“I can’t tell whether it will be useful or not,” said Jan truthfully, for she had not seen the paper on which the incriminating letter of which the teachers had been talking was written. Her heart gave a leap as she heard Gladys say so unconsciously that she had divided her paper with Daisy. “I’ll take it, if you don’t want it, and see if I can use it.”
“All right. I don’t want it. Half a sheet is no good, but isn’t it nice, with those tulips in memory of Holland in the corner?” said Gladys, looking regretfully at the solitary remainder of her too great generosity.
“It’s just as pretty as it can be, and it’s nice for a New York girl to have, because the Dutch brought their tulip bulbs over here. Thanks, Gladys. I’ll do as much for you, if I can.” And Jan laughed nervously.
“You needn’t mind about doing anything, if you can’t do more than give me half a sheet of letter-paper,” said Gladys. And Jan ran away thinking how much nicer Gladys was now that misfortune had made her less airy.
Viva did not get her doll’s dress made from Gladys’s contribution. Jan cut out a dress from half of the half-sheet, but carefully preserved the upper part with the tulips in the corner. The next day at school she carried her deep-laid plan further. Daisy Hammond, as well as Gladys, had been more civil to her since the trouble, though from some other cause. Jan could not quite see what this cause could be, but she decided that, in spite of her efforts to control her voice and eyes, something of the suspicion she felt toward Daisy had been betrayed, and that Gladys’s false friend feared “Miss Lochinvar’s” possible discoveries.
Counting on Daisy’s evident desire to propitiate her, Jan went to her at recess. “Daisy,” she said, “Gladys gave me a stray half-sheet of paper to make a doll’s dress for Viva. She said she hadn’t any more to give me, and I want some badly. Gladys didn’t say I might ask you, but she did say she had given some of her paper to you. Have you the least little sheet, or even half a sheet, that I might have to finish with?” And Jan held up the quarter-sheet of paper which she had kept.
Daisy could not repress a start as she saw it, and she glanced sharply at Jan’s rosy face. But “Miss Lochinvar” had her wits about her, and, though she noted the look of fear that passed swiftly across Daisy’s face, she met that young lady’s eyes with her own brown ones smiling steadily, and Daisy saw no sign of a latent motive behind the innocent request.
“Oh, I don’t believe I have a bit like that,” she said. “Gladys only gave me two or three sheets, ever so long ago. I’ll give you any other I have.”
“Gladys said she had given her half,” thought Jan, keenly alive to Daisy’s words and actions. But she said aloud: “Let me go with you while you look. I wouldn’t mind for myself. I could get on without the paper, but I’d like to finish what I have begun for my cousin.” It really was good sport to say this, knowing what a different significance from her own Daisy would attach to her words.
Daisy dared not refuse Jan for fear of arousing her suspicions, so she went down-stairs with very bad grace, Jan following close at her heels.