CHAPTER XXVI—“TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY”
“What did I tell you yesterday?” saluted Jerry Macy, the instant she found opportunity to address Irma Linton the next morning. “Marjorie’s sick. Her mother telephoned me before I started for school. She came from Lucy Warner’s yesterday so sick she couldn’t see straight. Her mother put her to bed and sent for the doctor. She has tonsilitis. Isn’t that hard luck?”
“I should say so. Poor Marjorie. I was afraid of that yesterday. You know she said her throat was sore.” Irma looked unutterably sympathetic. “And the game on Saturday, too. But it can’t be played with Marjorie, Muriel and Susan all laid up. That leaves only Rita, Daisy and Harriet on the team.”
“The sophomores will have to call it off,” decreed Jerry. “It’s only fair. The juniors did that very thing when two of the sophs were sick.”
“You’d better see Ellen this noon or before, if you can, and tell her,” Irma advised. “Then she can break it to the sophs to-day.”
“I’m going to wait for her in the senior locker room this noon,” nodded Jerry. “Then she can post a notice at once. Now I must beat it for Cæsar recitation. I wished he’d been killed in his first battle. It would have saved me a good deal of bother.” Jerry’s jolly chuckle belied her vengeful comment on the valorous general.
“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Ellen when Jerry broke the news to her. “That is too bad. Certainly the game will have to be postponed. I’ll write a notice instantly asking the sophs to meet me in the gym at four this afternoon. I must call up on the ’phone and inquire for Marjorie. Dear little girl, I wish I could do a great deal more for her. Thank you for telling me, Jerry.” Ellen hurried off to write and then post the notice before going home to luncheon. Her lips wore a quizzical smile. She wondered what the sophomore team would say when she told them.
She had just finished tucking it into the bulletin board when Nellie Simmons, a member of the sophomore team, paused curiously to read it. The very fact that it came from Ellen’s hands indicated basket ball news. “Hmm!” she ejaculated as she took in its contents. “What’s the matter now?”
“I’ll tell you at four o’clock,” Ellen flashed back. With a slight lift of her shoulders, she walked away. Nellie’s tone had verged on the insolent. She had hardly disappeared when Nellie faced about and hurried toward the sophomore locker room, bumping smartly against Rowena Farnham, who was in the act of leaving it.
“Look out!” cried Rowena. “What are you trying to do? I’m not made of iron.”
“Oh, Rowena, I was hurrying to find you!” exclaimed Nellie. “Ellen Seymour just posted a notice on the bulletin board for the team to meet her in the gym at four o’clock. I think I know what it’s about. Marjorie Dean is sick. I heard Jerry Macy tell Esther Lind. You know what that means to the junior team, with two others away from it. I’m sure Ellen’s going to ask us to postpone the game.”
“I’ll forgive you for almost knocking me down,” laughed Rowena, her black eyes glowing. “So Miss Seymour thinks we will postpone the game to please her and that goody-goody Dean girl. I’ll see that she gets a surprise. Lucky you came to me. I can fix things before I go home to luncheon. I’m going to have a talk with Miss Davis.”
Leaving Nellie plunged in admiration at her daring tactics, Rowena sped up the basement stairs and down the corridor toward Miss Davis’s tiny office. “How are you, Miss Davis?” was her offhand greeting. “I’ve come to you for help.”
Miss Davis viewed her visitor with mild disapproval. “I don’t care to implicate myself in any more of your tangles, Rowena,” she declared firmly.
“Oh, this isn’t entirely my affair. It’s about basket ball, though. That Dean girl is sick and Miss Seymour is going to ask us to postpone the game just on her account. Of course, we’ll say ‘no,’ but Miss Seymour won’t mind that unless you stand by us. It’s pure favoritism. Miss Harding and Miss Atwell are sick, too. Even so, there are three of the team left. If you say the game must go on, it will give poor Mignon a chance to sub in the Dean girl’s place. That Esther Lind played on the sophomore team last year. She could fill the other position and we could have the game. Miss Seymour knows that, but she won’t pay any attention to it. Mignon ought to have been chosen in the first place. You owe it to her to do this for her. Besides, it will give you a good chance to even things with the Seymour-Dean combination.”
“I don’t like your tone, Rowena. It’s hardly respectful. As a teacher I have no desire to ‘even things,’ as you express it.” Miss Davis’s censure did not ring true. She knew that this domineering girl had no illusions concerning her dignity of position.
Rowena merely smiled in the bold, cheerful fashion that she always adopted and which passed for real good humor. She did not take Miss Davis at her word. “Think it over,” she advised. “You know you detest favoritism.” She was well aware that Miss Davis deplored it, only to practise it as regarded herself and Mignon. Mignon in particular had always ranked high in her favor.
To have heard Rowena thus pleading her cause would have astonished Mignon not a little. It was by this very means that Rowena proposed to seek her and win back the French girl’s allegiance. Without her companionship, school had become very tame for lawless Rowena.
“When is this meeting to take place?” asked Miss Davis with well-simulated indifference.
“At four o’clock.” Rowena thrilled with triumph. She knew she had gained her point.
“I may attend it,” was the teacher’s vague promise.
“Thank you. I hope for Mignon’s sake you’ll be there.” With this sly reminder Rowena set off, determining to waylay Mignon on her walk back from luncheon. Not troubling to go home that noon, Rowena swallowed a hasty luncheon at a nearby delicatessen shop and posted herself at a corner, which Mignon was due to pass.
“Wait a minute, Mignon,” she hailed, as the latter was about to pass her by with a haughty toss of her head. “You must listen to me. I’ve just fixed it for you to play on the junior team Saturday.”
Astounded by this remarkable statement, Mignon halted. Rowena had guessed that she would. “I don’t understand you,” she said haughtily.
“Yes, you do,” assured Rowena blithely. “Three of the juniors are sick. I just asked Miss Davis to let you help out. She is going to see Miss Seymour about it this afternoon. All you have to do is to keep still until you’re asked to play, then say ‘yes.’ Now do you believe I’m your friend?” she concluded in triumph.
Mignon’s inimitable shrug went into play. “You are very kind,” she returned with a trace of sarcasm. “It’s about time you did something to make up for all the trouble you caused me.”
“That’s just it.” Rowena clutched at this providential straw, which Mignon had unwittingly cast to her. “I am trying to make it up to you. I won’t bother you any more now. But I hope——” she paused significantly.
“You may walk to school with me,” graciously permitted Mignon. The old fascination of Rowena’s lawlessness was beginning to steal over her.
“Thank you.” Rowena spoke humbly. Inwardly she was jubilant. She was obliged to endure these stupid persons, but they were all her pawns, willed to move about at her dictation.
After she had left Rowena in the corridor, Mignon indulged in sober speculation. There was more to the affair than appeared on the surface. Formerly she would have entered into it with avidity. Now she was bound to respect her father’s mandate or be packed off to a convent school. She alone knew positively that recent association with Marjorie and her chums had not changed her. But she must make a pretense at keeping up an appearance of amiable docility. Rowena’s words still sounded in her ears like a clarion call to battle. But she was resolved to do nothing rash. She would wait and see before accepting the chance to play on the junior team. It was lucky that she need not lend her presence to the meeting that afternoon.
When at four o’clock Ellen Seymour put the matter of postponement to five impassive-faced girls, she was not greatly surprised to listen to their unanimous refusal to consider the proposal. One and all they stolidly set themselves against it.
“You forget that the juniors treated you very nicely when your team met with misfortune,” reminded Ellen gravely. She had vowed within herself that she would not lose her temper.
This reminder brought stubborn replies of, “That was different,” and “They have plenty of equally good players to draw from.”
In the midst of the discussion, Miss Davis appeared on the scene. Ellen understood only too well what that meant. “What seems to be the matter here?” she asked. “Are you discussing the question of postponing the game?”
Rowena cast a sidelong glance of triumph toward Nellie Simmons, which said: “What did I tell you?”
“We are,” was Ellen’s crisp return. “The game must be postponed.”
It was an unlucky speech on Ellen’s part. Miss Davis had entered the gymnasium only half decided upon championing Rowena’s cause. The cool decision in the senior’s tones angered her. “I hardly think that will be necessary,” she retorted. “Three of the juniors are ready to play. Miss La Salle and Miss Lind can substitute for the others. The game will go forward on Saturday.”
“That is absolutely unfair,” cried Ellen. “The juniors were extremely lenient with——”
“That will do.” Miss Davis held up an authoritative hand. “Another word and I will report you to Miss Archer. Then there will be no game on Saturday.”
Ellen did not answer this threat. Her head erect, color high, she walked from the gymnasium and straight to Miss Archer’s office. She had not threatened. She intended to act and act quickly.
“Miss Archer, I have something important to say to you,” she burst forth on entering the principal’s office.
“Sit down, Ellen. I am sure it must be. Don’t tell me it is basket ball!” Miss Archer’s lips tightened.
“But it is.” Impetuously, Ellen poured forth her story. When she had finished, Miss Archer’s face was not good to see.
“I’ll attend to this, Ellen. You did right to come to me. There will be no game on Saturday.”
The following morning five girls received a summons to the principal’s office that put fear into their hearts. When, one by one, they appeared, she motioned them to be seated until the last one had completed the line on the oak bench. Swinging in her chair, she faced them with: “There is an old saying, girls, ‘Turn about is fair play.’ Since you seem to have forgotten it, I am forced to remind you. I understand that you asked the juniors to postpone the first basket ball game of the season, due to the fact that your team was temporarily incapacitated. They did so. That in itself points to an adherence to fair play. Very well. Now there comes a time when the situation reverses itself. Having proved themselves honorable, the juniors have called for a like demonstration of honor on the part of the sophomores. You know best what has happened. You have shown yourselves not only grossly ungrateful, but unfit to be trusted. No one enjoys dealing with ingrates. One understands precisely what one may expect from such persons.
“During the year I have not been pleased with the various reports which have been brought to me concerning sophomore and junior basket ball; particularly sophomore basket ball. It is not long since I was obliged to interfere with sophomore methods. At that time I stated that a repetition of such unfair tactics would result in the stoppage of the game for the rest of the year. I now declare the sophomore and junior teams disbanded. There will be no more games between them this year. I have just one thing further to say. It is unfortunate that the innocent should be obliged to suffer with the guilty. You are dismissed.”
A wavering breath of dismay passed along the row of girls as Miss Archer pronounced sentence upon them. Their own treachery had proved a boomerang. Dejection laid heavy hand upon four of them, as with downcast eyes they rose and quitted the place of judgment. But the fifth member of the disbanded team was not thus so easily dismissed. Far from disheartened, Rowena Farnham sprang forward, hands clenched at her sides, her face an angry flame.
“Who are you that you dare talk of unfairness?” In her devouring rage she fairly screamed the question. “You have disbanded the team just to please that smug-faced, priggish Marjorie Dean. You are not fit to have charge over a school of girls. I am ashamed to be under the same roof with you. I shall ask my father——”
“It strikes me that it is I who should inform your father of your outrageous behavior to me,” interrupted Miss Archer in a stern voice. “I hardly believe that he would countenance such impudence on your part to one in authority over you. You may go home and remain away from school until I send for you. I shall insist on an interview with your father at the earliest possible moment in order to decide what is to be done with you.”
“You won’t have to insist on seeing him,” sneered Rowena. “He will call on you this afternoon. My father won’t see me abused by you. He will use his influence with the Board of Education. Then you won’t be principal of Sanford High School.” With this furious prediction of downfall Rowena flung herself out of the office, confident that she had delivered a telling thrust. Not daring to return to the study hall she sped to the locker room, hastily seized her wraps and departed for her father’s office in high dudgeon.
The brilliantly-colored account of Miss Archer’s misdeeds which she poured into the ears of her too-credulous father sent him on the trail of the offending principal with fury in his eye. Less than an hour after Rowena had made her sensational exit, a very tall, red-haired, red-faced man stalked into Miss Archer’s office with the air of a blood-thirsty warrior.
“Madam,” he thundered, omitting polite preliminaries, “I am Mr. Farnham and I wish you to understand most emphatically that you cannot criticize my methods of bringing up my daughter. Though she may need occasional mild discipline it is extreme bad taste in you to cast unjust reflections upon her parents.”
“I was not aware that I had done so.” Miss Archer had risen to confront the slandered (?) parent. She met his angry gaze unflinchingly. “I had intended to send for you, however. Now that you are here we may as well settle matters at once. Your daughter——”
“My daughter has been shamefully abused,” cut in Mr. Farnham majestically. “I regret that I ever allowed her to enter a public school. I shall remove her at once from it. The contaminating influence——”
It was Miss Archer’s turn to interrupt in clear, cutting speech. “Allow me to amend your last statement to her contaminating influence. Your daughter is a trouble-maker. I have borne very patiently with her. I cannot regret your decision to remove her from Sanford High School. It simplifies matters immeasurably.”
Miss Archer’s quiet, but intense utterance sent an unbidden thrill of consternation over the irate man. His blustering manner had not intimidated this regal, calm-featured woman. He experienced a sudden sense of defeat. Fearful lest he might reveal it, he cut his call short with, “My daughter will not return to school. Good morning.”
Miss Archer bowed him out, feeling sorry rather than displeased with the big, blustering man whom fatherly love had blinded to his daughter’s faults. She wondered when, if ever, his eyes would be opened. Under what circumstances would he awaken to full knowledge of the real Rowena?