CHAPTER XXI
THE LOST LETTER
Spring was well advanced, full of soft airs and the sweet scents oforchards in full bloom.
Through the open windows of the schoolroom Grace could hear the pleasantsounds of the out of doors. The tinkle of a cow bell in a distant meadowand the songs of the birds brought to her the nearness of the glorioussummer time.
She chewed the end of her pencil impatiently, endeavoring to withdrawher attention from the things she liked so much better than Latingrammar and algebra. Examinations were coming, those bugbears of theyoung freshman, and then vacation. A vision of picnics crossed her mind,of long days spent out of doors, with luncheon under the trees andtramps through the woods. Yet, before all these joys, must come theinevitable final test, the race for the freshman prize. Although, afterall, only two would really enter the race, Miriam and Anne. Nobody elsewould think of competing with these two brilliant students.
How tired Anne looked! She had done nothing but study of late. No partyhad been alluring enough to beguile her from her books. She had evendiscontinued her work with Mrs. Gray, and early and late toiled at herstudies.
"She will tire herself out," Grace thought, and made a resolution totake Anne with her on a visit to her grandmother's in the country justas soon as the High School doors were closed for the summer.
Miriam was not studying so hard. But then she never did anything hard.She simply seemed to absorb, without taking the trouble to plod. She hadbeen very defiant of late, Grace thought, and more insolent than everbefore. She and Miss Leece were "thicker" than was good for Miriam,considering that teacher's peculiar disposition to flatter and spoilher. However, that was none of Grace's business, and certainly MissLeece had been careful since the sound rating Miss Thompson had givenher.
Just then the gong broke in upon Grace's reflections. With a sigh ofrelief she closed her book and strolled with her friends down to theirusual meeting place in the locker room.
There was but one topic of conversation now, the freshman prize.
"Anne," predicted Nora, "you just can't help winning it! I don't believeit's in you to make a mistake. Miss Leece always gives you the hardestproblems, too, but she can't stump little Anne."
Anne smiled wearily. It was well examinations were to begin in two days.In her secret soul she felt she could not hold out much longer.Moreover, Anne was worried about family affairs. She had received aletter, that morning, which had troubled her so much that she had beenon the point, a dozen times, of bursting into tears. However, if she wonthe prize--not the small one, but the _big_ one--the difficulty would besurmounted.
Another worry had crept into her mind. She had lost the letter. Alittle, wayward breeze had seized it suddenly from her limp fingers andblown it away. She knew the letter was lurking somewhere in a corner ofthe schoolroom, and she had hoped to find it when the class wasdismissed. But the missing paper was nowhere in sight when she hadsearched for it during recess. Perhaps it had blown out the window, inwhich case it would be brushed up by the janitress and never thought ofagain. Not for worlds would Anne have had anyone read that letter.
It was during the afternoon session, in the middle of one of theschoolroom recitations, that she caught sight of her letter again. Butafter the class was dismissed and she had made haste to the corner ofthe room, where she thought she had seen it under a desk, it was notthere. Disappointed and uneasy Anne put on her hat and started home.
All afternoon she worried about it. Perhaps it was because she was sotired that she was especially sensitive about the letter being found bysome one else. If that some one else should read the contents, she feltit would mean nothing lees than disgrace.
"You look exhausted, child," said Anne's sister Mary, who was wearyherself, having worked hard all day on a pile of spring sewing Mrs. Grayhad ordered. "Why don't you take a walk and not try to do any studyingthis afternoon?"
"I think I will, sister," replied Anne; and, pinning on her hat, sheleft her small cottage and started toward High School Street.
Turning mechanically into the broad avenue shaded by elm trees, shestrolled along, half-dreaming and half-waking. She was so weary she feltshe might lie down and sleep for twenty years, and like Rip Van Winkleawaken old and gray. It was foolish of her to be so uneasy about thatletter.
Was it a premonition that compelled her to return to the schoolroom andsearch again for it? Perhaps the old janitress might have found it. Theyoung girl quickened her pace. She must hurry if she wanted to catch theold woman before the latter closed up for the night.
Anne had not thought of looking behind. Her mind, so trained toconcentration, was now bent only upon one object. But would it haveswerved her from her present purpose, even if she had noticed Miss Leecefollowing her?
The High School was still open, although Anne could not find thejanitress. Perhaps the old woman was asleep somewhere. On severaloccasions she had been found sleeping soundly when she should have beenbrushing out schoolrooms and mopping floors. Anne was determined,however, to give one good, thorough search for her letter and sheaccordingly mounted to the floor where the freshmen class room wassituated and entered the large, empty recitation room.
She looked long and carefully under the desks and benches, even goingthrough the scrap baskets, but there was no sign of the letter. Then shewent into some of the other class rooms, but her search was unrewarded.
"What's the use?" she asked herself at last. "It's sure to have beendestroyed. I think I'll just have to give it up, and try to rest alittle before to-morrow, or I'll never be fit to try for that prize."
As she started down the broad staircase she heard the rasping voice ofMiss Leece mingling with the principal's cool, well-modulated tones.Anne paused a moment, watching the two figures below. Miss Leece lookedup and caught her eye, but Miss Thompson was engaged in unlocking thedoor, and did not see the little figure lingering on the steps.
Just as the door opened, another door slammed violently, and the nextmoment Anne heard footsteps running along a small passage that crossedthe corridor. Leaning far over the rail she caught a glimpse of afigure. It was--no, Anne could not be certain of the identity. But itlooked like--well, never mind whom. Anne meant to keep the secret, forit was evident that the person had been bent on mischief, else why slama door and run at the approach of Miss Thompson! And now Anne heard thedoor open again and Miss Thompson's voice calling: "Who is there?" Butthere was no answer. Deep down in Anne's heart there crept a vaguesuspicion.
Grace Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School Page 21
