THE FINGER OF SUSPICION
That very morning as Grace was about to leave Miss Duncan's class room she heard her name called in severe tones. Turning quickly, she met the teacher's blue eyes fixed suspiciously upon her.
"Did you wish to speak to me, Miss Duncan?" Grace asked.
"Yes," answered Miss Duncan shortly. She continued to look steadily at Grace without speaking.
Grace waited courteously for the teacher's next words. She wondered a little why Miss Duncan had detained her.
"Miss Harlowe," began the teacher impressively, "I have always entertained a high opinion of you as an honor girl. Your record during your freshman year seemed to indicate plainly that you had a very clear conception of what constitutes an Overton girl's standard of honor. Within the past week, however, something has happened that forces me to admit that I am deeply disappointed in you." Miss Duncan paused.
Grace's expressive face paled a trifle. A look of wonder mingled with hurt pride leaped into her gray eyes. "I don't understand you, Miss Duncan," she said quietly. "What have I done to disappoint you?"
Miss Duncan picked up a number of closely written sheets of folded paper and handed them to Grace, who unfolded them, staring almost stupidly at the sheet that lay on top. A wave of crimson flooded her recently pale cheeks. "Why—what—where did you get this?" she stammered. "It is my theme."
