Grace Harlowe's Senior Year at High School

by Josephine Chase

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS

  Grace lost no time in putting her resolution into practice, and left nostone unturned regarding the object of her distrust. But her efforts metwith no better success than the first time she had instituted inquiry.

  "Why are you so bitter against that young man, daughter?" asked herfather rather curiously when she interviewed him as to the best means offinding out something of Henry Hammond's past. "He seems to be a goodstraight-forward young fellow."

  "He's a villain, I know he is," asserted Grace, "but he's too sharp forme."

  "Nonsense," laughed her father. "Having no basketball this winter youare bound to devote that surplus energy of yours to something. Are youmaking Hammond your victim?"

  "You may tease me if you like," replied Grace with dignity, "but someday you'll acknowledge that I was right."

  "All right, girlie," smiled her father. "Shall I say so, now?"

  "You're a dear," laughed Grace, rubbing her soft cheek against his."Only you will tease."

  Since the evening that Marian Barber had repudiated her sorority, noneof the members had spoken to her. She had studiously avoided goingwithin speaking distance of them and had divided her time after schoolequally between Eleanor Savelli and Henry Hammond.

  Eleanor had kept her word in reference to Edna Wright, and the two girlsexchanged only the barest civilities whenever they chanced to meet.Eleanor had, however, gained considerable popularity with a number ofthe senior class, and wielded a tremendous influence over them. She haddropped her annoying tactics toward the teachers, and her conduct duringthe year had been irreproachable.

  Anne Pierson's assertion that Eleanor would be better off away from Ednahad proved true, and unconsciously the spoiled, temperamental girl wasreceiving great benefit from her High School associations. She stoodnext to Anne Pierson in her classes, and her aptitude for study andbrilliant recitations evoked the admiration of the entire class.

  But despite these changes for the better, Eleanor still nursed hergrudge against the Phi Sigma Tau, and held to her unrelenting resolve tobe revenged upon them, individually or collectively, whenever theopportunity should arise.

  In cautioning her friends the previous year against placing themselvesin a position liable to put them at a disadvantage with Eleanor, Gracehad unwittingly divined the former's intentions.

  Now that Marian had strayed away from the Phi Sigma Tau and straight totheir common enemy, Grace felt uneasy as to the result.

  "I don't know what to think about Marian's sudden intimacy withEleanor," she confided to Anne, one day at the beginning of the newterm.

  "So far nothing startling has happened," replied Anne. "Really, Eleanorhappened along at a good time for Marian."

  "Why did she?" asked Grace quickly.

  "Because I understand that she coached Marian in astronomy and justsimply made her cut out Henry Hammond for her books. It's due to Eleanorthat she passed," answered Anne.

  "I hadn't heard that," said Grace. "Isn't Eleanor a wonder in herstudies? It's a pleasure to hear her recite."

  "I do admire her ability," agreed Anne. "Perhaps she will see throughHenry Hammond and persuade Marian to drop him."

  "I don't know about that," said Grace dubiously. "I saw him with Eleanorin the run-about the other day. He was at the wheel, and they seemed tobe having a very interesting session without Marian."

  "He never did give me the impression of being a very constant swain,"laughed Anne.

  "I'm so glad that mid-year exams are over," sighed Grace. "I'm a sureenough graduate now, unless something serious happens."

  "So am I," replied Anne. "If I could get clerical work to do this termI'd recite in the morning only and give my afternoons to earning alittle money. It seems as though everything is against me. Did you knowthat Mrs. Gray has postponed coming home until March?"

  "Yes," answered Grace. She understood Anne's growing despair as timewent on, and the prospect of earning enough money to defray her collegeexpenses grew less.

  "I'm afraid I'll have to give it all up for next year at least, Grace,"Anne's voice trembled a little. "But perhaps I can enter the year after.I can't give up the idea of being in the same college with you."

  "Don't give up yet, dear," Grace pressed Anne's hand. "Maybe theunexpected will happen."

  The girls separated at the corner and went their separate ways, Annewith the conviction that there was no use in wishing for the impossibleand Grace deploring the fact that Anne was too proud to accept any helpfrom her friends.

  As Grace was about to curl herself up in a big chair before the firethat night with "Richard Carvel" in one hand and a box of peanut brittlein the other, she was startled by a loud ringing of the bell. Going tothe door she beheld Anne who was fairly wriggling with excitement. Hercheeks were flushed and her dark eyes were like stars.

  "Oh, Grace," she cried. "The unexpected has happened!"

  "What are you talking about, Anne?" exclaimed Grace laughing. "Stopdancing up and down out there. Come in and explain yourself. That is ifyou can stand still long enough to do it."

  "I have had the surprise of my life to-night, Grace," said Anne, as sheentered the hall, while Grace unfastened her fur collar and pulled thepins from her hat. "I just couldn't wait until to-morrow to tell youabout it. It's so wonderful I can't believe that it has happened toinsignificant me."

  "I know just as much now as I did at first, and perhaps a trifle less,"said Grace.

  Then taking Anne by the shoulders she marched her into the sitting room,shoved her into the easy-chair opposite her own and said, "Now, begin atthe beginning, and don't leave out any details."

  "Well," said Anne, drawing a long breath, "when I reached home afterleaving you, I found a letter for me postmarked New York City. For aninstant I thought it was from my father, but the hand writing was nothis. I opened it, and who do you suppose it was from?"

  "I don't know, and I'm a poor guesser, so tell me," responded Grace.

  "It was from Mr. Everett Southard."

  "No! Really?" cried Grace. "How nice of him to write to you."

  "But I haven't told you the nicest part," continued Anne. "He wants meto go to New York to play a six-weeks' engagement in his company."

  "Anne Pierson, you don't mean it," ejaculated Grace in intenseastonishment.

  "Grace Harlowe, I do mean it," retorted Anne. "Why it's the veryopportunity that I've been yearning for, but never expected to get. Letme read you his letter."

  Unfolding the letter that she had been holding in one hand, Anne read:

  "MY DEAR MISS PIERSON:

  "Remembering your exceptionally fine work as 'Rosalind' in the production of 'As You Like It,' given at your High School last year, I now write to offer you the same part in a six weeks' revival of the same play about to be presented in New York. Your acceptance will be a source of gratification to me, as it is very hard to engage actors who are particularly adapted to Shakespearian roles. The salary will be one hundred dollars per week with all traveling expenses paid.

  "My sister extends a cordial invitation to you to make our home yours during your stay in New York, and will write you at once. I have already written Miss Tebbs regarding my offer. Hoping to receive an affirmative answer by return mail, with best wishes, I remain

  "Yours sincerely,

  "EVERETT SOUTHARD."

  "Well, I should say the unexpected had happened," said Grace, as Annefinished reading. "One hundred dollars a week for six weeks! Why, Anne,think of it! You will have six hundred dollars for six weeks' work. Ihad no idea they paid such salaries."

  "They pay more than that in companies like Mr. Southard's," repliedAnne. "If I had acquired fame I could command twice that sum. I can'timagine why he ever chose me. Suppose I should fail entirely."

  "Nonsense," retorted Grace. "You couldn't fail if you tried. The onlything that I am afraid of is that you'll be so carried aw
ay with thestage that you'll forget to come back to us again."

  "Don't say that, Grace," said Anne quickly. "I never shall. I am wild toplay this engagement, because it means that I am sure of at least twoyears in college, and I think if I can get tutoring to do, I can pullthrough the whole four. Aside from that, the stage is the last career inthe world that I should choose. You know my views on that subject."

  "I was only jesting, dear," Grace assured her, seeing the look ofanxiety that crept into Anne's eyes. "I know you'll come back. Wecouldn't graduate without you. When shall you write to Mr. Southard?"

  "I have already written," replied Anne gravely. "I knew that nothingcould induce me to refuse, so I settled the matter at once."

  "Confess, you bad child," said Grace, rising and putting one fingerunder Anne's chin. "Look me straight in the face and tell the truth. Youthought I'd be shocked."

  Anne colored, laughed a little and then said frankly, "Yes, I was afraidyou wouldn't look at the matter in the same light. Now, I must go,because it is after nine and sister worries if I stay out late."

  "Wait, I'll go to the corner with you," said Grace.

  Slipping into her coat, and throwing a silk scarf over her head. Graceaccompanied Anne into the street.

  "Come as far as the next corner," begged Anne, and the two girls walkedslowly on.

  "Now I must go back," said Grace, as they neared the corner.

  Just then Anne exclaimed very softly, "Look, Grace, isn't that Marianand her cavalier?"

  "Where!" asked Grace, turning quickly.

  "Across the street, coming in this direction. I do believe Marian iscrying, too. They are crossing now, and will pass us. I don't thinkthey've seen us yet."

  Completely absorbed in their own affairs the approaching couple had notnoticed either Grace or Anne.

  "How could I have been so foolish!" the two girls heard Marian saytearfully.

  "Don't be an idiot," her companion answered in rough tones. "You may winyet. I had inside information that it was safe to put the money on it.You act like a baby." Then he muttered something that was inaudible tothe listeners.

  "You are very unkind, Henry," wailed Marian.

  But in the next instant Henry Hammond had seen the two girls. With asavage "cut it out, can't you! Don't let every one know your business,"his scowling expression changed to the polite smiling mask that hehabitually wore.

  But Grace, who in spite of her former disagreement with him, had forMarian's sake favored him with a cool bow when he happened to cross herpath even after Marian had stopped speaking, was up in arms at hisdisplay of rudeness to the girl who had cut herself off from her dearestfriends to please him.

  Marian averted her face as they passed opposite the chums, but hercompanion, who was preparing to bow, became suddenly disconcerted by thesteady, scornful gaze of two pairs of eyes, that looked their fullmeasure of contempt, and hastily turning his attention to Marian passedby without speaking.

  "Contemptible coward!" raged Grace. "Did you hear what he said, Anne?"

  "I should have cut his acquaintance on the spot."

  "There is something queer about all this," mused Grace. "This is thesecond conversation of the sort that has taken place between those twothat I have overheard. I wonder if he has persuaded Marian to put moneyinto his real estate schemes, for I believe they are nothing butschemes."

  "But Marian has no money of her own," protested Anne. "Don't youremember how delighted she was when she deposited the judge's check andreceived her first check book?"

  "I wonder--"

  Grace paused. A sudden suspicion entered her mind, that she instantlydismissed.

  "You don't believe--" began Anne, but Grace stopped her.

  "No, dear," she answered firmly. "We mustn't ever allow ourselves toentertain such a thought. Marian may have foolishly risked money of herown that we know nothing of, but as for anything else--Marian is still amember of our sorority and the honor of the Phi Sigma Tau is abovereproach."