Almost without her own volition Olive found herself standing in front of Miss Winthrop, Jessica’s arm still through hers, heard the teacher of mathematics say, “Here is your new runaway pupil with Miss Hunt,” and realized that this teacher, whom she had disliked yesterday because she wore round spectacles and dressed like a man, wished not so much to get her into trouble as to involve Jessica in her disgrace.
But Jessica was not in the least disturbed, being the only teacher at Primrose Hall not afraid of its owner. “Miss Winthrop,” she now began coaxingly, “I have brought our new girl home. She was only taking a walk in the woods near by, but I am sure she would rather explain to you herself that in going out without permission she did not know she was breaking a school rule. You see, she has lived always in the West and been accustomed to such perfect freedom—” Jessica was continuing her case for the defendant, realizing that Olive was still too frightened to speak for herself. But suddenly Miss Hunt was thrust aside by a small, plump person, with the longest yellow braids and the biggest blue eyes in the school, and without the least regard for either teachers or principal, Frieda Ralston now flung her arms about Olive.
“For goodness sake, why didn’t you tell Jean and me where you were going?” she demanded. “We have been so frightened about you.”
And then before Olive could reply, another girl stood at her other side, a girl with dark brown hair, a pale skin and demure brown eyes, whose nose had the faintest, most delicious tilt at the end of it. Jean Bruce said nothing, but she looked ready and anxious to defend her friend against all the world.
Surrounding the little group of ranch girls and the three teachers were numbers of other students, most of whom were casting glances of sympathy at the new pupil who had so soon fallen into disgrace. Breakfast just over, they were supposedly on their way upstairs to their own rooms, but Olive’s entrance with Jessica had interrupted them and until Miss Winthrop spoke no one had stirred.
“You may go to your own apartments now, girls,” she said quietly. “Miss Ralston will explain her absence to me in my private study.” As her words and look included Jean and Frieda, they also were compelled to follow the other students up the broad mahogany stairs, leaving Olive to face her fate alone. Only one girl with short curly hair and a freckled nose actually had the courage to stop in passing and whisper to the offender:
“Fare thee well, light of my life, farewell. For crimes unknown you go to a dungeon cell,” she chanted. Then while Olive was trying to summon a smile in return, a beautiful girl with pale blonde hair joined both of them, and drawing the other girl away, said loud enough for a dozen persons near by to overhear: “Oh, do come on upstairs, Gerry. When will you learn not to be friendly to objectionable persons whom no one knows anything about?” And so cool and indifferent did her expression appear as she made her unkind speech that it was hard to believe she understood that her words could be overheard. But Olive Ralston heard them and in spite of her gentleness never in after years forgot or forgave them.
A minute or so later, when everybody else had disappeared, Olive found herself alone in Miss Winthrop’s study, seated in a comfortable leather chair facing a desk at which Miss Winthrop was writing.
“I will talk to you in a few minutes,” she had said as they entered the room, and at first the prisoner had felt that waiting to hear her sentence would be unendurable. Of course she would be expelled from Primrose Hall; Olive had no other idea. And of course Ruth and Jack would understand and forgive her, but there would be no going back on her part to be a burden and disgrace to them. Somehow she must find work to support herself in the future!
But as time passed on and Miss Winthrop continued with her writing, by and by Olive’s attention wandered from her own sorrows and she busied herself in studying her judge’s face. Miss Winthrop’s expression was not so stern in repose, for though the lines about her mouth were severe and her nose aquiline, her forehead was high and broad and her dark eyes full of dignity and purpose. And then her figure. Olive felt obliged to admit that though she was taller and larger than almost any woman she had known, her grace and dignity were most unusual and the severity of her simple black silk gown showed her to great advantage.