Fifty-Two Stories For Girls Part 11

"Is it, or is it not?"

Maysie's voice was very low.

"Yes, it is," she said.

Silence ensued, a brief, awkward silence. It was at this moment that Maysie made up her mind. She would not clear herself at the expense of her chum! Ruth should not be expelled through her!

Miss Elton believed _her_ guilty; she would not undeceive her.

Miss Elton waited with her eyes on Maysie's paintings.

They were done as no other girl in the school would have done them, but the thought afforded her no satisfaction, though she had always prophesied great things of Maysie. Then she glanced at the child's downcast face.

"I am sorry about this, Maysie," she said, with the faintest suspicion of reproach in her voice, "I thought we were better friends."

A lump came into Maysie's throat, and the tears into her eyes. She looked at the microscope, at the tiny gla.s.s slides, at her unfinished sheet; but she had nothing to say.

"Of course," continued Miss Elton, "I shall have to show it to Miss Bennet. This comes, no doubt, of your friends.h.i.+p with Ruth. I have always said that she would do you no good."

Maysie listened with a swelling heart. Supposing Ruth should be sent for, and hear the whole story? Miss Elton was at the door; she ran up to her in desperation.

"Miss Elton," she faltered, "don't say anything to the girls, will you?"

Miss Elton made no promise. The pet.i.tion made her think no better of Maysie.

The Fourth Form girls soon discovered that Maysie was in trouble, but no one could get anything out of her. Ruth was forbidden to join her in recreation, but on Sunday evening she managed to get a few minutes' talk with her.

"Do tell me what the row's about, Maysie," she said.

"Oh, nothing much," said Maysie. "Do let's talk about something else."

"But I always thought you liked Miss Elton?"

"So I do. Can't you get into a row with a mistress you like?"

"Well, I'd apologise, if I were you. She was very nice to me."

"I can't, so it's no good." And Maysie sat silent, confronting this new difficulty with a sinking heart. For how could she apologise, she asked herself, for what she had never done?

"Well, I think you might tell me," Ruth went on. "_I_ told you about my row; and what's the good of being chums if we can't keep each other's secrets?"

But Maysie only sighed impatiently, and took up her library book.

"I wish you'd hurry up and finish those paintings of yours, and come back properly to cla.s.s," went on Ruth. "Aren't they nearly done?"

Maysie grew white, and turned away her face.

"I'm not going to try this year," she said.

"Why, I thought----" began Ruth. "Oh, I see! What a shame!"

Maysie choked down a sob. After a pause she said:

"Perhaps I shall have more chance of a Star next year."

"You'd have got one this!" said Ruth indignantly. "How mean to punish you like that! And it's the only thing you care about!"

Maysie smiled. "Oh, never mind, dear," she said. "Everything seems mean to us. You don't understand."

"But if you apologised it would be all right?"

"I daresay it might, but I don't think so. Besides, they've got to be sent in by Wednesday, and I should hardly have time to do another sheet."

Things went on like this until Monday evening. Though there was only one day left, Maysie made no attempt to apologise. Miss Elton gave her every opportunity, for she, too, hoped that Miss Bennet might thus be induced to allow Maysie to finish her exhibition work, even at the last moment.

Maysie went to bed early that night. Her head had been aching all day, and by the time tea was over she could hardly hold it up. Ruth was greatly concerned about her, and, as a last resource, determined to speak to Miss Bennet.

Maysie soon got into bed, and, being alone in the dormitory, hid her face under the bed-clothes and sobbed. She was terribly homesick, poor child, and now, for the first time, she began to doubt whether she had done right after all; whether it would not have been wiser to have taken Miss Bennet into her confidence, and trusted to her to set things right.

And then, there was that Silver Star! And a year was such a long time to have to wait. But, thinking of Ruth, she grew ashamed of herself, and dried her tears, and tried to go to sleep, though it was still quite light out of doors.

Ruth, meanwhile, was sitting on the floor in front of Miss Bennet's fire.

"It's about Maysie, Miss Bennet," she was saying. "I don't understand what she has done, but I'm sure there must be some reason for her not apologising."

Miss Bennet made no remark.

"She's so fond of Miss Elton, too. I don't see how she could have meant to be rude to her."

"I'm afraid there is not much doubt about that," was the answer.

"It seems to me," went on Ruth nervously, "that there's some mystery about it. Maysie won't tell me anything."

"Maysie has no reason to be proud of herself," replied Miss Bennet coldly.

"It seems so horrid her not going in for the exhibition, and she's so good at painting."

"There are various ways of making use of one's talents," said Miss Bennet, rising. "Now this----"

Ruth jumped to her feet, and stood gazing. There, on Miss Bennet's writing-table, lay the identical sc.r.a.p of paper that she had shown to Maysie the Friday before. "Miss E. in a tantrum!" There, too, was Maysie's name in the corner. In a moment everything was clear.

"That!" she exclaimed. "Maysie didn't do that!"

Miss Bennet looked at her doubtfully.

"I did it!" she went on. "Oh, if I'd only known! Why didn't some one tell me about it?"

"My dear child," began Miss Bennet.