Her own hair was almost exactly the shade of Clarice’s. There seemed no way except to sacrifice herself to the cause, and she rebelled against it.
“It is being deceitful, and that is wrong,” admonished an inner voice.
“It’s being very charitable,” contradicted another little voice. “By doing this, you’ll give Clarice a chance to complete her year’s work.”
“And next year,” came back the sneering suggestion, “she’ll act just the same as ever.”
“No such thing! You are going to help her keep away from undesirable companions, and develop her real self.”
The fact that she might not be back next year herself was entirely lost track of in the conflict between the opposing impulses.
When she was all ready for bed, Patricia opened her door quietly, paused to listen, then slipped noiselessly along the corridor to Clarice’s room. Cautiously turning the knob, she slipped into the dark room. Safe so far. Rolling herself in the bed clothes, she turned her face to the wall and burrowed deep into the pillows. Shaking with excitement, and too much disturbed to sleep, she lay listening to the trolley cars and automobiles which passed and repassed on the busy street, and to the little movements and noises inside. She heard Mrs. Vincent come in and go directly to her own room. Finally the clock in the hall sounded its soft chimes, then gave forth eleven measured strokes. Like a cuckoo, Mrs. Vincent promptly emerged from her room and crossed the hall to the table where the register lay. Presently, Patricia heard her put down the heavy book and start along the corridor. Now she was at Lucile’s door; now Anne’s; then Patricia’s own. A pause. Quick step around the room. Return to the register. Silence. Then the steps re-crossed the hall and stopped at Clarice’s door. The knob turned softly. Patricia held her breath. Suppose, after all, she should be caught, and Clarice’s absence discovered! The ray of a little flash light wavered over her head, darted about the room, and—disappeared. Half an hour later, Mrs. Vincent was in bed, fast asleep; then Patricia crept noiselessly back to her own room.
The students had just returned from breakfast the following morning, when Mrs. Vincent called Patricia into her room.
“Miss Randall,” she began, without preamble, “did you have permission to go out last night?”
“No, Mrs. Vincent.”