Elfie was generally as particular as if she had been a scholar never to speak in school or move about, but she seemed to feel that this was a case that demanded her assistance. She crossed over silently to where Mary Ann sat with her face in her hands, bravely trying to keep back bitter tears, and, throwing her arms around her, whispered comfort into her ears.
Mrs. Abbott, looking very stern, laid the paper between the leaves of her blank-book and, taking up another composition, asked Lily to read it. The girls all noticed that Lily’s cheeks were painfully flushed, and her voice was so low that she had to be asked twice to repeat a sentence.
Mary Ann, who had succeeded in controlling her feelings, carefully avoided looking at Lily, for she, as well as all of the school, suspected that she was the author of the cruel verses. It was a very hard knowledge to have, for Lily had seemed to be her friend, and there had been times when Mary Ann had gone to her as a refuge and comforter when others had derided her. It is a bitter blow when you learn that you have been deceived in a friend. If Edna Tryon, for instance, who made no pretense of being friendly, had written the lines, she might have borne it; but Lily! The thought overcame her, and in spite of every effort she dropped her face upon the desk to conceal the tears that would not be kept back. Miss Blake went to her instantly, and, obeying a look from Mrs. Abbott, led her from the room.
“Have you never heard,” asked Mrs. Abbott, in the pause which followed, “of a rough diamond, and do you not know that one in the rough is as pure a gem as the one that glistens on a king’s crown?”
Edna, sitting by Lily, who had resumed her seat, passed her a bit of paper on which she had scribbled, “Rough diamonds need cutting. I think we had better cut this one. I am ready to say I’ll never speak to her again.”
But Lily crumpled the paper up after reading it, and took no notice of the smile and shrug with which Edna emphasized her wit; but she suddenly raised her hand.
“What is it, Miss Dart?” asked Mrs. Abbott, coldly; probably she too felt a certainty that Lily was the author, although the verses were not in her hand-writing.
“I want to tell you,” said Lily, struggling with a great lump in her throat, “that I wrote that stuff, but I only did it to make two or three of the girls laugh. I wrote it when we were playing a game last Saturday, and I never meant any one to see it except two or three girls who were in the room with me. I thought I tore it up when I threw it in the waste-basket. Perhaps some one picked out the pieces and copied the horrid stuff. I am awfully sorry. I like Mary Ann; I really do, and I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world. She is a rough diamond; she is, truly, and I knew it all the time while I was so—so—so—horrid—” Here Lily broke down entirely and dropped into her seat.
“I hope this will teach you to hold in check the sin that doth so easily beset you,” said Mrs. Abbott, gravely. “It is a sin to trifle with other people’s feelings for the sake of having a little amusement. I think we must all admire your ready candor in trying to atone in a small degree for your fault by acknowledging it. And I hope your example will be followed at once by the person who copied your lines and placed them with the compositions.”
A solemn silence pervaded the room, and the girls looked round at each other; but the culprit did not avail herself of the opportunity of confession.