On reaching home that noon Marjorie’s first impulse was to hurry to her mother with a recital of the morning’s events. Greatly to her dismay, Delia met her at the door with the announcement that her mistress had motored to a neighboring town to meet Mr. Dean, who had telegraphed her from there. They would not arrive home in time for luncheon, probably not until late in the afternoon.

Divided between the pleasure of seeing her father and distress occasioned by Miss Archer’s implied disbelief, Marjorie ate a lonely and most unsatisfactory luncheon. She could think of nothing other than the impending session in which she and Rowena Farnham would so soon figure. She pondered gloomily on the strange way in which the knowledge of Rowena’s unscrupulous behavior had been borne to Miss Archer. Who could have written that letter? Could it be laid at the door of one of the several girls who had inquired for the principal and promptly retired from the scene? If this were so, then some one of them must have lingered just outside to spy upon herself and Rowena. She knew the majority of those who had sought the office while she lingered there. Only one or two had been strangers. Of those she knew, she could recall no one of them she would deem guilty of spying.

As she left her home for the high school, Marjorie smiled in wry fashion at the thought of Rowena’s anger when she learned that her unfair tactics had been discovered and reported. If she treated Miss Archer to a scene similar to that which Marjorie had undergone in Rowena’s home, she was very likely to find herself out of high school before having actually entered. As it was, Rowena stood a strong chance of forfeiting the privilege to try the remainder of her examinations.

Twenty minutes past one found Marjorie on the threshold of the principal’s office. At sight of her Miss Archer bowed distantly and went on with her writing. As yet Rowena had not put in an appearance. Ten minutes later she strolled nonchalantly in, her bold, black eyes registering supreme contempt of the world in general. Her smart gown of delft blue crÊpe set off her dazzlingly fair skin and heavy auburn hair to perfection. She was a stunning young person, and well aware of her good looks.

“I understand you wish to see me,” she drawled in a tone bordering on impatience. Ignoring Marjorie, save for one swift, menacing glance, she addressed herself to the woman at the desk.

Miss Archer had already risen. Now she fixed the newcomer with stern, searching eyes. “Sit over there, Miss Farnham.” She waved her to a seat beside Marjorie on the oak bench.

With an insolent shrugging of her shoulders, Rowena sat down, placing the length of the bench between herself and its other occupant. “Well, what is it?” she asked unconcernedly.

Miss Archer’s lips compressed themselves a trifle more firmly. “Your manner is distinctly disrespectful, Miss Farnham. Kindly remember to whom you are speaking.”

Rowena’s shoulders again went into eloquent play. “Oh, excuse me,” she murmured.

Ignoring the discourtesy, Miss Archer reached to her desk for the letter, the contents of which Marjorie already knew. Handing it to Rowena she said: “Read this letter. You will then understand why I sent for you.”

Looking distinctly bored, the girl perused the letter. A tantalizing smile curved her red lips as she finished. “This is your work,” she accused, turning to Marjorie.

The latter opened her brown eyes in genuine amazement. The accusation was totally unexpected. “You know very well it is not,” she flung back, the pink in her cheeks deepening.

“Whatever you have to say, Miss Farnham, you may say to me,” reproved the principal. “I have already gone over the contents of this letter with Miss Dean.”

“I have nothing to say,” replied Rowena serenely.

“But I have several things to say to you,” reminded Miss Archer sharply. “I demand a complete explanation of what occurred here during my absence yesterday morning.”

“I am afraid you’ve come to the wrong person, then.” Rowena was coolly defiant. “Miss Dean can answer your question better than I. No doubt she has already said a number of pleasant things about me.”

“Miss Dean has said nothing to your discredit. In fact she has refused to commit herself. She prefers that you do the explaining.” Unconsciously Miss Archer sprang into irritated defense of Marjorie.

Rowena’s black eyebrows lifted themselves. So the goody-goody had refused to betray her! This was decidedly interesting. Her clever brain at once leaped to the conclusion that with Marjorie’s lips sealed it would be hard to establish her own dishonesty. In itself the letter offered no actual proof. It was merely signed “The Observer.” A cunning expression crept into her eyes. “Someone must have been trying to play a joke,” she now airily suggested. “The very fact that the letter isn’t properly signed goes to prove that.”

“Miss Farnham!” The principal’s authoritative utterance betrayed her great displeasure. “You are overstepping all bounds. Miss Dean herself has admitted that she solved an algebraic problem for you. I insist on knowing whether or not that problem was taken from an examination sheet that lay among others on my desk. If so, there is but one inference to be drawn. During my absence you tampered with the papers on my desk. No such thing has ever before occurred in the history of this school. Now I ask you pointblank, did you or did you not meddle with my papers?”

Without replying, Rowena’s eyes roved shrewdly to Marjorie, as though trying to discover what the latter intended to do. Were she to reply to the question in the negative, would this baby of a girl, whom she already despised, still maintain silence?

Apparently, Marjorie read her thought. “Miss Farnham,” she broke in, her soft voice ringing with purpose, “if you do not answer Miss Archer truthfully, I, at least, will.”

That settled it. Nevertheless, Rowena determined that Marjorie should pay for her interference. “If you must know,” she said sullenly, “I did glance over them. You had no business to leave them on the desk. Miss Dean saw me do it, too, but she didn’t seem to mind. I even showed her that problem in quadratics and told her I couldn’t do it. So she did it for me.”

“Is this true?” To the distressed listener Miss Archer’s amazed question came as a faint and far-off sound. Driven into a corner by Rowena’s spiteful misrepresentation, Marjorie determined to clear herself of the opprobrium. “I saw Miss Farnham with the papers,” she affirmed. “She pointed out to me the one she couldn’t do and I solved it for her. I thought——”

“That will do.” Never to Marjorie’s recollection had Miss Archer’s voice carried with it such unmeasured severity. For once she was too thoroughly displeased to be just. Only that morning Marjorie had earnestly proclaimed her innocence. Brought face to face with Rowena, she had renigged, or so it now seemed to the affronted principal. Abhoring deceit and untruthfulness, she rashly ticketed her hitherto favorite pupil with both faults.

“But Miss Archer,” pleaded Marjorie desperately, “won’t you allow me to——”

“It strikes me that too much has already been said that might better have been left unsaid,” cut in the principal coldly. “You two young women are guilty of a most despicable bit of work. If it lay within my power I would expel both of you from the school you have disgraced. This matter will be taken up by the Board of Education. All I can do is to send you both home, there to await the decision of those above me. Your parents shall be informed at once of what has taken place. As for you, Miss Farnham, in case the Board decides to give you another chance you will be obliged to take an entirely new set of examinations. In a measure I hold myself responsible for this. I should have locked my desk. I have always trusted my pupils. Dishonesty on the part of two of them is a severe blow. You may both leave the school at once. You, Miss Dean, need not return to the study hall.”

Rowena Farnham received her dismissal with an elaborate shrug that plainly indicated how little she cared. Without deigning a reply she strolled out of the office, apparently as self-possessed as when she had entered. Marjorie, however, remained rooted to the bench on which she sat. She could not believe the evidence of her own ears. Neither could she credit the principal’s sudden unjust stand.

“Miss Archer,” she faltered, “won’t you——”

“The subject is closed, Miss Dean. Kindly leave my office.” Miss Archer refused to meet the two pleading eyes that persistently sought hers. This self-revelation of the girl’s guilt had dealt her a hurt which she could not soon forget. To uncover treachery and dishonesty in a friend is an experience which carries with it its own bitterness. The very fact that it is unexpected makes it infinitely harder to bear. Miss Archer’s disappointment in Marjorie was so great as to obscure her usually clear insight into matters. She had trusted her so implicitly. She felt as though she could not endure her presence in the office. Now she kept her gaze resolutely fixed on her desk, nor did she alter it until the echo of the misjudged lieutenant’s light footfalls had entirely died away.