Becoming alarmed Grace telephoned to Althea Parker to know if Evelyn were with her. In reply to her anxious inquiry Althea declared she had not seen Evelyn for two days. Uncertain as to the wisest course to pursue Grace concluded to wait until Emma came in from an evening's visit with Patience Eliot.

It was almost eleven o'clock when Emma returned.

"I'm so glad you've come," greeted Grace as her friend entered their room. "Evelyn Ward hasn't come in yet and I'm worried about her. I saw her this afternoon, but she hasn't been here since then."

"Very likely she is with Miss Parker." Emma spoke in an unconcerned tone.

"No she isn't. I telephoned Miss Parker. She hasn't seen Evelyn for two days."

"She hasn't?" Emma glanced at Grace in surprise. The ring of anxiety in Grace's voice had not been lost upon her. "What's happened, Gracious!"

she asked.

For answer Grace handed Ida Ward's letter to Emma. "Read it," she commanded.

Emma read the letter. "Do you think--" she began.

"What do _you_ think?" interrupted Grace. "What can one think? Evelyn received her letter from Ida Ward before I received this. She knew that this letter was on the way. This afternoon I found her at the door sorting the mail. She had two letters in one hand, which she had separated from the others. When she saw me she dropped the two. I stooped to pick them up. Both of them were for me. I said, 'Did I startle you, Miss Ward?' and she stammered something about expecting a letter. She shoved the other letters into my hands and ran upstairs. I haven't seen her since."

"Who was the other letter from that she had picked out?"

"Oh, it was a bill from Hanford's. I--" Grace stopped short and stared at Emma. A horrible suspicion had seized her. She was afraid that she now understood the meaning of the bill she had received. In one of those curious, illumining flashes, which sometimes reveal in an instant what seems hopelessly obscure, she had hit upon the truth.

Briefly she outlined the situation to Emma, who had long been her confidante.

"You'd better let matters rest till to-morrow," advised Emma. "It's too late to try to find her to-night. We would only create comment and arouse suspicion if we telephone to the houses where her friends live.

It wouldn't surprise me if she had left Overton for good and all."

"We must find her," declared Grace with decision.

"What will you do with her if you do find her?"

"I don't know. That will depend entirely upon her. You are right, though, about waiting until morning. We must protect her from the consequences of her own foolishness. For she isn't wicked, Emma. She has been carried away by vanity and love of dress. Perhaps if we gave her another chance she would live all this down and be a different girl."

"Perhaps," Emma's tone was skeptical. "For the sake of the community at large let us hope for this much-to-be-desired metamorphosis."

But the next morning brought news of Evelyn in the shape of a letter addressed to Grace, which came on the first delivery of the mail for the day. With eager fingers Grace opened it. A slip of blue paper fluttered to the floor as she unfolded it. Picking it up she saw it was a money order made payable to Evelyn Ward, then she read:

"DEAR MISS HARLOWE:

"When you receive this letter I shall be far away from Harlowe House. I have done dreadful things and I cannot face you. All I can do is to go away where no one knows me, and begin over again. I used the money Ida sent me in the fall for my college fees to buy an evening dress. Then I told you that she was ill. I cried purposely to gain your sympathy because I knew about the Semper Fidelis Fund and was sure you would help me. I meant to pay it all back to you, and so I am going to New York to get work and do it, even though it takes me a long, long time.

"But there is something still more dreadful to tell you. I wanted another new evening gown to wear to the Willston dance. I had paid my college fees for the year, so I thought I could take the money that Ida sent me for my payment and buy a gown and other things which I wanted. But Ida wrote and said she couldn't send the money just then, so I went to Hanford's department store and bought the things. I had them charged to your account. When the bill came I was terribly frightened. I thought they wouldn't send it for a long time. I just happened to see it in the bulletin board, so I took it out and tore it up.

"Then I went to Mary Reynolds and tried to get her to lend me some of the treasury money until my money came, but she wouldn't do it.

That is why she cried so often. When the first of May came I watched the bulletin board and took the bill again. It had Hanford's address in one corner so I knew it. All the time I kept hoping that Ida would send my money before it was too late.

Yesterday morning it came, but in her letter she said she had written to you and told you how well she had been and about her work. I knew it would be dreadful for me if you received her letter, but I did not know when it would come, so I stayed away from my cla.s.ses and watched the mail. I had the letter from Ida and the bill from the store in my hands when you surprised me this afternoon. You picked them up before I had a chance to do so. Then I knew that there was just one thing to do and that was to go away.

"Please take the money order and pay the bill at the store. I will pay Semper Fidelis as soon as I can. I will write Ida and tell her how badly I have behaved, and when I go to work in New York I will send for my trunk. It is packed and ready to be shipped.

"Forgive me if you can. I am sorry for everything. I wish I had been different. Good-bye and thank you for your great kindness to me. I did not deserve it. Please don't try to find me.

"Penitently,

"EVELYN WARD."

For a time Grace sat at her desk with the letter in her hand. Then she stood up with the air of one who has come to a definite decision. "I'll go to New York City to-day to look for her," she said half aloud. "I believe she will try to get work at one of the theaters. Mr. Southard and Anne will help me find her. She must come back to Overton. I feel sure that she has suffered enough over this trouble to have learned her lesson."

Grace ran upstairs and burst into her room with, "Emma, Evelyn has gone to New York! I'm going to take the next train there. Read this letter.

It will tell you everything. I haven't time. I must make that 9.15 train."

Grace was in the middle of a hasty toilet when a knock sounded on the door.

Emma answered it.

"Here's a telegram for Miss Harlowe." The maid held out a yellow envelope.

Grace tore it open. One glance at the telegram and she began a joyful dance about the room, waving it over her head. "Hurrah for Kathleen West! She found Evelyn! Read it."

She held the telegram before Emma's eyes.

"Evelyn with me. Return Overton Sunday. All well

"KATHLEEN."

read Emma aloud. Turning to Grace she quoted with whimsical tenderness, "To Kathleen West, girls, drink her down." Then with twinkling eyes she added, "There's only one thing that I can say to express my sentiments, and, with my sincerest apologies to the august faculty which trustfully engaged me to teach English, I say it with heartfelt fervor, 'Can you beat it?'"

CHAPTER XXIII

KATHLEEN WEST, CONFIDANTE

When Evelyn Ward left Grace Harlowe with the letters, which she had tried so hard to obtain, in her possession, she had but one thought.

That thought was to leave Harlowe House before Grace realized the full meaning of her guilt. For two days Evelyn's suit case had been packed for just such an emergency. She had not been sure that she could stem the tide of retribution that had set in against her, so she was prepared to slip away if she failed to obtain the letters that meant her undoing.

Hardly had Grace reseated herself in her office when Evelyn, suit case in hand, her hat on, the coat to her suit thrown over her arm, stole stealthily down the stairs and let herself out of the house without a sound. Once clear of the house she set off across the campus, almost at a run, in the direction of the station. At four o 'clock there was a train to New York. She had a little money. She would go there. Once there she would try to get into a theatrical company.

Arrived at the station she glanced fearfully about her. She did not wish to meet any one she knew. Leaving her suit case in charge of the station master she left the station and walked slowly up the street. She would stroll about until almost train time. She had over an hour's wait. If she encountered any of the students she knew on the street they would attach no importance to seeing her.

It was five minutes to four when she purchased her ticket to New York.

To her relief she had seen no one she knew. When the train pulled into the station she was the first person to board it. She took a seat on the side of the car farthest from the platform, so she did not see a slim hurrying girl's figure rush madly down the platform, just as the train was about to start, and swing herself up the car steps on the last second, heedless of the warning expostulation of the porter.

Torn with remorse for the past, fearful of the future, which, to her overwrought imagination, crouched like a huge black monster ready to spring upon her and engulf her in its cruel jaws, Evelyn watched the swiftly pa.s.sing landscape with unseeing eyes. When a voice from the seat behind her suddenly addressed her with, "Good evening, Miss Ward," she half sprang to her feet in blind terror. Turning, she found herself looking into the keen, dark eyes of Kathleen West, the newspaper girl.

"Oh--good evening," she faltered.

"Going to New York?" was the brisk question.