Part 4 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI
MYSTERIES
The essays were handed in the next day, and after two days of what the girls termed ”agonizing suspense,” Miss Burnett announced to her cla.s.s that the judges had made their decision. The best was Katherine's. No one had expected anything else, and there was heartfelt applause with no jealousy, as she received the prize, a handsome set of books. Alison's received second place, to her own surprise, for she was modest as to her own acquirements.
The rest were of about the same degree of excellence--laborious efforts, showing no originality of thought or discrimination. Still, they had tried, and Miss Burnett expressed in a few pleasant words her appreciation of their endeavors, as she returned their papers.
Finally, there were but two papers left on the desk. Miss Burnett took up one and glanced at the t.i.tle.
”This one, _The River of Time_,” she said, ”has at least the merit of brevity. In the s.p.a.ce of about seven hundred words the author has reviewed the history of English literature from its source to the present time--”
”Oh, that is mine, Miss Burnett,” exclaimed Rosalind, starting. ”Please don't read it. I know it's awful.” She smiled frankly and beguilingly into the teacher's eyes. ”It's the best I could do.”
Miss Burnett could not help returning the smile with the essay.
”Is it really the best you could do, Rosalind?”
”It is, truly, Miss Burnett. I could hardly do that.”
”Then, Rosalind, all I can say is that it is a pity. But at least you really tried, and perhaps next time you will try harder and do better.”
She took up the last paper on the desk. ”I have kept this one for the last because I wanted to talk with you a little about it, Marcia. I should like you to remain a few minutes after the cla.s.s is dismissed.”
Marcia said nothing. One after another the girls filed out, until she and the teacher were alone together. Then Miss Burnett unfolded the paper and turned to the girl before her.
”This essay is signed with your name, Marcia, in the sealed envelope that was kept in my desk until the judges' decision had been reached. No one knew who had written it. No one knows now, except myself. I have not even mentioned the t.i.tle, _The River Road_, until I had talked with you alone. Did you talk with anyone else about your essay? You know I wished them to be entirely original.”
”No, Miss Burnett, I never said a word to anybody about it,” said Marcia, quite truthfully.
Miss Burnett looked grave and troubled. ”Then it is very peculiar, Marcia, that your essay has nearly the same t.i.tle as Rosalind's, and says the same thing, only in different words. How could that be, unless you talked over your essays together?”
”But we did not, truly, Miss Burnett. It just happened so.” Marcia looked the teacher straight in the face, as if defying her to find a flaw in her statement. ”Rosalind lost her book, and borrowed mine. Then she went out to play basketball without returning it. I had to borrow Alison's book to study for mine. She said she found the essay in it when she opened it to study. That is all I can tell you.”
If there were any guile in this speech, Miss Burnett was too transparently honest herself to find it out. She looked troubled.
”Well, Marcia, it is very strange, but I must take your word for it.
That is all, then.”
Thanksgiving had come and gone, and the girls were settled down for the uneventful stretch that comes between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The seven friends were gathered in Alison's room, one raw, cold ”Novemberish” afternoon for one of their old-time talks. Marcia had gone out shopping with Rosalind, for whom she seemed to have developed a sudden great friends.h.i.+p, and the girls had availed themselves of the opportunity to meet in their favorite gathering place without the embarra.s.sment of her presence.
Polly had a question to propound.
”Why don't we like Marcia?”
”Well?” said Evelyn, when the silence had lasted for several minutes while each waited for the others to speak.
”Alison ought to be able to answer that question,” said Kathy.