Grace Harlowe\'s Problem

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"Yes, I know about it," smiled Grace, "and I know that no names are
mentioned."

Kathleen's color heightened. Then she remarked: "By the way, that Miss
Brent must have realized a nice sum of money from her sale. When did she
have it, Grace? We didn't hear a word of it. It must have been a very
select affair. I'm sorry I didn't know of it, for I wanted to buy an
evening dress. Rita Harris bought a beauty. Tell us about this latest
acquisition to Harlowe House. How does she happen to have such wonderful
clothes, and why didn't she go to work for the Service Bureau instead of
selling them? I'm fairly buzzing with curiosity."

Grace viewed Kathleen in amazement. "I don't understand you, Kathleen,"
she said, in a perplexed tone. "I have heard nothing of a sale."

"But Miss Brent held it at Harlowe House a week ago last Saturday,"
persisted Kathleen. "It is evident she didn't wish you to know it or you
would have been there, too."

Grace's amazed expression changed to one of vexed concern. She now
understood. "One week ago last Saturday I was in New York City," she
said soberly. "Until this moment I knew nothing of any such sale. In
fact I had objected to the plan when Miss Brent proposed it to me. If
she had wished to dispose of certain of her personal belongings to any
one girl I should have said unhesitatingly that it was her own affair,
but a general sale is a different matter. The eyes of the college are,
to a great extent, directed toward Harlowe House. It's position among
the other campus houses is unique. That the girls who live there are
given a home free of charge makes them doubly liable to criticism. They
must be worthy of their privileges."

Kathleen nodded in emphatic agreement. "Of course they must. I
understand fully your position in regard to them, Grace."

"You mean the girl we met that day at Vinton's, don't you?" inquired
Patience. "She had been robbed of her money in the train."

"Yes; she is the very girl."

"How do you reconcile her lack of means to pay her college expenses with
this wonderful wardrobe that Kathleen has just told us of?"

"I don't reconcile them. I can't. That is just the trouble." Grace
looked worried. "Speaking in strict confidence, I have really taken Miss
Brent on trust. I have asked her to explain certain things to me, and
she has refused to do so. On the other hand she is warmly championed by
the principal of one of the most select preparatory schools in the
country. Then, too, she assures me that at some future day she will
explain everything. Emma calls her the Riddle. It's an appropriate name,
too." Grace made a little despairing gesture.

"You are the greatest advocate of the motto, 'Live and let live' that I
have ever run across, Grace," smiled Patience, "but," her face grew
serious, "I believe you ought to insist on Miss Brent's full explanation
of her mysterious ways. If the news of this sale happens to reach
faculty ears _you_ are likely to be criticized for allowing it."

"But I didn't allow it," protested Grace. "I refused my consent to it."

"Yet you are the last one to defend yourself at another's expense,"
reminded Kathleen. "You'd rather be misjudged than to see this girl, who
hasn't even trusted you, placed in an unpleasant position."

Grace's color deepened. "I promised to trust her," she said at last. "At
first I felt just as you do about this. Then I talked with her. She
seemed honest and sincere. I decided that perhaps it would be better not
to force her confidence. Young girls are often likely to make mountains
of mole-hills. Still, Emma thinks just as you do," she added. "She
didn't at first, but she does now. I'm sure _she_ knows nothing of the
sale. She would have told me."

"I just happened to remember," began Kathleen, her straight brows drawn
together in a scowl, "that Evelyn Ward rooms with Miss Brent. Evelyn
must have known of the sale. Do you mind, if I ask her about it?"

"Ask her if you like." Grace spoke wearily. Everything was surely going
wrong to-day. She had intended to tell Patience and Kathleen about her
trip to New York. She had visited Anne and the Southards and spent two
delightful days. After what she had heard she felt that there was
nothing to say. "I must go," she announced abruptly. "I'll come again
to-morrow to see you, Patience. A speedy recovery to you. Come and see
me, both of you, whenever you can. By the way, I met Miss Wharton, the
new dean, this morning."

"What is she like?" asked Kathleen.

"I can hardly tell you. She is different from Miss Wilder. I saw her
only for a moment. She seems distant. Still one can't judge by first
appearances. I must go. Good-bye, girls."

Grace left her friends rather hurriedly. She was ready to cry. The
revelations of the morning had been almost too much for her. It was hard
indeed to be snubbed, but it was harder still to be deceived. "It's all
in the day's work," she whispered, over and over again, as she crossed
the campus. "I must be brave and accept what comes. It's all in the
day's work."

CHAPTER IX

WHAT EVELYN HEARD ON THE CAMPUS

"Ha! Whom have we here?" declaimed Emma Dean, pointing dramatically, as
Grace opened the door and stepped into their room. One look at Grace's
sensitive face was sufficient. Emma had lived close to her friend too
long not to know the signs of dejection in the features that usually
shone with hope and cheerfulness. "Advance and show your countersign,"
she commanded.

"I haven't any," returned Grace soberly.

"Spoken like a brigadier general who doesn't need one," retorted Emma.
"You are just in time to hear my terrible tale.

"Oh, a terrible tale I have to tell
Of the terrible fate that once befell
A teacher of English who once resided
In the same recitation room that I did,"

she rendered tunefully.

The shadow disappeared like magic from Grace's face. "Now what have you
done, you funny girl?" she asked, her sad face breaking into smiles.
Emma was irresistible.

"It is not what I have _done_, but what I _might_ have done. What was it
Whittier said in 'Maud Muller'?"

"There's really no one under the sun
Can blame you for what you might have done,"

paraphrased Emma briskly.

Grace giggled outright. "Poor Whittier," she sympathized.

"Don't pity him," objected Emma. "Pity me for what nearly happened to
me. The illustrious name of Dean came within a little of traveling about
Overton attached to a funny story, which I will now relate for your sole
edification. You remember that pile of themes I brought home on
Tuesday?"

Grace nodded.

"Well, I finished them last night and wrapped them up ready to take back
to the classroom to-day. They made a good-sized bundle, because I had
collected them from all my classes. This morning I was in a hurry, so I
picked up my bundle and ran. I always like to be in my classroom in good
season. But fate was against me, for I met Miss Dutton, that new
assistant in Greek, and she stopped me to ask me numerous questions, as
she is fain to do unless one sees her first, and from afar off enough
to suddenly change one's course and miss her. Consequently I marched
into my room to find my class assembled. I assumed a dignity which I
didn't feel, for I hate being late, and laid my bundle of themes on my
desk. Every eye was fixed reprovingly upon me. I had said so much
against straggling into class late, yet here I had committed that very
crime. I untied my bundle and was just going to open it when that
black-eyed Miss Atherton asked me a question. I answered the question,
my eyes on her, my fingers folding back the paper. I reached for my
themes and my hand closed over cloth instead of paper. A positive chill
went up and down my spine. I gave one horrified glance at the supposed
theme and poked it out of sight in a hurry. Another second and I would
have offered some one my white linen skirt in full view of my class.
Instead of themes I had brought my clean laundry to English IV."

"Oh, Emma!" gasped Grace mirthfully.

"You're not a bit sympathetic," declared Emma with pretended severity.

How Elfreda would love that tale. She would revel in the vision of Emma
Dean solemnly proffering her linen skirt to an unsuspecting class. "I
declare, Emma, you have driven away the blues."

"Have I?" inquired Emma with guileful innocence. It was precisely what
she had intended to do. "What is troubling you, Gracious?"

"I can't endure the thought of losing Miss Wilder. I went to see her
this morning and met Miss Wharton. I----"

"Don't like her," finished Emma calmly.

"No, I don't," returned Grace, with sudden vigor, "but how did you know
it?"

"Because I don't like her, either. I was introduced to her yesterday
afternoon in Miss Wilder's office. I didn't tell you, because I wished
you to form your own impression of her, first hand."

"She was positively rude to me, Emma. She made me feel like a little
girl. She said I looked more like a student than a person in charge of a
campus house."

"I agree with her," was Emma's bland reply. "You might easily be taken
for a freshman."

"But she didn't mean it in the nice way that you do," said Grace. "I
hope she never comes to inspect Harlowe House. She will be sure to find
fault."

"She'll have to make a sharp search," predicted Emma. "We won't worry
about it until she comes, will we? Now, what else is on your mind?"

"The Riddle," admitted Grace. She related what she had heard from
Kathleen regarding the sale.

"H-m-m!" was Emma's dry response. "They took good care that I shouldn't
hear of it."

"I'm so sorry Evelyn lent herself to something she knew would displease
me," mourned Grace.

"Perhaps she didn't. I know for a certainty that she wasn't in the house
Saturday afternoon, for I met her on the campus and she told me that she
was going to take luncheon and spend the afternoon with Althea Parker."

"She must have _known_ about it."

"I am afraid the news of this sale will travel rapidly," prophesied
Emma. "Not only will Miss Brent be talked over, but you also will be
criticized. You know I advised you, not long ago, to insist that Miss
Brent make a full explanation of things. Take my advice and see her at
once."

"I will," decided Grace. "I'll have a talk with her after dinner
to-night."

Grace was not the only one, however, to whom the news of the sale came
as a shock. Strangely enough Evelyn learned of it during the afternoon
of the same day in which it had come to Grace's ears. Her attention had
been attracted to a smart black and white check coat which Edna
Correll, a very plain freshman who tried to make up in extreme dressing
what she lacked in beauty, was wearing. In crossing the campus on her
way to Harlowe House she had encountered Edna in company with another
freshman. For an instant she had wondered why the sight of the black and
white coat which Edna wore seemed so strangely familiar. Then it had
dawned upon her that it was identical with a coat belonging to Jean.

"How do you like my new coat?" had been Edna's salutation, and Evelyn
had replied. "It's wonderfully smart. Miss Brent has one very much like
it."

"She had one, you mean," Edna had corrected. "Why, weren't you at the
sale last Saturday! I suppose you selected what you wanted beforehand.
That is where you had the advantage."

"What sale?" Evelyn had asked, completely mystified. Then explanations
had followed. White with suppressed anger, Evelyn had bade Edna a hasty
good-bye and sped across the campus toward Harlowe House. Without a word
she brushed by the maid who answered the bell, and rushed upstairs as
fast as she could run. The temper which she had tried so hard to control
was now at a high pitch. How dared Jean deliberately place her in such
an unpleasant position when she was trying so hard to be worthy of Miss
Harlowe's confidence? She flung open the door of her room. Then her eyes
sought and found Jean standing before the wardrobe, her back to the
door, a pair of black satin slippers in her hand.

"How could you do it?" burst forth Evelyn. "You know Miss Harlowe
forbade it. Now she will think that I knew all about it. Just when I am
trying to merit her confidence."

Jean Brent whirled about. Her blue eyes flashed. One of the slippers she
held in her hand swished through the air and landed with a thud against
the opposite wall. The wave of anger with which she faced Evelyn was
like the sudden sweep of a gale of wind out of a clear sky. The other
slipper followed the first one. Then the doors of the wardrobe were
slammed shut with a force that caused it to shake. To Evelyn it was as
though a strong current of air had blown upon her. Here, indeed was a
temper that outranked her own.

"What right have you to speak to me in such a tone?" raged Jean. "You
have nothing to say as to what I shall or shall not do. I won't pretend
I don't know what you mean. I do know. I don't in the least care what
you think about it, either. My clothes are mine to do with just whatever
I please. If Miss Harlowe imagines I am going to be a servant to half
the girls at Overton for the sake of earning my fees she is mistaken.
Why should she or any one else object to my selling my things, if I
like? I don't see how you found it out. The girls promised to keep the
whole affair to themselves. I don't understand why you should be so
concerned, or what it has to do with Miss Harlowe's opinion of you. From
what you say I might almost assume that there had been a time when _you_
were not to be trusted."

Evelyn's beautiful face was crimson with anger and humiliation. She
longed to answer Jean's arraignment with a flood of words as bitter as
her own, but her determined effort of months to rule her spirit now bore
fruit.

"I'm sorry I spoke so abruptly," she said coldly. "I just heard about
the sale from Miss Correll. You were quite right in what you said. There
was a time when I could not be trusted. My trouble was about clothes,
too. Miss Harlowe helped me find my self-respect again, and this year I
am trying very hard to be an Overton girl in the truest sense of the
word. I am telling you this in confidence because I wish you to
understand why Miss Harlowe's good opinion is so dear to me."

"You can go and tell her that you knew nothing about the sale," muttered
Jean sullenly. Something in Evelyn's frank confession had made her feel
a trifle ashamed of herself.

Evelyn's violet eyes grew scornful. "How can you suggest such a thing?"
she asked.

It was Jean's turn to blush. "Forgive me," she said penitently. "I know
you aren't a tell-tale. If she asks me about the sale, be sure I'll
exonerate you."

Evelyn shook her head. "I wish you'd go to her, Jean, and tell her what
you have done. Sooner or later she is sure to find it out."

But Jean Brent was in no mood for this advice. It caused her anger to
blaze afresh. "There you go again," she blustered, "with your
goody-goody advice to me about running to Miss Harlowe with every little
thing I do. I hope I'm not such a baby. If Miss Harlowe sends for me,
don't think for a minute that I'll be afraid to face her, but until she
_does_ send for me I am not going to concern myself about it, and I
would advise you not to trouble yourself, either."

With this succinct advice Jean made a fresh onslaught on the unoffending
wardrobe. Opening it she seized her hat and coat. With a last
reverberating slam of its long-suffering doors she turned her back on it
and Evelyn, and switched defiantly out of the room and on out of the
house.

CHAPTER X

LAYING THE CORNERSTONE OF A HOUSE OF TROUBLE

Jean did not return to Harlowe House for dinner that night. Instead she
turned her steps toward Holland House, where Althea Parker lived,
assured that in Althea she would find sympathy. In spite of the fact
that Jean lived at Harlowe House, a plain acknowledgment of her lack of
means, Althea shrewdly suspected that the mysterious freshman had come
from a home of wealth, and was posing as a poor girl for some reason
best known to herself. Jean's remarkable wardrobe had impressed her
deeply, while Jean herself carried out the impression of having been
brought up in luxury. She was self-willed, extravagant, careless of the
future, and her flippant opinion, delivered to Althea, of the Service
Bureau and work in general, was all that was needed to convince the
shrewd junior of Jean's true position in life. Then, too, Jean was
extremely likable, although Althea stood a little in awe of her
remarkable poise and a certain imperiousness that occasionally crept
into the girl's manner.

Jean rang the bell at Holland House with mingled feelings of resentment
and defiance. Resentment against Evelyn for daring to take her to task;
defiance of Grace and her commands.

"Is Miss Parker in?" she inquired of the maid who opened the door.

"She just came in, miss."

"Very well. I'll go on upstairs. She won't mind me."

Jean knocked on Althea's door. Althea called an indifferent "Come in,"
and she entered to find her engaged in reading a letter that had come by
the afternoon mail.

"Oh, hello, Jean," she drawled at sight of the other girl. "You must
have come in right behind me. What are you glowering about?"

"Evelyn is angry with me because I had the sale," began Jean. "That's
what I came to tell you. I'm sorry I told her that Miss Harlowe had
forbidden me to have it. Now she thinks I ought to go to Miss Harlowe
and tell her that I disobeyed her before she hears of it from some other
source."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Althea. "Don't be so silly. Ten chances to one
she'll never hear of it. If ever she does, it will probably be as
ancient history. I'll caution the girls again to keep still. Who told
Evelyn?"

"That Miss Correll. Evelyn saw her wearing my black and white check
coat and recognized it," returned Jean gloomily. "She came rushing into
my room like a young tornado with the plea that Miss Harlowe would blame
her for my misdeeds." Jean was tempted to add that which Evelyn had told
her in confidence. Then her better nature stirred, and she was silent.

"Evelyn isn't nearly as good company this year as she was last,"
complained Althea. "Ever since the latter part of her freshman year,
she's been so different. I've always had an idea," Althea lowered her
voice, "that last spring she broke some rule of the college and ran
away. One night, just before college closed--it was long after ten
o'clock, too--Miss Harlowe telephoned me and asked if Evelyn were with
me. I found out afterward that she had gone to New York all by herself.
She'd never been there but once before when she spent a week-end with
me, and she didn't know a soul. I never could find out anything else,
though. Evelyn went to her classes on Monday, and not one word did she
ever say about it. I didn't find out about the New York part of it until
this fall, though. A Willston man whom we both know saw her in New York
with that clever Miss West, who wrote 'Loyalheart.'"

Jean listened with attentive gravity. She guessed that Althea had
perhaps hit upon the truth. Evelyn had confessed to her that there had
been that in her freshman year of which she was ashamed. She had said it
was about clothes, yet what had clothes to do with breaking the rules of
Overton and running away to New York? Whatever it was, it should remain
Evelyn's secret. She would tell Althea nothing.

"Let's go to Vinton's for dinner," she proposed, with an abrupt change
of subject. "I've plenty of money now--while it lasts."

"All right," agreed Althea, "only I mustn't stay out late. I've a
frightful lesson in physics to study for to-morrow."

Jean did not particularly enjoy her dinner. In spite of her defiant
manner she had begun to feel slightly conscience-stricken. She almost
wished she had not gone on with the sale. Still she could have obtained
the necessary money in no other way. Now that the mischief was done she
could hope only that Miss Harlowe would hear nothing of it--not for a
long time, at any rate.

As she crossed the campus and ran lightly up the steps of Harlowe House
she resolved to shake off her recent fear of the discovery, on Grace's
part, of her disobedience and act as though nothing had happened.

Her resolution was destined to receive an unexpected jolt. "Miss
Harlowe wants to see you, Miss Brent," were the words with which the
maid greeted her as she stepped into the hall.

Jean's heart sank. So it had come already. She stopped for a moment in
the hall to gather her forces. Her feeling of penitence vanished. She
threw up her head with a defiant jerk and walked boldly into the little
office where Grace sat making up her expense account for November.

"You wished to see me, Miss Harlowe?" Her tone was coldly interrogative,
her eyes hostile, as she stared steadily at Grace.

Grace looked up from her work and calmly studied the pretty, belligerent
girl standing before her. In that glance she realized what a difficult
task lay before her.

"Yes, Miss Brent, I wished to talk with you," she answered. "Sit down,
please."

Jean slid reluctantly into the chair opposite Grace, surveying her with
an expression which said plainly, "Well, why don't you begin?"

"Did you have a sale of your clothes in your room one week ago last
Saturday?"

The directness of Grace's question astonished Jean. She found herself
answering, "Yes," with equal promptness.

"Why did you disobey me?" asked Grace.

"Because I needed the money," declared Jean boldly, "and I couldn't earn
it, Miss Harlowe; I just couldn't."

Grace gazed reflectively at the flushed face opposite her own. "Miss
Brent," she began, "when first you came to Harlowe House I believed that
it was not necessary for me to know certain things which you did not
wish to divulge. I might still be of that opinion if you had not
disobeyed me. It is most peculiar for a girl to come to Overton utterly
without funds, yet possessing quantities of the most expensive clothes.
I have always felt assured of your right to be an Overton and a Harlowe
House girl, yet others might not regard you so leniently. That is why I
refused to allow you to have the sale. I feared you would bring down
undue criticism upon you, and upon me as well. Once you became a subject
for criticism you might be obliged to explain to the dean or the
president of the Overton College what you have refused to explain to me.
It was to protect you that I refused your request. Since you have seen
fit to disregard my authority I can do but one thing. I must insist that
you will tell me fully what you have, so far, kept a secret. In order to
protect you I must know everything. I can no longer go on in the dark."

Jean stood staring at Grace. A look of stubborn resolve crept into her
face. Grace, watching her intently, knew what the answer would be. The
strange girl opened her lips to speak. Then, obeying her natural impulse
to give the other person the greatest possible chance, Grace raised a
protesting hand.

"Don't say you won't do as I ask, Miss Brent. Take a little time to
think over the matter. I am going to give you until after Thanksgiving
to decide whether or not you will trust me. Remember my sole desire is
to help you."

For the first time Grace's sweet earnestness seemed to awaken a
responsive chord in the heart of the obstinate freshman. The ready color
dyed her cheeks crimson. The hard, defiant light left her eyes.

"If only she would tell me now and have it over with," thought Grace,
noting the signs of softening on Jean's part. The girl appeared to be
considering Grace's proposal in the spirit in which it had been made.
Then, all in an instant, she changed. It was as though she had suddenly
recalled something disagreeable.

"There is really no use in waiting until after Thanksgiving for my
answer. I can't tell you. I suppose you will send me away because I
won't tell you, but if I did tell you, you would send me away just the
same. So you see it doesn't really make much difference. It was silly
in me to come here. I might have known better," she ended with a
mirthless smile.

Grace regarded Jean with growing annoyance. She had been offered a
chance to explain herself and she had refused it. True, Grace could also
refuse to allow her to remain a member of Harlowe House, but this she
did not wish to do. Her pride whispered to her that among the girls who
were enrolled as members of the household, made possible by Mrs. Gray's
generosity, there had been no failures. Jean Brent should not be the
first. She would bear with her a little longer.

"I repeat, Miss Brent," she said, "that I do not wish you to answer me
until after Thanksgiving. Then, if you decide, as I hope you will, to be
frank with me, I promise you that I will do my utmost to protect you."

Jean's only response was, "Good night, Miss Harlowe." Then she turned
and left the office.

Grace sat poking holes in an unoffending sheet of paper with her lead
pencil. She wondered what Jean Brent's secret could possibly be, and how
she could best reach this stubborn, self-centered freshman. And in her
wholehearted effort to be of service to the girl, who apparently needed
her help, she did not dream that she was laying the cornerstone of a
house of trouble for herself.

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