She had not really meant to incriminate Blue Bonnet Ashe, but circumstances were against her. It had all happened so quickly—she hadn't had time to think clearly. There had been but one thought in her mind; she, a Senior, could not afford to be found with a book of that character in her possession. It might mean defeat after three years' struggle—struggle to graduate with the highest honor. She had been cheated out of so much in Miss North's school—that should not escape her, now! No, her record must go on, clear to the end.
She took a few steps round the room and then came back to the window. She was frightened. Her heart beat like a trip hammer and her face was hot, burning, as if with fever. She threw the window open and let the cold air fan her face—her hot hands. What should she do? What could she do, without bringing down upon herself the gravest consequences?
A Senior in Miss North's school stood for something—was supposed to stand for all that was honorable, above board. She was trusted, looked up to—privileged. Anything that touched her honor touched the school,—lowered the standard of the class. A Senior stood as an example—a pattern for juniors and younger girls, and she ... well, she had blundered—terribly! If it became known that she was the owner of the book—that she had lied to Miss Martin—
Visions of her father—old, silent, unforgiving—passed before her eyes; her mother—patient, long-suffering—who had made one sacrifice after another to keep her in this school, far beyond her means. The vision of those faces settled Joy's mind—made a coward of her. Her disgrace should not touch them. She would not acknowledge the book, no matter what came! Blue Bonnet Ashe could disclaim any knowledge of it. She was innocent—could prove that she was. If she, herself, kept still, the storm would soon blow over. No one could prove the book was hers. No one had seen it in her possession. She could not explain—now. She had incriminated herself by telling an untruth. A lie, in the eyes of Miss North, was a serious offence, and in a Senior—intolerable—unforgivable—a malicious, willful lie that injured another....
The gong sounded for dinner. Joy hesitated. She hated to meet Miss Martin, at whose table she sat. She thought she would not go to dinner. On second thought she knew she must—that she was in a difficult position and must play the game to the end.
She went into the bathroom and bathed her flushed face in cold water, straightened her tumbled hair, resumed her usual attitude of indifference to the world in general, and going down to the dining-room slipped into her place quietly.