A wavering breath of dismay passed along the row of girls as Miss Archer pronounced sentence upon them. Their own treachery had proved a boomerang. Dejection laid heavy hand upon four of them, as with downcast eyes they rose and quitted the place of judgment. But the fifth member of the disbanded team was not thus so easily dismissed. Far from disheartened, Rowena Farnham sprang forward, hands clenched at her sides, her face an angry flame.
“Who are you that you dare talk of unfairness?” In her devouring rage she fairly screamed the question. “You have disbanded the team just to please that smug-faced, priggish Marjorie Dean. You are not fit to have charge over a school of girls. I am ashamed to be under the same roof with you. I shall ask my father——”
“It strikes me that it is I who should inform your father of your outrageous behavior to me,” interrupted Miss Archer in a stern voice. “I hardly believe that he would countenance such impudence on your part to one in authority over you. You may go home and remain away from school until I send for you. I shall insist on an interview with your father at the earliest possible moment in order to decide what is to be done with you.”
“You won’t have to insist on seeing him,” sneered Rowena. “He will call on you this afternoon. My father won’t see me abused by you. He will use his influence with the Board of Education. Then you won’t be principal of Sanford High School.” With this furious prediction of downfall Rowena flung herself out of the office, confident that she had delivered a telling thrust. Not daring to return to the study hall she sped to the locker room, hastily seized her wraps and departed for her father’s office in high dudgeon.
The brilliantly-colored account of Miss Archer’s misdeeds which she poured into the ears of her too-credulous father sent him on the trail of the offending principal with fury in his eye. Less than an hour after Rowena had made her sensational exit, a very tall, red-haired, red-faced man stalked into Miss Archer’s office with the air of a blood-thirsty warrior.
“Madam,” he thundered, omitting polite preliminaries, “I am Mr. Farnham and I wish you to understand most emphatically that you cannot criticize my methods of bringing up my daughter. Though she may need occasional mild discipline it is extreme bad taste in you to cast unjust reflections upon her parents.”
“I was not aware that I had done so.” Miss Archer had risen to confront the slandered (?) parent. She met his angry gaze unflinchingly. “I had intended to send for you, however. Now that you are here we may as well settle matters at once. Your daughter——”
“My daughter has been shamefully abused,” cut in Mr. Farnham majestically. “I regret that I ever allowed her to enter a public school. I shall remove her at once from it. The contaminating influence——”
It was Miss Archer’s turn to interrupt in clear, cutting speech. “Allow me to amend your last statement to her contaminating influence. Your daughter is a trouble-maker. I have borne very patiently with her. I cannot regret your decision to remove her from Sanford High School. It simplifies matters immeasurably.”
Miss Archer’s quiet, but intense utterance sent an unbidden thrill of consternation over the irate man. His blustering manner had not intimidated this regal, calm-featured woman. He experienced a sudden sense of defeat. Fearful lest he might reveal it, he cut his call short with, “My daughter will not return to school. Good morning.”