CHAPTER VIII--LAURA AND THE PRINCIPAL

It was two days later, during which time the two principal topics of conversation among the girls of Central High had been athletics and Bobby Hargrew's trouble. All sorts of rumors sped from lip to lip regarding Bobby's fate. They had her dismissed, or suspended, a dozen times, and reinstated again. But the only thing that was really known about it was that Gee Gee had "taken up" with Mr. Sharp.

The girls had a great deal of faith in Mr. Sharp's sense of justice. He was a man who made up his mind leisurely, although once it was made up he was not known to change it for any light reason. The girls liked him very much indeed; but of course there were times when the principal, as well as the rest of the teachers, was arraigned against the pupils upon some topic. That will always be so as long as there are pupils and teachers!

In the case of Bobby, some of the girls--especially those of her own age and class, and more especially some who looked up to the harum-scarum Hargrew girl as a leader in mischief--angrily upheld the culprit's side of the controversy, and declared that Gee Gee had no business to accuse her of setting the fire at all. Bobby's saying she didn't do it was enough!

The Central High students--girls and boys alike--were governed on honor. A student's word was supposed to be taken without his or her going before a notary public and "swearing" to the truth of the statement. That was Mr. Sharp's own statement. So, why make a divergence from the accepted rule in poor Bobby's case? Why not believe her when she said she did not throw the burning punk into the wastepaper basket?

Upon the score of Hester Grimes's testimony against the accused girl there was division, too. Some of Hester's classmates were for ostracizing her entirely--"sending her to Coventry." She was a "tattle-tale"--and some of the girls were quite warm over her case.

But they all knew Hester. She had a certain popularity among some of the girls because of her father's wealth, and the lavish way in which Hester entertained those girls whom she wished to favor. Money will always bring a certain kind of subservience. Although the general opinion was adverse to Hester, nothing was really done about it.

Laura and Jess, with Chet and his chum, Lance Darby, were sitting on the Beldings' porch, for it was a warm evening.

"Something ought to be done to that Grimes girl," drawled Chet, reflectively. "She's always doing something mean."

"That's the worst of you girls," said Lance, with a superior air. "If one of you gets into trouble, the others either stand off or pick on her."

"Isn't that so?" cried Chet. "I saw Bobby walking home from school this afternoon all alone."

"You bet if she'd been a boy," said Lance, importantly, "there'd been a crowd of fellows with her."

"Is that so?" flared up Jess. "Don't you ever fight, you boys? And do you always stand by one another when one gets into trouble? How about what you did to Pretty Sweet last Saturday? Oh! I heard about it."

Lance and Chet broke into loud laughter. Laura said, hurriedly:

"Stop! here he comes now. And I believe he is coming here."

In the twilight they saw a rather tall boy, dressed in the height of fashion, with brightly polished shoes and an enormously high collar, coming down Whiffle Street.

"Won't you come in, Purt?" called Laura, as this youth reached the gate.

Prettyman Sweet hesitated just a moment. Indeed, his hand was really on the gate before he saw the two boys--his classmates--sitting beside the girls on the porch.

"Oh-oo, no! I am afraid I can't this evening, Miss Laura," he said, in a high, "lady-like" voice. "Thank you _so_ much! Good-evening," and he hurried away.

"See how he walks?" chuckled Darby.

"You needn't have asked him in to sit down, Laura," said her brother. "He _can't_ sit down."

"Takes his meals off the mantelpiece, I understand," pursued Lance.

"Hasn't been to school this week. His mother sent a note to Dimple. Pretty is all broken up."

"_Do_ tell us all about it, boys!" urged Jess, laughing, too, now. "I heard that he had some unfortunate accident up at the railroad fill Saturday. What was it--really?"

The two boys exploded with laughter again, but finally Chet said:

"Some of us fellows were up there at the fill watching that big 'sand-hog' at work--the new steam shovel, you know; and Pretty Sweet was along. However he came to walk clear over there in those toothpick shoes of his, I don't know. But he was there.

"On the old 'dump' where the city ashes used to be deposited, one of the boys--Short and Long, I think it was, eh, Lance?"

"It was Billy," said his chum, decidedly.

"I bet Billy was in it--if it meant mischief," laughed Laura.

"Oh, the kid was innocent enough," Chet declared. "He saw something shining on the ground and pointed it out. It really looked just like a lump of gold--didn't it, Lance?"

"Something like. _I_ didn't know what it was."

"Two or three of us handled it. But it took Pretty Sweet to turn the trick all proper. He slipped it in his hip pocket. You know, Pretty is just as stingy as he can be--a regular miser despite all his fine clothes. I expect he believed that shiny lump might be worth something. Maybe he was going to bring it down to father, to see if was sure enough gold," laughed Chet.

"But what was it? What happened?" cried Jess.

"Why, nothing happened at first. Then, when we were half way back to town, somebody saw smoke spurting out behind Pretty Sweet as though he was an automobile. We yelled and went for him, rolled him in the street----"

"In all those good clothes!" interposed Lance between bursts of laughter.

"And we put the fire out. For he really _was_ afire," said Chet, when he got his voice again. "And he was burned some--so he said. He declared one of the fellows had played a trick on him--set him afire, you know.

"So he got mad," continued Chet, "and went off by himself. But going through Laurel Street he burst into flames again, so to speak, and if it hadn't been that he was right near the fire station, I guess we'd have had a bigger conflagration at that end of the town than there was in Mr. Sharp's office."

"But I don't understand!" cried Laura, puzzled.

"Neither did the fireman, who turned a chemical extinguisher on Pretty Sweet and messed him all up again. It was a serious matter to Pretty, I tell you. For this time the tails of his coat were burned off, as well as a portion of his nether garments. Why, he wasn't fit to be seen!" roared Chet. "The firemen were for sending him home in a barrel; but Pretty wouldn't have it. He sent for a cab and paid a dollar to get home."

"But what made the fire? What did you boys do to him?" cried Jess.

"Nothing at all. We never touched him," declared Lance Darby. "But when we told Professor Dimp, on Monday, when he inquired about the absence of Sweet, he seemed to suspect what had caused the fire. And he laughed, too."

"Do tell us what it was?" cried Laura.

"Why, it must have been a piece of phosphorus he picked up and put in his pocket. Dimple says it is very active chemically, and when united with oxygen, even at an ordinary temperature, emits a faint glow as if it were gold. It got in its fine work on Pretty Sweet, however, and they say he's got a blister on him as big as your hat!" concluded Chet.

The girls could not fail to be amused at this ridiculous adventure of the school exquisite. No other boy of their acquaintance was so dudish or comic in dress and manner.

"You know what Bobby did to Purt at Hester Grimes's party last winter, don't you?" said Jess, recovering from her paroxysm of laughter.

"The first time he wore his tall hat, you mean?" demanded Chet.

"Yes."

"I know he had to have the hat blocked again after one wearing," said Lance. "But we fellows weren't in on that joke."

"And not many but Bobby knew about it. You see, that tall hat--think of a stovepipe hat on a boy of seventeen!--made Purt the tallest person at the party. Bobby is cute, now I tell you," Jess giggled. "She measured his height _with_ the hat on his head and then went out to the gate and hung a flour bag of sand between the tall gateposts. She hung it so as to clear everybody else's head, you see; and it was dark there by the gate.

"Out comes Purt, beauing Celia Prime home. The bag was on his side of the path and he got it good, now I tell you!"

"I know he got his new hat smashed," agreed Lance.

"Great scheme," chuckled Chet.

"But it was dangerous," said Laura. "That sandbag was heavy. If any taller person had been coming in, or going out, rapidly, a crack on the crown from that bag would have done him harm."

"All right, little Miss Fidget," growled her brother. "But you see, it didn't do any harm."

"Only to Pretty's hat," laughed Lance. "But the question is, did Bobby set the fire?"

"Of course not!" declared Jess, promptly.

"If she did, she's getting to be a regular little firebug," said Chet. "Did you hear about what happened at her father's store Saturday?"

"No," said Jess. "What was it? Not another fire?"

"Yes, another fire," returned Chet, and he went on to repeat the story of the burning-glass, and how Laura had beaten the fire department in putting the blaze out.

"My, Laura! that was a smart idea," declared Lance, with admiration.

"Isn't that the greatest ever?" added Jess.

"And Bobby had less to do with setting the fire in Mr. Sharp's office than she had with starting that one in the store," said Laura, thoughtfully.

"I hope so," Lance said.

"I know so! Bobby is strictly truthful."

"But she can't prove it," said Chet, argumentatively.

"She ought not to have to prove it," declared Laura, with heat. "Her say-so should be enough for Mr. Sharp. I've a mind to----"

"You've a mind to what?" asked Jess, pinching her arm.

"Never you mind," returned Laura, suddenly becoming uncommunicative. "I've a scheme."

"One of Laura's brilliant ideas," scoffed Chet, with brotherly scorn. "We'll hear about it later."

Which was true enough, for none of them heard about it that evening. But the very next morning Laura got to school early and went to Mr. Sharp's office. The principal chanced to be disengaged, and welcomed her kindly. Besides, Mr. Sharp, like the other teachers, was fond of Laura Belding. Without being a "toady"--that creature so hateful to the normal young person--Laura was very good friends with all the instructors.

"Mr. Sharp," said the girl, boldly, "one of my classmates is in trouble--serious trouble. You know whom I mean--Miss Hargrew."

Mr. Sharp nodded thoughtfully.

"I want you to be just as kind to her as you can, sir," went on Laura. "She is a good girl, if she _is_ mischievous. She never would do such a wicked thing as to set that fire----"

"Not intentionally, I grant you, Miss Belding," he returned.

"No. Nor did she do it involuntarily. When she said she took the burning piece of punk out of the building, she _did_ so."

"How do you know?" he asked, quickly.

"I know it," said Laura, calmly, "because she tells me so. Bobby--I mean, Clara--could not tell a lie. It is not in her to be false or deceitful. That--that is why she is not liked in some quarters."

"You mean, that is why she is doubted?" said the principal, gravely. "Her careless course in school could not fail to gain her a bad character with the instructors."

"I presume that is so, sir," admitted Laura, slowly.

"It is so. You cannot blame the teachers if they are harsh with her. She has made herself a nuisance," said the principal, yet smiling.

"She has never done a really mean thing----"

"It is mean to trouble the teachers," said the principal, quickly. "You must admit that, Miss Belding. They are here to instruct and help you students. They should not be made the butt of foolish jokes."

"I suppose that is true, sir. Bobby has been guilty there. But she would never tell an untruth."

"You seem very sure of your school friend, Miss Belding?" he questioned, thoughtfully.

"As sure of her truthfulness as I am of my own, sir," declared Laura, firmly.

Mr. Sharp looked at her for a few moments, tapping the edge of his desk thoughtfully meanwhile. Finally he said:

"Miss Belding, you almost succeed in convincing me against my better judgment. I believe you are wrong, however. I believe Miss Hargrew, frightened by the enormity of her careless act, has slipped in the path of truth for once. But, wait!" he added, holding up his hand. "You may be right; I may be wrong. I am willing, upon your representation, to give the girl another chance. I will wait. Let time pass. If there is another explanation of the fire--if there _can_ be such a mystery--we will give it time to come to light."

"Oh, Mr. Sharp! You will not suspend her, then?" cried Laura.

"She is very near expulsion, not suspension," said the principal, gravely. "But I promise you to do nothing until the end of the year. If the mystery is not explained before she finishes her sophomore year, however, I do not believe we can let her go into the Junior class. That is final, Miss Belding.

"Nor can the culprit go scot-free now. None of the good times for her. She must bear herself well in deportment, too. None of the after-hour athletics for her, Miss Belding. And she will have to walk very circumspectly to retain her place in the school."

Laura went away from the principal's office, after thanking him warmly, in a much worried state of mind. They needed Bobby Hargrew in the proposed athletics. Part of the girls of Central High were very much interested in rowing. There was a good crew of eight in the sophomore class, and they had practiced in one of the boys' boats already. And for that eight, Bobby Hargrew was slated to be coxswain.