THE UNKNOWN MISCHIEF MAKER
"This is too dreadful!"
Springing to her feet, Jane dashed the offending letter to the floor, her cheeks scarlet with outraged innocence.
"That was precisely my opinion when I read it," Mrs. Weatherbee sarcastically agreed.
"But I never wrote it," stormed Jane. "That's not my signature. Besides the letter is typed. I would never have sent you a typed letter. Have you the envelope? What postmark was stamped upon it?"
"It was postmarked 'New York.' No, I did not keep the envelope."
"New York? Why, I came straight from Montana!" cried Jane. "I haven't been in New York since last Christmas."
"I could not possibly know that. A letter could be forwarded even from Montana to New York for mailing," reminded the matron with satirical significance.
"Then you still believe that I wrote this?"
Jane's voice was freighted with hurt pride. Something in the girl's scornful, fearless, gray eyes, looking her through and through, brought a faint flush to the matron's set face. The possibility that Jane's protest was honest had reluctantly forced itself upon her. She was not specially anxious to admit Jane's innocence, though she was now half convinced of it.