“I—don’t know. You see, it stands against Bobs that he’s been out of school for several days doing no one knows what. There’s so much fine lettering in the magazine; it would take a great deal of time. And everyone knows how clever Bobs is at drawing, and how he loves a joke. I’m afraid.”
“And I don’t believe it! If Bobs had done it, he’d have owned up.”
“But you don’t stop to think, Jacquette, that owning up would have meant bringing discredit on his whole fraternity. The Beta Sigs would crow so if the Elks got into disgrace. It isn’t a bit like owning up alone.”
“I know; but I don’t believe it. If I could only get hold of Quis, I’d make him tell who did it. He said he knew. But his train has started by now.”
“Yes, and you mustn’t worry, dear. I dare say Bobs will come out of it all right. Everybody likes him so—teachers and all. I’m terribly sorry I laughed, but I just can’t go without my luncheon on account of it. I’m starving. Come and get a sandwich. You’ll feel better.”
“No. I can’t eat a thing!” And Jacquette, starting back toward the school alone, turned the corner and met Bobs face to face.
He would have passed, but she insisted on speaking and almost with the first words it came out that he had seen Rodney leaving her house, just after he and the other boys had been dismissed that day, and that his faith in girls had vanished with the sight. Of course the fellows had joked him, but that was the least of it. The part he could not get over was that he had believed Jacquette to be “square,” and now she had proved herself “just like all the girls—tricky!”
Jacquette’s explanation had waited so long that the words of it tumbled over each other. She looked very sweet and sorry, standing there, her face flushed with feeling, and, as she talked, the winter wind caught one of her curly yellow braids and tossed it over her shoulder. Bobs remembered, suddenly, that she had put her hair down in braids the day after he had said sorority girls were in too much of a hurry to be grown-up. He stamped the snow from his feet, irresolute—trying not to forgive her. Then he looked straight into her honest eyes, and, turning, walked back to the school at her side.
“I see how it was, Jack, and I’d like to shake hands on it,” he said, as they reached the entrance. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again; I may not come back to school any more after vacation. I tried to quit, right after this Rodney Fletcher business, but my mother cried about it; so I couldn’t. You know I haven’t any father to make me do things, but when my mother cries it’s the same thing. So I started in again, but now there’s a new trouble, and I don’t know what may come of it. I’m on my way home, in disgrace for refusing to answer questions in the office.”
“I know what you mean; Louise told me,” Jacquette answered, giving him her hand, “and I just want to say that I don’t believe, for one minute, you ever did it.”