CHAPTER XIII
GRACE HOLDS COURT
In spite of her displeasure, Arline giggled faintly at Grace's impromptusession of court. Ruth's sad little face brightened, while Anne listenedto her friend with open admiration. She could have conceived of no surerway to settle the difference that had made them so unhappy.
"You must remember," Grace said solemnly, "that there can be no dinneruntil the court has disposed of its first case. This is a murder trial,therefore the chief object of the court is to find the murderer of onefriendship, done to death in cruel fashion. I wish I had Emma Dean'sglasses to make me look more imposing. I wonder what kind of voice aprosecuting attorney would have. Dearly beloved," went on Graceimpressively, "they don't say that in court, I know, but then I'm goingto be different from most prosecuting attorneys."
"There isn't the least doubt of that," interposed Anne slyly.
"Silence," commanded Grace severely. "I shall have you arrested forcontempt of court. Then there won't be any counsel for the defense. Thefirst witness, that's you, Arline, will please take the stand. Youneedn't really move, you know. We will take a few things for granted.Sit up straight and be as dignified as possible. Fold your hands on thetable. That's right. Now, state where and when you first met thedefendant. Ruth can be the defendant until I question her. Then you'llhave to play the part."
"Over a year ago, at Morton House," stated Arline obediently.
"What was your opinion of the defendant?"
"I liked her better than any other girl I had ever met," confessedArline.
"Defendant number two, what did you think of Arline Thayer?" quizzedGrace, eyeing Ruth expectantly.
"I liked her as much as she liked me," replied Ruth promptly.
"When did your first disagreement occur?" probed Grace, turning fromRuth to Arline.
"Here, at this very table," returned Arline in a low tone.
"Whose fault was it?" inquired Grace wickedly.
"Mine!" exclaimed Ruth and Arline simultaneously.
"Thank you," returned Grace soberly. "Such spontaneity on the part ofthe defendants is very refreshing. It also simplifies the case and savesthe court considerable trouble. There is hope that the court will bedismissed in time for dinner. As prosecuting attorney I will now delivermy charge. I shall have to deliver it sitting down or attract too muchattention to the case. Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard theevidence. You think, no doubt, that murder has been done. This is notso. The friendship between Defendant Number One," Grace bowed to Arline,"and Defendant Number Two," she made a second bow to Ruth, "received ablow on the head which rendered it unconscious for some time. It had nointention of dying, but both prisoners treated it with extreme cruelty,not allowing it to hold up its poor crippled head. I ask you, Gentlemenof the jury, to consider well what shall be the penalty for assaultingand battering friendship with intent to kill. Gentlemen of the jury, areyou ready for the question?"
"We are," Grace answered for the jury in a deep voice that elicitedlittle shrieks of laughter from her companions.
"What shall be the fate of these malefactors?" demanded Grace in herprosecuting attorney voice, after the jury had rendered a verdict ofguilty. "Be deliberate in your decision, but don't be all night aboutit."
"They shall be made to shake hands across the table or suffer the fullpenalty of the law," stated the judge.
"What is the full penalty of the law?"
"No dinner," was the prompt answer.
"Counsel for the defense, have you anything to say? I should have askedyou before sentence was pronounced, but it doesn't matter. Theprosecuting attorney always tries to fix things to suit himself, nomatter what any one else thinks."
"The counsel for the defense is a mere blot on the landscape in thistrial," jeered Anne.
"How did you guess it?" beamed the prosecuting attorney. "Prisoners, thesentence will be executed at once. Shake hands."
Ruth's hand was stretched across the table to meet Arline's.
"I'm awfully sorry, Ruth," said Arline, her voice trembling slightly. "Ishould never have asked you to tell what you wished to keep secret."
"And I shouldn't have been so silly as to refuse to tell," declared Ruthbravely. "I'm going to tell you now, and you mustn't stop me. I wasbrought up in an orphan asylum. That's why I didn't care to tell youabout myself that evening."
"You poor, precious dear!" exclaimed Arline. "How can I ever forgivemyself for being so horrid? Won't you forgive me, Ruth? I never supposedit was anything like that. I was angry because you called me your bestfriend, but wouldn't trust me. I'm so sorry. I'll never speak of itagain to you." Arline looked appealingly at Ruth, her blue eyes misty.
"But I want you to think of it. I had made up my mind to tell you. Thenyou passed me on the campus without speaking, and somehow I didn't darecome near you after that."
"I've been perfectly horrid, I know," admitted Arline contritely. "I'vebeen so used to having my own way that I try to bend everyone I know toit."
"I don't mind telling you girls about myself now. At first I was ashamedof my poverty," confessed Ruth. "After I went to Arline's beautiful homeI hated to say anything about it to any one. Then Arline grew angry withme. I realized afterward that I had been foolish not to tell her mystory. There isn't much to tell. I was picked up in a railroad wreck ona westbound train when I was four years old. I can just remember gettinginto the train with my mother. She was burned to death in the wreck, butby some miracle I was saved. I knew my name, Ruth Irving Denton, my age,and around my neck mother had tied a little packet containing somemoney, a letter and a gold watch. A woman who lived near where the wreckoccurred took charge of me, and as no one came for me, in time I wassent to a home. I lived there until I was fourteen. The matron was goodto us, and considering we were all homeless waifs we fared very well."
"And the letter?" asked Grace.
"It was from my father to my mother, giving all the directions for ourjourney west. With it had been enclosed a money order for four hundreddollars, which my mother had evidently cashed. I still have the letter.
"Then a man and his wife took me. They were good to me and sent me toschool. I studied hard and finished high school when I was seventeen.Then I won a scholarship of one hundred dollars a year. I was determinedto go to college, but the people with whom I lived thought differently.So I left them a year ago last fall and came to Overton, resolving tomake my own way. They were so angry with me for leaving them they wouldhave nothing further to do with me. So you see I had not a friend in theworld until I met you girls."
"But you have me now," comforted Arline, patting Ruth's hand. "I'llnever be so silly again. Poor little girl!"
"And you have Anne and me," added Grace. "Don't forget Miriam andElfreda, either."
"I am rich in friends now," said Ruth softly.
"Perhaps your father isn't really dead, Ruth!" exclaimed Grace.
"He must be," said Ruth sadly. "I have only one thing that belonged tohim, a heavy gold watch with his full name, 'Arthur Northrup Denton,'engraved on the inside of the back case. It is a valuable watch, but Ihave always declared I would starve rather than part with it."
"Perhaps it may help you to find him some day," suggested Gracethoughtfully.
"Don't you know the name of the town in Nevada where he first lived?"asked Anne.
"He went to Humboldt, and from there into the mountains," replied Ruth."Since that time all trace of him has been lost. I never knew my ownstory until on the day I became fourteen years of age. Then the matrontold me. It was at the time that I was getting ready to go to live withthe man and his wife of whom I have spoken. After that it seemed asthough the whole world changed for me. I didn't mind being poor, norhaving to work, for I had the glorious thought that perhaps my fatherwas still alive and that some time I should see him again. I wroteseveral letters to him, sending them to Humboldt, but they always cameback to me.
"After a while I gave up all hope and stopped writing. I couldn't bearto think of havi
ng more letters come back unclaimed. I tried to forgetthat I had even dreamed of seeing my father again, and began to put mywhole mind on going to college. Now I am so thankful that I perseveredand won the scholarship. There were times when I was very unhappy overleaving the only home I had ever known, outside the orphanage. Still Icould not rid myself of the conviction that I had taken a step in theright direction. Later, when I met you girls, I was sure of it. Eventhough I didn't find my father, I found true and loyal friends who havecrowded more pleasure and happiness into one short year than I ever hadin all my life before."
"I'll lend you half of my father, Ruth," offered Arline generously. "Heis almost as fond of you as he is of me. You remember he said so."
"Weren't you green with jealousy when he admitted it?" teased Anne.
"Not a bit of it," protested Arline stoutly. "I only wish Ruth were mysister."
"I'd like to be the one to find Ruth's father," mused Grace.
Anne smiled. "Even college can't uproot Grace's sleuthing tendencies.She has an absolute genius for ferreting out mysteries."
"No, I haven't," contradicted Grace. "If I had--" she stopped. She hadbeen on the point of remarking that she would have known who had stolenand used her theme.
"If you had what?" asked Arline curiously.
"If I had the genius of which Arline prattles, I'd be at the head of theNew York Detective Bureau," finished Grace. And Anne alone knew thatGrace had purposely substituted this flippant answer to conceal her realthought.