Board."
"Oh, my only grudge against Darius D. so far is his having suchdetestable relatives and foisting them upon an innocent, trustingcollege," retorted Emma with spirit, "but my grudge against Miss Whartonis a very different matter. It's an active, lively grudge. I'd like towrite to Miss Wilder and Mrs. Gray, and interview Dr. Morton, and thensee what happened. It would not be Grace Harlowe who resigned; but itmight be a certain hateful person whose name begins with W. I won't sayher name outright. Possibly you'll be able to guess it."
Grace's hand found Emma's in the dark as they came to the steps ofHarlowe House. The two girls paused for an instant. Their hands clungloyally. "Remember, Emma, you've promised to let me have my own way inthis," reminded Grace wistfully.
"I'll keep my promise," answered Emma, but her voice sounded husky.
"I know," continued Grace, "that Miss Wharton's attitude toward me isone of personal prejudice. From the moment she saw me she disliked me. Iknow of only one other similar case. When Anne Pierson and I werefreshmen in Oakdale High School we recited algebra to a teacher namedMiss Leece, who behaved toward Anne in precisely the same way that MissWharton has behaved toward me, simply because she disliked her. But comeon, old comrade, we mustn't stand out here all night with the windhowling in our ears. Let us try and forget our troubles. What is to be,will be. I am nothing, if not a fatalist." Grace forced herself to smilewith her usual brightness, and the two girls entered the house arm inarm, each endeavoring, for the sake of the other to stifle herunhappiness.
It was not yet ten o'clock and the lights were still burning in theliving room. Gathered about the library table were six girls, deep inconversation. One of them glanced toward the hall at the sound of theopening door.
"Oh, Miss Harlowe," she called, "You are the very person we have beenwishing for." It was Cecil Ferris who spoke. Nettie Weyburn, LouiseSampson, Mary Reynolds, Evelyn Ward and Hilda Moore made up the rest ofthe sextette. "We are wondering if it wouldn't be a good plan to giveour grand revue directly after the Easter vacation. It will be our lastentertainment this year, because after Easter the weather begins to growwarm and the girls like to be outdoors. If you would help us plan it,then those of us who live here, and are going to take part in it, can bestudying and rehearsing during the vacation. Of course, Evelyn won't bewith us, but she will help us before she goes to New York. When shecomes back she can give us the finishing touches. Here is the programmeas far as we have planned it. We are awfully short of features."
Cecil handed Grace a sheet of paper on which were jotted several items.There was a sketch written by Mary Reynolds, "The Freshman on the TopFloor," a pathetic little story of a lonely freshman. Gertrude Earle, ademure, dreamy-eyed girl, the daughter of a musician, was down for apiano solo. There was to be a sextette, a chorus and a troupe of dancinggirls. Kathleen West had written a clever little playlet "In the Days ofShakespeare," and Hilda Moore, who could do all sorts of queer folkdances, was to busy her light feet in a series of quick change costumedances, while Amy Devery was to give an imitation of a funnymotion-picture comedian who had made the whole country laugh at hisantics.
"How would you like some imitations and baby songs?" asked Grace,forgetting
for the moment the shadow that hung over her. "I have twofriends who would be delighted to help you."
"How lovely!" cried Louise Sampson. "Now if only we had some one whocould sing serious songs exceptionally well."
"Miss Brent has a wonderful voice," said Evelyn rather reluctantly.
"Then we must ask her to sing," decided Louise. "You ask her to-night,Evelyn."
But Evelyn shook her head. "I'd rather you would ask her, Louise. Won'tyou, please?"
"All right, I will," said Louise good-naturedly, who had no idea of thestrained relations existing between the two girls, and consequentlythought nothing of Evelyn's request.
"Much as I regret tearing myself away from this representative companyof beauty and brains, I have themes that cry out to be corrected,"declared Emma Dean, who had been listening in interested silence to theplans for the coming revue.
"You can't hear them cry out clear down here, can you?" asked MaryReynolds flippantly.
A general giggle went the round of the sextette.
"Not with my everyday ordinary ears, my child," answered Emma, quiteundisturbed. "It is that inner voice of duty that is making all thecommotion. I would much rather bask in the light of your collectedcountenances than listen to those frenzied shrieks. But what of mytrusting classes, who delight in writing themes and passing them on tome to be corrected?"
"Oh, yes; we all delight in writing themes," jeered Nettie Weyburn, towhom theme writing was an irksome task. "My inner voice of duty isscreaming at me this very minute to go and write one, but I'm so deaf Ican't hear it."
"If you can't hear it, how do you know it is screaming?" questioned Emmavery solemnly.
"My intuition tells me," retorted Nettie with triumphant promptness.
"Then I wish _all_ my pupils in English had such marvelous intuitions,"sighed Emma.
"My inner voice of duty is wailing at me to go upstairs and finish myletter to my mother," interposed Grace, rising. Her face had regainedits usual brightness. She could not be sad in the presence of theselight-hearted, capable girls, whose sturdy efforts to help themselvesmade them all so inexpressibly dear to her. She would help them all shecould with their entertainment. She would write Arline and Elfreda tocome to Overton for a few days and take part in the revue.
It was not until she had finished her letter to her mother and begun oneto Elfreda that the sinister recollection again darkened her thoughts.She was living in the shadow of dismissal. Would it be wise to inviteArline and Elfreda to Harlowe House for a visit while she was souncertain of what the immediate future held in store for her? If shetendered her resignation she intended it should take effect withoutdelay. Once she had surrendered her precious charge she could not andwould not remain at Harlowe House. Still she had promised her girls thatshe would help them. She had volunteered Arline's and Elfreda'sservices, knowing they would willingly leave their own affairs tojourney back to Overton.
Grace laid down her pen. Resting her elbows on the table she cradled herchin in her hands, her vivid, changeful face overcast with moodythought. At last she raised her head with the air of one who has come toa decision, and, picking up her pen, went on with her letter to J.Elfreda Briggs. If worse came to worst and she resigned before thegirls' entertainment she would courageously put aside her own feelingsand remain, at least, until afterward. It should be her last act ofdevotion to Harlowe House and her work.