CHAPTER XI
THE FINGER OF SUSPICION
That very morning as Grace was about to leave Miss Duncan's class roomshe heard her name called in severe tones. Turning quickly, she met theteacher's blue eyes fixed suspiciously upon her.
"Did you wish to speak to me, Miss Duncan?" Grace asked.
"Yes," answered Miss Duncan shortly. She continued to look steadily atGrace without speaking.
Grace waited courteously for the teacher's next words. She wondered alittle why Miss Duncan had detained her.
"Miss Harlowe," began the teacher impressively, "I have alwaysentertained a high opinion of you as an honor girl. Your record duringyour freshman year seemed to indicate plainly that you had a very clearconception of what constitutes an Overton girl's standard of honor.Within the past week, however, something has happened that forces me toadmit that I am deeply disappointed in you." Miss Duncan paused.
Grace's expressive face paled a trifle. A look of wonder mingled withhurt pride leaped into her gray eyes. "I don't understand you, MissDuncan," she said quietly. "What have I done to disappoint you?"
Miss Duncan picked up a number of closely written sheets of folded paperand handed them to Grace, who unfolded them, staring almost stupidly atthe sheet that lay on top. A wave of crimson flooded her recently palecheeks. "Why--what--where did you get this?" she stammered. "It is mytheme."
"It Is My Theme."]
"You mean it is the original from which you copied yours," put in MissDuncan dryly. "Is that your hand-writing?"
"No," replied Grace, in a puzzled tone.
"Is this your writing?" questioned Miss Duncan, suddenly producinganother theme from the drawer of her desk.
"Yes," was Grace's prompt answer. "I handed it in to you instead ofputting it in the collection box. You remember I told you I had lost thefirst one I wrote and asked for more time."
"I remember perfectly," was the significant answer. "Is this theme,"pointing to the one Grace still held, "the one you say you lost?"
"The one I say I lost," repeated Grace, a glint of resentment darkeningher eyes. "What do you mean, Miss Duncan?"
Her bold question caused the instructor's lips to tighten. "You have notanswered my question, Miss Harlowe," she said icily.
"No, this is not my theme," answered Grace; "that is, it is not in myhand-writing. I do not recognize the writing." Grace ceased speaking andstared at the theme in sudden consternation. "Some one found my themeand copied it." Her voice sank almost to a whisper. A flush of shame forthe unknown culprit dyed her cheeks anew.
"It would be better, perhaps," interrupted the teacher sarcastically,"if you admitted the truth of the affair at once, Miss Harlowe."
"There is nothing to admit," responded Grace steadily, "except that Ilost my theme on the evening I wrote it. When I found it was gone I cameto you at once and asked for another day's time. That same night Irewrote it as well as I could from memory and handed it to you thefollowing day."
An ominous silence ensued. Then Miss Duncan said stiffly: "Miss Harlowe,the young woman who wrote the theme you have in your hand dropped itinto the collection box of another section during the very evening youwould have me believe you were writing it. It was brought to me earlythe next morning."
"How do you know that it was dropped into the box the evening before?"flung back Grace, forgetting for an instant to whom she was speaking.
"Your question is hardly respectful, Miss Harlowe," returned MissDuncan, coldly reproving. "I will answer it, however, by saying that Isent for the young woman and questioned her regarding the time sheplaced her theme in the box, without letting her know my motive in doingso. Her frank answer completely assured me that she was speaking thetruth. At the same time she explained that she had been late with hertheme on account of mislaying it. She had written it two days before andplaced it in her desk. Then it had mysteriously vanished and suddenlyreappeared in the same pigeonhole in her desk in which she had placedit. She assured me that directly she found it she took it to the box.Your theme is so suspiciously similar to hers that it is hardly possibleto believe it to be merely a coincidence. In the face of thecircumstances it looks as though you were the real offender."
Grace regarded Miss Duncan with mute reproach. She could not at oncetrust herself to speak.
"Have you anything to say to me, Miss Harlowe?" was the stern question.
"Only, that what I have previously said to you is the truth," answeredGrace, fighting down her desire to cry. Then, seized with a sudden idea,she said in a tone of subdued excitement, "Will you allow me to look atthat theme again, Miss Duncan?"
Miss Duncan picked up the theme from the desk where Grace had laid itand handed it to her. A strip of paper had been pasted over the name inthe upper left hand corner. Grace scanned each closely written pageattentively. "This is my theme," she declared finally, "and I havethought of a way to prove that I wrote it. I did not steal it fromanother girl. I would not be so contemptible."
"I shall be very glad to have conclusive proof that you did not,"commented Miss Duncan rather sarcastically. "Appearances are not in yourfavor, Miss Harlowe."
"I am sorry that you doubt my word, Miss Duncan," said Grace with gentledignity, "because I am going to prove to you how utterly wrong you havebeen in suspecting me of such contemptible conduct. I wrote this themein the room of a member of the senior class. She read it after I hadwritten it. I feel sure that she can identify this as mine because whenI rewrote it I could not remember a word of the original ending whichshe had particularly commended. I did the best I could with it, but itwasn't in the least like the other," Grace ended earnestly.
"Will you tell me the name of the young woman in whose room you wroteyour theme?" asked Miss Duncan, her stern face relaxing a little.
"It was Miss Ashe," returned Grace frankly.
Miss Duncan raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I should say you hadstrong evidence in your favor, Miss Harlowe."
"Will you ask Miss Ashe to come to your room after your last classto-day, Miss Duncan?" she asked eagerly. "I should like to show her thetheme without explaining anything to her at first. I give you my word ofhonor I will say nothing about it to her in the meantime." Then,realizing that her word of honor was at present being seriouslyquestioned, Grace blushed painfully.
Miss Duncan, understanding the blush, said less severely, "Very well,Miss Harlowe." She scrutinized Grace's fine, sensitive face for amoment, then added, "You may come at the same time if you wish."
Grace brightened, then shook her head positively. "Please let me come tosee you to-morrow morning instead." She wished to give Miss Duncanperfect freedom to ask Mabel any questions she might find necessary toask.
"To-morrow morning, then," acquiesced Miss Duncan graciously.
Grace turned to leave the room. At the door she hesitated, then walkingback to the desk she said almost imploringly: "Please don't punish theother girl now, Miss Duncan. I do not know who she is, but I am sure shemust have found my theme and copied it on the spur of the moment. Ican't believe that she did it deliberately. If she did, then being foundout by you will be lesson enough for her."
"I have not as yet exonerated you from this charge, Miss Harlowe,"declared Miss Duncan stiffly, her brief graciousness vanishing likemagic. "If the other girl is to blame, then she must suffer for herfault. Until I have seen Miss Ashe I shall say nothing. After that I cannot promise."
Grace bowed and left the class room, her feeling toward the unknownplagiarist entirely one of pity. She had vindicated herself at theexpense of exposing some one else without intent to do more than asserther own innocence, and she now wondered sadly if there were not some wayin which she might persuade Miss Duncan to change her mind.
On her way from Miss Duncan's class room that morning Grace foundherself walking directly behind Emma Dean. She was sauntering across thecampus, her near-sighted eyes fixed on a small, hurrying figure justahead of her.
"Hello, Grace," was Emma's affable salutation as she
turned at the touchof Grace's hand on her shoulder. "I was watching Miss Taylor. What adisappointment that girl is. The first week or two after her arrival atWayne Hall I thought her delightful, but she has turned out to beanything but agreeable. She barely nodded to me this morning. I believeshe is developing snobbish tendencies, which is a great mistake. Deliverme from snobs! We have very few of them at Overton, thank goodness."
But Grace could not help thinking that somewhere in the collegecommunity lived a girl who possessed a fault far greater than that ofbeing a snob.