"So do I," responded Anne. "It's horrid to have to go to people and tell
them about their misdeeds. I wouldn't propose going now if it weren't for
David. He seems to think that she would be willing to behave if some one
showed her how."

"All right," said Grace, "we'll go, but if we encounter a human tornado
don't say I didn't warn you."

"That's one reason I want to go to her house," replied Anne. "If we
approach her at school she is liable to turn on us and make a scene, or
else walk off with her nose in the air. If we can catch her at home
perhaps she will be more amenable to reason. But, if, to-morrow, she
refuses to melt and be forgiven, then I wash my hands of her forever."




CHAPTER XXII

A RESCUE AND A REFORM


It was with considerable trepidation that Anne and Grace approached the
Nesbit gate the following afternoon.

"I feel my knees beginning to wobble," Grace observed, as they rang the
bell. "This business of being a reformer has its drawbacks. How had we
better begin?"

"I don't know, the inspiration to say the right thing will probably come,
when we see her," said Anne.

"If she behaves in her usual manner, I shall have a strong inspiration, to
give her a good shaking," said Grace bluntly.

To their relief, the maid who answered the bell informed them that Miriam
had gone out for a walk.

"Do you know which way she went?" Grace asked.

"I think, miss, that she went toward Upton Wood. She often walks there,"
replied the maid.

The girls thanked her and started down the walk.

"Miriam ought never to walk, alone, in Upton Wood, especially this time
of year," remarked Grace. "There are any amount of tramps lurking around.
If David knew it he would be awfully provoked."

"Let's walk over that way, and perhaps we'll meet her," suggested Anne.
"Now that we've started, I hate to turn back. If we don't see her to-day,
we'll keep on putting it off and end up by not seeing her at all."

"That's true," Grace agreed.

The two girls strolled along in the direction of Upton Wood, thoroughly
enjoying their walk. Occasionally, they stopped to gather a few wild
flowers, or listen to the joyous trill of a bird. They were at the edge of
the wood, when Grace suddenly put up her hand.

"Hush!" she said. "I hear voices."

Just then the cry Help! Help! rang out.

"That's Miriam's voice," cried Grace.

Glancing quickly about for a weapon, Grace picked up a good-sized stick
she found on the ground, and ran in the direction of the sound, Anne at
her heels.

Miriam was struggling desperately to free herself from the grasp of a
rough, unkempt fellow who had her by the arm and was trying to abstract
the little gold watch that she wore fastened to her shirtwaist with a
châtelaine pin.

The tramp stood with his back to the approaching girls. Before he was
aware of their presence, Grace brought her stick down on his head with all
the force she had in her strong, young arms.

With a howl of pain he released Miriam, whirling on his assailant. Grace
hit him again, the force of her second blow knocking him over.

Before the man could regain his feet the three girls were off through the
wood. They ran without looking back until fairly out in the open field.

"I don't see him," panted Grace, halting to get her breath. "I guess he's
gone."

Anne was pale and trembling. The run out of the woods had been almost too
much for her. As for Miriam, she was sobbing quite hysterically.

"Don't cry, Miriam," soothed Grace, putting her arm around the frightened
girl. "He can't hurt you now. I am so glad that we happened along. You
ought never to go into Upton Wood alone, you know."

Miriam gradually gained control of herself. Wiping her eyes, she asked,
"How did you ever happen to be out here just at the time I needed help?"

"To tell the truth, we were hunting for you," Grace replied. "Your maid
said that you had gone toward Upton Wood. We walked on, expecting every
minute to meet you. Then we heard you scream and that's all."

"It's not all," said Miriam quickly. "I know I have been a wretch. I have
made things unpleasant for you two girls ever since we started in at High
School. I made fun of Anne, and tried to make her lose the freshman prize.
I sent her that doll a year ago last Christmas, knowing that it would hurt
her feelings. But the things I did last year aren't half as bad as all
I've done this year, I gave----"

"That's just what we came to see you about, Miriam," interrupted Grace.
"We know that you gave the signals to Julia, and we know that you locked
me in the classroom the day of the big game."

Miriam flushed with shame and her lip quivered.

Seeing her distress, Grace went on quickly:

"The janitress found your scarab pin just outside the door on the day of
the game. Anne has it here for you."

Anne fumbled in her purse and drew out the pin.

"But how did you get it?" asked Miriam faintly, as she took the pin with
evident reluctance.

"Miss Thompson gave it to me," Anne answered.

Miriam looked frightened. "Then she knows----"

"Nothing," said Grace softly. "As soon as Anne heard that Miss Thompson
had your pin and knew where it had been found, she went right to the
office and asked Miss Thompson to give it to her. Miss Thompson thought
from the first that I had been the victim of a trick. Anne knew that the
finding of your pin would make her suspect you. She had already sent for
you when Anne reached the office. Luckily you weren't in school. Anne
asked permission to return the pin to you. She wouldn't give any reason
for asking. Finally Miss Thompson handed it to her, and told Anne she was
sure she would do what was right."

"You owe a great deal to Anne, Miriam," Grace continued, "for if she had
not gone to Miss Thompson I am afraid you would have been suspended from
school. Miss Thompson would have had very little mercy upon you, for she
knew about those examination papers last June."

Miriam looked so utterly miserable and ashamed at Grace's words, that Anne
hastened to say:

"I would have given you your pin at once, Miriam, but you were away from
school. Then David told me how unhappy you seemed. I hadn't said a word
to any one about the pin until I told Grace. We decided to come and see
you, and say that we were willing to 'let bygones be bygones' if you were.
We thought it was right to let you know that we knew everything. There is
only one other person who knows. That person is your brother."

"He knew I locked you up the day of the game," faltered Miriam, "The way
he looked at me has haunted me ever since. He thinks me the most
dishonorable girl in the world." She began to cry again.

Anne and Grace walked along silently beside the weeping girl. They thought
it better to let her have her cry out. She really deserved to spend a
brief season in the Valley of Humiliation.

They had now left the fields and were turning into one of the smaller
streets of Oakdale.

"Miriam," said Grace, "try and brace up. We'll soon be on Main Street and
you don't want people to see you cry, do you? Here," extracting a little
book of rice powder paper from her bag, "rub this over your face and the
marks of your tears won't show."

Miriam took the paper gratefully, and did as Grace bade her. Then she
straightened up and gave a long sigh, "I feel like that man in Pilgrim's
Progress, after he dropped his burden from his back," she said. "The mean
things I did never bothered me until just lately. After I saw that my own
brother had nothing but contempt for me, I began to realize what a wretch
I was, and the remorse has been just awful."

It was David, after all, who had been instrumental in holding up the
mirror so that his stubborn sister could see herself as others saw her.
Although she had quarreled frequently with him, she had secretly respected
his high standard of honor and fine principles. The fear that he despised
her utterly had brought her face to face with herself at last.

"Anne has always wanted to be friends with you, Miriam," Grace said
earnestly as they neared the Nesbit home. You and I used to play together
when we were little girls in the grammar school. It's only since we
started High School that this quarreling has begun. Let's put it all aside
and swear to be friends, tried and true, from now on? You can be a great
power for good if you choose. We all ought to try to set up a high
standard, for the sake of those who come after. Then Oakdale will have
good reason to be proud of her High School girls.

They had reached the gate.

Miriam turned and stretched out a hand to each girl. There was a new
light in her eyes. "My dear, dear friends," she said softly.

A shrill whistle broke in upon this little love feast and the three girls
looked up. David was hurrying down the walk, his face aglow.

"I whistled to attract your attention. I was afraid you girls would go
before I could reach you. Mother wants you girls to come in for dinner.
She saw you from the window. Don't say you can't, for I'm going to call on
the Piersons and Harlowes right now and inform them that their daughters
are dining out to-night. So hurry along now, for mother's waiting for
you."

A minute later he had mounted his motorcycle and was off down the street,
going like the wind.

The girls entered the house and were warmly greeted by Mrs. Nesbit. She
and David had viewed the little scene from the window. She had deeply
deplored Miriam's attitude toward Grace and her chums. It was with delight
that she and David had watched the three girls stop at the gate and clasp
hands. She therefore hurried her son out to the girls to offer them her
hospitality.

Anne had never before entered the Nesbit home. She thought it very
beautiful and luxurious. Miriam put forth every effort to be agreeable,
and the time passed so rapidly that they were surprised when dinner was
announced.

After dinner, Miriam, who was really a brilliant performer for a girl of
her age, played for them. Anne, who was a music-hungry little soul,
listened like one entranced. David, seeing her absorption, beckoned to
Grace, who stole softly out of the room without being observed.

Once out in the hall the two young people did a sort of wild dance to
express their feelings.

"You are the best girl a fellow ever knew," said David in a whisper. "How
did you do it?"

"I'll tell you some other time," whispered Grace, who had cautioned the
girls to say nothing of the adventure for fear of frightening Miriam's
mother. "Let's go back before they notice we're gone."

"Anne is too wrapped up in music to pay any attention to us. Come on up to
my workshop. I want to show you something I'm working at in connection
with my aëroplane. We can talk there, without being disturbed. I want to
know what worked this transformation. It is really too good to be true.
I've always wanted Miriam to be friends with Anne, but I had just about
lost all hope."

Grace followed David up the stairs and through the hall to his workshop,
which was situated at the back of the house.

"Now," said the young man, as he pushed forward a stool for his guest,
"fire away."

Grace began with their call at the house, their walk in search of Miriam,
and their adventure with the tramp, modestly making light of her own
bravery. When she had finished, David held out his hand, his face glowing
with appreciation "Grace," he said, "you've more spirit and courage than
any girl I ever knew. You ought to have been a boy. You would have done
great things."

Grace felt that this was the highest compliment David could pay her. She
had always cherished a secret regret that she had been born a girl.

"Thank you, David," she said, blushing, then hastily changed the subject.
"Tell me about your aëroplane. Is it still at the old Omnibus House?"

"Yes," David answered. "I had it here all winter, but I moved it out there
again about a month ago."

"I should like to see it again," said Grace. "I didn't have time to look
at it carefully the day you invited us out there."

"I'll take you over any time you want to go," said David. "Oh, better
still, here's a duplicate key to the place. You can take the girls and go
over there whenever you please, without waiting for me. You are the only
person that I'd trust with this key, Grace," he added gravely. "I had it
made in case old Jean or I should lose those we carry. I wouldn't even let
the fellows have one, for fear they might go over there, get careless and
do some damage."

"It's awfully good of you, David," Grace replied as she took the key.
"I'll be careful not to lose it. I'll put it on my watch chain. It's such
a small key it is not likely it will be noticed."

Grace took from her neck the long, silver chain from which her watch was
suspended. She opened the clasp, slid the key on the chain and tucked both
watch and key snugly into her belt.

"There," she said, patting it, "that can't get lost. My chain is very
strong. I prefer a chain to a pin or fob, because either one is so easy to
lose."

"That's sensible," commented David. "Girls wouldn't be eternally losing
their watches if they weren't so vain about wearing those silly little
châtelaine pins."

"Why, David Nesbit!" exclaimed Grace, glancing up at the mission clock on
the wall. "It's almost nine o'clock! I had no idea it was so late. Let's
go down at once."

They returned to the parlor to find Anne and Miriam deep in some foreign
photographs that Miriam had collected during her trip to Europe the
previous summer.

"How I should love to see Europe," sighed Anne. "I'm going there some day,
though, if I live," she added with a sudden resolution.

"Mother and father have promised me a trip across as a graduation gift.
Maybe you'll be able to go, too, by that time, Anne," said Grace
hopefully.

"Perhaps I shall, but I'm afraid it's doubtful," said Anne, smiling a
little.

"We've had a fine time, Miriam," said Grace, "but we really must go.
Mother will worry if I stay any later."

"Please come again soon," said Miriam, kissing both girls affectionately.
"I have a plan to talk over with you, but I can't say anything about it
now. I must consult mother first. You'll like it, I'm sure."

"Of course we shall," responded Grace. "Good night, Miriam, and pleasant
dreams."

"They are the nicest girls in Oakdale, and I shall try hard to be like
them," thought Miriam, as she closed the door. "David is right. It
certainly pays to be square."




CHAPTER XXIII

GRACE MEETS A DISTINGUISHED CHARACTER


June had come, bringing with it the trials and tribulations of final
examinations. The days grew long and sunny. Roses nodded from every bush,
but the pupils of Oakdale's two High Schools were far too busy to think
about the beauty of the weather. Golf, tennis, baseball and other outdoor
sports were sternly put aside, and the usual season of "cramming" set in.
Young faces wore an almost tragic expression, and back lessons were
reviewed with desperate zeal.

Grace Harlowe had crammed as assiduously as the rest, for a day or two.
She was particularly shaky on her geometry. She went over her theorems
until she came to triangles, then she threw the book down in disgust.
"What's the use of cramming?" she said to herself. "If I keep on I won't
even be able to remember that 'the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle
is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides.' I'm in a
muddle over these triangles now. I'll find the girls and get them to go to
the woods with me. I really ought to collect a few more botany
specimens."

Grace's specimens were a source of keen delight to her girlish heart. She
didn't care so much about pressing and mounting them. It was the joy she
experienced in being in the woods that, to her, made botany the most
fascinating of studies. She poked into secluded spots unearthing rare
specimens. Her collection was already overflowing; still she could never
resist adding just a few more.

She was doomed to disappointment as far as Nora and Jessica were
concerned. Both girls mournfully shook their heads when invited to
specimen-hunting, declaring regretfully they were obliged to study. Anne
was at Mrs. Gray's attending to the old lady's correspondence. This had
been her regular task since the beginning of the freshman year, and she
never failed to perform it.

"Oh, dear, I wish examinations and school were over," Grace sighed
impatiently. "I can't go to the woods alone, and I can't get any one to go
with me. I suppose I'll have to give it up and go home. No, I won't,
either. I'll go as far as the old Omnibus House. There are lots of wild
plants in the orchard surrounding it, and I may get some new specimens."

With her basket on her arm, Grace turned her steps in the direction of the
old house. She had not been there since the day of their reunion. She
smiled to herself as she recalled the absurdities of that occasion.

After traversing the orchard several times and finding nothing startling
in the way of specimens, Grace concluded that she might as well have
stayed at home.

She walked slowly over to the steps and sat down, placing the basket
beside her. "How lonely it seems here to-day," she thought. "I wonder
where old Jean is? I haven't seen him for an age." Then she fell to musing
over the school year so nearly ended. Everything that had happened passed
through her mind like a panorama. It had been a stormy year, full of
quarrels and bickerings, but it was about to end gloriously. Anne and
Miriam had become the best of friends, while she and Julia Crosby were
daily finding out each other's good qualities There was nothing left to be
desired.

Grace started from her dream and looked at her watch. It was after six
o'clock. She had better be getting back.

She rose and reached for her basket.

Suddenly a figure loomed up before her. Grace started in surprise, to find
herself facing a tall, thin man with wild, dark eyes. He stood with folded
arms, regarding her fixedly.

[Illustration: Grace Found Herself Facing a Tall, Thin Man.]

"Why, where----" but she got no further, for the curious new-comer
interrupted her.

"Ah, Josephine," he said, "so I have found you at last."

"My name isn't Josephine at all. It's Grace Harlowe, and you have made a
mistake," said Grace, endeavoring to pass him. But he barred her way,
saying sadly:

"What, do you, too, pretend? Do you think I do not know you? I, your royal
husband, Napoleon Bonaparte."

"Good gracious," gasped Grace. "He's crazy as can be. How ever shall I get
away from him?"

The man heard the word "crazy" and exclaimed angrily: "How dare you call
me crazy! You, of all people, should know I am sane. I have just returned
from Isle of St. Helena to claim my empire. For years I have been an
exile, but now I am free, free." He waved his arms wildly.

"Yes, of course I know you, now," said Grace, thinking to mollify him.
"How strange that I didn't recognize you before."

Then she remembered reading in the paper of the preceding night of the
escape of a dangerous lunatic from the state asylum, that was situated a
few miles from Oakdale. This must be the man. Grace decided that he
answered the description the paper had given. She realized that she would
have to be careful not to anger him. It would require strategy to get
clear of him.

"It's time you remembered me," returned Napoleon Bonaparte, petulantly.
"They told me that you had died years ago, but I knew better. Now that I
have found you, we'd better start for France at once. Have you your court
robes with you? And what have you done with your crown? You are dressed
like a peasant." He was disdainfully eyeing her brown, linen gown.

In spite of her danger, Grace could scarcely repress a laugh. It all
seemed so ludicrous. Then a sudden thought seized her.

"You see, I have nothing fit to travel in," she said. "Suppose you wait
here for me while I go back to town and get my things? then I can appear
properly at court."

"No you don't," said Napoleon promptly, a cunning expression stealing into
his face. "If you go you'll never come back. I need your influence at the
royal court, and I can't afford to lose you. I am about to conquer the
world. I should have done it long ago, if those villains hadn't exiled me,
and locked me up."

He walked back and forth, muttering to himself still keeping his eye on
Grace for fear that she might escape.

"Oh, what shall I do?" thought the terrified girl. "Goodness knows what
he'll think of next. He may keep me here until dark, and I shall die if I
have to stay here until then, I must get away."

Grace knew that it would be sheer folly to try to run. Her captor would
overtake her before she had gone six yards, not to mention the fit of rage
her attempted flight would be likely to throw him into.

She anxiously scanned the neighboring fields in the hope of seeing old
Jean, the hunter. He was usually not far away. But look as she might, she
could discover no sign of him. There was only one thing in her favor. It
would be light for some time yet. Being June, the darkness would not
descend for two hours. She must escape, but how was she to do it!

She racked her brain for some means of deliverance, but received no
inspiration. Again she drew out her watch. Then her eye rested for a
second on the little key that hung on her watch chain. It was the key to
the lean-to in which David kept his aëroplane. Like a flash the way was
revealed to her. But would she be able to carry out the daring design that
had sprung into her mind? She would try, at any rate. With an unconcern
that she was far from feeling, Grace walked carelessly toward the door of
the lean-to.

The demented man was beside her in a twinkling He clutched Grace by the
arm with a force that made her catch her breath.

"What are you trying to do!" he exclaimed, glaring at her savagely.
"Didn't I tell you that you couldn't go away!"

He held her at arm's length with one hand, and threateningly shook his
finger at her.

"Remember, once and for all, that I am your emperor and must be obeyed.
Disregard my commands and you shall pay the penalty with your life. What
is the life of one like you to me, when I hold the fate of nations in my
hands? Perhaps it would be better to put an end to you now. Women are ever
given over to intriguing and deception. You might betray me to my enemies.
Yet, I believed you loyal in the past. I----"

"Indeed I have always been loyal, my emperor," interrupted Grace eagerly.
"How can you doubt me?"

Her situation was becoming more precarious with every minute. She must
persuade this terrible individual that she was necessary to his plans, if
she wished to get away with her life.

"I have your welfare constantly at heart," she continued. "Have you ever
thought of flying to our beloved France? In the shed behind me is a
strange ship that flies through the air. Its sails are like the wings of
a bird, and it flies with the speed of the wind. It waits to carry us
across the sea. It is called an aëroplane."

"I have heard of such things," said Napoleon. "When I was in exile, a fool
who came to visit me showed me a picture of one. He told me it could fly
like a bird, but he lied. I believe you are lying, too," he added, looking
at her suspiciously.

"Let me prove to you that I am not," Grace answered, trying to appear
calm, though ready to collapse under the terrible strain of the part she
was being forced to play. "Do you see this key? It unlocks the door that
leads to the flying ship. Would you not like to look at it?" she said
coaxingly.

"Very well, but be quick about it I have already wasted too much time with
you. I must be off before my enemies find me."

"You must release my arm, or I cannot unlock the door," Grace said.

"Oh, yes, you can," rejoined Napoleon, not relaxing his grip for an
instant. "Do you think I am going to run any risk of losing you?"

As she turned the key he swung her to one side, and, opening the door,
peered cautiously in. For a moment he stood like a statue staring in
wonder at David's aëroplane, then with a loud cry that froze the blood in
Grace's veins, he threw up his arms and rushed madly into the shed,
shouting, "We shall fly, fly, fly!"

With a sob of terror Grace slammed the door and turned the key. She was
not an instant too soon. Napoleon Bonaparte reached it with a bound and
threw himself against it, uttering blood-curdling shrieks. The frightful
sounds came to Grace's ears as she tore across the field in the direction
of Oakdale. Terror lent wings to her feet. Every second was precious. She
did not know how long the door would stand against the frantic assaults of
the maniac.

She had reached the road, when, to her joy and relief, she beheld half a
dozen men approaching. Stumbling blindly toward them, she panted out: "The
crazy man--I--locked--him--in--the Omnibus House. Here--is--the key." She
gave a long, shuddering sigh, and for the first time in her life sturdy
Grace Harlowe fainted.

The men picked her up tenderly.

"Here, Hampton," said one of them, "take this child over to the nearest
house. She is all in. By George, I wonder whether she has locked that
lunatic up? Something has certainly upset her. We'd better get over there
right away and see what we can find out."

The man addressed as Hampton picked Grace up as though she had been a
baby and carried her to a house a little further up the road.

Meanwhile the men hurried on, arriving at the Omnibus House just as
Napoleon succeeded in breaking down the door. Before he could elude them,
he was seized by five pairs of stalwart arms. He fought like a tiger,
making it difficult to bind him. This was finally accomplished though they
were obliged to carry him, for he had to be tied up like a papoose to keep
him from doing damage. He raved continually over the duplicity of
Josephine, threatening dire vengeance when he should find her.

When Grace came to herself she looked about her in wonder. She was lying
on a comfortable couch in a big, cheerful sitting room. A kindly faced
woman was bathing her temples, while a young girl chafed her hands.

"Where am I?" said Grace feebly. "Did Napoleon get out?"

"Lie still and rest, my dear," said Mrs. Forrest, "Don't try to exert
yourself."

Grace sat up and looked about her. "Oh, I know what happened. I fainted.
How silly of me. I never did that in my life before. I had a terrible
scare, but I'm all right now."

The man who had carried her to the house came forward.

"My name is Hampton, miss. I am a guard over at the asylum. Those other
men you saw are employed there, too. We were looking for one of our people
who escaped night before last. He nearly killed his keeper. He's the worst
patient we have out there. Thinks he's Napoleon. Judging from your fright,
I guess you must have met him. Did you really lock him in that old house?"

"Indeed I did," answered Grace, who was rapidly recovering from the
effects of her fright. "He took me for the Empress Josephine." She related
all that had happened, ending with the way she locked his emperorship in.

"Well, all I've got to say is that you're the pluckiest girl I ever came
across," said the man admiringly, when Grace had finished.

But she shook her head.

"I never was so frightened in my life before. I shall never forget his
screams."

It was after eight o'clock when Grace Harlowe arrived at her own door. The
man Hampton had insisted on calling a carriage, so Grace rode home in
state. As she neared the house she saw that the lawn and porch were full
of people.

"What on earth is the matter!" she asked herself. As she alighted from the
carriage her mother rushed forward and took her in her arms.

"My darling child," she sobbed. "What a narrow escape you have had. You
must never, never wander off alone again."

"Why, mother, how did you know anything about it?"

"When you didn't come home to supper I felt worried, for you had not told
me that you were invited anywhere. Then Nora came down to see you, and
seemed surprised not to find you at home. She said you had gone on a
specimen hunt after school. I became frightened and sent your father out
at once to look for you. He met the keepers with that dreadful man," said
Mrs. Harlowe, shuddering, "and they described you, telling him where you
were and how they had met you. Your father went straight out to the
Forrests. I suppose you just missed him."

Grace hugged her mother tenderly. "Don't worry, mother. I'm all right.
What are all these people standing around for?"

"They came to see you, of course. The news is all over town. Everyone is
devoured with curiosity to hear your story."

"It looks as though I had become a celebrity at last," laughed Grace.

She was obliged to tell the story of her adventure over and over again
that night to her eager listeners. Her chums hung about her adoringly.
Hippy, Reddy and David were fairly beside themselves.

"Oh, you lunatic snatcher," cried Hippy, throwing up his hat to express
his feelings.

"You never dreamed that the little key you gave me would prove my
salvation," said Grace to David, as her friends bade her good night. "It
surely must have been fate."




CHAPTER XXIV