Betty glanced at Ethel. She was standing at the other end of the room, talking to two Winsted men, and she looked so young and pretty and so like one of the girls herself that Betty said impulsively, “She couldn’t!” Then she remembered how different Ethel had seemed on the train, and that the girls in her classes stood very much in awe of her. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “She just hates any sort of cheating. She might think it was her duty to tell. Oh, Eleanor, why did you do it?”
Eleanor shrugged her shoulders expressively. Then she turned away with a radiant smile for Mr. West. “I am sorry to have kept you men waiting,” she said. “How much more time do we have before the barge comes?”
Whatever Miss Hale meant to do, she kept her own counsel, deliberately avoiding intercourse with either Ethel or Betty. She bade the girls a gay good-bye at the station, and went off in state in the carriage they had provided for her.
“I suppose it’s no use asking if you had a good time,” said Betty sympathetically, as she and Eleanor, having decided to go home in comfort, rolled away in another.
“I had a lovely time until it flashed over me about that telephone message. After that of course I was worried almost to death, and I would give anything under the sun if I had stayed at home and passed off my math. like a person of sense.”
“Then why don’t you tell Miss Mansfield so?” suggested Betty.
“Oh, Betty, I couldn’t. But I shan’t probably have the chance,” she added dryly. “Miss Hale will see her after dinner. I hope she’ll tell her that I appeared to be enjoying life.”
The next morning when Eleanor presented herself at Miss Mansfield’s class-room for the geometry lesson, another assistant occupied the desk. “Miss Mansfield is out of town for a few days,” she announced. Eleanor gave Betty a despairing glance and tried to fix her attention on the “originals” which the new teacher was explaining. It seemed as if the class would never end. When it did she flew to the desk and inquired if Miss Mansfield would be back to-morrow.
“To-morrow? Oh no,” said the young assistant pleasantly. “She’s in Boston for some days. No, not this week; next, I believe. You are Miss Watson? No, there was no message for you, I think.”
The next week was a longer and more harassing one than any that Eleanor could remember. She had not been blind to Betty’s scorn of her action. Ever since she came to Harding she had noted with astonishment the high code of honor that held sway among the girls. They shirked when they could, assumed knowledge when they had it not, managed somehow to wear the air of leisurely go-as-you-please that Eleanor loved; but they did not cheat, and like Betty they despised those who did. So Eleanor, who a few months before would have boasted of having deceived Miss Mansfield, was now in equal fear lest Miss Hale should betray her and lest some of her mates should find her out. She wanted to ask Lil Day or Annette Gaynor what happened if you cut a special examination; but suppose they should ask why she cared to know? That would put another knot into the “tangled web” of her deception. It would have been some comfort to discuss the possibilities of the situation with Betty, but Eleanor denied herself even that outlet. No use reminding a girl that she despises you! If only Betty would not look so sad and sympathetic and inquiring when they met in the halls, in classes or at table. At other times Eleanor barricaded herself behind a “Don’t disturb” sign and studied desperately and to much purpose. And every morning she hoped against hope that Miss Mansfield would hear the geometry class.