“No, not exactly,” responded Clarissa. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I have always had a suspicion, and I should like to verify it, or have it all settled before we leave college.”
“But why should you care? It’s all a thing of the past, and it does not trouble me at all now.”
“I dare say not, but it’s a thing I’ve set myself to find out, and, in fact, I almost think that I know who it was.”
“My dear Polly, please do not concern yourself about it on my account. I really do not care.”
“But I care, Clarissa. So far as the class is concerned the thing has come out all right. You’ve done so much for the team that any feeling they might have had would be wiped away. But—” and here Polly looked rather inquiringly at Clarissa—“you won’t be offended if I say that there are still some professors and one or two others in authority who have a prejudice who think that you did this,—even Professor Z himself,—and that is why I want to clear the thing up. I must tell you who I think it was, Clarissa. I firmly believe that it was Annabel.”
Still Clarissa was silent.
Polly looked at her suspiciously. “Upon my word, I believe that you know who it was. Why won’t you tell?”
Clarissa laughed one of her deep, hearty laughs. “You really are the most inquisitive little person. Surely I have a right to some secrets.”
“Then you admit that you know?”