Jane Allen: Right Guard | Page 8

by Jane heard footsteps descending the
stairs to the accompaniment of the faint rustle of silken skirts. She sat
suddenly very straight in her chair, her mood anything but lamb-like.
"Good afternoon, Miss Allen," greeted a cool voice.
Mrs. Weatherbee rustled into the little office, injured dignity written on
every feature of her austere face.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Weatherbee."
Courtesy to an older woman prompted Jane to rise. Her tone, however,
was one of strained politeness. There was no move made toward
handshaking by either.

"I was greatly surprised to learn that you wished to see me, Miss
Allen," was the matron's first remark after seating herself in the chair
before her writing desk.
Mrs. Weatherbee's intonations were decidedly accusing. Jane colored at
the emphasis placed on the "you."
"Why should you be surprised?" she flashed back, an angry glint in her
gray eyes. Already her good resolutions were poised for flight.
"I am even more surprised at the boldness of your question. I consider
it as being in extremely bad taste."
"And I am surprised at the way I have been treated!" Jane cried out
passionately, her last remnant of patience exhausted. "I understand that
you have seen fit to ignore the arrangement I made with you last June
about my room. Miss Stearns has informed me that you have given it to
an entering freshman. It's the most unfair proceeding I've ever known,
and I shall not submit to such injustice."
This was not in the least what Jane had purposed to say. She had
intended to broach the subject on the diplomatic basis of a mistake
having been made. She realized that she had thrown down the gauntlet
with a vengeance, but she was now too angry to care.
"Miss Allen!" The older woman's expression was one of intense
severity. "Such insolence on your part is not only unbecoming but
entirely uncalled for. You appear to have forgotten that you gave up
your room of your own accord. I reserved it for you until I received
your letter of last week."
"Of my own accord!" gasped Jane, unable to believe she had heard
aright. "My letter of last week! I don't understand."
"I am at a loss to understand you," acidly retorted the matron. "I know
of only one possible explanation for your call upon me this afternoon. I
should prefer not to make it. It would hardly reflect to your credit."

"I must ask you to explain," insisted Jane haughtily. "We have
evidently been talking at cross purposes. You say that I gave up my
room of my own accord. You mention a letter I wrote you. I have not
given up my room. I have never written you a letter. You owe me an
explanation. No matter how unpleasant it may be, I am not afraid to
listen to it."
"Very well," was the icy response. "Since you insist I will say plainly
that it appears, even after writing me a most discourteous letter, you
must have decided, for reasons of your own, to ignore this fact and
return to Madison Hall. Not reckoning that your room would naturally
be assigned to another girl so soon, you were bold enough to come here
and attempt to carry your point with a high hand. I am quite sure you
now understand me."
"I do not," came the vehement denial. "I repeat that I never wrote you a
letter. If you received one signed by me, it was certainly not I who
wrote it. I am not surprised at your unfair opinion of me. You have
never liked me. Naturally you could not understand me. I will ask you
to let me see the letter."
Mrs. Weatherbee's reply was not made in words. Reaching into a
pigeon-hole of her desk she took from it a folded letter minus its
envelope and handed it to Jane.
Her head in a whirl, Jane unfolded it and read:
"MRS. ELLEN WEATHERBEE, "Madison Hall, "Wellington Campus.
"Dear Madam:
"Although I regret leaving Madison Hall, it would be highly
disagreeable to me to spend my sophomore year in it with you as
matron. Your treatment of me last year was such that I should not like
to court a second repetition of it. Therefore I am writing to inform you
that I shall not return to the Hall.
"Yours truly,

"JANE ALLEN."
CHAPTER V
THE UNKNOWN MISCHIEF MAKER
"This is too dreadful!"
Springing to her feet, Jane dashed the offending letter to the floor, her
cheeks scarlet with outraged innocence.
"That was precisely my opinion when I read it," Mrs. Weatherbee
sarcastically agreed.
"But I never wrote it," stormed Jane. "That's not my signature. Besides
the letter is typed. I would never have sent you a typed letter. Have you
the envelope? What postmark was