Part 26 (1/2)
”No, and I don't want it to be found out at home. Beatrice always takes in the letters and deals them round. It was by the merest good luck she didn't get hold of mine on Sat.u.r.day. Netta, do let me use your address! You might do that much for me!”
”Why should I? I've done quite enough for you, and too much already.
I'm tired of the whole business. I was silly to be mixed up with it in the beginning.”
”But you started it! You took me into Miss Roscoe's room, and then you suggested going to Parker's and replacing the china.”
”Are you trying to throw the blame on me?” flared Netta.
”Not altogether; but I think you were partly responsible, and that you got off cheaply.”
”That's uncommonly fine,” sneered Netta. ”No, no, my good Gwen, that little dodge won't work. This child isn't going to be burden-bearer for your sins. If you get into sc.r.a.pes you must get out of them yourself. I've lost a sovereign over you already.”
”And for what?” exploded Gwen angrily. ”What about my beautiful essay, that you took and used as your own?”
”Wasn't worth it! It was a freak of mine just then to win that prize, but I've never looked at the book since. I'm sorry I troubled about it. I'd rather have the sov. now.”
”And I'm sorry too, because it wasn't fair and square, and I've felt vile about it ever since. I hate all these underhand things.”
Netta smiled sarcastically.
”Of course you hate them when they don't turn out to your advantage.
Pity you didn't pursue your course of virtue a little earlier! You were ready enough to trade the essay for the sov. at the time, so what are you grumbling about now?”
”Your meanness.”
”Look here, Gwen Gascoyne, I've had enough of this! I won't hear another word about your wretched affair. As I told you before, you must get out of your own sc.r.a.pes, and not expect other people to act Providence for you. If you mention the subject again, I simply shan't listen.”
Gwen had scarcely expected either help or consolation from Netta, though she felt indignant that her old chum should show her so little sympathy in the matter. After all, it was only in accordance with Netta's character. Grapes do not grow on thistles; and a girl so dest.i.tute of all sense of conscience was not likely to prove a stanch and faithful friend. Gwen was learning by slow and painful experience that bright amusing manners may be worthless unless allied to more sterling qualities. She had been wont to admire Netta's easy style, and even to try to copy it; now it struck her as hollow and vapid. If only she could have started quite afresh, with no guilty memories to disturb her, she felt she had the chance of getting into a better set in her Form. But what would Elspeth Frazer, Hilda Browne, Iris Watson, or any of the nicer girls think of her conduct, both in regard to the broken-china episode or the transferred essay? She knew it would not accord with their code of honour.
”I wish I had the courage to tell Miss Roscoe everything,” groaned Gwen. ”It would have been the straightest course if I'd gone and confessed at once when I smashed the china. It would have saved a great many complications. Dare I possibly tell now?”
She walked along the pa.s.sage to the study. The door was open, so she peeped cautiously in. Miss Roscoe sat correcting papers, and n.o.body else was in the room. If she wished to make her confession, here was certainly her opportunity. Her heart beat and thumped, and the words seemed to freeze upon her lips. Miss Roscoe looked so stern as she sat at her desk making pencil notes on the margins of the exercises; there was a hard, uncompromising expression on her face which Gwen knew only too well, and which did not tend in the direction of tenderness towards wrongdoers. Gwen was still smarting from the scolding she had received for her conversation with d.i.c.k out of the window. If Miss Roscoe viewed that peccadillo so seriously, what would she say to the tale which her pupil had to unfold?
”I daren't! I daren't!” thought Gwen. ”No, I really can't screw up the courage. I loathe myself for a deceitful wretch, and yet--oh, dear!--there's nothing in this world I dread so much as being found out!”
She ran down the pa.s.sage again with a sense of relief. One voice in her heart a.s.sured her that she had escaped a danger, though another upbraided her for her cowardice.
”If Miss Roscoe hadn't looked quite so severe I might have ventured,”
she sighed in response to the latter. ”I don't believe I'll get even so far as the study door again.”
So a golden opportunity was lost, and Gwen, who might even thus late have chosen the straighter, harder path, s.h.i.+rked the disagreeable experience, and was left perforce to reap the harvest of her own sowing.
CHAPTER XVIII
Gwen's Bright Idea