CHAPTER XX TWO CONFIDENTIAL INTERVIEWS

When the two girls realised that they had done identically the same thing, and each had chosen precisely the same way to advance the other’s interests, it will be hard to say which was more pleased. Patty was deeply touched at this proof of Lorraine’s devotion, for she had no idea the girl was so fond of her, and, too, she had not thought Lorraine capable of this particular way of showing affection.

Lorraine, on the other hand, was almost overcome at the thought of the merry, popular Patty caring enough for her to want her to win the prize.

The result was that a strong and real friendship was cemented between the two girls, and Lorraine’s new realisation of what a friendship with Patty stood for went far toward helping her to acquire an habitual good-humour. Indeed, so glad and gay did Lorraine become over the whole affair, that Patty privately concluded she was quite merry enough for a Grig, and determined to have her made a member of the club as soon as possible.

Of course the girls never told of this episode, for each hesitated to exploit her own share in the matter, and the story could not be told by halves.

And so the teachers and the schoolgirls were not able to discover why the two star pupils remained away from school, and so lost their marks for one whole day.

But the fact that Patty and Lorraine had frustrated each other’s plan left their average of marks still even. Although they might fluctuate a little from day to day, yet the two always knew their lessons, and though Patty’s Themes were usually marked higher than Lorraine’s, that was offset by Lorraine’s greater proficiency in mathematics.

Christmas drew nearer, and somehow the girls became aware that Lorraine and Patty were evenly matched for the general prize, and that each was anxious for the other to win it. Not that they told this in so many words, but their fellow-pupils discovered it, and the excitement about it was considerable.

Patty was a favourite in the school, but Lorraine, by the improved disposition she was now showing, had also won many friends.

She had become a member of the Grigs. Elise had by no means been dismissed to make room for her, but had been put in as a ninth member. The other Grigs were all most friendly to her, and honestly tried to show their appreciation of the new Lorraine. Some of them even went so far as to hope that she would win the prize, and that for the very same reason that influenced Patty.

So, sympathy with the two girls was pretty fairly divided, though had it come to a vote, probably the majority would have been in Patty’s favour.

As it came nearer to Christmas the race was most exciting. It seemed now that the two girls aimed only to keep even. It might have been coincidence, but if Lorraine missed in one lesson, Patty was pretty sure to miss in another; and if Patty’s Theme was a little less excellent than usual, somehow Lorraine’s mathematics fell off a trifle.

But Patty had inherited what her father sometimes called the Fairfield stubbornness. Not content with an even record, she determined that Lorraine’s average should finally be found ahead of hers.

So, a few days before the final summing up she went to Miss Oliphant’s study and asked for a private interview.

The girls rarely saw the principal of the school in a personal way, as her intercourse with them was confined almost entirely to addresses from the platform.

Patty was a little daunted when she found herself in the austere presence of Miss Oliphant, for she realised only too well that the request she was about to make was, to say the least, unconventional.

“Good-afternoon, Miss Fairfield,” said Miss Oliphant, not unkindly, but in an impersonal tone that did not invite confidential conversation. “What can I do for you?”

“Why, you see, Miss Oliphant,” said Patty, a little uncertain how to begin, “Lorraine Hamilton and I have just the same number of marks on our record. So, as one of us must take the general prize, I just wanted to ask you if you couldn’t arrange it so that Lorraine will get it. I don’t mean to do anything wrong or unfair,” she added, hastily, as Miss Oliphant’s expression of amazement seemed to rebuke her. “I only mean that if there should be any doubt in marking any of our lessons, that the benefit of the doubt might be given to Lorraine.”

“Do I understand,” said Miss Oliphant, severely, “that you wish Miss Hamilton to be marked higher than she deserves?”

Patty thought this remark a little unjust, in consequence of which her indignation was aroused, and she spoke decidedly, though very courteously.

“No, Miss Oliphant, I do not mean that; but I know that sometimes it is difficult for a teacher to feel quite certain of the exact mark for a lesson or a Theme; and in such cases I would be glad if Lorraine might have all that can conscientiously be given to her.”

“And yourself?”

“Oh, Miss Oliphant,” said Patty, quite forgetting her awe of the stern principal in her eagerness, “I know that what I’m saying sounds ridiculous; but you do know—you must know—what I mean! Can’t you somehow fix it that Lorraine shall have a little higher average than I, without committing a State’s Prison offence?”

Miss Oliphant unbent in spite of herself.

“Why do you want to do this, my child?” she asked, more gently than she had spoken before.

“Why because—because—I hardly know how to explain it, Miss Oliphant; but you know Lorraine doesn’t have the best times in the world. And she isn’t very popular with the girls—at least she didn’t use to be; she’s getting more so now—and it will make her so happy to win the general prize. I’m sure you understand, Miss Oliphant, that I don’t mean to have her marked wrongfully. But just a little favouring would throw the balance over to her side.”

Somehow Miss Oliphant seemed more amused than the occasion called for. Patty had been prepared to find her irate, indignant, or even scornful. But positively there was a smile in her eyes which Patty had never seen there before, and which surprised her.

However, Miss Oliphant did not explain her attitude, and only said to Patty: “You are right, Miss Fairfield; there are occasions where it is difficult to decide upon the exact marking for a lesson. I’m willing to assure you that in such cases Miss Hamilton’s record shall be treated with all the leniency possible, and your own with a stricter severity.”

“Oh, thank you, Miss Oliphant,” said Patty, impulsively grasping the principal’s hand in both her own. “That is just what I want, and you have expressed it exactly right. Thank you very much. And of course—this is a confidential conversation?”

“Inviolably so,” answered Miss Oliphant, and again the amused look came into her eyes.

Patty left the room, feeling that at last she had conquered. If Miss Oliphant did as she had promised—and Patty felt sure she would—Lorraine’s record must stand the highest, and no one could ever guess that Patty had done anything toward bringing it about.

A day or two later Miss Oliphant received a visit from Lorraine.

Partly from the embarrassed attitude of her caller, and partly because Miss Oliphant’s experience had taught her to put two and two together rather successfully, she intuitively felt that Lorraine had come on an errand similar to Patty’s.

And this was the truth. But as Lorraine was of a less ingenuous nature than Patty, and had not as good reasons for confidence in the sympathy of her fellow-beings, she was much more embarrassed than Patty had been, and found it more difficult to make her requests known.

“Miss Oliphant,” she said, “you know Patty Fairfield and I are very close in competition for the general prize; and I do hope she will get it. She deserves it far more than I do.”

“Why?” said Miss Oliphant, with sudden directness.

“Because—because—oh, I don’t know,” stammered poor Lorraine; “because she’s so splendid and so clever, and she always knows her lessons, and she writes such beautiful Themes, and—and I love her so!”

“Then I gather,” said Miss Oliphant, “that you wish the general prize to be awarded to Miss Fairfield because of your affection for her, and not because she has justly won it.”

“Oh no, Miss Oliphant, not that,” said Lorraine, in genuine distress at her inability to make herself understood. “But don’t you see, we’re even now, and if you could just give me a few less marks, and Patty a few more, it would be all right, and I don’t think that would be injustice, and then she’d have the prize.”

Miss Oliphant looked decidedly amused now. The smile in her eyes even showed itself a little on her rarely-smiling lips.

“Your sentiments toward your friend do you great credit, Miss Hamilton,” she said, “but I cannot say that I entirely approve of the means you propose to use. Do you think it right to mark pupils incorrectly?”

“Oh no, not as a general thing, Miss Oliphant. But I thought you wouldn’t mind just a little scanting of my record. No one need ever know.”

“I can’t promise exactly what you ask, Miss Hamilton; but I’m willing to say that in so far as it can be done within the most liberal interpretation of justice, it shall be.”

“Thank you, Miss Oliphant; good-afternoon,” and Lorraine slid away from the awe-inspiring presence, feeling as if she were being carried off wounded after a battle. But she couldn’t help thinking that it had been a victorious battle, for Miss Oliphant’s evident amusement seemed to imply an acquiescence in the plan.

The last day of the school term was nearly a week before Christmas. The closing exercises were of a somewhat elaborate nature and were held in the large assembly-room. The parents of the pupils were invited, and the audience was a large one.

Patty had told her father that she did not expect the general prize, but was confident that Lorraine would get it. Mr. Fairfield had teased her for her lack of ambition in not winning it herself, but Patty had only smiled, and said she had never professed to be a prize scholar, as her talents lay in other directions.

Lorraine had told her mother that she had no expectation of taking the general prize, but strongly believed that Patty Fairfield would win it; and Mrs. Hamilton had responded that if Lorraine couldn’t have it, she certainly hoped it would be given to Patty.

Grandma Elliott and Mrs. Hamilton attended the exercises at the school, and were almost as excited as the girls themselves over the question of the prize.

After the programme, which was not a long one, the prizes were awarded.

Various small honorariums were given for distinctive studies, and, as everybody had expected, Patty received the one for Themes, and Lorraine for Mathematics.

But the interest reached its height when Miss Oliphant took from the table a large and elaborately bound volume of poems, which, she announced, was the general prize, to be awarded to the pupil who had the highest general average of marks in all departments.

“It gives me pleasure,” she said, in her dignified way, “to bestow this upon Miss Hilda Henderson.”

As Patty told her father afterwards, for a moment you could have heard a pin drop, and then most of the schoolgirls, especially the Grigs, broke into an irrepressible, though stifled, giggle.

“Miss Henderson,” Miss Oliphant went on, “has by far the highest record, and has had for the past few weeks. The next highest records are held by Miss Fairfield and Miss Hamilton, but they are many points below that of Miss Henderson’s, though all show good work.”

As Miss Oliphant made these remarks she looked straight at Lorraine and Patty, and though her grave dignity was literally unsmiling, yet that same amused look was in her eyes, and both girls understood that their solicitude for each other’s success had been entirely unnecessary.

At Miss Oliphant’s further disclosures the Grigs became more and more impressed with the humorous side of the affair, and laughed until it was necessary to call them to order.

“Were you ever so surprised in all your life?” cried Clementine, as they all met in the coat-room. “Hilda, you sly-boots, I believe you knew you were ahead all the time.”

“Honestly, I didn’t,” avowed Hilda; “I had no idea where my record stood. Flossy said Patty and Lorraine were at the top, so I supposed they were.”

“I see it all,” said Patty; “Flossy overheard that Lorraine and I were even, and we just took it for granted that we were the highest. Nobody said we were. So much for being conceited.”

Patty and Lorraine never intended to tell each other of their interviews with Miss Oliphant. But owing to the quizzical look on the principal’s face when she made her remarks from the platform, the girls suspected each other.

“Had you said a word to Miss Oliphant about this affair?” said Patty to Lorraine, as they walked home.

“Had you?” retorted Lorraine.

“Come on, now,” said Patty, “own up; what did you ask her to do?”

“Will you confess if I do?”

“Yes; now that it’s all over, we may as well tell all there is to tell.”

So the girls told each other of their interviews, and compared notes regarding Miss Oliphant’s attitude on those memorable occasions.

“And to think,” exclaimed Patty, “she knew Hilda was ’way ahead of us all the time, and never told us! I don’t wonder she was amused.”

“Well,” said Lorraine, “I’m glad there was one thing in the world that could amuse her. I never saw her come so near smiling before.”

“Nor I,” said Patty.