“I was, too,” Flo added, reluctantly. “And Jacquette Willard.”
Mademoiselle’s face cleared, but she shook her head. “How it has come about I do not know,” she went on, gravely, “but Mr. Pierce believes that the little Willard was the only one of you who was with his daughter, and he holds her accountable for every disgraceful detail of that trouble. He is very angry. He wishes to have her publicly reprimanded and he would be glad if Mr. Branch would even expel her from school. And she knows all about it, but she has not once mentioned your names!”
“Oh!” gasped both the girls together. Then something that, until now, had been asleep, woke within Mamie. “Is Mr. Pierce in the office, yet?” she demanded. “May we go straight up there and tell him all about it?”
“At once, dearie,” Mademoiselle agreed, with alacrity. “Say to Mr. Branch that Mademoiselle Dubois gave you permission to come.”
A minute later, two astonished men in the office were listening to a joint recital from two excited girls. Mr. Branch had received them sternly as they entered, his eye taking in the Sigma Pi pins they wore, with a glance of disapproval. He had been not only surprised, but shocked at the account given him by Winifred’s father, and he was not disposed to treat the matter lightly. Mr. Pierce, his face flushed, his sandy beard bristling with indignation, had just risen, and was buttoning the coat of his light grey business suit, but he sat down again, and glared at the girls, while he listened.
Bit by bit, in broken sentences, it all came out. How Jacquette had tried to restrain them at the start; how anxious she had been to protect Winifred; how good her influence had always been in the sorority; how she had taken all the blame on herself when she was perfectly innocent; how dear and sweet she was; how everybody loved her—oh!——
“There! there! there!” broke in Mr. Pierce, his bluster all gone, as the girls began to cry, and he actually pulled out his own handkerchief to polish his glasses. “This puts a new light on things, I declare! Mr. Branch,” he said, turning to the principal, who, from behind his desk, was watching developments with keen eyes, “will you let me see that Willard girl again, now, right away?”
“Certainly,” was the answer, and, stepping to the door, Mr. Branch sent a messenger for Jacquette, while Mamie and Flo sat wondering what was going to happen next.
Mr. Pierce did not let them wonder long. As soon as Jacquette appeared in the doorway, he walked across the room with his hand outstretched. “My girl, I want to apologise,” he said bluntly. “I don’t like your sororities, that’s true enough, and I won’t send my daughter to any school that’s in the clutch of such an octopus. As soon as she’s able to walk I’m going to ship her off to some place where secret societies are tabooed. But I say, Mr. Branch,”—still grasping Jacquette’s hand, he turned to the principal—“bad as these societies are, they can’t be all bad, or they couldn’t turn out girls that would stand by each other like this. I want to say that there’s not a word of fault to be found with you,” he declared to Jacquette, while the colour rushed into her sensitive face. “You tried to prevent the mischief, but you didn’t shirk the blame, even when you had a right to. You were respectful, you were sorry—and the way you acted has brought the best there was in these two girls right to the surface. Mr. Branch, I withdraw my complaint. They won’t do this thing again, and they’ve won that much from me by their loyalty to each other. As for you, my girl, I wish I had a son like you!”