Katherine's Sheaves Part 27

Jennie looked very spirited and pretty with her flushed cheeks and glowing eyes as she faced her princ.i.p.al, and, without flinching a hair, told her simple, straightforward story in the presence of the other teachers.

Prof. Seabrook was fond of the girl, for she possessed many lovable qualities and was very faithful in the performance of her duties. If he had been inclined to be severe, because of her other offense, his heart was very tender towards her now; for he fully appreciated her honesty and the moral courage she had manifested in taking this stand for Katherine.

He was uncomfortably conscious, too, that his own att.i.tude towards Miss Minturn had not been quite considerate. He recognized her loveliness of character, her excellence in scholars.h.i.+p, her conscientious deportment; in fact, he had no fault whatever to find with her, except that she was a Christian Scientist, and the remembrance of this always stirred him, in the most unaccountable manner, whenever he came in contact with her.

He regarded Jennie thoughtfully for a moment after she concluded, then a gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt crept into his eyes and his lips twitched with repressed mirth, as he dryly observed:

"Well, Jennie, it seems that you are making quite a record for yourself by breaking rules. I hope there will be no occasion for further self-condemnation after this. You may go now."

The girl was glad to go, and was "scared stiff," as she affirmed afterward, when she came to think over what she had said. But her desire to have justice done Katherine had made her forget herself, for the time, in defending her.

Still, as was characteristic, her spirits quickly rebounded, and she flew away to find some of the sophs and reel off a graphic report of what had just occurred in the princ.i.p.al's study.

Consternation at once took possession of some of their number, for it was evident that, even though Prof. Seabrook and the teachers were ignorant of the names of the guilty ones, Miss Minturn had recognized the ringleaders, and so their supposed secret was out.

A private meeting of all concerned was immediately called, and the matter thoroughly discussed.

"So Miss Minturn claims it would 'rob us of our moral responsibility' if she should give us away!" remarked Rose Tuttle, a buxom girl of eighteen, with a roguish face and an independent air. "That's a novel way of looking at it--isn't it, girls?--and escaping the fate of a 'telltale,'" and the ringing laugh which completed these remarks was echoed by several others.

"Puts us in a tight box, though," said Carrie Archer, another merry sprite, as she gnawed the rubber on her pencil with a thoughtful air.

"All the same, I think Katherine Minturn is O. K., and I'm ready to make my best courtesy to her," gravely observed a girl who was sitting beside her.

"Well, I begin to think she is rather fine myself, in spite of her absurd Christian Science. But what are we going to do about this affair?" inquired Miss Tuttle, with an impatient shrug of her plump shoulders.

"Oh, let's fight it out," cried a shrill voice from a corner.

"That means let Miss Minturn fight it out," retorted Carrie Archer, spiritedly.

"Well, she's game--she won't tell, and it will all die out of itself, after a while."

"But that would leave a very uncomfortable sting behind--the sting of cowardice," said Rose Tuttle, with very red cheeks. "I tell you what, my dear fellow sophs," she went on, after an irresolute pause, "if Miss Minturn had given us away to-day every mother's daughter of us would have called her a 'spy' and a 'tattler.' But, although she knows exactly as well as you and I do"--a chuckle of mirth escaping her--"who tied those ropes to the doors, she has just faced the professor and those teachers and practically told them that she would not give us away."

"Why couldn't she have held her tongue altogether, then?" grumbled a discontented voice.

"Good gracious, Nell! knowing what she did she couldn't keep mum and let 'Wild Jen'--poor goosie! whose curiosity is always getting her into some sc.r.a.pe or other--bear the whole brunt of it," Miss Archer replied, with curling lips. "No, she has put us upon our honor, and if we don't do the square thing I think she'll have a right to call us--sneaks."

"Carrie, you're hitting out pretty straight from the shoulder,"

cried her friend Rose, with a short laugh.

"Well, maybe; but I didn't miss myself in the trial of my muscle,"

was the dry rejoinder.

There was much more talk after the same order, the ayes and nays on the question of "open confession" being about equally divided; while all began to feel that there wasn't quite as much fun as they had antic.i.p.ated to be gotten out of midnight escapades.

"Well, sophies, I'll tell you what I'm going to do," finally said Miss Archer, breaking in upon the hubbub of voices, a look of determination settling over her face, "but first I'll say what I'm not going to do: I'm never going to hear it said that I forced somebody else to stand in a gap that I hadn't the courage to fill.

I'm not going to sneak out of sight behind another to save myself.

I started this ball rolling and planned the details of the affair, and, now, I am going straight to Prof. Seabrook and tell him so and swallow the bitter pill he gives me with what grace I can. It won't be sugar-coated, either. I won't give anyone else away, so don't be afraid," she interposed in response to terrified exclamations and frightened faces. "I'll just do the square thing myself, and you know it is always the commanding officer who is held responsible for leading his subordinates astray."

Miss Archer was the daughter of an ex-colonel, which will account for her simile.

There was dead silence for a full minute after she ceased speaking, and the faces in that quiet room would have been an interesting study for a physiognomist.

Then Rose Tuttle sprang to her feet and held out her hand to her friend.

"I wonder who is 'game' now?" she cried, in a ringing voice.

Miss Archer's eyes flashed with sudden inspiration.

"Here! give me a pencil, somebody; I've broken the point off mine," she said, as she moved her chair to a table and drew a blank sheet of paper towards her.

Half a dozen were handed her, and, selecting one, she continued:

"This is going to be a voluntary surrender. I'm not going to wait to be summoned before my superior officer and 'given an opportunity.'"

She wrote rapidly for a few minutes, while her companions regarded her in curious silence.

"Hear now," she finally commanded, as she threw down her pencil, and, lifting her paper with an impressive flourish, read:

"TO THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF AT HILTON: News of certain matters, pending at headquarters, just received by scout. Wherefore this is to certify that the undersigned planned and led the attack on West Wing on the night of May the twentieth. In view of the demands of honor, of admiration for, and the sentence menacing the valiant party at present held as hostage, I hereby make confession, and unconditional surrender, together with all munitions of war, and also herewith beg absolution for subordinates.

"Signed. CAROLINE WEBSTER ARCHER, "Capt. Co. S, Hilton Volunteers, U. S. A."

"How will that do, my brave company of soph.o.m.ores?" she cried, with laughing eyes, as she finished reading her effusion. "I'm afraid it isn't quite up to the mark in military technicalities, but, perhaps, it will answer our purpose."

"It isn't going to do at all, Carolina MIA," returned Rose Tuttle, with an emphatic nod of her head. "If you a.s.sume that you were the captain in the fracas, I certainly was first lieutenant, and I'm going to stand by the cap. until the last gun is fired. Give, me that paper."

It was pa.s.sed to her, and in a clear, bold hand she wrote:

"The captain cannot be allowed to go to the front alone.

"Signed. ROSE ASHLEY TUTTLE, First Lieutenant Co. S, H. V., U. S.

A."

There were grave faces all about her as she read what she had written and then pushed the paper from her.

Presently a voice remarked:

"Girls, good soldiers always follow their leader." Then another figure glided to the table and a third signature was appended to the doc.u.ment.

It was the "bugle call" that fired them all, and in less time than it takes to record it, the name of every other girl in the room was signed underneath, then inclosed in a bracket and the name "Private Co. S, H. V., U. S. A." written outside of it, after which the paper was pa.s.sed back to Miss Archer.

"Company S, I'm proud of you!" she exclaimed, with crimson cheeks and something very like tears in her eyes.

"I--I hope the professor won't think it is too--too flippant,"

some one suggested, in a doubtful tone.

"Do you suppose he will, Carrie?" queried Rose, turning to her friend in sudden consternation.