She was looking over a dozen neatly written contributions to the contest as she spoke. Taking one from among them, the older woman smiled at the girl. “Muriel,” she said, “I am surprised to see how prettily Joy Kiersey can write verse. This plaint of a Washoe Indian maid who yearns for the days when her wigwam home was beside the lake that bears her name, and for the young Indian brave who came to her in a bark canoe across the star-reflecting waters, shows feeling and is artistically done. I believe that it will win second place.”
“Oh, Miss Gordon,” Muriel’s voice was eager, “may I withdraw my poem—if you think it might win?”
The older woman looked up amazed. “Dear,” she said, not understanding this unusual request, “may I know your reason?”
“I want Joy to win. She loves to write verse and she said it would please her dad. He thinks it is wonderful because his daughter is talented. He is so plain, just a business man without a bit of the artist in his nature.”
Miss Gordon had surmised that a very tender love was binding these two girls each day closer and closer and yet she hardly thought it fair to permit Muriel to make the sacrifice. Joy, she knew, would not wish it.
“Has Marianne Carnot entered a poem yet?” the island girl asked.
Miss Gordon’s expression was hard to interpret. “No, and I very much doubt her doing so,” she had just said when there came a tap on the door. Muriel answered the summons. A maid stood there with a rolled manuscript. “It’s for Miss Gordon,” she said. “Mam’selle Carnot asked me to bring it.”
A moment later Miss Gordon looked up from the finely written contribution. “Muriel,” she announced, “you will not need to withdraw your poem, for this is by far the best. It is marked original, and, though I marvel at it, I may not question the honor of a pupil of High Cliffs. A week from today we will know whose poem has been awarded the prize.”
CHAPTER XXXIV.
MARIANNE WINS THE PRIZE.
“I can’t understand it in the least, and what’s more, I don’t believe it’s so.” This from Catherine Lambert, who sat on a low bench buckling her skates.