CHAPTER XV
THE QUALITY OF MERCY
The next morning Grace felt singularly dispirited as she went down tobreakfast. It had been raining, and the dreary outlook caused the gloomylines, "The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year," to runthrough her head with maddening persistency.
"What's the matter, Grace?" inquired Emma Dean. "That chief-mournerexpression of yours is doubly depressing on a day like this. Did you eattoo much fudge last night, or have you been conditioned in math?"
"You are a wild guesser, Emma," returned Grace, smiling faintly. "Mytroubles are of an entirely different nature. But how did you know wemade fudge last night, and why didn't you come in and have some?"
"I never go where I am not invited," was the significant retort.
"Nonsense!" declared Grace. "You are always welcome, and you know it.The spread was in Miriam's room, but you know who your friends are,don't you?"
"Don't worry, I'm not offended," Emma assured Grace good-humoredly. "Icame in just before the ten-thirty bell last night and heard sounds ofrevelry as I passed by."
"There's plenty of fudge on our table," put in Miriam Nesbit. "Helpyourself to it whenever the spirit moves you."
"Where is Mildred Taylor this morning?" asked Irene Evans, glancingtoward Mildred's vacant place.
"Miss Taylor is ill this morning," answered a prim voice from the end ofthe table.
With one accord all eyes were turned in the direction of the voice. TheAnarchist had actually spoken at the table! It was unbelievable. Whatfollowed was even more surprising. The Anarchist swept the table with adefiant look, then said, with startling distinctness, "If she has notfully recovered by to-night I shall send for a physician. In themeantime I shall remain with her to care for her."
"That is very kind in you, I am sure," ventured Emma Dean. Surprise hadtied the tongues of the others.
"Not in the least," contradicted the Anarchist coldly. "As her roommate,common humanity demands that I assume a certain amount of responsibilityfor her welfare."
"Oh, yes, of course," agreed Emma hastily. "Please let us know when wemay run in to see her. Excuse me, everybody. I must run upstairs andstudy a little before going to chapel."
Several freshmen followed her lead and filed decorously out the doorwith preternaturally solemn faces that broke into smiles the moment thedoor closed behind them.
The Anarchist, however, went on eating her breakfast, quite unaware thatshe had created the slightest ripple of amusement. When Elfreda rose toleave the dining room the strange young woman rose, too, and walkedsedately out of the room in the stout girl's wake.
"Elfreda has evidently made a conquest," remarked Miriam to Grace. "Seehow tamely the haughty Anarchist follows at her heels."
"It's astonishing, but splendid, I think," said Grace decidedly. "Isn'tit strange how much influence for good one girl can have over another?For some reason or other Elfreda knows just how to bring the best inMiss Atkins to the surface. Shall we run up and see Miss Taylor for amoment?"
"You go this morning, Grace," urged Miriam. "I'll stop and see her atnoon. I haven't the time just now."
"I'll go with you," volunteered Anne.
Grace knocked gently on the slightly opened door, then, receiving noanswer, opened it softly. She paused irresolutely on the threshold, Annepeering over her shoulder. Laura Atkins had left the room, but MildredTaylor, fully dressed, sat at the window looking listlessly out. If sheheard Grace's light knock she paid no attention to it. It was not untilGrace said rather diffidently, "We heard you were ill and thought we'dcome in to see you," that the girl at the window turned toward Grace.Her piquant little face was drawn and pale, and her eyes lookedsuspiciously red. She eyed Grace almost sulkily, then said slowly, "Itwas kind of you to come, but I shall be all right to-morrow." UnderGrace's serious glance her eyes fell, then, to her visitors' amazement,she burst into tears. Grace crossed the room. Her arm slid across thesobbing freshman's shoulders in silent sympathy. "Can't you tell me whattroubles you?" she asked softly.
Mildred shook off the comforting arm with a muttered: "Let me alone. Ican't tell you, of all persons. Go away."
"Why can't you tell me?" persisted Grace gently.
"Because I can't. Won't you please go. I don't wish to talk to any one,"wailed Mildred.
Grace walked toward the door, her eyes on the weeping girl. Anne, whohad kept strictly in the background during the little scene, stepped outinto the hall, Grace following.
"That was hardly my idea of a cordial reception," was Anne's dry commentas they entered their own room.
"That young woman has something on her mind," declared Grace. "Herillness is not physical. It is mental. Either some one has torn herfeelings to shreds or else she has done something she is ashamed of andremorse has overtaken her."
"Unless she has had bad news from home or has been conditioned,"suggested Anne.
"I don't believe it's either," said Grace, shaking her head. "I believethis is something different. Of late she has been acting strangely. Eversince the reception she has avoided me. Anne Pierson, do you see thetime? We'll be late for chapel!" gasped Grace in consternation.
With one accord the two friends gathered up their wraps, putting them onas they ran.
After chapel Grace left Anne at the door of Science Hall and went on toOverton Hall. She wished to see Miss Duncan before her first classrecited, and learn the latest developments of her case. Until chapelexercises were over, Grace had refused to allow her mind to dwell on hertrouble, but now, as she climbed slowly up the broad stairway to MissDuncan's class room, the whole unhappy affair rose before her.
Miss Duncan was sitting at her desk as Grace entered. She looked at herwatch, smiled frankly at Grace and said in her usual businesslike way,"I can give you only ten minutes, Miss Harlowe."
The teacher's friendly tone made Grace's heart leap. She recognized thefact that Miss Duncan no longer looked upon her with suspicion.
"Your innocence was clearly proven by Miss Ashe," said Miss Duncan inher blunt fashion, coming at once to the point. "I recognize your claimto the authorship of the theme. The other young woman was the realplagiarist. It was a contemptible trick and not in keeping with Overtonstandards."
"What will happen to this other girl, Miss Duncan?" asked Graceapprehensively, her eyes fixed on Miss Duncan.
"What do you think she deserves?" inquired Miss Duncan quizzically.
"A chance to redeem herself," was the prompt reply. "No one except youknows who she is. I don't wish to know her identity, and I am sure MissAshe doesn't. Couldn't you send for the girl and tell her that it wouldbe a secret between just you two. That you were willing to forget it hadhappened if she were willing to start all over again and build hercollege foundation fairly and squarely. It wouldn't be of any benefit toher to place her fault before the dean. No doubt she would be dismissed,and that dismissal might spoil her whole life."
"You are an eloquent pleader, Miss Harlowe," returned Miss Duncan. "Asthis is strictly an affair of one of my classes, I consider that I am atliberty to do as I think best about placing this matter before the dean.If I did see fit to do so I hardly think it would mean dismissal,particularly if I took you with me to plead the cause of the offender.Come to me this afternoon after my last class and I will give you myanswer."
Grace left the class room far more cheerfully than she had entered. Herown vindication had not impressed her half so deeply as Miss Duncan'sapparently lenient attitude toward the girl who had been false toherself and to Overton.