“No, I didn’t know she fell,” said Esther apathetically, “but I heard you talking to her, and wondered why you had gone out after her. I’m glad she’s not hurt.”
“Next time you mustn’t let her try such a thing,” Betty told her gravely. “Call me and I’ll let out anybody who has stayed too late by mistake.”
“It wasn’t a mistake, Miss Wales,” Esther explained calmly. “Helena wasn’t ready to go at ten, so she stayed; that’s all. She comes here when she likes and goes when she likes, and as she likes. If you’re blaming me for this you don’t know Helena Mason.”
Helena insisted upon leaving before breakfast the next morning. Her hands were sore, and she was stiff and bruised all over, but she managed to dress without help, and insisted that she was well enough to get her books and go to her classes. At noon she was back again, nervously inquiring for Betty.
“I lost a paper last night, Miss Wales,” she explained. “I had tucked it into my ulster pocket. Did you pick it up, or has anybody in this house found it and brought it to you or Mrs. Post?”
Betty had not seen the paper, but she promised to inquire. The Thorn, it developed, had found it that morning and given it to Esther Bond.
“It was in her writing,” she explained. “It was a Lit. paper, and a dandy one too. I read it. Wish I’d seen it before I handed mine in.” She grinned cheerfully. “I can say that to you, Miss Wales, because you can tell a joke when you see one. Helena Mason can’t. Rather than be laughed at for her fire-escape escapade she’s given the impression that she burned her hands with her student lamp. And the people who know what really happened are smiling a little and wondering a lot.”
A week later the Thorn came to Betty again, her eyes round with amazement. “I’m not a gossip, Miss Wales,” she began, “but that paper—the one in Esther Bond’s writing that Miss Mason lost and I found—was read to-day in Lit. 6, as the best one handed in. And it was signed by Helena Mason. I wish now that I hadn’t read it. I never thought there was any harm in reading a theme that you happened to pick up.”
“There’s a lot of harm in jumping to conclusions,” Betty warned her hastily. “Helena’s writing may be so like Esther’s that it deceived you, or Esther may have copied Helena’s paper for her. That’s the right explanation, I’m sure. A good many girls hire their papers copied, you know.”
The Thorn sighed and stared at Betty admiringly. “And I never saw any possibility except that Helena Mason had hired her theme written. I must have a horrid, suspicious mind, I suppose, Miss Wales. I’m glad I came right to you first, and I shan’t mention the matter to any one else.”