Copyright 1999 Sean and Rob MorrisSarah's Modesty
by Sean and Rob MorrisChapter Four - Ordeal The Second - Voices
"I swear to you, that lock will come open. If that happens, I shall surely be undone."
Clarice looked as confident as ever. Indeed, it seemed Sarah's unclad predicament was bolstering that already stellar confidence.
"It would seem to me, Dear Sarah, that you have nothing left to undo. Besides, that lock is as sturdy as the Pearly Gates themselves."
Her smirk was more infuriating than usual. At times, Sarah wondered if Clarice was that type of girl, only whispered of, who drew more than a giggle from circumstances such as hers.
"If that oh-so-sturdy lock should come open, here in town, then many a boy shall think that they have seen the gates to Heaven. I shall be in a different place, though. Oh, that lock is my bane. It wishes to come open."
"My Sarah should have no worries about inanimate objects. Only people can truly betray you. Not things."
"Much like a friend who will not lend me a stitch to wear? Also, when, then, did I become your Sarah?"
But there was no answer. Only Clarice's unwipable smirk, the lock that seemed to bent on popping its latch, and the voices from the people outside the carriage. To Sarah's panicked ears, it seemed as though every syllable were aimed at the naked beauty who rode with so cruel a friend.
Though these words chilled her on the slow ride through a well-trafficked town, still another town away from their final destination, Sarah did not give her concerns voice. No sense, she thought, in giving wood to the fire that was Clarice's cruelty. Every innocent word was felt by her as though the beauteous prize she sought to keep hidden was being prodded and groped by hands rough and calloused.
"So this little Chicken has been fully plucked?"
"Oh, she simply couldn't go out. She had nothing to wear."
"Well, it was still scandalous behavior. What kind of family IS that, that they should raise such a child?"
"Oh, come now. You just can't go and hide out all day. Your little secret is no secret at all."
"What do you think is behind those shades?"
Sarah's heart froze.
"Hardly matters. The General Store is still closed. We'll have to see their new stock later."
"For pity's sake! Put something on that bareback!"
"Alright, then. I have her saddle."
After all those words and many more, Sarah was unsurprised that Clarice had yet another barbed comment at the ready.
"Why, Sarah! One might think that all those people were speaking of you. But of course they are not."
Another unworthy thought about Clarice rose up, and again Sarah fought it down. This time, though, was more of a struggle. A struggle that had no aid from the overly-sunny Clarice.
"I see my Sarah needs another distraction. Perhaps another tale of her heroism? Poor Janice was in SUCH an untoward situation. But Sarah was her rescuer, then. Yes, you are always the hero, my dear, are you not? Our Sarah. Always vigilant."
Sarah shook her head, then grabbed her chest when she realized how it shook as well.
"I am no hero. Janice was pushed into a corner through misunderstanding. I helped her, as she would surely have helped me."
"It was not a corner that put Janice in peril. It was her curves---and her red hair."
Sarah frowned. Had Clarice no charity at all? For anyone?
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FOUR WEEKS PRIORThe McAnter Brothers had been Janice's shadows the whole week. They were not bad boys, merely overly typical ones. Teacher and Family alike knew better than to grant them even a half an inch. But since Janice had not chased her shadows away, Sarah wondered if her friend knew this, as well. With enough distance to walk away unseen, Sarah shadowed the shadows.
In a secluded grove they stopped, and the three stood all around a statue- looking, stone-faced Janice. Sarah had seen that look on her own face, prior to a paddling. The three McAnters all carried long sticks, and were chuckling. Janice's suitors were her own concern, but Sarah saw something glint in the afternoon sun. As she had surmised, the sticks all rose as one, and Janice's skirt rose with them. Sarah was certain of other risings, as well.
Janice almost nodded, and took off the upraised skirt. There were four more layers between herself and the sun and the wind. This in itself meant nothing. Sarah knew that certain girls could survive being seen by certain boys in a state of undress. No one believed the McAnter boys boasting, ever. Also, Janice was scrappy. She was always in control. But Sarah did sigh when she saw the skirt folded aside and a whole quarter placed in Janice's purse.
"Oh, Janice. There are boys who adore you. But these three rich brats flaunt their unearned wealth at you, and off comes your skirt. Even Henrietta drew the line there. How far, Janice? There are boys who are worth the talk that must needs emerge. These are not those boys."
But Janice did not see things that way. All the boys who asked Sarah about her were, to her mind, only talking to Sarah. She was a thin Irish girl, but her face and hair were the stuff of romantic inspiration. Those words, taken from boys who had asked after Janice, caught in Sarah's throat. The first two petticoats were off, at a cost of a whole dollar--and yet more of Janice's dignity.
Sarah knew that lack of money could drive a soul to a low measure. She knew that undoing buttons could be a ticket out of that state. But she had long ago decided on her fee for such an undertaking : One Thousand Dollars, enough to cancel all her family's debts and liens forever. Since no one would ever pay such an incredible fee, Sarah felt safe. She wondered if Janice did. Another petticoat fell away, and two more dollars was placed in Janice's purse. Sarah knew, though, that an expensive rented girl was yet still rented. She would talk with Janice, when all was done. Interfering now would only humiliate her, and the lesson would be lost in the pain.
"Janice. I know you can not hear me. But it is not merely your morals or your modesty you gamble with. Those may be gotten back, in time. But if those young men presume that what is yours is theirs, you are finished!"
But Janice couldn't hear Sarah. The watching friend's heart broke as she saw five more dollars placed in Janice's purse. What she and the McAnter boys saw next was well-rounded, petite, and covered with freckles. Janice's rear was quite pretty, and she seemed to smile from the appreciation--so to speak--it received. Sarah's only relief was that the last petticoat was not given up entirely. The McAnter brothers were to be denied that precious frontal view. Or were they? Five more dollars were waved in front of Janice's face. But she stood with her last protection, unmoved by this.
"Our business is done, Joseph McAnter. As the saying goes, you and yours may now seek your own company, while your mother wonders why the door is locked."
"I say, Janice, that our business really has yet to begin. You are a redhead."
"Its any fool as can see that."
"Well, these fools will offer you five more dollars for the verification of your hair's TRUE color. Now, how do you verify a girl's hair color? You tell me."
Janice closed her eyes.
"Its ten dollars, to know the truth. And if you do more than look, you'll know my unclad knee, I should think."
Sarah knew Janice was in a bad way. There was no negotiating with these boys.
"Actually, we'll give you thirty-five. Ten for the verification, and twenty-five for our afternoon of fun. For all three of us brothers."
"Actually, I'll just take my things back, and give you the devil. Our agreement was to a slow view of my freckled hind quarters, not for your overly quick passage into manhood."
As Sarah expected, they had prepared for this last bit of defiance. The metal glint she had seen became a pair of cutting shears. They were not meant to threaten
Janice's life, though."What's that you're doing? Keep that fool thing away from my skirt. It could be ripped, or destroyed."
"Then let that last petticoat fall away. Two of us will hold your things in a tug of war grip while the third holds you. It is very much your choice, Janice. You can still profit by this day."
Janice stared at her petticoat as though it were a lifeline above an abyss. In a way, that's exactly what it was. In Sarah's head formed a plan, similar to the one she and Henrietta worked out. But while she had been able to save Henrietta's last dignity, Janice's would have to be sacrificed for this to work. These McAnter boys were calmer and more quick-witted than Henrietta's suitors. But suggestion and illusion still mixed well with directing the actions of an overheated boy. So she waited.
"What of my blouse? Do you wish its removal?"
"Depends. Say, do either of you fellows have an extra penny to throw in?"
Janice, who thought she was used to 'flat' jokes, almost cried at the derisive laughter that followed. Then came hard stares whose meaning was all too clear.
"Now, Janice. A Bird In The Hand, as they say."
She turned away, and showed them only her behind. Janice then wrapped her remaining cover around her waist, so at least she could run if she had to. Sarah saw her turn towards them. Ian McAnter shook, then ran off.
"Fellows--I already have what I need."
"Hah! Ian's arrived early."
"Then we shall stay that much later."
They stared like the children they were. Janice was indeed a true redhead. Seizing the moment, Sarah ran down the hill, faking a blind panic. Transfixed on their deltan prize, the McAnters were very much thrown off by her arrival. Janice felt an odd relief. Even if she was found out, this foolish venture of hers was over.
"OH! Janice! It is a good thing you asked me to play lookout, this day. Those busybody Church Ladies are headed over this way, like bats from Hades itself! You McAnter boys had best clear out, lest your allowances are made forfeit."
"Our place! Those witches have found our place."
"What if they should catch glimpse of us in this area?"
Though half nude, and quite angry, Janice strode over to Joseph McAnter. Though exposed on the bottom half of her form, through Sarah's ruse she now felt on top of things. She let them continue to look, vowing that it would be the last they would ever get of her. She grabbed the carnal thirty-five dollars.
"With Sarah's word that you were not here, you'll be safe. Now go. We have no more business ever. Should you ask this of me again, you can go and kiss that which I agreed to let you see. Be off!!"
Sarah could hear their sob-filled voices as they ran.
"Joseph, our money!"
"If you ever want us to see another cent, then run! Those Church Ladies have eyes all about!!"
As they left, so did Janice's courage. She sat on the grass, and cried. Sarah helped her up, wiped her friend off, and helped the shaking girl to redress.
"Sarah, it was only a view I was renting to them. Why did they push me so for more?"
"In a shop, Janice, there are wares. Wares must be displayed to be bought. But the very best you keep hidden aside for a customer of lifetime's duration."
"Aye. But suppose your shop has not even an inquiring customer?"
"I know of certain parties that wish to shop with you, and will wait to see what wares you wish to show, when you wish to show them. They speak to me, and think you run a tidy business."
"I must be good at business. After all, I have over forty dollars, a life's lesson, and a true friend. All for a little of my dignity, and near all of theirs. You know what, Sarah? They did not want to see my lowers, nor have their fun. Do you know what it is they wanted?"
"No, Janice, I do not."
"They wanted to be able to say they saw, and did. That they do, anyway. I've no cause to help them. But, Sarah? Could you have not been down that hill a bit sooner? I'd just as soon not let them see the front of my front."
"I am sorry, Janice. But had I come before your last measure, they would have been merely disappointed. Disappointed, they may have lingered. But you and I broke their triumph. When victory turns to ash in one's mouth, then one panics. I needed them to panic, to be rid of them."
"Sarah? Could you tell one last lie for me?"
"It depends, Janice. What Lie?"
She sniffed, and wiped away another tear.
"You say there are good boys who like me. When they ask you, could you lie to them and say that I am not That Sort Of Girl?"
Sarah smiled.
"It is no lie, Janice. You are not that sort of girl. Nor is Henrietta."
"But we've both fallen so hard. I fear we are wantons."
"See here, Janice. In both your cases, boys groped, boys saw, and boys kissed where they should not kiss. That, then, is what boys do. You two enjoyed it, which makes you...human. You slipped, and you fell. As do we all. The enemy are those who gain pleasure from cruelty and selfishness. Boy or girl, we have known them both."
"Like Clarice."
"Stop that. You are all three my friends. Even vain Clarice. Any more words of self-deprecation I will regard as an insult to those friends, and so to me."
Janice smiled for the first time that day.
"I'll not want to insult you, Sarah. You're far too tough."
As they left that place, Janice began to cry again.
"Sarah! They were going to--to--my father! He would forgive the viewing, after a time. But the rest? I would have had no home."
"You have a home, Dear Janice. Let me take you to it, and to the father who worries so about you."
With Sarah's careful help, the money was scattered about Janice's house, so her parents would think it merely found money. Sarah's reward was a new pair of cutting shears, given to her mother. Janice now had careful gentlemen callers, having left the shadows behind at last.
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The tale's end saw the end of town, and the end of voices that seemed trained on poor naked Sarah. Even the lock seemed sturdier. The only thing unchanging was Clarice's snide voice.
"Our Sarah protected her exposed friends. Kept them from crossing that last measure. Why, Sarah, you have even been a hero to me!"
In the near distance, perhaps only a half an hour away, was Sarah's aunt's house. But the tone in Clarice's voice made Sarah rightly suspect that the tale of how she helped her would make it seem all the longer. Plus, there were now questions that Sarah had about the plentitude of coincidences on this horrid trip. She endured all this, knowing that truth itself had to travel naked, and she would have the truth about her untoward predicament. She just wouldn't care for it.
Chapter Five - Ordeal The Third - Suspicion
Sarah folded up her arms, but not over her breasts. Rather, she placed them like a brace underneath. Clarice giggled, as Clarice was wont to do, especially on this day, seemingly the very worst of Sarah's young life. For not only was pretty Sarah naked, but even in the presence of a supposed friend, she was still quite alone.
"Why, Sarah! Placed that way, your arms are no cover for you at all."
Sarah looked up, her eyes red with small tears. She was quite past caring how much this all amused Clarice.
"I have given up all dreams of cover. Let every man, woman, and child know my shame! I brace my chest like this for my own dignity, nothing more. I....Am Bouncing."
Clarice seemed born for this moment.
"Why, with endowments only slightly lesser than dear Henrietta's, it is a wonder to me that you have not popped out of these windows, as we have traveled."
Sarah was angered enough by this to ask a question she had kept back.
"Clarice---where do you suppose my clothes might be?"
A bullet could have then grazed Clarice's smooth cheek, and her face would not have had a greater degree of shock and indignant surprise.
"Perhaps the thief has sold them, or keeps them as some obscene trophy. What would I know of such a scoundrel?"
Sarah let the silence say what she was now thinking of her friend. It unnerved Clarice, who knew how to turn people's words against them, but not their silence.
"If my Sarah should have something to say, why, then, I think she should find her voice and say it."
Rage was now eating poor Sarah alive. But she refused to give in to it, on the off chance that she was wrong. But her next words revealed how strongly and how deeply her anger ran.
"I rescued you, Clarice. Stopped you from destroying yourself, when your common sense had left you behind."
Something dreadful was passing between the two girls. Were they men, in a Western tavern, the looks they now exchanged would have the cowpokes running for cover.
"Rescued me? Who says I needed a rescue provided by the likes of you? And who says that dear heroic Sarah succeeded in her rescue?"
Sarah knew a lot of things, then. Dark, grim, ugly things.
"You lied to me, that day. Though he did not look you in the eye, that smooth-talking young man indeed took from you your honor."
Sarah knew that, the faster Clarice rearranged facts, the more nervous and upset she truly was. Right now, she could well and truly outpace any track-dog. Sarah found sick humor in the thought that not only was Clarice acting like a female dog in heat, but had been taken like one.
"He would not have taken anything had you arrived when you were ought! You ruined my pleasure and cost me a peaceful wedding night! There will surely be questions, then, Sarah."
Sarah now found the situation inverted, with herself resigned and growing calmer in response to Clarice's new hysteria.
"I now understand. By asking me to meet you when you did, I was to be the living guarantee that your desire for fun did not lead too far into his fun. Instead, when I found you both, he stared at the back of your head, while his source of fun met yours at a rapid pace."
For once, the would-be mistress of ceremonies, 'Lady Of The Back Eighty' as the boys called her, was silent, so like Holmes on an embezzler, Sarah continued.
"You told me at the time that there was no joining. It seems now that more than his eyes bore into your rear guard. Flesh met flesh. You knew a little fun, and much guilt, I should think. His cry differed from yours, as I do recall. His was one of found salvation. So was yours, but it was muted- perhaps by disappointment? Had you, Clarice, finally crafted the deal in which you did not come out on top?"
Clarice was slipping, badly, and could not regain her footing. The advantage was briefly Sarah's, and she was not hesitating to press it.
"Sarah, I am always in control, even when most would lose their heads. You see, I denied him that thing he desired most. He sought to see my face across from his, as we went at it. But I forced him to go as we did. I will have no little visitor to explain, at year's end."
But Sarah again shook her head, not caring any longer about the mess her hair had become.
"There are at least two holes in your well woven tapestry, Clarice. One is this. My dear older brother warned me of a trick he had used, and that many a boy has. That trick is very simple : Though they plead and plot to take our honor to our faces, many do not feel complete until they have grabbed at our ponytails as though they were leashes, and caused our spines to bear an undue burden of weight and movement. In short, you gave him first thing what many boys have to ask for during future intimacies."
Clarice's face flashed red with anger and embarrassment.
"What is the second thing, oh Sarah The Pure?"
"My purity is a combined accident of having such a strong, wise family and having not yet met that boy whose worth matched his promises. As to that second thing---Clarice, he had stopped his motions at your back when he saw me, and ran."
Sarah's next words struck at both Clarice's fragile ego and her carefully arranged memories.
"He was turning you over--and you were not objecting. You bid him take you, and that is what he would have done. You would have gotten trouble, I think."
Clarice was stunned, but still turning away from the truth.
"Maybe things were as you described. But I would have bid him pull away, ere trouble came knocking."
Sarah pressed on, despite her position.
"Let us assume he did pull away, and did not lie like a winter comforter on you, still and stifling, when you were done. My aunt whom we visit was once a midwife. She has told me that once a man gains you, the child is all but gotten. The moment has perils well prior to the final shudder."
Sarah felt a little like Joan Of Arc, standing before the foreign bishop who would condemn her to the stake. Defiant and proud, yet knowing full well what was to come.
"You think that you know so very much, Sarah."
"I know nothing of import, Clarice. But perhaps you know the answer to a question. I need to hear that answer."
Accepting no vagueness this time, Sarah again asked the question of the hour.
"Clarice, Where Are My Clothes?"
The false friend shrugged.
"Ask The Thief."
Clarice watched as Sarah's eyes went from those of an ingenue to those of an avenger of wrongs. It was doubly uncomfortable as Sarah spoke once more.
"I Am Asking Her."
As though cued to the great secret's revelation, the rumbling coach stopped, and outside was Sarah's Aunt's house. Inside were looks that could melt wrought iron. For Sarah, though the ride was done with, the Ordeal had yet one more loathsome twist to it, and she would be no happier for knowing of it. But she would soon know it all.
Chapter Six - Ordeal The Last - BetrayalThe carriage carrying Sarah and Clarice came to a stop. So, at that same time, did the great lie also stop. Poor Sarah was yet still naked. But now it was hateful Clarice who stood exposed. For she was the thief who had taken all of dear Sarah's things while she swam. It was no lunatic seeking prey that had done it . Nor was it even a boy seeking to view that which he should not, in keeping with a curiosity which a wise
girl encouraged but tried mightily never to fully satisfy.If Sarah thought that a mere realization would upset Clarice's rotten-apple-cart, though, she was quite mistaken. Again, Sarah had miscalculated the depths of her false friend's corruption.
"Clarice--this ends. Give me back my clothes. This, I think, has surpassed both quite far enough and then also gone past much too much."
Clarice wore an air of defiance as well as Sarah wore her air of dignity. She would not concede an inch that she had not been thrown off of bodily.
"Oh, how simple a world our Sarah lives in. Rather than seeking my aid in finding the thief, punishing him and recovering your clothes, you merely hurl baseless accusations at she who loves you best."
Sarah was well past having none of it.
"Clarice--if it is you who truly loves me best, then I fear my death is imminent, for you seem little but a cruel prankster to me. If you are she who loves me best, then this world is merely The Devil's Place dressed in finery--and I would have done with it. As I now have done with you."
Clarice dared to seem annoyed.
"You--have no sense of humor. So what if I have held your beggar's rags? It was all in good fun. You did choose to swim as you were born."
Sarah had tuned her ears to listen only for the sounds of an apology. Hearing no such thing, Clarice's arrogant words merely stoked her growing fury like the engine of a locomotive.
"Firstly, I did not entirely choose my swim. Playing your dirty games of worth and confidence, you convinced me that this was a road chosen by the truly brave. That I bought into your self-serving philosophy speaks poorly of me. Secondly, playing upon my fears for your childish amusement raises concerns for the healthfulness of your spirit of fun. Not mine. Thirdly, you have kept me a prisoner in a hot, uncomfortable
coach while you laughed your villain's laugh. There was fun, to be sure. But I shared in none of it, and it was not good."Clarice had stopped laughing, and as anyone could tell anyone else, this never found the young snob at her best.
"Get out of this carriage."
Sarah flatly refused.
"No. The driver will see me. I must wait here til either my mother's arrival or the return of your common sense and sense of decency."
Livid, Clarice grabbed Sarah where she should probably not. Unable to react properly, Sarah found herself out the door, the cold hands on sensitive areas still not matching the cold cruel heart that gave them blood. Sarah pleaded with the unseen driver.
"Oh, do not look! If you brag to your friends, my father will destroy you."
There was laughter. But it was not demonic laughter, such as a crude man might give. Nor was it the laughter of a gentleman, happy to turn away so as not to ruin two reputations. No, this was laughter that was more giggles and a great deal softer. While this sound was familiar to Sarah's ears, it was also even harsher than the laughter of any man. Sarah turned and saw her driver--or drivers, as it was in this case.
"Janice? Henrietta?"
"Sarah? You--are truly naked! Why did you take off all that you had?"
Janice seconded Henrietta.
"Its nary a stitch--even to your earrings? Oh, this is hilarious. Where are your clothes?"
Clarice stood haughtily.
"I have them in the compartment underneath my seat. You see, Sarah? Your anger is misplaced. Your clothes were safe all along, as were you. Our drivers were our dearest friends."
As the laughter continued, Sarah felt the worst she ever had. Clarice had proposed, and the other two had disposed as always. The yard had high fences, so Sarah got up from her attempt at squatting for concealment. Uncaring any longer of her state or reputation, Sarah raised herself up to her full height.
At this and her grim look, Sarah felt and had a bit of the aspect of a pagan goddess, one to whom her nudity was a gift to the meager mortals lucky enough to catch a view. She said eight simple but devastating words to her Judas pranksters.
"It Would Seem That I Have No Friends."
Henrietta took immediate issue with this proclamation.
"Sarah, as always, you are taking a bit of harmless fun and allowing your temper to run away with your better sense. I will ask that you apologize for your words."
Feeling assaulted by arrogance beyond her comprehension, Sarah stood her ground and made moves to press forward.
"Henrietta, as always, you are a good little soldier for cruel Clarice, taking a very cruel joke and calling it a bit of harmless fun. I will not demand an apology from either of you--for I now regard your words as worthless. You are without honor."
Janice's ire was raised in turn by this statement.
"You've a nerve, Sarah! Riding around in that carriage so that all the world might see your business. What if the door had come open?"
Something did not feel right to Sarah. Surely, not even Clarice could have so great a hold on the other two as to hold her in contempt for the hateful ride that was their own prank. It was a riddle, and one that she meant to have answered here and now.
"Janice--I was without clothes--as a result of your prank, might I add. How would you have had me ride?"
A look of confusion now fell upon the faces of both Henrietta and Janice. Janice spoke again.
"Sarah--did you truly swim as you were born? I ask this in deadly earnest."
Clarice, laughing, answered for Sarah.
"Oh, Yes. The bottom of that lake saw every last blond hair--heh-as did I."
Henrietta picked up next.
"Clarice--we none of us thought Sarah would go that far. But we had agreed, that, should she so dare, you would hand her an undergarment for light cover, claiming that the unknown thief had dropped it. Did you forget this?"
Clarice sported a mock-regal grin.
"I do not forget anything I merely saw fit to alter our agreement. Fair Sarah should pray before The Lord to give thanks that I chose not to alter it further."
Sarah leaned up in Clarice's face. No longer caring about her state, she was quite an imposing figure.
"Clarice---whatever the outcome here, do not let your Narcissistic brain allow you to believe that I will somehow thank you for all this. Be content if I am able to somehow persuade myself past vengeance for what you have done."
"Get Back From Me, Sarah. I am not to be trifled with."
Janice stepped between them, but not to break anything up.
"Clarice--how dare you change our plans? This day has gone from one where Sarah might laugh with us to one where we may have lost her as a friend."
Again, an overmade sense of pride, place, and self prevented Clarice's simple acquiescence.
"It was my plan, chiefly, not either of yours. I will ask you not to flatter yourself by claiming partial credit for this masterstroke. You were drivers, and you were a safety against a curious driver. It was my plan to execute how I saw fit."
Henrietta had heard enough.
"You talk a good talk, Clarice. A woman may not vote, but I think you shall one day hold office. But here and now, you are being impeached. Sarah--know this--we had meant for you to have some cover. It was Clarice's idea that you should ride as you swam."
Sarah shook her head.
"Henrietta---you are a liar. So are you, Janice."
"Sarah, those are fighting words!"
"Janice, taking all of a girl's things while she is vulnerable and trusting is a fighting action."
The redhead had to concede that much, but still did not see the light.
"But I swear that it was not our intent."
The full-chested Henrietta nodded in agreement, and two more heads shook with her, indicating another forgotten garment.
"Sarah, we are not lying. Clarice did much of this of her own choice."
"Indeed. In that, they lack all brains and creativeness. Just as you, Sarah, still have not gained a sense of humor."
Sarah ignored Clarice, for whom she no longer had any use. She turned first to Henrietta.
"Henrietta, how much of this did you think of? What part of this was from you?"
"Clarice suggested it, that is true."
Sarah revealed one last thing--an eidetic memory, at least as concerned the history of the four girls.
"Did she remind you of how my help came too late to prevent your own unclad embarrassment? Or yours, Janice, as those unworthy suitors viewed you both like candy store counters?"
Janice was now as embarassed as Sarah had once thought she would be, in this situation. But a lifetime of foolishness was being resolved, there, and Sarah no longer noticed herself.
"Sarah--we were also upset that you did not come sooner at those times---then, when she had gone, we recalled it was ourselves we were angry with."
Clarice shook her head.
"Oh, how the rats run away."
Sarah now looked at Clarice herself.
"You--are like a whirlwind. As these two well know. So they heard you come up with another good prank, and left you to plan it. Henrietta--why did we not allow Clarice to plan the small prank at last year's Harvest Dance? Do you recall what it was you said?"
Henrietta did, and now saw Sarah's point. Her face was red.
"I said that one does not include Clarice in small pranks--unless one wishes to see it grow large and unwieldy."
Janice tried a last, rather weak, defense.
"Again, Sarah. We meant to leave you a stitch, at least. Perhaps we did wish to see what spectacle Clarice might cause. But you must admit, it was funny."
"I must admit no such thing, Janice. For it was not funny. Pranks should not humiliate, and offer some chance for the victim to be amused, as well. For myself--I have nothing."
As though she alone were allowing this discussion, Clarice called it to an end by clapping her hands for attention.
"All right, girls. This is done. Sarah, for your bad humor, I would see you parade around this courtyard, before you get house-key and clothes back. Snap to it, and then we may all relax inside."
Sarah stared hard at Clarice, as though surely she had two extra heads, one on each shoulder.
"Clarice--this is over now, good humor or bad. Give me my clothes back."
"I will not. Meet my simple conditions-- and I will consider your request."
Sarah looked at the other two.
"Will you not help me, now? At least push her away, til I can grab my things back."
Janice shook her head.
"Sarah, you know well how Clarice gets."
Henrietta seconded.
"Her terms are not extreme. If she refuses afterwords, we will persuade her to do the right thing. We need start no trouble, now."
Cowardice is never pretty to behold, even when it comes from pretty forms and faces. Sarah gave up on them all, then.
"I know how she gets---and that has been the battle-cry of her friends and her family, so long as she has been alive. Well, I am neither foolish enough to remain her friend nor cursed enough to be her relation. And One Thing More--Trouble Has Started Now!"
Haughty Clarice still stood in front of the Carriage.
"Just Where Do You Think You're Going?"
Sarah effortlessly pushed the bully over, and into the dirt. Her good dress ruined, Clarice looked up in anger and fear.
"How Dare You Touch---"
Sarah bent down, and slapped her across the face.
"Mark This Day---Your Reign Is Ended. I did something none of us has heretofore dared to do."
Sarah grabbed her things, as Clarice got up and came at her. But all she caught was the back of Sarah's hand. The Victor Looked Down At The Vanquished.
"I Am The Bravest."
Clarice got up yet again, and balled her hand into a fist.
"Gutter-Snipe! I'll pound--"
But another hand grabbed Clarice's.
"None of you will do anything more. This has gone on quite long enough."
Sarah regretted not re-dressing right away, then. Because the voice and the hand belonged to neither Henrietta nor Janice. They belonged to Sarah's own mother, Miss Tara. She could see the shock on her face at Sarah's state of undress. This shock might have been for her daughter's sake. But Sarah feared it might just as easily be a sign of the parental shame that she had so greatly feared since this misadventure began.
One way or another, The Ordeals were over. But had it all cost Sarah her friends-- not to mention her mother's love?