Grace Harlowe's Sophomore Year at High School Part 12

In spite of the possibility that she and Anne might be the subject of unpleasant comment, Grace made up her mind to enjoy herself. She was fond of dancing, and knew that she would have plenty of invitations to do so.

David would look after Anne, who was not yet proficient enough in dancing to venture to try it in public.

"If only Miriam and Julia Crosby behave themselves!" she thought, "for, of course, Julia will be there. Miriam will see that she gets an invitation."

Grace thrilled with pride as she entered the gymnasium. How beautifully it had been decorated and how well everything looked. She was so sorry that the girls had seen fit to leave her out of it all. Then she remembered her resolution to forget all differences and just have a good time.

Miriam, gowned in apricot messaline trimmed with silver, was in the receiving line with half a dozen other soph.o.m.ores. Grace and her party would be obliged to exchange civilities with the enemy. She wondered what Miriam would do. David solved this problem for her by taking charge of the situation. Walking straight up to Miriam, he said a few words to her in a low tone. She flushed slightly, looked a trifle defiant then greeted the girls coldly, but with civility. The other soph.o.m.ores followed her example, but Grace breathed a sigh of relief as they walked over to where Mrs. Gray, in a wonderful black satin gown, sat among the patronesses.

"My dear children, I am so glad to see all of you!" exclaimed the sprightly old lady. "How fine all my girls look. You are like a bouquet of flowers. Grace is a bluebell, Anne is a dear little clove pink, Nora is a whole bunch of violets and Jessica looks like a white narcissus."

"Where do we come in?" asked David, smiling at Mrs. Gray's pretty comparison.

"Allow me to answer that question," said Hippy. "You are like the tall and graceful burdock. Reddy resembles the common, but much-admired sheep sorrel, while I am like that tender little flower, the forget-me-not.

Having once seen me, is it possible to forget me!" He struck an att.i.tude and looked languis.h.i.+ngly at Nora.

"I'll forget you forever if you look at me like that," threatened Nora.

"Never again," said Hippy hastily. "Bear witness, all of you, that my expression has changed."

Just then the first notes of the waltz "Amoreuse" rang out, and the gymnasium floor was soon filled with High School boys and girls dressed in their best party attire. The dances followed each other in rapid succession until supper was announced. This was served at small tables by the town caterer.

Mrs. Gray and her adopted children occupied two tables near together and had a merry time. Many curious glances were cast in their direction by the other members of the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s.

Some of the girls wondered whether it was a good thing to cut Anne Pierson's acquaintance. She was certainly a friend of Mrs. Gray, and Mrs.

Gray was one of the most influential women in Oakdale. Frances Fuller, a worldly-minded soph.o.m.ore, dared to intimate as much to Miriam Nesbit, who replied loftily:

"If Mrs. Gray knew as much about Miss Pierson as we do, she would probably not care for her any longer."

"It's a pity some one doesn't tell her," said Julia Crosby, ever ready for mischief.

"Oh, some one will have the courage yet," answered Miriam, "and when she does, that will end everything as far as Miss Pierson is concerned. Mrs.

Gray can't endure anything dishonorable."

Just then a young man claimed Miriam for the two-step about to begin, and Julia wandered off, leaving Frances to digest what had been said. The more the latter thought about it, the more she felt that Mrs. Gray ought to be warned against Anne. She decided that she had the courage; that it was her duty to do so.

Without hesitating, she blundered over to where Mrs. Gray sat for the moment.

"Mrs. Gray," Frances began, "I want to tell you something which I think you ought to know."

"And what is that, my dear?" asked the old lady courteously, trying vainly to remember the girl's face.

"Why, about Miss Pierson's true character," replied the girl.

"Miss Pierson's true character?" repeated Mrs. Gray. "I don't understand what you mean."

"That she is dishonorable and treacherous. She betrayed the soph.o.m.ore basketball signals to the juniors, and then denied it, when her cla.s.s had positive proof against her. Besides, her father is a disreputable actor, and she was an actress before she came here. We thought if you knew the truth you wouldn't uphold any such person." Frances paused. She thought she had made an impression upon her listener.

Mrs. Gray sat silent. She was too deeply incensed to trust herself to speak. Frances looked complacent. She evidently hoped to be commended for her plain speaking. Then Mrs. Gray found her voice.

"Young woman," she said, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself. What can you hope to gain by saying unkind things about a nice, gentle, little girl who is in every respect worthy of all the love and regard that can be given her? I do not know what you can be thinking of to speak so slightingly of one of your cla.s.smates, and I am sorry to be obliged to remind you that it is the height of ill breeding to abuse a person to his or her friends."

With these words, Mrs. Gray turned her back squarely upon the dazed girl, who slowly arose, and without looking at Mrs. Gray, walked dejectedly across the room. But Miriam Nesbit lost one supporter from that minute on.

"Hateful things," said the mortified Frances, looking towards Julia and Miriam. "I believe they are more to blame than Miss Pierson ever thought of being."

When Grace paused at Mrs. Gray's side after the two-step, she saw plainly that the old lady was much agitated.

"Grace," she said quickly, "what is all this nonsense about Anne?"

"O Mrs. Gray," cried Grace. "Who could have been so unkind as to tell you?

We didn't want you to know. It is all so foolish."

"But I want to know," said the old lady positively. "Anne is so very dear to me, and I can't allow these hare-brained girls to make damaging statements about her. Tell me at once, Grace."

Grace reluctantly gave a brief account of her recent disagreement with her cla.s.s and the unpleasantness to which Anne had been subjected.

"What does ail Miriam Nesbit? She used to be such a nice child!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray. "Really, Grace, I feel that I ought to go straight to Miss Thompson with this."

Grace's heart sank. That was just what she did not want Mrs. Gray to do.

"Dear Mrs. Gray," she said, patting the old lady's hand, "it is better for us to fight it out by ourselves. If Miss Thompson knew all that had happened, she would forbid basketball for the rest of the season. She is awfully opposed to anything of that kind, and would champion Anne's cause to the end, but Anne would rather let matters stand the way they are, than lose us our basketball privilege. You see, the juniors have won the first game, and if basketball were stopped now we would have no chance to make up our lost ground. I firmly believe that all will come right in the end, and I think the girls will get tired of their grudge and gradually drop it. Of course it hurts to be snubbed, but I guess we can stand it. We have some friends who are loyal, at any rate."

"I suppose you are right, my dear," responded the old lady. "It is better for old folks to keep their fingers out of young folk's pies. But what did that pert miss mean about Anne's father being an actor? I had an idea he was dead."

So Grace told Mrs. Gray the story of Anne's father, beginning from where he had intercepted Anne on her way from the aeroplane exhibition during her freshman year, up to the time of the arrival of his letter begging for money.

"Anne used her freshman prize money last year to help him out of trouble.

He forged a friend's name for one hundred dollars, and would have had to go to prison had she not made good the money he took, I always wanted you to know about it, Mrs. Gray, but Anne felt so badly over it, she begged me never to tell any one."

"Your story explains a great many things I never before understood," said Mrs. Gray. "That doll that was sent to the Christmas party last year, for instance. But how did Miriam find out about it?"

"We don't know," said Grace. "Her doings are dark and mysterious. Find out she did; and she has told the story with considerable effect among the girls."

"It is too bad," mused Mrs. Gray. "I should like to right matters were it possible, but as long as you don't wish it, my dear, I suppose I must let you fight it out by yourselves. But one thing I am sure of, Anne shall never want for a friend as long as I live. Now run along and have a good time. I've kept you here when you might have been dancing."

"I have loved being with you," said Grace. "I shall not tell Anne about what was said," she added in a lower tone.

"That is right, Grace," responded Mrs. Gray. "No need of hurting the child's feelings."

During the balance of the evening nothing occurred to discomfit either Grace or Anne. To be sure there was a marked coolness exhibited by most of their cla.s.smates, but David took charge of Anne and saw to it that nothing disturbed her. Grace, who was a general favorite with the High School boys of Oakdale, could have filled her programme three times over. She was the embodiment of life and danced with such apparent unconcern that the mind of more than one soph.o.m.ore was divided as to whether to cleave to Miriam or renew their former allegiance to Grace.

It was well after one o'clock when the "Home, Sweet Home" waltz sounded.

The floor was well filled with dancers, for the majority of the guests had remained until the end of the ball. As the last strains of the music died away the soph.o.m.ores sent their cla.s.s yell echoing through the gymnasium.

It was answered by the various yells of the other cla.s.ses, given with true High School fervor. Each cla.s.s trying to outdo the other in the making of noise.

Sleepy chaperons began gathering up their charges. The soph.o.m.ore ball was a thing of the past.

"These late hours and indigestible suppers are bound to break down my delicate const.i.tution yet," Hippy confided to Nora.