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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23644-8.txt b/23644-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3cddcc --- /dev/null +++ b/23644-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6789 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Marjorie Dean High School Freshman, by +Pauline Lester + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Marjorie Dean High School Freshman + + +Author: Pauline Lester + + + +Release Date: November 27, 2007 [eBook #23644] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL +FRESHMAN*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 23644-h.htm or 23644-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23644/23644-h/23644-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23644/23644-h.zip) + + + + + +MARJORIE DEAN +HIGH SCHOOL SERIES + +By PAULINE LESTER + +Cloth Bound, Cover Designs in Colors + +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN. +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE. +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR. +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR. + + * * * * * * + +[Illustration: Poising herself on the bank, she cut the water in a +clean, sharp dive. Page 234. Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman] + + * * * * * * + +MARJORIE DEAN +HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN + +by + +PAULINE LESTER + +Author of +"Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore" +"Marjorie Dean, High School Junior" +"Marjorie Dean, High School Senior" + + + + + + + +A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York + +Copyright, 1917 by A. L. Burt Company + + + + +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN + +CHAPTER I + +THE PARTING OF THE WAYS + + +"What am I going to do without you, Marjorie?" Mary Raymond's blue eyes +looked suspiciously misty as she solemnly regarded her chum. + +"What am I going to do without _you_, you mean," corrected Marjorie +Dean, with a wistful smile. "Please, please don't let's talk of it. I +simply can't bear it." + +"One, two--only two more weeks now," sighed Mary. "You'll surely write +to me, Marjorie?" + +"Of course, silly girl," returned Marjorie, patting her friend's arm +affectionately. "I'll write at least once a week." + +Marjorie Dean's merry face looked unusually sober as she walked down the +corridor beside Mary and into the locker room of the Franklin High +School. The two friends put on their wraps almost in silence. The +majority of the girl students of the big city high school had passed out +some little time before. Marjorie had lingered for a last talk with Miss +Fielding, who taught English and was the idol of the school, while Mary +had hung about outside the classroom to wait for her chum. It seemed to +Mary that the greatest sorrow of her sixteen years had come. Marjorie, +her sworn ally and confidante, was going away for good and all. + +When, six years before, a brown-eyed little girl of nine, with long +golden-brown curls, had moved into the house next door to the Raymonds, +Mary had lost no time in making her acquaintance. They had begun with +shy little nods and smiles, which soon developed into doorstep +confidences. Within two weeks Mary, whose eyes were very blue, and whose +short yellow curls reminded one of the golden petals of a daffodil, had +become Marjorie's adorer and slave. She it was who had escorted Marjorie +to the Lincoln Grammar School and seen her triumphantly through her +first week there. She had thrilled with unselfish pride to see how +quickly the other little girls of the school had succumbed to Marjorie's +charm. She had felt a most delightful sense of pardonable vanity when, +as the year progressed, Marjorie had preferred her above all the others. +She had clung to Mary, even though Alice Lawton, who rode to school +every day in a shining limousine, had tried her utmost to be best +friends with the brown-eyed little girl whose pretty face and lovable +personality had soon made her the pet of the school. + +Year after year Mary and Marjorie had lived side by side and kept their +childish faith. But now, here they were, just beginning their freshman +year in Franklin High School, to which they had so long looked forward, +and about to be separated; for Marjorie's father had been made manager +of the northern branch of his employer's business and Marjorie was going +to live in the little city of Sanford. Instead of being a freshman in +dear old Franklin, she was to enter the freshman class in Sanford High +School, where she didn't know a solitary girl, and where she was sure +she would be too unhappy for words. + +During the first days which had followed the dismaying news that +Marjorie Dean was going to leave Franklin High School and go hundreds of +miles away, the two friends had talked of little else. There was so much +to be said, yet now that their parting was but two weeks off they felt +the weight of the coming separation bearing heavily upon them. Both +young faces wore expressions of deepest gloom as they walked slowly down +the steps of the school building and traversed the short space of stone +walk that led to the street. + +It was Marjorie who broke the silence. + +"No other girl can ever be as dear to me as you are. You know that, +don't you, Mary?" + +Mary nodded mutely. Her blue eyes had filled with a sudden rush of hot +tears. + +"But it won't do any good," continued Marjorie, slowly, "for us to mourn +over being separated. We know how we feel about each other, and that's +going to be a whole lot of comfort to us after--I'm gone." Her girlish +treble faltered slightly. Then she threw her arm across Mary's shoulder +and said with forced steadiness of tone: "I'm not going to be a silly +and cry. This is one of those 'vicissitudes' of life that Professor +Taylor was talking about in chapel yesterday. We must be very brave. +We'll write lots of letters and visit each other during vacation, and +perhaps, some day I'll come back here to live." + +"Of course you will. You must come back," nodded Mary, her face +brightening at the prospect of a future reunion, even though remote. + +"Can't you come with me to dinner?" coaxed Marjorie, as they paused at +the corner where they were accustomed to wait for their respective +street cars. "You know, you are one of mother's exceptions. I never have +to give notice before bringing you home." + +"Not to-night. I'm going out this evening," returned Mary, vaguely. "I +must hurry home." + +"Where are you going?" asked Marjorie, curiously. "You never said a +word about it this morning." + +"Oh, didn't I? Well, I'm going out with----Here comes your car, +Marjorie. You'd better hurry home, too." + +"Why?" Marjorie's brown eyes looked their reproach. "Do you want to get +rid of me, Mary? I've oceans of time before dinner. You know we never +have it until half-past six. Never mind, I'll take this car. Good-bye." + +With a proud little nod of her head, Marjorie climbed the steps of the +car which had now stopped at their corner, without giving her friend an +opportunity for reply. Mary looked after the moving car with a rueful +smile that changed to one of glee. Her eyes danced. "She hasn't the +least idea of what's going to happen," thought the little fluffy-haired +girl. "Won't she be surprised? Now that she's gone, Clark and Ethel and +Seldon ought to be here." + +A shrill whistle farther up the street caused her to glance quickly in +the direction of the sound. Two young men were hurrying toward her, +their boyish faces alight with enthusiasm and good nature. + +"It's all O.K., Mary," called the taller of the two, his black eyes +glowing. "Every last thing has been thought of. Ethel has the pin. +She'll be along in a minute." + +"It's a peach!" shouted the smaller lad, waving his cap, then jamming +it down on his thick, fair hair. "We've been waiting up the street for +Marjorie to take her car. Thought she'd never start." + +"I am afraid I hurt her feelings," deplored Mary. "I forgot myself and +told her she'd better hurry home. She looked at me in the most +reproachful way." + +"Cheer up," laughed Clark Grayson, the black-eyed youth. "To-night'll +fix things. All the fellows are coming." + +"So are all the girls," returned Mary, happily. "I do wish Ethel would +hurry. I'm so anxious to see the pin. I know Marjorie will love it. Oh, +here comes Ethel now." + +Ethel Duval, a tall, slender girl of sixteen, with earnest, gray-blue +eyes and wavy, flaxen hair, joined the trio with: "I'm so glad we +waited. I wanted you to see the pin, Mary." She was fumbling busily in +her shopping bag as she spoke. "Here it is." She held up a small, square +package, which, when divested of its white paper wrapping, disclosed a +blue plush box. A second later Mary was exclaiming over the dainty +beauty of the bit of jewelry lying securely on its white satin bed. The +pin was fashioned in the form of a golden butterfly, the body of which +was set with tiny pearls. + +"Oh-h-h!" breathed Mary. "Isn't it wonderful! But do you suppose her +mother will allow her to accept such an expensive gift? It must have +cost a lot of money." + +"Fifteen dollars," announced Clark, cheerfully, "but it was a case of +only fifty cents apiece, and besides, it's for Marjorie. Fifteen times +fifteen dollars wouldn't be too much for her. Every fellow and girl that +was invited accepted the invitation and handed over the tax. To make +things sure, Ethel went round to see Marjorie's mother about it and won +her over to our side. So that's settled." + +"It's perfectly lovely," sighed Mary in rapture, "and you boys have +worked so hard to make the whole affair a gorgeous success. I'm afraid +we had better be moving on, though. It won't be long now until half-past +seven. I do hope everyone will be on time." + +"They've all been warned," declared Seldon Ames. "Good-bye, then, until +to-night." The two boys raised their caps and swung down the street, +while Mary and Ethel stopped for one more look at the precious pin that +in later days was to mean far more to their schoolmate, Marjorie Dean, +than they had ever dreamed. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GOOD-BYE, MARJORIE DEAN + + +"Whatever you do, don't laugh, or speak above a whisper, or fall up the +steps, or do anything else that will give us away before we're ready," +lectured Clark Grayson to the little crowd of happy-faced boys and girls +who were gathered round him on the corner above Marjorie Dean's home. +"We'd better advance by fives. Seldon, you go with the first lot. When I +give the signal, this way," Clark puckered his lips and emitted a soft +whistle, "ring the bell." + +"Right-o," softly retorted three or four boyish voices. + +Clark rapidly divided his little squad of thirty into fives, and moved +toward the house with the first division. Two minutes later the next +five conspirators began to move, and in an incredibly short space of +time the surprise party was overflowing the Dean veranda and front +steps. The boy who had been appointed bell ringer pressed his finger +firmly against the electric bell. There came the sound of a quick +footstep, then Marjorie herself opened the door, to be greeted with a +merry shout of "Surprise! Surprise!" + +"Why--what--who!" she gasped. + +"Just exactly," agreed Clark Grayson. "'Why--what--who'--and enough +others to make thirty. Of course, if you don't want us----" + +"Stop teasing me, Clark, until I get over my surprise, at least," begged +Marjorie. "No, I never suspected a single thing," she said, in answer to +Ethel Duval's question. "Here are mother and father. They know more +about all this than they'll say. They made me believe they were going to +a party." + +"And so we are," declared her father, as he and Mrs. Dean came forward +to welcome their young guests, with the cordiality and graciousness for +which they were noted among Marjorie's friends. + +"Come this way, girls," invited Marjorie's mother, who, in an evening +frock of white silk, looked almost as young as the bevy of pretty girls +that followed her. "Mr. Dean will look after you, boys." + +Once she had helped her mother usher the girls into the upstairs +sleeping room set aside for their use, Marjorie lost no time in slipping +over to the dressing table where Mary stood, patting her fluffy hair and +lamenting because it would not stay smooth. + +"You dear thing," whispered Marjorie, slipping her arm about her chum. +"I'll forgive you for not telling me where you were going. I was +terribly hurt for a minute, though. You know we've never had secrets +from each other." + +"And we never will," declared Mary, firmly. "Promise me, Marjorie, that +you'll always tell me things; that is, when they're not someone else's +secrets." + +"I will," promised Marjorie, solemnly. "We'll write our secrets to each +other instead of telling them. Now I must leave you for a minute and see +if everyone is having a good time. We'll have another comfy old talk +later." + +To Mary Raymond fell the altogether agreeable task of keeping Marjorie +away from the dining-room, where Mrs. Dean, Ethel Duval and two of her +classmates busied themselves with the decorating of the two long tables. +By ten o'clock all was ready for the guests. In the middle of each +table, rising from a centerpiece of ferns, was a green silk pennant, +bearing the figures 19-- embroidered in scarlet. The staffs of the two +pennants were wound with green and scarlet ribazine which extended in +long streamers to each place, and was tied to dainty hand-painted +pennant-shaped cards, on which appeared the names of the guests. Laid +beside the place cards were funny little favors, which had been +gleefully chosen with a sly view toward exploiting every one's pet +hobby, while at either end of each table were tall vases of red roses, +which seemed to nod their fragrant approval of the merry-making. + +"It's quite perfect, isn't it?" sighed Ethel, with deep satisfaction, +gently touching one of the red roses. "The very nicest part of it all is +that you've been just as enthusiastic as we over the party." She turned +affectionate eyes upon Mrs. Dean. + +"It could hardly be otherwise, my dear," returned Mrs. Dean. "Remember, +it is for my little girl that you have planned all this happiness. +Nothing can please me more than the thought that Marjorie has so many +friends. I only hope she will be equally fortunate in her new home, +though, I am sure, she will never forget her Franklin High School +chums." + +"We won't give her that chance," nodded Ethel, emphatically. "There, I +think we are ready. Clark wants to be your partner, Mrs. Dean, and +Seldon is to escort Marjorie to her place. We aren't going to give her +the pin until we are ready to drink the toasts. Robert Barrett is to be +toastmaster. Will you go first and announce supper?" + +There was a buzz of delight and admiration from the guests, as headed by +Marjorie and Seldon, the little procession marched into the dining-room. +For a moment the very sight of the gayly decked table with its weight of +goodies and wonderful red roses caused Marjorie's brown eyes to blur. +Then, as Seldon bowed her to the head of one of the tables, she winked +back her tears, and nodding gayly to the eager faces turned toward her +and said with her prettiest smile: "It's the very nicest surprise that +ever happened to me, and I hope you will all have a perfectly splendid +time to-night." + +"Three cheers for Marjorie Dean! May we give them, Mrs. Dean?" called +Robert Barrett. + +Mrs. Dean's smiling assent was lost in the volume of sound that went up +from thirty lusty young throats. + +"Now, Franklin High," proposed Mary Hammond, and the Franklin yell was +given by the girls. The boys, who were nearly all students at the La +Fayette High School, just around the corner from Franklin, responded +with their yell, and the merry little company began hunting their places +and seating themselves at the tables. + +Marjorie was far too much excited to eat. Her glances strayed +continually down the long tables to the cheery faces of her schoolmates. +It seemed almost too wonderful that her friends should care so much +about her. + +"Marjorie Dean, stop dreaming and eat your supper," commanded Mary, who +had been covertly watching her friend. "Clark, you are sitting next to +her. Make her eat her chicken salad. It's perfectly delicious." + +"Will you eat your salad or must I exercise my stern authority?" began +Clark, drawing down his face until he exactly resembled a certain +roundly disliked teacher of mathematics in the boys' high school. There +was a laugh of recognition from the boys sitting nearest to Clark. He +continued to eye Marjorie severely. + +"Of course, I'm going to eat my salad," declared Marjorie, stoutly. "You +must give me time, though. I'm still too surprised to be hungry." + +But the greatest surprise was still in store for her. When everyone had +finished eating, Robert Barrett began his duties as toastmaster. Ethel +Duval came first with "What Friendships Mean to a Schoolgirl," and +Seldon Ames followed with a ridiculously funny little toast to "The High +School Fellows." Then Mr. and Mrs. Dean were toasted, and Lillian Hale, +a next-door neighbor and the only upper-class girl invited, gave solemn +counsel and advice to the "freshman babies." + +As Marjorie's dearest friend, to Mary had been accorded the honor of +giving the farewell toast, "Aufwiedersehen," and the presentation of the +pin. Mary's clear voice trembled slightly as she began the little speech +which she had composed and learned for the occasion. Then her faltering +tones gathered strength, and before she realized that she was actually +making a speech, she had reached the most important part of it and was +saying, "We wish you to keep and wear this remembrance of our good will +throughout your school life in Sanford. We hope you will make new +friends, and we ask only that you won't forget the old." + +"I can't begin to tell you how much I thank you all," Marjorie +responded, her tones not quite steady, her face lighted with a fond +pride that lay very near to tears. "I shall love my butterfly all my +life, and never forget that you gave it to me. I am going to call it my +talisman, and I am sure it will bring me good luck." + +But neither the givers nor Marjorie Dean could possibly guess that, in +the days to come, the beautiful golden butterfly was to prove anything +but a talisman to the popular little freshman. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GIRL WHO LOOKED LIKE MARY + + +"It's rather nice to have so much room, but I know I shall never feel +quite at home here," murmured Marjorie Dean, under her breath, as she +came slowly down the steps of her new home and paused for a moment in +the middle of the stone walk which led to the street. Her wistful glance +strayed over the stretch of lawn, still green, then turned to rest on +the house, a comfortable three-story structure of wood, painted dark +green, with lighter green trimmings. Her mother's sudden appearance at +the window caused Marjorie to retrace her steps. Luncheon was ready. + +"Everything is so different," she sighed, as she climbed the steps she +had so lately descended. "I've been here a week, and I haven't met a +single girl. I don't believe there are any girls in this neighborhood. I +should feel a good deal worse, too, if the Franklin girls hadn't been +such dears!" Marjorie's last comment, spoken half aloud, referred to the +numerous letters she had received since her arrival in the town of +Sanford from her Franklin High School friends, now so many miles away. +Mary Raymond had not only fulfilled her promise to write one long letter +every week, but had mailed Marjorie, almost daily, hurriedly-written +little notes full of the news of what went on among the boys and girls +she had left behind. + +It had been a busy, yet a very long week for Marjorie. The unpacking of +the Deans' furniture, which had been shipped to Sanford a week before +their arrival there, and the setting to rights of her new home had so +occupied the attention of Mrs. Dean and Nora, her faithful +maid-of-all-work, that Marjorie, aside from certain tasks allotted to +her to perform, was left for the most part to her own devices. As they +had arrived in Sanford on Monday, Marjorie's mother had decided to give +her daughter an opportunity to accustom herself to her new home and +surroundings before allowing her to enter the high school. So the day +for Marjorie's initial appearance in "The Sanford High School for Girls" +had been set for the following Monday. + +It was now Friday afternoon. Marjorie had spent the morning in writing a +fifteen-page letter to Mary, the minor refrain of which was: "I can't +tell you how much I miss you, Mary," and which contained views regarding +her future high school career that were far from being optimistic. She +had not finished her letter. She decided to leave it open until after +luncheon and, laying it aside for the time, she had tripped down stairs +and out doors. + +"What are you going to do this afternoon, dear?" asked her mother as +Marjorie slipped into place at the luncheon table. + +"I don't know, Mother," was the almost doleful reply. "I thought I might +take a walk up Orchard street as far as Sargent's, that cunning little +confectioner's shop on the corner. Perhaps, if I go, I may see something +interesting to tell Mary. I haven't finished my letter." + +Marjorie did not add that her walk would include a last stroll past the +towering gray walls of a certain stone building on Lincoln avenue, which +bore over its massive oak doors the inscription, "The Sanford High +School for Girls." Almost every day since her arrival, she had visited +it, viewing it speculatively and with a curious kind of apprehension. +She was not afraid to plunge into her new school life, but deep down in +her heart she felt some little misgiving. What if the new girls proved +to be neither likable nor companionable? What if she liked them but they +did not like her? She had just begun the same apprehensive train of +thought that had been disturbing her peace of mind for the last four +days when her mother's voice broke the spell. + +"If you are going that far I wish you would go on to Parke & Whitfield's +for me. I should like you to match this embroidery silk. I have not +enough of it to finish this collar and cuff set I am making for you." + +"I'll be your faithful servant and execute all your commissions, mum," +declared Marjorie with a little obeisance, her spirits rising a little +at the prospect of actual errands to perform. She was already tired of +aimlessly wandering along the wide, well-kept streets of Sanford, +feeling herself to be quite out of things. Even errands were actual +blessings sometimes, she decided, as a little later, she ran upstairs to +dress. + +"May I wear my best suit and hat, Mother?" she called anxiously down +from the head of the stairs. "It's such a lovely day, I'm sure it won't +rain, snow, hail or do anything else to spoil them." + +"Very well," answered Mrs. Dean, placidly. + +With a gurgle of delight Marjorie hurried into her room to put on her +new brown suit, which had the mark of a well-known tailor in the coat, +and her best hat, on which all the Franklin High girls had set their +seal of approval. She had shoes and gloves to match her suit, too, and +her dancing brown eyes and fluffy brown hair were the last touches +needed to complete the dainty little study in brown. + +"Don't I look nice in this suit?" she asked her mother saucily, turning +slowly around before the living-room mirror. "Aren't you and father +perfect dears to let me have it, though?" She whirled and descended upon +her mother with outstretched arms, enveloping her in an ecstatic hug +that sadly disturbed the proper angle of her brown velvet hat. + +"Don't be gone too long," reminded her mother. "You know father has +promised us tickets for the theatre to-night. We shall have an early +dinner." + +"All right, I'll remember, Captain." With a brisk touching of her hand +to her hat brim in salute Marjorie vanished through the door, to +reappear a moment later at the living-room window, flash a merry smile +at her mother, about face and march down the walk in true military +style. + +Long before when Marjorie was a tiny girl she had shown an unusual +preference for soldiers. She had owned enough wooden soldiers to make a +regiment and was never at a loss to invent war games in which they +figured. Sometimes, when she tired of her stiff, silent armies, which +could only move as she willed, she inveigled her father or mother into +being the hero, the enemy, the traitor or whatever her active +imagination chose to suggest. Her parents, amused at her boyish love of +military things, encouraged her in her play and entered into it with as +much spirit as the child herself. Her father, who had once been an +officer in the National Guard, taught her the manual of arms and she had +learned it with a will. + +Marjorie's military enthusiasm had been at its height when she met Mary +Raymond, who soon became equally fascinated with the stirring play. In +time other interests crowded their lives. The hard-worked armies were +laid peacefully on their wooden backs to enjoy a long, undisturbed rest, +while Marjorie and Mary became soldiers instead, addressing Mr. Dean as +"General," Mrs. Dean as "Captain," and bestowing upon themselves the +rank of ordinary enlisted soldiers who must earn their promotion by +loyal and faithful service. + +Mr. Dean had been rather chary of promotions, frequently reminding his +little detachment that it is a far cry from the ranks of a private to +that of a commissioned officer. So when their parting came, Mary and +Marjorie had just received their commissions as second lieutenants, +their awards of faithful service in the grammar school. + +Lieutenant Marjorie smiled, then sighed, as she started on her walk. The +salute she had just given brought a flood of memories of Mary. She felt +she would not mind exploring this strange, new, high school territory if +Mary were with her. She was sure no girl in Sanford could understand her +as Mary had. On two different afternoons she had stood across the street +from the school at the time of dismissal. She had eagerly watched the +great oak doors open wide and the long lines of girls file out, waking +the still October air with their merry voices. She had been particularly +attracted toward one tall, lithe, graceful girl whose golden hair and +brown eyes made her unusually lovely. At first sight of her, lonely, +imaginative Marjorie had named her "The Picture Girl," and had decided +that she was a darling. She had noticed that the pretty girl was always +the center of a group and she had also noted that one small, +black-haired girl with an elfish face, who wore the most exquisite +clothes invariably walked at the tall girl's side. There was a +pink-cheeked girl, too, with laughing blue eyes and dimples, and a +fair-haired, serious-faced girl, who reminded Marjorie of Alice Duval. +They usually formed part of the group about the tall girl and her dark +companion, and there was also a very short, stout girl who puffed along +anxiously in the rear of the group as though never quite able to catch +up. + +Marjorie had already imagined much concerning this particular knot of +girls, and her desire to see them again before entering school was +responsible for her walk down Lincoln avenue that sunny fall afternoon. +She would do her errands first, she decided, then, returning by the way +of the school, pass there just at the time that the afternoon session +was dismissed. She went about her far-from-arduous commissions in +leisurely fashion, now and then glancing at her châtelaine watch to make +sure of the time. Three o'clock saw the daily procession of girls down +the high school steps, and released from classes for the day. She did +not intend to miss them. + +It was twenty minutes to three when Marjorie finished a remarkable +concoction of nuts, chocolate syrup and ice cream, a kind of glorified +nut sundae, rejoicing in the name of "Sargent Nectar," and left the +smart little confectioner's shop. As she neared the school building her +eyes suddenly became riveted upon a slim, blue-clad figure that +hesitated for on instant at the top of the high steps then ran lightly +down and came hurrying toward where she stood. + +"The advance guard," declared Marjorie half aloud. Then, as her eyes +sought the approaching girl: "Why, she looks like Mary! And she's been +crying! I'm going to speak to her." She took an impulsive step forward +as the stranger came abreast of her and began: + +"Won't you----" + +Marjorie's speech ended abruptly. The weeping girl cast one startled +glance toward her from a pair of wet blue eyes, lunged by her without +speaking and, breaking into a run, turned the corner and disappeared +from view. Marjorie surveyed the back of the rapidly vanishing yellow +head with rueful surprise. Then she gave a short laugh. + +"I should have known better," she reflected. "Of course, she'd hardly +care to tell her personal affairs to the first one who asks her. But she +made me think of Mary. Oh, dear, I'm so homesick. Not even my new suit +and hat can make me forget that. I wouldn't have mother know it for the +world. I believe she is a wee bit homesick, too." + +Marjorie paused for an instant at her accustomed place on the opposite +side of the street, undecided whether to loiter there and once more +watch her future companions pass out of school or to go on about her +business. Suddenly the school doors swung wide and the pupils began +flocking out. The little stranger yielded to the temptation to linger +long enough to watch the five girls pass in whom she had become +interested. They were among the last to emerge and, the moment they +reached the steps, their voices rose in a confused babble, each one +determined to make herself heard above the others. + +"I knew she wouldn't do it," shrilled the stout girl, as they neared +Marjorie. "She's too stingy for words. That's the third time she's +refused to go into things with the rest of us." + +"Be still," reminded the Picture Girl; "she might have very good +reasons----" + +"Good reasons," scornfully mimicked the little dark girl, her black eyes +glittering angrily. "It was only because the plan was mine. She hates +me, and you all know why. I don't think you ought to stand up for her, +Muriel. You know how deceitful she is and what unkind things she said +about me." + +"I'm not standing up for her," contradicted Muriel, but her tones +lacked force. "I only felt a little bit sorry for her. She looked ready +to cry all the afternoon. I think she went home early to avoid meeting +us." + +"That proves she is a coward," was the triumphant retort. "Remember----" +With a sudden swift movement she rose on tiptoe and, drawing the Picture +Girl's head to the level of her mouth, whispered something to her. The +fair-haired girl looked annoyed, the fat girl openly sulky and the +dimpled girl disapproving. Exchanging significant glances, they walked +on ahead of the other two. + +Without the slightest intention of being an eavesdropper, Marjorie had +heard every word of the loud-spoken conversation. Her eyes were fixed in +fascination upon the dark, sharp-featured face so close to the fair, +beautiful one. She suddenly recalled a picture she had once seen called +"The Evil Genius," in which a dark, mocking face peered over the +shoulder of a young man who sat at a table as though in deep thought. +This girl's vivid face bore a slight resemblance to that of the Evil +Genius, and it was not until the end of Marjorie's junior year in +Sanford that this sinister impression faded and disappeared forever. + +When the little company had passed on down the street, Marjorie turned +and followed them from a distance. For several blocks her way lay in the +same direction, but as she turned into her own street she swept a last +glance toward the five girls. She wondered whom they had been discussing +so freely. She was vaguely disappointed in the Picture Girl, who seemed +to her independent mind too easily influenced by the Evil Genius. +Marjorie had already begun to think of the small, dark girl as that. She +was glad not to be the girl they had discussed. Then, her thought +changing, a vision of two wet blue eyes and a tear-stained face set in +fluffy yellow curls came to her, and Marjorie knew that she had seen the +object of their discussion. A wave of sympathy for the offender swept +over her. "I don't believe she could do anything deceitful or horrid," +she reflected stoutly. "Her eyes are as true and as blue as Mary's. I'm +going to like her and be her friend, if she'll let me, for she certainly +seems to need one. I did so want to be friends with the Picture Girl, +but I can't help wishing she had been just a little bit braver." + +While Marjorie strolled thoughtfully home, deep in her own cogitations, +the five girls, having joined forces again, were discussing her. + +"Did you see that pretty girl standing across from the school as we came +out?" asked Susan Atwell, the girl with the dimples. + +"Yes," returned Irma Linton. "I noticed her there the other day, too. I +wonder who she can be." + +"I don't know," said Muriel Harding. "She is awfully sweet though, and +dresses beautifully. She----" + +"I know all about her," interrupted Geraldine Macy. "Her father is the +new manager for Preston & Haines. They only moved here from the city +last week. Her name is Dean. That is, her last name. I don't know her +other name." + +"I am surprised that you don't know that," was the sarcastic comment of +Mignon La Salle, the little dark girl. + +"You needn't be," flung back the stout girl. "There are lots of things I +don't know that I'd like to know. For instance----" + +"Don't be cross, Jerry," interrupted Mignon, hastily. "I was only +teasing you." She cast a peculiar glance at the ruffled Jerry from under +her heavy lashes which the young woman failed to catch. "Tell us some +more about this new girl. I really didn't pay hardly any attention to +her to-day." + +"There isn't anything more to tell that I know of," muttered Jerry, +sulkily, her desire to distribute news quite gone. "Wait until Monday +and see. I know she's going to enter Sanford High and that she's a +freshman." + +"Then as freshmen it's our solemn duty to be nice to her and make her +feel at home," stated Muriel, seriously. + +Mignon La Salle shrugged her thin shoulders. "Perhaps," she said, +without enthusiasm. "I shall wait until I see her before I decide that." + +Meanwhile, Marjorie had reached home, and, seated before the library +table, was writing for dear life on the letter she had begun to Mary. So +far she had had nothing to tell her chum regarding the young women who +were to be her classmates. To be sure, what she had seen and heard that +afternoon had amounted to nothing, but the girl who looked like Mary had +set her to longing all over again to be able, just for one afternoon, to +sit side by side on the front steps with her childhood's friend and talk +things over. + +"You can't imagine, Mary," she wrote, "how sorry I felt when I saw that +poor girl crying with your eyes. They were just like yours. I forgot +everything except that she looked like you, and asked her what the +trouble was. Of course, she didn't answer me, but actually ran down the +street. I should have known better, but I felt so terribly sympathetic. +'Terribly' is the only word that expresses it. Right after she had gone +the others began to come out of school, and at last the five girls I +told you about came out. They were all talking at once, but I heard the +horrid, sharp-faced, dark girl say that someone was stingy and deceitful +and a lot of other unpleasant things. I thought the Picture Girl was +going to stand up for the person, but that mean little Evil Genius +wouldn't let her. Then all at once it came to me that it was this Mary +girl they were talking about. It was really this one dark girl who said +most of the mean things. The others just listened to her. At any rate, +I'm going to find out who the Mary girl is and try to be a friend to her +just because she looks like you. Don't imagine I could ever like her +better than you, because you know I couldn't. But it's a true soldier's +duty to stand by his comrades on the firing line, you know, and I am +going to be this girl's freshman comrade, and, if she's one-half as nice +as you, I'll be ready to help her fight her battles. + +"Monday is the great day. I dread it, and yet I am looking forward to +it. I like the outside of the school, but will I like the inside? Mother +is going to the principal's office with me. I hope I sha'n't have to try +a lot of tiresome examinations. I have forgotten everything I ever knew, +and the weather has been too pleasant to study. This is such a pretty +town, with plenty of nice walks. If only you were here it would be quite +perfect. I do hope you can come and visit me at Easter. Must stop now, +as I hear mother calling me. We are going to walk down to meet father. +With my dearest love. Write soon. + + "Yours always, + + "Marjorie." + +Marjorie folded, addressed and stamped her letter, then catching her +hat from the hallrack ran out the front door to overtake her mother who +had walked on ahead. + +"I finished my letter to Mary," she held it up for inspection, "and I've +something to report, Captain." + +"I am ready to hear you," smiled her mother, as they walked on arm in +arm. + +For the second time Marjorie related her little adventure, ending with +her resolve to learn to know and befriend, if necessary, the girl who +looked like Mary. Nor did she have the slightest premonition of how much +this readily-avowed championing of a stranger was to cost her. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SANFORD'S LATEST FRESHMAN + + +"Will you tell me the way to the principal's office, please?" + +A clear voice broke in upon the conversation of two girls who had paused +before the broad stairway leading to the second floor of the Sanford +High School for a last word before separating for their morning +recitations. + +At the sound of the soft, interrupting voice, which contained a touch of +perplexity in its tones, both girls turned quickly to regard the owner. +They saw an attractive little figure, wearing a dainty blue cloth gown, +which was set off by hand-embroidered cuffs and an open rolling collar +of sheerest white. From under a smart blue hat escaped a wealth of soft, +brown curls, while two brown eyes looked into theirs with an expression +of appeal that brought forth instant reply. + +"Miss Archer's office is the last room on the east side of the +second-floor corridor. I am going there now and shall be glad to show +you the way," was the quick response of the taller of the two girls, +accompanied by a cheery smile that warmed Marjorie Dean's heart and made +her feel the least bit less of a stranger in this strange land which she +was about to explore. + +"Thank you," she returned gratefully, trying to smile in an equally +friendly manner. + +Marjorie's first day of school had begun far from propitiously. She had +not reckoned on making her initial appearance in Sanford High School +alone. It had been planned that her mother should accompany her, but +when Monday morning came, her beloved captain had awakened with a +racking headache, which meant nothing less than lying in bed for a long, +pain-filled day in a darkened room. + +Torn between sympathy for her mother and her own disappointment, +Marjorie had experienced a desire to go to her captain's room and cry +her eyes out, but being fashioned of sturdier stuff, she made a +desperate effort to brace up and be a good soldier. This was just +another of those miserable "vicissitudes" that no one could foresee. She +must face it without grumbling. Her father had already telephoned for a +physician when she entered her mother's room, and Marjorie put on her +sweetest smile as she kissed her mother and assured her that she didn't +in the least mind going to school alone. + +As she followed the young woman up the stairs and down the long corridor +Marjorie felt her heart beat a little faster. Her low spirits of the +early morning began to rise. How good it seemed actually to be in school +again! And what a beautiful school it was! Even Franklin would appear +dingy beside it. She gazed appreciatively at the high ceiling and the +shining oak wainscotings of the wide corridor through which she was +passing. When her guide, who was tall, thin and plain of face, opened +the last door on the right and ushered her into a beautiful sunshiny +office which seemed more like a living-room than a place wherein +business was transacted, Marjorie uttered an involuntary, "Oh, how +lovely!" + +"Yes, isn't it though," returned the tall girl. "This is Miss Archer's +own idea, and, so far, it's proving a brilliant success. That is, we all +think so. Is Miss Archer in her private office?" she asked the young +woman who had risen from her desk near the door and came forward to +receive them. + +Marjorie would have liked to ask her new acquaintance what she meant, +but at that moment a door at the farther end of the room opened and a +stately, black-haired woman, with just a suspicion of gray at her +temples, emerged. She turned a pair of grave, deep-set eyes upon the +tall girl and said, pleasantly: "Well, Ellen, what can I do for you this +morning?" + +"Oh, Miss Archer!" exclaimed the tall girl, eagerly, with an impulsive +step forward, "you haven't forbidden basketball this year, have you? +Stella and I couldn't believe our ears when we heard it this morning!" +It was evident that the impetuous Ellen was on the best possible terms +with her principal. + +"I don't remember having issued an order to that effect," smiled Miss +Archer. "Where did you hear that bit of news?" + +Ellen Seymour's plain face flushed, then paled. "It was just a rumor," +she replied with reluctance. "I'd rather not mention names. Still, when +I heard it, I could not rest until I had asked you. The sophomores hope +to do something wonderful this year. We couldn't bear to believe for a +minute that there would be no basketball. We had planned to have a +tryout some day this week, after school. I'm so glad," she added +fervently. "Thank you, Miss Archer. Oh, pardon me," she turned to +Marjorie, "this is Miss Archer, our principal. Miss Archer, this young +lady wishes to see you. I met her in the corridor downstairs and +volunteered my services as guide." + +With a courteous nod to Marjorie, the tall girl left the room and the +principal turned her attention toward the prospective freshman. + +At the calm, kindly inquiry of the gray eyes Marjorie's feeling of +shyness vanished, and she said in her most soldierly manner, as though +speaking to her mother: "Miss Archer, my name is Marjorie Dean, and I +wish to enter the freshman class of Sanford High School. We moved to +Sanford from the city of B----. We have been here just a week. I was a +freshman in Franklin High School at B----." + +Miss Archer took the young girl's hand in hers. Her rather stern face +was lighted with a welcoming smile. Marjorie's direct speech and frank, +honest eyes had pleased the older woman. + +"I am glad to know that we are to have a new pupil," she said cordially. +"The freshman class is smaller than usual this year. So many girls leave +school when their grammar school course is finished. I wish we could +persuade these mothers and fathers to let their daughters have at least +a year of high school. It would help them so much in whatever kind of +work they elected to do later." + +"That is what mother says," returned Marjorie, quickly. "My mother +intended to come with me to-day, but was unable to do so." She did not +go into details. Young as she was, Marjorie had a horror of discussing +her personal affairs with a stranger. "She will call upon you later." + +"I shall be pleased to meet your mother," Miss Archer made courteous +answer. "The first and most important matter to be considered this +morning is your class standing. Let me see. B---- is in the same state as +the town of Sanford. I believe the system of credits is the same in all +the high schools throughout this state, as the examinations come from +the state board at the capital. What studies had you begun at B----?" + +"English composition, algebra, physiology, American history and French," +recited Marjorie, dutifully. + +Miss Archer raised her eyebrows. "You are ambitious. We usually allow +our pupils to carry only four subjects." + +"But these are quite easy subjects," pleaded Marjorie; "that is, all +except algebra. I am not especially clever in mathematics. I am obliged +to study very hard to make good recitations. Still, I should like to +continue with the subjects I have begun. Won't you try me until the end +of the first term?" she added, a coaxing note in her voice. + +"I will at least try you for a week or two. Then if I find that you are +not overtaxing your strength you may go on with them." + +"Thank you." Marjorie's relieved tone caused the principal to smile +again. It was not usual for a pupil to show concern over the prospect of +losing a subject. Many of the students rebelled at having to carry four +subjects. + +"Have you your grammar school certificate with you?" asked Miss Archer, +the smile giving way to a businesslike expression. + +Marjorie handed the principal the large envelope she had been carrying. +Miss Archer drew forth a square of thick white paper, ornamented with +the red seal by which the state board of school commissioners had +signified their approval of Marjorie Dean and her work in the grammar +school. + +The older woman read it carefully. "Yes, this is, as I thought the same +form of certificate. From this moment on you are a freshman in Sanford +High School, Miss Dean. I trust that you will be happy here. Sanford has +the reputation of being one of the finest schools in the state. I am +going to assign you to a seat in the study hall at once. Miss Merton is +in charge there. She will give you a printed form of our curriculum of +study. School opens at nine o'clock in the morning. The morning session +lasts until twelve o'clock. We have an hour and a quarter for luncheon, +and our last recitation for the day is over at half past three o'clock. +We have devotional exercises in the chapel on Monday and Friday +mornings, and the course in gymnastics is optional. There are, of +course, many other things regarding the regulations of the school which +you will gradually come to know." + +"Miss Arnold," the thin-faced, sharp-eyed young woman, who had been +covertly appraising Marjorie during her talk with Miss Archer, came +languidly forward. "This is Miss Dean." The two girls bowed rather +distantly. Marjorie had conceived an instant and violent dislike for +this lynx-eyed stranger. "Take Miss Dean to the locker room, then to +Miss Merton. Say to Miss Merton that Miss Dean is a freshman, and that I +wish her assigned to a desk in the freshman section." + +With a last glance of pleasant approval, which Marjorie's pretty face, +dainty attire and frank, yet modest bearing had evoked, the principal +retired to her inner office, and Marjorie obediently followed her guide, +who, without speaking, set off down the corridor at almost unnecessary +speed. "This way," she directed curtly as they reached the main +corridor. They passed down the corridor, descended a second stairway and +brought up directly in front of long rows of lockers. Within five +minutes Marjorie's hat had been put away, and she had received a locker +key. This done, her companion hurried her upstairs and down the wide +corridor through which they had first come. + +Then she suddenly opened a door, and Marjorie found herself in an +enormous square room, which contained row upon row of shining oak desks, +occupied by what seemed to her hundreds of pupils. In reality there were +not more than two hundred and forty persons in the room, but in the eyes +of the little stranger everything was quadrupled. How different it was +from Franklin! So this was the study hall, one of the things on which +the school prided itself. In front of the rows of desks was one large +desk on a small raised platform, reminding Marjorie of an island in the +midst of a sea. At the desk sat a small, gray-haired woman, who peered +suspiciously over her glasses at Marjorie as she was lifelessly +introduced by Miss Arnold. + +"I don't like _her_ at all," was the young girl's inward comment as she +walked behind the stiff, uncompromising, black-clothed back to a desk +almost in the middle of the last row of seats on the east side. But +Marjorie experienced a little shiver of delight as she seated herself, +for directly in front of her, and gazing at her with reassuring, smiling +eyes, was the Picture Girl. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH THE PICTURE GIRL + + +"Welcome to Sanford," whispered the girl, "and to the freshman class. I +was sure when I saw you the other day you couldn't be anything other +than a freshman." + +Marjorie flushed, then smiled faintly. "I didn't think any of the girls +would remember me," she confessed. + +"Oh, I remember you perfectly. You were across the street from school on +three different days, weren't you?" + +Marjorie nodded. "I just had to come down and get acquainted with the +outside of the school. I was awfully curious about it." + +"Miss Harding," a cold voice at their elbows caused both girls to start. +So intent had they been on their conversation that they had not noticed +Miss Merton's approach, "you may answer any questions Miss Dean wishes +to ask regarding our course of study here as set forth in our +curriculum." She laid a closely printed sheet of paper before Marjorie. +"This does not mean, however, the personal conversation in which, I am +sorry to say, you appeared to be engrossed when I approached. Remember, +Miss Dean, that personal conversation will neither be excused nor +tolerated in the study hall. I trust I shall not have to remind you of +this again." + +Marjorie watched with unseeing eyes the angular form of the teacher as +she retreated to her platform. If Miss Merton had dealt her a blow on +her upturned face, it could have hurt no more severely than had this +unlooked-for reprimand. She was filled with a choking sense of shame +that threatened to end in a burst of angry sobs. The deep blush that had +risen to her face receded, leaving her very white. Those students +sitting in her immediate vicinity had, of course, heard Miss Merton. She +glanced quickly about to encounter two pairs of eyes. One pair was blue +and, it seemed to the embarrassed newcomer, sympathetic. Their owner was +the "Mary" girl, who sat two seats behind her in the next aisle. The +other pair was cruelly mocking, and they belonged to the girl that +Marjorie had mentally styled the Evil Genius. Something in their +taunting depths stirred an hitherto unawakened chord in gentle Marjorie +Dean. She returned the insolent gaze with one so full of steady strength +and defiance that the girl's eyes dropped before it and she devoted +herself assiduously to the open book which she held in her hand. + +"Don't mind Miss Merton," whispered Muriel, comfortingly. "She is the +worst crank I ever saw. No one likes her. I don't believe even Miss +Archer does. She's been here for ages, so the Board of Education thinks +that Sanford High can't run without her, I guess." + +"I'm so mortified and ashamed," murmured Marjorie. "On my first day, +too." + +"Don't think about it," soothed Muriel. "What studies are you going to +take? I hope you will recite in some of my classes. Wait a moment. I'll +come back there and sit with you; then we'll make less noise. Miss +Merton told me to help you, you know," she reminded, with a soft +chuckle. + +The fair head and the dark one bent earnestly over the printed sheet. +Marjorie whispered her list of subjects to her new friend, who jotted +them down on the margin of the program. + +"How about 9.15 English Comp?" she asked. "That's my section." + +Marjorie nodded her approval. + +"Then you can recite algebra with me at 10.05, and there's a first-year +French class at 11.10. That brings three subjects in the morning. Now, +let me see about your history. If you can make your history and +physiology come the first two periods in the afternoon, you will be +through by three o'clock and can have that last half hour for study or +gym, or whatever you like. I am carrying only four subjects, so I have +nothing but physical geography in the afternoon. I am through reciting +every day by 2 o'clock, so I learn most of my lessons in school and +hardly ever take my books home. If I were you, I'd drop one +subject--American History, for instance. You can study it later. The +freshman class is planning a lot of good times for this winter, and, of +course, you want to be in them, too, don't you?" + +"I should say so," beamed Marjorie. "Still," her face sobering, "I think +I won't drop history. It's easy, and I love it." + +"Well, I don't," emphasized Muriel. "By the way, do you play +basketball?" + +"I played left guard on our team last year, and I had just been chosen +for center on the freshman team, at Franklin High, when I left there," +was the whispered reply. + +"That's encouraging," declared Muriel. "We haven't chosen our team yet. +We are to have a tryout at four o'clock on Friday afternoon in the +gymnasium. You can go to the meeting with me, although you will have met +most of the freshman class before Friday. Oh, yes, did Miss Archer tell +you that we report in the study hall at half-past eight o'clock on +Monday and Friday mornings? We have chapel exercises, and woe be unto +you if you are late. It's an unforgivable offense in Miss Merton's eyes +to walk into chapel after the service has begun. If you are late, you +take particular pains to linger around the corridor until the line +comes out of chapel, then you slide into your section and march into the +study hall as boldly as though you'd never been late in your life," +ended Muriel with a giggle, which she promptly smothered. + +"But what if Miss Merton sees one?" + +Muriel made a little resigned gesture. "Try it some day and see. There's +the 9.15 bell. Come along. If we hurry we'll have a minute with the +girls before class begins. All of my chums recite English this first +hour. You needn't stop at Miss Merton's desk. It'll be all right." + +Marjorie walked down the aisle behind Muriel, looking rather worried. +Then she touched Muriel's arm. "I think I'd rather stop and speak to +Miss Merton," she said with soft decision. + +"All right," the response came indifferently as Muriel, a bored look on +her youthful face, walked on ahead. + +Marjorie walked bravely up to the teacher. "Miss Merton, I have arranged +my studies and recitation hours. Miss Harding is going to show me the +way to the English composition class." + +Miss Merton stared coldly at the girl's vivid, colorless face, framed in +its soft brown curls. Her own youth had been prim and narrow, and she +felt that she almost hated this girl whose expressive features gave +promise of remarkable personality and abundant joy of living. + +"Very well." The disagreeable note of dismissal in the teacher's voice +angered Marjorie. + +"I'll never again speak to her unless it's positively necessary," she +resolved resentfully. "I wish I'd taken Miss Harding's advice." + +"Well, did she snap your head off?" inquired Muriel as Marjorie joined +her. + +"No," was the brief answer. + +"It's a wonder. There goes the third bell. It's on to English comp for +us. I won't have time to introduce you to the girls. We'll have to wait +until noon. Miss Flint teaches English. She's a dear, and everyone likes +her." + +Muriel's voice dropped on her last speech, for they were now entering +the classroom. At the first flat-topped desk in one corner of the room +sat a small, fair woman with a sweet, sunshiny face that quite won +Marjorie to her. + +"Miss Flint, this is Miss Dean," began Muriel, as they stopped before +the desk. "She is a freshman and has just been registered in the study +hall by Miss Merton." + +A long, earnest glance passed between teacher and pupil, then Marjorie +felt her hand taken between two small, warm palms. "I am sure Miss Dean +and I are going to be friends," said a sweet, reassuring voice that +amply made up for Miss Merton's stiffness. "Are you a stranger in +Sanford, my dear? I am sure I have never seen you before." + +"We have lived here a week," smiled Marjorie. "We moved here from +B----." + +"How interesting. Were you a student of Franklin High School? I have a +dear friend who teaches English there." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Marjorie, her eyes sparkling, "do you mean Miss +Fielding?" + +"Yes," returned Miss Flint. "We were best friends during our college +days, too. Hampton College is our alma mater." + +"That is where I hope to go when I finish high school. Miss Fielding has +told me so many nice things about Hampton," was Marjorie's eager reply. +Then she added impetuously, "I'm going to like Sanford, too. I'm quite +sure of it." + +"That is the right spirit in which to begin your work here," was the +instant response. "I will assign you to that last seat in the third row. +We do not change seats. Each girl is given her own place for the year." + +Marjorie thanked Miss Flint, and made her way to the seat indicated. The +sound of footsteps in the corridor had ceased. A tall girl in the front +row of desks slipped from her seat and closed the door. Miss Flint rose, +faced her class, and the recitation began. + +After the class was dismissed Miss Flint detained Marjorie for a moment +to ask a few questions regarding her text and note books. Muriel waited +in the corridor. Her face wore an expression of extreme satisfaction. +It looked as though the new freshman might be a distinct addition to the +critical little company of girls who had set themselves as rulers and +arbiters of the freshman class. She was pretty, wore lovely clothes, +lived in a big house in a select neighborhood, had played center on a +city basketball team, and was the friend of Miss Flint's friend. To be +sure, Mignon La Salle might raise some objection to the newcomer. Mignon +was so unreasonably jealous. But for all her money, Mignon must not be +allowed always to have her own way. Muriel was sure the rest of the +girls would be quite in favor of adding Marjorie Dean to their number. +They needed one more girl to complete their sextette. To Marjorie should +fall the honor. + +"I'll introduce her to the girls this noon, and let them look her over. +Then I'll have a talk with them to-night and see what they think," +planned Muriel as she went back to the study hall at Marjorie's side. + +There was a hurried exchange of books, then Marjorie was rushed off to +her algebra recitation. Here she found herself at least two weeks ahead +of the others, and was able to solve a problem at the blackboard that +had puzzled several members of the class, thereby winning a reputation +for herself as a mathematician to which it afterward proved anything but +easy to live up to. + +While in both her English and algebra classes Marjorie had searched the +room with alert eyes for the girl who looked like Mary. She felt vaguely +disappointed. She had hoped to come into closer contact with her. She +liked Muriel, she decided, but she did not altogether understand her +half-cordial, half-joking manner. She was rather glad that she was to go +to her French class alone. She had told Muriel not to bother. She could +find the classroom by herself. + +As she clicked down the short, left-hand, third floor corridor, she saw +just ahead of her a little blue-clad figure passing through the very +doorway for which she was making. An instant and she too had entered the +room. She stared about her, then walked to a seat directly opposite to +the one now occupied by the girl that looked like Mary. For a brief +moment the girl eyed Marjorie indifferently, then something in the +scrutiny of the other girl evidently annoyed her. She drew her straight +dark brows together in a displeased frown, and deliberately turned her +face away. + +By this time perhaps a dozen girls had entered, and, as the clang of the +third bell echoed through the school, an alert little man with a thin, +sensitive face and timid brown eyes, bustled into the room and carefully +closed the door. Hardly had he taken his hand from the knob when the +door was flung open, this time to admit a sharp-featured girl with +bright, dark eyes and a cruel, thin-lipped mouth. Smiling maliciously, +she swung the door shut with an echoing bang. The meek little professor +looked reproachfully at the offender, who did not even appear to see +him. + +"The Evil Genius," recognized Marjorie. Her eyes strayed furtively +toward the Mary girl, who had not paid the slightest attention to this +late arrival. "What a hateful person that black-eyed girl is," ran on +Marjorie's thoughts. "I know it was she who made that nice girl cry the +other day. I wish she wasn't quite so distant. The nice girl, I mean. +Oh, dear. I forgot to go up to the professor's desk and register. That's +his fault. He came in late. He'll see me in a minute and ask who I am." + +To her extreme surprise, the little man paid no particular attention to +her, but, opening his grammar, began the giving out of the next day's +lesson. This he explained volubly and with many gestures. Marjorie's +lips curved into a half smile as she compared this rather noisy +instructor with Professor Rousseau, of Franklin. Later, when he called +upon his pupils to recite, however, he was a different being. His +politely sarcastic arraignment of those who floundered through the +lessons, accompanied by certain ominous marks he placed after their +names in a fat black book that lay on his desk, plainly showed that, +despite his mild appearance, he was a force yet to be reckoned with. + +"I hope he doesn't notice me until class is over," fidgeted Marjorie. +"It surely must be time for that bell to ring." She began nervously to +count those who were due to recite before her turn came. It would be so +embarrassing to do her explaining before this group of strange girls, +particularly before the Evil Genius. Ah, she had begun to read! And how +beautifully she read French! The critical professor was listening to the +smooth flow of words that tripped from her tongue with approbation +written on every feature. "She must have studied French before," +speculated Marjorie, as the professor directed the next girl to go on +with the exercise; "or else she is French. I believe she is. Oh, dear, +only two more girls." + +Clang! sounded the bell. + +"Thank goodness," breathed the relieved freshman. + +There was a general closing of books. "To-morrow I shall geev you a +wreetten test," warned Professor Fontaine. Then the second bell rang, +and the class filed out of the room. + +"Eet ees not strange that I haf overlooked you, Mademoiselle," explained +Professor Fontaine five minutes later, after listening to Marjorie's +apology for not presenting herself to him before class. "The freshmen +like to make so many alterations in their programs. They haf soch good +excuses for changeeng classes, but, sometimes, too, they do not tell +me. Eet maks exasperation." He waved his hands comprehensively. "I am +pleased," he added, with true French courtesy, "to haf another pupil. +Ees eet that you like the French, Mademoiselle Dean?" + +"It is a beautiful language, Professor Fontaine," Marjorie assured him. +"I have only begun learning it, but I like it so much." + +"C'est vrai," murmured the delighted professor. "La Francais est une +belle langue. If, then, you like it, you weel study your lessons, n'est +pas?" + +"I'll try very hard to make good recitations. I will bring my books +to-morrow. We used the same grammar at Franklin High School." + +Marjorie hastened back to the study hall to find it empty. The clock on +the north wall pointed significant hands to ten minutes past twelve. The +Picture Girl had said that she wished Marjorie to meet her friends, but +she was not waiting. It was disappointing, but her own fault, thought +the lonely freshman as she left the study hall and went slowly +downstairs to the locker room. She gave an impatient sigh as she pinned +on her hat. Exploring new territory wasn't half so interesting as she +could wish. Then a light footstep sounded at her side. A dignified +little voice said, stiffly, "Will you please allow me to get my hat?" + +Marjorie whirled about in amazement. Could she believe her eyes? The +voice belonged to the Mary girl; they were to share the same locker. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE PLEDGE + + +"Oh, I am so glad we are to have a locker together!" exclaimed Marjorie, +impulsively. "I've been very anxious to know you. I really owe you an +apology. I spoke to you in the street the other day. I don't know what +you thought of me, but you look so much like my dearest chum in +B---- that I called to you before I realized what I was doing." + +The other girl regarded Marjorie with the suspicious, uneasy eyes of a +cornered animal. Then, without answering, she reached for her hat and +was about to go silently on her way, when something in Marjorie's +gracious words seemed to touch her and she said, grudgingly, "I remember +you." + +"That's nice," beamed Marjorie. "I was afraid you wouldn't. Let me tell +you about my chum." She launched forth in an enthusiastic description of +Mary Raymond and of their long friendship. "I wrote Mary about having +seen a girl that looked like her. She will be very curious to see you. +She's coming to visit me some time during the year. So I hope you and I +will be friends. But I haven't even told you who I am. My name is +Marjorie Dean. Won't you please tell me yours?" She offered her hand +winningly, but the strange, self-contained young girl ignored it. + +"My name is Constance Stevens." Her voice was coldly reluctant, carrying +with it an unmistakable rebuff. + +Marjorie drew back, puzzled and hurt. She was not used to having her +friendly overtures rejected. The blue-eyed girl saw the shrinking +movement, and, stirred by some hitherto unknown impulse, stretched forth +her hand. "Please forgive me for being so rude," she said contritely. +"It is awfully sweet in you to tell me about your chum and to say that +you wish to be my friend. You are the first girl, who has been so nice +with me since I came to Sanford. How I hate them!" Her expressive face +darkened and her blue eyes became filled with brooding, sullen anger. + +"Are you going home to luncheon now?" asked Marjorie, with a view toward +keeping away from disagreeable subjects. + +The other girl nodded, then, pinning on her hat, the two left the +building. Marjorie wished to ask questions, but she did not know how to +begin with this strange, moody girl. There were so many things to say. +"Do you play basketball?" she asked, almost timidly, when they had +traversed three blocks in silence. + +Constance shook her head. "I don't even know the game, let alone trying +to play it. Do you play?" + +"Yes. I have played every position on the team. I was chosen for center +of the freshman team at Franklin High just before I came here. One of +the freshmen has asked me to go to the tryout on Friday." + +The Mary girl looked wistfully at Marjorie. "I'm going to tell you +something," she announced with finality. "Truly, it's for your own good. +You mustn't try to be friends with me. If you do, you'll be sorry. We, +my father and I, are nobodies in this town. Father's a broken-down +musician who teaches the violin for a living. I've a little lame +brother, and we take care of a poor old musician, who, people say, is +crazy. He isn't, though. He's merely childish. + +"People call us Bohemians and gypsies and even vagabonds. They don't +understand that our greatest crime is just being poor. The girls in the +freshman class make fun of me and call me a tramp and a beggar behind my +back. One girl did try to be the least bit pleasant with me, but she +soon stopped. We've been in Sanford only two months, but it seems like a +hundred years. At first I was glad to think I was going to high school. +How I hate it now! But they sha'n't drive me away. I'll get my +education in spite of everything." Her lips drew together with resolute +purpose. + +"So, you see," her voice grew gentle, "you mustn't waste your time upon +me. The girls won't like you if you do, and you don't know how dreadful +it is to be left out of everything. Of course, you can speak to me, +but----" She paused and looked eloquent meaning at Marjorie. Her late +aloofness had quite vanished. Her small face was now soft and friendly, +making the resemblance to happy-go-lucky Mary Raymond more apparent. + +Marjorie laughed. Those who knew her best would have understood that her +laughter meant defiance. "I don't choose my friends because they are +rich or because others like them. I choose them because I want them +myself," she declared with a proud lift of her head. "I knew that +someone had been horrid to you the first day I ever saw you. I heard +several girls talking of you afterward. At least, I think they were +talking of you. I said to myself then that they had misjudged you. So I +went home and wrote my letter to Mary. I told mother all about you, too, +and that I was going to be your friend, if you would let me. I want you +to come and see me and meet mother and father. As for the girls in the +freshman class, I'd like to be friends with them, too, but I couldn't do +anything so contemptible and unfair as to dislike a girl just because +they thought they did. Now, you know what I think about it. Are we +going to share our locker and our troubles and our pleasures?" + +The tears flashed across Constance Stevens' eyes. Her hand slid into +Marjorie's, and thus began a friendship between the two freshmen that +was to defy time and change. + +They separated on the next corner and, throwing dignity to the winds, +Marjorie raced up the long walk and into the house to see if her captain +was better. + +"I came to report, Captain," she said gently as she tiptoed up to her +mother's bed. "How are you, dear?" + +"Better, Lieutenant," returned her mother, kissing the pretty, flushed +face. "Now for the report." + +"You are sure I won't make your head ache with my chatter?" + +"No, dear; it is ever so much better now." + +Marjorie went faithfully through with the events of the morning. "I had +to stand by my colors, Captain. I wouldn't be fit to be a soldier if I +didn't know how to stand fast. Just as though it makes any difference +whether a girl is rich or poor if she's a dear and one likes her. How +can some girls be so silly? They wouldn't be if they had Mary's and my +military training. When in doubt ask your captain." + +She laughed gaily, then her merry glance changed to one of dismay. "Good +gracious! It's fifteen minutes to one. I'll have to eat my luncheon in +a hurry." With a hasty kiss Marjorie flitted from the room and down the +stairs to the dining-room. + +After luncheon she lingered for a brief moment with her mother, then set +off for the afternoon session of school. But she could not help +wondering as she walked just how it would seem to be in the freshman +class but not of it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WARNING + + +The afternoon session of school passed uneventfully for Marjorie. She +had returned too late from luncheon to hold more than a few words of +conversation with the Picture Girl. In spite of the watchful espionage +of Miss Merton, whose eyes seemed riveted to her side of the room, +Muriel managed to convey to Marjorie the news that the girls were dying +to meet her and were so sorry they had missed her at noon. + +"We waited for you more than ten minutes," Muriel whispered guardedly. +"Mignon saw you stop at Professor Fontaine's desk. We knew what that +meant. It always takes him forever to explain anything. Do you remember +a black-haired, black-eyed girl in the French class this morning? She +wore the sweetest brown crêpe-de-chine dress. Well, that's Mignon La +Salle. Her father is the richest man in Sanford. Mignon could go away to +school if she liked, but she doesn't care about it. Tell you more +later." + +Muriel faced front with a sudden jerk that could mean but one thing. +Marjorie cast a fleeting glance at Miss Merton. The teacher was frowning +angrily, as though about to deliver a rebuke. Luckily for the two girls, +the first recitation bell rang and they stood not upon the order of +their going, but went with alacrity. Once outside the study-hall door +they were safe. + +"I don't know what ails Miss Merton," complained Muriel. "She has never +said a word to me before. That's twice to-day she has shown her claws." + +"She doesn't like me," said Marjorie, calmly, "and I don't like her. I +think she is the rudest teacher I ever knew. It was I, not you that she +meant that scolding for this morning." + +"Nonsense!" scoffed Muriel. "She likes you as well as she likes the rest +of us. I don't believe she is awfully, terribly, fearfully fond of +girls. When she was young she must have been one of those stiff, prim +goody-goodies; the distressingly snippy sort that made all her friends +so tired." Muriel laughed softly. + +Marjorie smiled at Muriel's unflattering description of Miss Merton's +youth, then her face sobered. In her heart she knew that Miss Merton +disliked her, and the knowledge was not pleasant. She made an earnest +resolve to overcome the teacher's prejudice. She would make Miss Merton +like her. + +Muriel went with her as far as the door of the history room, which was +in charge of Miss Atkins, a stout, middle-aged woman, who beamed amiably +upon Marjorie, entered her name in the class register, motioned her to a +front seat and promptly appeared to forget her existence. But though +Miss Atkins exhibited small personal interest in her new pupil, such was +not the case with regard to the subject which she taught. The lesson +dealt with the coming of the Virginia colonists, their settlement in +Jamestown and the final burning of the town. Miss Atkins' vivid +description of the colonists' determined struggles to gain a foothold in +the New World was well worth listening to. The reading of extracts from +special reference books pertaining to that gallant expedition into the +treacherous forests of an unknown, untried country made the lesson seem +doubly interesting. When the recitation was over Marjorie went back to +the study hall congratulating herself on the fact that she had not +dropped history, and reflecting that no one would ever have suspected +Miss Atkins of being so fascinating. + +As she groped in her desk for her textbook on physiology, she looked +about her for some sign of Constance Stevens. She recollected that she +had not seen her in her seat when the afternoon session began. The +moment her recitation in physiology was over she hastened to the locker +room. No, her new friend's hat was not there. She had not returned to +school after luncheon. Marjorie reached for her own hat, vaguely +wondering what had happened to keep Constance away from school. + +She stood meditatively poking her hatpins in and out of her hat, when +the sound of footsteps on the stairs came to her ears. School was over +for the day. She put on her hat in a hurry, took a swift peep at herself +as she passed the one large mirror that hung at the end of the +freshmen's lockers, and ran up the stairs. She would not disappoint +Muriel's friends again. + +This time she was first on the scene, standing on the identical spot +where she had stood the day Constance rushed weeping past her. Why +didn't her class come out? Surely she had heard their footsteps on the +stairs. But it was fully five minutes before the stream of girls began +to issue from the big doors. Then Muriel appeared, surrounded by her +friends, and in another instant the girl with the dimples, the +fair-haired girl, the stout girl and the Evil Genius were, with varying +degrees of friendliness, telling Marjorie Dean that they were glad to +meet her. + +Susan Atwell said so frankly with a delightful show of dimples. Irma +Linton looked the acme of gentle friendliness. Geraldine Macy's face +wore an expression of open admiration. Mignon La Salle's greeting, +however, was distinctly reserved. To be sure, she smiled; but Muriel, +who had been furtively watching her, knew that the French girl was not +pleased with the idea of admitting another girl to their fellowship. + +"The rest of the girls like her," thought Muriel. "Mignon will find +she'll have to give in this time." Purposely, to make sure she was +right, she said boldly: "Miss Dean, will you go to the basketball tryout +with us on Friday afternoon?" + +"Yes, do," urged Geraldine Macy, eagerly. + +"We'd love to have you," came from Susan Atwell. "We understand that you +are a star player." + +"Of course you must," smiled Irma Linton. + +The French girl alone hesitated. Her eyes roved speculatively from one +face to another, then she said suavely, "Come by all means, Miss Dean. +It will be quite interesting." + +"Thank you. I shall be pleased to go with you." Marjorie ignored +Mignon's slight hesitation, although she had noted it. "I wonder if you +are all as fond of basketball as I," she went on quickly. "It's a +splendid game, isn't it?" + +Her new acquaintances answered with emphasis that it was certainly a +great game, and, the ice now broken, they began to ply their new +acquaintance with questions. How did she like Sanford? Did it seem +strange to her after a big city high school? What subjects had she +selected? Had she met any other girls besides themselves? + +Marjorie answered them readily enough. She was glad to be one of a +crowd of girls again. + +"Have you met any other girls?" asked Geraldine Macy, abruptly. + +"I met a Miss Seymour before I had even gone as far as Miss Archer's +office. She is a delightful girl, isn't she?" + +No one of the five girls made answer. The little freshman regarded them +perplexedly. + +"Mm!" ejaculated Muriel Harding. "You wouldn't think her quite so nice +if you knew as much about her as we do. Wait until you see her play +basketball. She plays center on the sophomore team, and she makes some +very peculiar plays. She's always creating trouble, too. She and some of +her sophomore friends seem to have a particular grudge against Mignon. +They are forever criticising her playing. They have even gone so far as +to say that we don't play fairly; that we are tricky. The idea!" Muriel +looked highly offended at the mere idea of any such thing. + +Marjorie listened without comment. Muriel's ready tirade against the +pleasant-faced sophomore who had willingly offered her services that +morning made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. Then Miss Seymour's +straightforward speech to Miss Archer came back to her. The sophomore +had been generous to her enemies, if they were enemies, in that she had +refused to mention any names. Marjorie wondered if Muriel or Mignon +would be equally generous in the same circumstances. She resolved to say +nothing of what she had been privileged to hear. It was not hers to +tell. + +Suddenly she divined, rather than saw, Mignon's elfish eyes fixed upon +her. "You met another girl, at noon, did you not, Miss Dean?" asked the +French girl, with an almost sarcastic inflection. + +"Yes; Miss Stevens," was the composed answer. "We share the same locker. +She is a nice girl, too, and I like her very much, so, please, don't say +anything against her," she ended, in half-smiling warning. + +Mignon La Salle's face grew dark. She recognized the challenging note in +the new girl's tone. Muriel, too, frowned. Susan Atwell sidled up to +Mignon, Irma Linton looked distressed and Geraldine Macy calmly curious +as to what would come next. It came in the way of a small tempest, for +the French girl lost her temper over Marjorie's retort. + +She stamped her foot in childish rage, saying vehemently: "She is a +nobody, that Stevens person, and her family are vagabonds. You will make +a great mistake if you choose her for your friend." Then, her rage +receding as suddenly as it had come, she shrugged her shoulders +deprecatingly. "Pardonnez moi." She bowed to Marjorie. "I spoke too +strongly. It is not for me to choose Miss Dean's friends." Slipping her +arm through Muriel's, she drew her ahead of the others. Susan Atwell +took a hurried step forward and caught her other arm, leaving Marjorie +to walk between Irma and Geraldine. + +"Don't mind her," said Jerry, in a low voice. "She has it in for that +Miss Stevens. She, the Stevens girl, did something, no one knows what, +to make Mignon angry with her. Mignon says Miss Stevens talked about her +and Muriel and Susan believed it, but Irma and I are not so silly." + +Two blocks further on Marjorie bade good-bye to the five girls. She said +it without enthusiasm. Their carping, quarrelsome attitude had taken all +the pleasure from knowing them. She made mental exception in favor of +Irma and Jerry. The gentleness of the one and the sturdy, outspoken +manner of the other had impressed her favorably. But she was sorely +disappointed in Muriel. + +Should she tell her mother of the disagreeable ending of her first day? +She decided not to do so. She would carry nothing save pleasant tales to +her captain to-day. And so that night, when she entered the living-room +and found her mother, in a becoming negligee, occupying the wide leather +couch by the window, she saluted, like a dutiful soldier, and included +in her report only the pleasant happenings of her first, +never-to-be-forgotten day in Sanford High School. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +STANDING BY HER COLORS + + +When Marjorie took her seat in the study hall the next morning, Muriel's +greeting was as affable as it had been before the disagreement of the +previous afternoon. She even went so far as to whisper, "Don't take +Mignon too seriously. She is really dreadfully hurt over the unkind +things Miss Stevens has said of her." + +Marjorie listened in polite silence to the Picture Girl's rather lame +apology in behalf of her friend. She could think of nothing to say. +Muriel had turned about in her seat, her eyes fixed expectantly upon the +other girl. But just then came an unexpected interruption. + +"Miss Dean," shrilled Miss Merton's high, querulous voice, "who gave you +permission to leave school before the regular hour of dismissal +yesterday afternoon?" + +"I did not----" began the astonished girl. + +"Young woman, do you mean to contradict me?" thundered Miss Merton. + +Marjorie had now risen to her feet. Her pretty face had turned very +white, her brown eyes gleamed like two angry flames. "I had no intention +of contradicting you, Miss Merton." Her low, steady tones were full of +repressed indignation. "What I had begun to say was that I did not know +I was expected to return to the study hall after my last class. In the +high school which I attended in B---- we went from our last class to our +locker rooms. It is, of course, my fault. I should have inquired about +it beforehand." The freshman quietly resumed her seat. + +Every pair of eyes in the room was turned upon Marjorie. + +Miss Merton, however, had no intention of letting her off so easily. +"The rules and regulations of another high school do not, in the least, +interest me, Miss Dean," she said, with biting sarcasm. "It is my +business to see that the rules of _Sanford_ High School are enforced, +and I propose to do it. You have been a pupil in this school for only +one day, yet I have been obliged to reprimand you on two different +occasions. If you annoy me further I shall consider myself fully +justified in sending you to Miss Archer." + +The ringing of the first recitation bell put an end to the little scene. +Marjorie rose from her seat and marched from the study hall, her head +held high. If Miss Merton expected her to break down and cry she would +find herself sadly mistaken. Muriel overtook her in the corridor. "My, +but Miss Merton hates you!" she commented cheerfully, as though enjoying +her classmate's discomfiture. + +Marjorie made no reply. Her proud spirit was too deeply crushed for +words. She went through her recitation in English that morning like one +in a dream. Several times during her French hour she gazed appealingly +at Constance, but the Mary girl kept her fair head turned resolutely +away. She did not appear at her locker either at noon or after school +was over, although Marjorie lingered, in the hope that she would come. + +So successfully did she manage to steer clear of Marjorie, who was too +proud to make advances in the face of Constance's marked avoidance, +that, when Friday came and the afternoon session was over, Marjorie was +escorted to the gymnasium by the Picture Girl and her friends, who, even +to Mignon, believed that the newcomer had been wise and taken their +brusque advice. + +At least half of the freshman class had elected to try for a place on +the team. Miss Randall, the instructor in gymnastics, and several +seniors had been chosen to pick the team, and when the six girls arrived +on the scene the testing had begun. Mignon La Salle was the first of +their group to play. Her almost marvelous agility, her quick, catlike +springs and her fleetness of foot called forth unstinted praise from +Marjorie. Muriel, too, played a skilful game; so did Susan Atwell. When +Marjorie was called upon to play left guard on a team composed of the +last lot of aspirants for basketball honors, she advanced to her +position rather nervously. Muriel, Mignon, Susan Atwell and two +freshmen, whom she did not know, were to oppose her. She wondered if she +could play fast enough to keep up with her clever opponents. Then, as +she caught the French girl's elfish eyes fixed upon her, mocking +incredulity in their depths, she rallied her doubting spirit and +resolved to outplay even Mignon. + +Fifteen minutes later Marjorie Dean had been chosen to play left guard +on a team of which Mignon was center, Muriel, right guard, Susan Atwell, +right forward, and a freshman named Harriet Delaney, left forward. +Muriel had also been made captain, and several girls were chosen as +substitutes. + +"Hurrah for the new team!" cried Muriel Harding. "Let's call ourselves +the Invincibles. You certainly can play basketball, Miss Dean. How lucky +in you to come to Sanford just when we need you. By the way, 'Miss Dean' +is too formal. Please let us call you Marjorie. You can call us by our +first names. What's the use of so much formality among team-mates?" + +Being merely a very human young girl, Marjorie could not help feeling a +little bit pleased with herself. She was glad she had played so well. +She felt that she had really begun to like her new associates very much. +Even Mignon must have her good points; and how wonderfully well she +played basketball! Perhaps Constance Stevens had been just a little bit +at fault. Certainly she had acted very queerly after that first day when +they had pledged their friendship. Had she, Marjorie, been wise to avow +unswerving loyalty to a stranger, and all because she looked like Mary +Raymond? Marjorie's disquieting reflections were interrupted by +something the French girl was saying. + +"It was too funny for anything, wasn't it, Muriel?" Mignon laughed with +gleeful malice. + +"Yes," nodded Muriel. "We gave the sophomores a bad scare." + +"What did you do?" asked Irma Linton, curiously. + +Seeing that she had the attention of her audience, the French girl +began. + +"You remember the practice game we played against the sophomores last +week? According to my way of thinking, the sophomores played a very +rough game. I complained to Miss Seymour, their captain. She laughed at +me," Mignon scowled at the remembrance, "so I decided to teach her a +lesson." + +"I told Muriel about it, and between us we made up a dialogue. It was +all about the sophomores' unfair playing, and how surprised they would +be when they found themselves forbidden to play basketball. Then we +managed to walk out of school behind two girls that always tell +everything they know, and recited our dialogue. The next morning Muriel +saw one of the girls talking to Miss Seymour for all she was worth, so +we know that she faithfully repeated everything she heard. Miss Seymour +wouldn't dare go to Miss Archer with it for fear Miss Archer would ask +too many questions. You know Miss Archer said last year when Inez +Chester made such a fuss about her sprained wrist that if ever again one +team reported another for rough playing she would disband the accused +team and have Miss Randall select a new one. So I imagine we gave our +friends the sophs something to think about." + +"But who told you the sophomores would be forbidden to play?" demanded +candid Jerry. + +"No one told us, silly," retorted Muriel, her color rising. "We simply +said they would be surprised when they found themselves forbidden to +play. 'When' may mean next week or next month, or next year or century, +or any other time. We were only talking for their general edification." + +"Then nobody actually said a word about it?" persisted Jerry. "You just +made up all that stuff?" + +"It didn't do any hurt," began Muriel. "We thought----" + +"Don't be such a prig, Jerry," put in Mignon, impatiently. "It isn't +half so wicked to play a joke on those stupid sophomores as it is to ask +one's mother for money for a fountain pen, and then use the money for +candy and ice cream." + +There was a chorus of giggles from the girls, in which Jerry did not +join. She was eyeing Mignon steadily. "See here, Mignon," she said with +offended dignity. "I just want you to know that I told my mother about +that money that very same night. I may have my faults, but I certainly +don't tell things that aren't true." Jerry punctuated this pertinent +speech with emphatic nods of her head, and, having said her say, walked +on a little ahead of her friends, the picture of belligerence. + +"Now, you've made Jerry angry, Mignon," laughed Susan Atwell. + +Mignon merely lifted her thin shoulders. "I can't please every one. If I +did, I should never please myself." + +"I don't know what ails Jerry all of a sudden," commented Muriel to +Marjorie. "She isn't usually so--so funny." + +Again Marjorie kept her own counsel. She, alone, knew that the object of +the rumor which Muriel and Mignon had started had failed. Ellen Seymour +had gone frankly to headquarters with it, and Miss Archer had asked no +questions. Marjorie wondered what these girls would say if they knew +the truth. She did not like to criticize them, but were they truly +honorable? For a moment she wished she had refused to play on the team +with them. Muriel and Mignon, in particular, seemed so careless of other +people's feelings. + +Her sympathies were with Jerry, and quickening her pace she slipped her +arm through that of the fat girl, saying, "Don't you think to-morrow's +algebra lesson is hard?" + +Jerry viewed her companion's smiling face rather sulkily. Then +succumbing to the other's charm, she said in a mollified tone: "Of +course it's hard. They're all hard. I know I shall never pass in +algebra." + +"Oh, yes, you will," was Marjorie's cheerful assurance. "It's my hardest +study, too; but I'm going to pass my final examination in it. I've +simply made up my mind that I must do it." + +"Then I'll make up my mind to pass, too," announced Jerry, inspired by +Marjorie's determined tones. "And, say, it would be splendid if we could +do our lessons together sometimes. My mother likes me to bring my school +friends home." + +"So does mine," returned Marjorie, cordially. "She says home is the +place for me to entertain my schoolmates. I hope you will come to see me +soon. It's your turn first, you know. Oh, please pardon me a moment, I +must speak to this girl!" The cause of this sudden exclamation was a +young woman in a well-worn blue suit who was coming across the street +directly ahead of them. + +"Oh, Constance!" hailed Marjorie, "I have been looking for you. Stop a +minute!" Marjorie stood waiting for her friend with eager face and +outstretched hand. By this time the four other girls had come abreast of +the trio and had passed them, Irma Linton being the only one of them who +bowed to Constance. Jerry stood beside Marjorie for an instant, then +walked on and overtook her chums. + +"Please don't stop," begged Constance, her face expressing the liveliest +worry. "Really, you mustn't try to be friends with me. I wish to take +back my part of our compact. You've been chosen to play on the team, and +those girls seem to like you. I can't stand in your way, and my +friendship won't be worth anything to you, so just let's forget all we +said the other day." + +Marjorie stared hard at the other girl, the pathetic droop of whose lips +looked for all the world like Mary's when things went wrong. "You don't +mean that, and I won't give you up," she said with fine stubbornness. "I +haven't time to talk about it now. I must catch up with those girls. +Wait for me at our locker to-morrow noon, please, _please_." + +With a hasty squeeze of Constance's hand, Marjorie raced on up the +street to overtake her companions. They were so busily engaged in +discussing her, however, that they did not hear her approach, and +consequently did not lower their voices. + +"I will not speak to her; I will not play with her on the team!" she +heard Mignon La Salle sputter angrily. + +"We certainly don't care to bother with her if she's going to take up +with all sorts of low people." This loftily from Muriel, who was afraid +to cross the French girl. + +"My mother told me never to speak to any of those crazy Stevens +persons," added Susan Atwell, with a toss of her curly head. "I don't +care so very much for this Dean girl, either." + +"Oh, you make me tired, the whole lot of you," cried Jerry, with angry +contempt. "Marjorie Dean is nicer than all of you put together, and if +she likes that little white-faced Stevens girl, then the girl is all +right, even if her family were ragpickers. I'm ashamed of myself for +being so silly as to listen to any of Mignon's complaints against her. +You can do as you like, but if it's a case of being your friend or +Marjorie's, then I guess I'd rather be hers." + +"Thank you, Geraldine." Marjorie's quiet voice caused the party to turn, +then exchange sheepish glances. "I don't wish you to quarrel over me," +she went on. "I should like to be friends with all of you, but none of +you can choose my friends for me any more than I can choose yours for +you." + +"You can't chum with us and be the friend of that Miss Stevens," +muttered Mignon. "She is my enemy. Do you understand?" + +"I am sorry to hear that," returned Marjorie, keeping her temper with +difficulty, "but she is not mine. I like her. I shall stand up for her +and be her friend as long as we go to Sanford High School. I am sorry to +seem disagreeable, but I shouldn't feel the least bit true to myself if +I were afraid to say what I think. This is my street. Good-bye." + +Marjorie walked proudly away from the group. An instant and she heard +the patter of running feet behind her. + +"You can't get rid of us so easily," panted Geraldine Macy. + +"I think you are right, Marjorie," said Irma Linton, quietly, putting +out her hand. "I should like to be your friend." + +And the dividing of the sextette of girls was the dividing of the +freshman class of Sanford High School. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A BITTER MOMENT + + +Marjorie went soberly up the steps of her home that afternoon. Her +pleasure in making the team had been short-lived. She wondered if it +would not be better to write her resignation. How could she bear to play +on a team when three of the members had decided to drop her +acquaintance? Still, they had not chosen her to play on the team; why, +then, should she resign? She decided to consult her captain on the +subject; then changed her mind. She would not trouble her mother with +such petty grievances. This prejudice against Constance Stevens had +originated wholly with Mignon La Salle. Perhaps the French girl would +soon forget it, and it would die a natural death. Marjorie was not +mortally hurt over the turn of the afternoon's affairs. She had not been +so deeply impressed with the importance of Mignon and her friends that +she failed to see their snobbish tendencies. She made mental exception +of Jerry and Irma. She was secretly glad that they had declared for her. +She liked Jerry's blunt independence and Irma's gentle, lovable +personality. With the optimism of sixteen, she declined to worry over +what had happened, and her report to her captain at the end of that +troubled afternoon included only the pleasant events of the day. + +When she went to school the next Monday morning she discovered that it +did hurt, just a trifle, to be deliberately cut by the Picture Girl, +and, instead of being greeted with Susan Atwell's dimpled smile, to +receive an icy stare from that young woman, as, later in the morning, +they passed each other in the corridor. + +In some mysterious manner the story of the disagreement had been noised +about the freshman class, with the result that Marjorie's acquaintance +was eagerly sought by a number of freshmen whom she knew merely by +sight, and that several girls, who had made it a point to smile and nod +to her, now passed her, frigid and unsmiling. + +As for the members of the little group Marjorie had watched so earnestly +before she had been enrolled as a freshman at Sanford, they were now +divided indeed. As the week progressed the "Terrible Trio," as Jerry had +satirically named Mignon, Muriel and Susan, endeavored to make plain to +whoever would listen to them that there was but one side to the story, +namely, their side. Emulating Marjorie's example, Jerry and Irma had +taken particular pains to be friendly with Constance Stevens. After an +eloquent dissertation on friendship, delivered by Marjorie at their +locker on the Monday morning following her disagreement with the other +girls, Constance had shed a few happy tears and admitted that she had +rather be "best friends" with Marjorie than anyone else in the world. + +The hardest part of it all for Marjorie was her basketball practice. It +was dreadful to be on speaking terms with only one girl on the team, +Harriet Delaney, and she was not overly cordial. Marjorie tried to +remember that Miss Randall had appointed her to her position, that the +right to play was hers; but the unfriendly players made her nervous, and +she lost her usual snap and daring. The second week's practice came, and +she resolved to play up to her usual form, but, try as she might, she +fell far short of the promise she had shown at the tryout. She also +noted uneasily that, no matter how early she reported for practice, the +team seemed always to be in the gymnasium before her and that one of the +substitutes invariably held her position. + +The freshmen had challenged the sophomores to play against them on the +first Saturday afternoon in November. It was now the latter part of +October and both teams were utilizing as much of their spare time as +possible in preparing for the fray. + +"Are you going to practice this afternoon?" whispered Geraldine Macy to +Marjorie as they left the algebra class on Monday morning. + +Marjorie nodded. + +"Oh, dear," grumbled Jerry under her breath. "I wanted to talk to you +about the Hallowe'en party." + +"What Hallowe'en party?" asked Marjorie, opening her eyes. + +"Haven't you your invitation?" It was Jerry's turn to look surprised. + +"I don't even know what you're talking about." + +Their entrance into the study hall put an end to the conversation. It +was renewed at noon, however, when Jerry, Irma, Marjorie and Constance +trooped out of the school building together, a seemingly contented +quartet. + +"Just imagine, girls," announced Jerry, excitedly. "Marjorie doesn't +know a thing about the Hallowe'en party. She hasn't her invitation +either. I think that's awfully queer." + +"I haven't mine, but I know all about it," put in Constance Stevens, +quietly. + +"Who has charge of the invitations?" asked Marjorie. + +"Miss Arnold. You'd better see her about yours to-day. Of course you +both want to go." + +"But what is it and where is it held?" questioned Marjorie. + +"It's a big dance. Weston High School, that's the boys' school, gives a +party to Sanford High on every Hallowe'en night. It's a town +institution and as unchangeable as any law the Medes and Persians ever +thought of making," informed Jerry. + +"Oh, how splendid!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I should like to know some nice +Sanford boys, and I love to dance!" + +"Then you ought to meet my brother Hal," declared Jerry, solemnly, "for +he's the nicest, handsomest, best boy I know." + +"Wait until you see the Crane," laughed Irma Linton. "He's the tallest +boy in high school. He's six feet two inches now. They say he hasn't +stopped growing, either, and he is awfully thin. That's why the boys +call him the 'Crane.' He doesn't mind it a bit. His real name is Sherman +Norwood, but no one ever calls him that except the teachers." + +During the rest of the walk home the coming dance was the sole subject +under discussion. Yes, the girls wore evening gowns, if they had them. +Lots of girls wore their best summer dresses. The leading caterer of +Sanford always had charge of the refreshments and the boys paid the +bills. There was a real orchestra, too. Of course all the teachers were +there, but the pokey ones went home early and the jolly ones, like Miss +Flint and Miss Atkins, stayed until the last dance. + +There were countless other questions to ask, but the luncheon hour was +too short to admit of any lingering on the corner. + +"I wish we had more time to talk," sighed Marjorie, reluctantly, as she +came to her street. "I'd love to hear more about the dance." + +"We'll tell you all there is to tell after school," promised Jerry. "Oh, +no, we can't either. You'll have to go to that old basketball practice. +What a nuisance it is. And to think you have to play on the team with +Mignon, Muriel and Susan, after the way they've treated you. Why don't +you resign?" + +"I don't believe I'll play next term," said Marjorie, slowly, "but I +feel as though I ought to stay on the team for the rest of this term. +Our game with the sophomores is set for two weeks from to-morrow; then, +I believe we are to play against two teams from nearby towns. It +wouldn't be fair to leave the team now, after having practiced with it." + +"I don't believe I'd bother my head much about that part of it," sniffed +Jerry, "I'd just quit." + +"No, you wouldn't, Geraldine Macy," laughed Irma. "You might grumble, +but you wouldn't be so hateful." + +"You don't know how hateful I can be," warned Jerry. "Some other girls +are likely to find out, though." + +"Good-bye. I must not stop here another second," declared Marjorie. + +"Good-bye!" floated after her as she walked rapidly toward home. + +"How goes it, Lieutenant?" asked her father, who, with her mother, was +already seated at the table as she entered the dining-room. + +"Pretty well, thank you, General," she replied, touching her hand to her +curly head. + +"I haven't heard you say a word about school for at least a week, my +dear," commented her mother. "Has the novelty of Sanford High worn off +so soon?" + +"No, indeed, Captain," returned Marjorie, earnestly. "I'm finding out +new things every day." She did not add that some of the "new things" had +not been agreeable, nor did she volunteer any further information +concerning her school. This touch of reticence on the part of her +usually talkative daughter caused her mother to look at her searchingly +and wonder if Marjorie had something on her mind which in due season +would be brought to light. The subject of the dance returning to the +young girl's thoughts, she began at once to talk of it, and her +enthusiastic description of the coming affair served to allay her +mother's vague impression that Marjorie was not quite happy, and she +entered into the important discussion of what her daughter should wear +with that unselfish interest belonging only to a mother. + +When Marjorie returned to school that afternoon she felt happier than +she had been since her advent into Sanford High School. The thought of +the coming dance brought with it a delightful thrill of anticipation. +She had always had such good times at the school dances given by her boy +and her girl chums of B----. She hoped she would enjoy this Hallowe'en +frolic. She wondered if the "Terrible Trio" would be there. She smiled +over Jerry's appropriate appellation, then frowned at herself for +countenancing it. Good soldiers didn't indulge in personalities. + +That afternoon she found it hard, however, to concentrate her +thoughts on her studies, and when Miss Atkins asked her on what day the +Pilgrim Fathers landed in America, she absent-mindedly replied +"Hallowe'en," to the great joy of her class. During her physiology hour +she managed to keep strictly to the subject; but she was impatient for +the afternoon to pass so that she could go to Miss Arnold for her +invitation. + +Her eyes sparkled, however, when, on returning to the study hall, she +saw lying on her desk a square white envelope addressed to her. + +"Oh, here it is," she thought delightedly. "I'm so glad. I wonder if +Constance has hers." + +She tore open the end of the envelope with eager fingers and drew out a +folded sheet of note paper. But the light died out of her face as she +read: + +"My dear Miss Dean: + +"For some time the members of the freshman team have been dissatisfied +with your playing, and have repeatedly urged me to allow Miss Thornton +to play in your position on the team. Not wishing to seem unfair, Miss +Randall and I watched your work at practice Wednesday afternoon and +agreed that the requested change would be best. As manager of the +freshmen team, their welfare must ever be my first consideration. I +therefore feel no hesitation in asking you for your resignation from the +team. + + "Yours sincerely, + + "MARCIA ARNOLD." + +A sigh of humiliation that was half a sob rose to Marjorie's lips. Her +chin quivered ominously. Suddenly a dreadful thought flashed across her +brain. Suppose Mignon and the others were watching her to see how she +received the bad news. Marjorie's desire to cry left her. She leaned +back in her seat and assumed an air of indifference far removed from her +real state of mind. Then she calmly refolded the letter and placed it in +its envelope with the impassivity of a young sphinx. + +Later that afternoon, as Mignon La Salle strolled out of school between +her two satellites, Susan and Muriel, she was heard to declare with +disappointed peevishness that that priggish Miss Dean was either too +stupid to resent or too thick-skinned to feel a plain out-and-out snub. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A BLUE GOWN AND A SOLEMN RESOLVE + + +The next day in school was a particularly trying one for poor Marjorie. +It was decidedly hard for the sore-hearted little freshman to believe +that Miss Arnold's motive in asking her to resign from the team had been +purely disinterested. She was reasonably sure that she had Mignon to +blame for the humiliation. Jerry Macy had told her of Miss Arnold's +respect for Mignon's father's money, and that Miss Archer's thin-lipped, +austere-looking secretary was one of the French girl's most devoted +followers. + +The wave of dislike which had swept over Marjorie upon first beholding +Marcia Arnold had, as the days passed, intensified rather than lessened. +Jerry, too, could not endure the secretary. "I never could bear her," +she had confided to Marjorie. "I'm glad she's a junior. I'll have two +years of comfort after she's gone. I suppose she deserves a lot of +credit for keeping up in her studies and earning money as a secretary at +the same time, but I'd rather have a nice wriggly snake, or a cheerful +crocodile for a friend if it comes to a choice." + +Marjorie was equally certain that Miss Arnold did not like her. She had +had occasion to ask the secretary several questions and the latter's +manner of answering had been curt, almost to rudeness. The desired +resignation was yet to be written. Marjorie had purposely delayed +writing it until the last hour of the afternoon session. She wished to +think before writing. It took her the greater part of the hour to +compose it, although, when it was finally copied on a sheet of note +paper she had brought to school for that purpose, it covered little more +than one side of the sheet. + +While she was addressing it for mailing, she suddenly remembered that +she had not yet asked Miss Arnold for her Hallowe'en invitation. Should +she hand the secretary her resignation instead of mailing it? She +decided that the more dignified course would be to mail it. As to the +invitation for the dance, she was entitled to it; therefore she was not +afraid to demand it. She wondered if Constance had received hers, and, +when her new friend returned from class, Marjorie managed to catch her +eye and question her by means of a sign language known only to +schoolgirls. A vigorous shake of Constance's fair head brought forth +more signs, which, when school was dismissed, resulted in a determined +march upon Miss Archer's office by the two friends, reinforced by Jerry +and Irma, who had managed to join Marjorie and Constance in the +corridor. + +"That's just why we waited," announced Jerry, wagging her head +emphatically when Marjorie explained her mission. "We wondered if she'd +given them to you. You let me do the talking. She won't have a word to +say when I'm through." + +"Hush, Jerry!" cautioned Irma. "She'll hear you." + +They were now entering Miss Archer's living-room office. Marcia Arnold, +who was seated before her desk, intent on the book she held in her hand, +raised her eyes and regarded the quartette with a displeased frown. Then +she addressed them in peremptory tones. + +"Please make less noise, girls. Your voices can be plainly heard in Miss +Archer's office and she is too busy now to be disturbed." This last with +a view to discouraging any attempt on their part to see the principal. + +"We didn't come to see Miss Archer," was Geraldine Macy's calm retort. +"We came to see you about Miss Dean's and Miss Stevens' invitations for +the dance. They haven't received them." + +"I know nothing whatever about them," snapped Miss Arnold, picking up +her book as a sign of dismissal. + +"You ought to know. The invitations were given to you by the boys' +committee," was Jerry's pertinent reminder. "You sent them the list of +names, didn't you? Perhaps you accidentally left out these two names." + +This was a malicious afterthought on Jerry's part, but it had a potent +effect on Marcia Arnold. A tide of red rose to her sallow face. For a +second her eyes wavered from the four pairs searchingly upon her. Then +she answered with elaborate carelessness: "It is just possible that +these two names have been omitted. I will go over my list and see." + +"Yes, do," advised Jerry, laconically. Then she slyly added: "It seems +funny, doesn't it, that when 'D' and 'S' are so far apart on the +alphabetical list, they should both happen to be overlooked? If the +girls don't receive their invitations by to-morrow night I'll speak to +my brother about it. He's the president of the junior class, you know, +and he'll take it up with the committee. Come on, girls." + +The three young women obediently following her, Jerry marched from the +room with the air of a conqueror. True to her prediction, Marcia Arnold +had found nothing to say to the stout girl's parting shot. + +"There really wasn't much use in our going. I'm afraid we weren't very +brave. We shouldn't have stood like wooden images and let you fight our +battles, Jerry. It was awfully dear in you, but I do hope Miss Arnold +won't think Constance and I are babies," demurred Marjorie. + +"What do you care what she thinks as long as she hunts up your +invitations?" asked Jerry, with superb contempt. "What she thinks will +never hurt either of you." + +The belated invitations were delivered to the two freshmen by Miss +Arnold herself the next day, greatly to Jerry's satisfaction. + +"I saw her give them to you, girls," she whispered to Marjorie on the +way to the English class. "She looked mad as a hatter, too. She thought +she'd hold back your invitations until the last minute; then maybe you +would get mad and not go to the dance." + +"But why should she wish to keep us from going?" asked Marjorie, +wonderingly. + +"Ask Mignon," was Jerry's enigmatical answer. "Very likely she knows +more about it than anyone else." + +Marjorie found no chance for conversation with Constance until they met +in French class. Even then she had only time to say, "Be sure to wait +for me this noon," before Professor Fontaine called his class to order +and attacked the advance lesson with his usual Latin ardor. + +Constance was first at their locker. She had already put on her own hat +and coat and was holding Marjorie's for her, when her friend arrived. + +"What are you going to wear, Constance?" asked Marjorie, as she put on +her coat and hat. + +"I'm not going," was the brief answer. + +"Not going!" Marjorie stared hard at her friend. Was Constance hurt +because she had not received her invitation? Then she went on, eagerly +apologetic: "It wasn't the Weston boys' fault that we didn't get our +invitations when the others received theirs. They didn't intend to leave +us out, even though they only knew our names." + +"It's not that." Constance's voice trembled a little. "I--I--well, I +haven't a dress fit to wear!" Her pale cheeks grew pink with shame as +she burst forth with this confession of poverty. "This blue suit and +three house dresses are all the clothes I have in the world. Don't say +you feel sorry for me. I shall hate you if you do. I sha'n't always be +poor. Some day," her eyes grew dreamy, "I'll have all sorts of lovely +clothes. When I am a----" She stopped abruptly, then said in her usual +half-sullen tones, "I can't go, so don't ask me." + +Marjorie looked curiously at this strange girl. The longer she knew +Constance the better she liked her, but she did not in the least +understand her. Suddenly a bright idea popped into her head. "I'm so +sorry you can't go to the dance," she commented, then promptly dropped +the subject. When she left Constance, however, she remarked innocently: +"Don't forget, you are coming home with me to-night. Don't say you can't. +You promised, you know." + +"I will come," promised Constance, brightening. "Good-bye." + +The moment Marjorie reached home she made a dash for her room and going +to her closet, emerged a moment afterward with an immense white +pasteboard box in her arms. Stopping only long enough to drop her wraps +on her bed she ran downstairs and burst into the dining-room with: "I +have found her, Mother. I've found the girl this was made for." + +"What is all this commotion about, Lieutenant?" asked her father, +teasingly. "Are we about to be attacked by the enemy? Salute your +superior officers and then state your case. Discipline must be preserved +at all costs in the army. Is it a requisition for new uniforms? You +soldiers are dreadfully hard on your clothes. Or is the post about to +move and is that a packing case?" + +Marjorie made a most unsoldierlike rush for him and, throwing her arms +about his neck, kissed his cheek. "You are a great big tease, and I +choose to salute you this way." Then she kissed her mother, saying: +"I've the loveliest plan, Captain. I'm sure that this dress will fit +Constance. She says she won't go to the school dance because she has no +pretty gown to wear. May I give her this darling blue one?" She opened +the box and drew forth a dainty frock of pale blue chiffon over silk. +The chiffon was caught up here and there with tiny clusters of +pinky-white rosebuds. The round neck was just low enough to show to +advantage a white girlish throat, while the soft, fluffy sleeves reached +barely to the elbows. It was a particularly beautiful and appropriate +frock for a young girl. + +"You see, General," explained Marjorie, "Aunt Mary sent this to me when +I graduated from grammar school. She hadn't seen me for two years and +didn't know I had grown so fast. She bought it ready made in one of the +New York stores. It was too short and too tight for me and to make it +over meant simply to spoil it. It was so sweet in her to send it that +when I wrote my thank you to her I couldn't bear to tell her that it +didn't fit, so I kept it just to look at. I didn't really need it, for, +thanks to you and mother, I have plenty of others. Don't you think I +ought to make someone else happy when I have the chance? It is right to +share one's spoils with a comrade, isn't it?" + +Her father looked lovingly at the pretty, earnest face of his daughter +as she stood holding up the filmy gown, her eyes bright with unselfish +purpose. "I am very glad my little girl is so thoughtful of others," he +said. "Whatever your captain says is law. How about it, Captain?" His +wife and he exchanged glances. + +"You may give your friend the dress if you like, dear," consented Mrs. +Dean, "if you think she will accept it." + +"That's just the point, Captain," returned Marjorie. "You know you said +I could bring Constance home for dinner to-night, and she is coming. +Perhaps we can think of some nice way to give it to her while she is +here." + +Marjorie carefully replaced the gown in its box and ran upstairs with +it. She returned with her hat and coat on her arm, and hanging them on +the hall rack hastened to eat her luncheon. + +All afternoon she puzzled as to how she might best offer Constance the +gown. When the four girls strolled homeward together after school she +had still not thought of a way. Jerry and Irma held forth, at length, +with true schoolgirl eloquence, upon the subject of their gowns. +Constance listened gravely without comment. Her small, impassive face +showed no sign of her hopeless longing for the pretty things she had +never possessed. + +Once inside the Dean's pleasant home, a flash of appreciation routed her +impassivity as Marjorie conducted her into the comfortable living-room +where Mrs. Dean sat reading, and her face softened under the spell of +the older woman's gentle greeting. + +"I am pleased to know you, Constance," said Mrs. Dean, offering her +hand. "I have been expecting you for some time. Now that I have seen you +I will say that you do look very much like Marjorie's friend Mary." She +did not add that this girl's face lacked the good-natured, happy +expression that so perfectly matched Mary Raymond's sunny curls. Yet she +noted that the blue eyes met hers openly and frankly, and that there was +an undeniable air of sincerity and truth about Constance which caused +one instinctively to trust her. + +To the formerly friendless girl who had never before been invited to the +home of a Sanford girl, the evening passed like a dream. Under the +genial atmosphere of the Dean household, her reserve melted and before +dinner was over she had forgotten all about herself and was laughing +merrily with Marjorie over Mr. Dean's nonsense. After dinner Mrs. Dean +played on the piano and Constance, who knew how to dance was initiated +into the mysteries of several new steps which were favorites of the +Franklin girls, and later the two girls spent a happy hour in Marjorie's +room with her books, of which she had a large collection. + +"Oh, dear," sighed Constance, as she glanced at the clock on the +chiffonier. "It is ten o'clock. I must go." + +"Wait a few minutes," requested Marjorie. "I have something to show you, +but I must see mother for a minute first. Please excuse me. I'll be back +directly." + +"Mother," Marjorie hurried into the living-room. "Have you thought of a +way? Constance is going home, and it's now or never." + +"Suppose you give it to her by yourself," suggested her mother. "I am +afraid my presence will embarrass her and then she will surely refuse." + +Marjorie stood eyeing her mother uncertainly. Then she laughed. "I know +the easiest way in the world," she declared, and was gone. + +When she entered the room Constance was kneeling interestedly before the +book-shelves. "You have the 'Jungle Books,' haven't you? Don't you love +them?" + +"Yes," laughed Marjorie. "Mary and I read them together. I always called +myself 'Bagheera' the black panther, and she always called herself +'Mogli, the man-cub.' We used to write notes to each other sometimes in +the language of the jungle." + +"How funny," smiled Constance. Her gaze intent upon the books, she did +not notice that Marjorie had stepped to her closet, returning to her bed +with a cloud of pink over her arm. Next she opened a big box and laid a +cloud of blue beside the one of pink. "Constance, come here a minute," +she said. + +Constance sprang up obediently. Her glance fell upon the bed and she +gave a little startled, admiring "Oh!" + +Marjorie linked her arm in that of her friend and drew her up to the +bed. "This gown," she pointed to the pink one, "is mine, and this one," +she withdrew her arm, and lifting the blue cloud held it out to +Constance, "is yours." + +The Mary girl drew back sharply. "I don't know what you mean," she +muttered. "Please don't make fun of me." + +"I'm not making fun of you. It's your very own, and after I tell you all +about it you'll see just why it happens to be yours." + +Seated on the edge of the bed beside Marjorie, the wonderful blue gown +on her lap, the girl who had never owned a party dress before heard the +story of how it happened to be hers. At first she steadily refused its +acceptance, but in the end wily Marjorie persuaded her to "just try it +on," and when she saw herself, for the first time in her +poverty-stricken young life, wearing a real evening gown that glimpsed +her unusually white neck and arms she wavered. So intent was she upon +examining her reflection that she did not notice Marjorie had slipped +from the room, returning with a pair of blue silk stockings and satin +slippers to match. "These go with it," she announced. + +"Oh--I--can't," faltered Constance, making a move toward unhooking the +frock. + +"Of course you can." Marjorie deposited the stockings and slippers on +the foot of her bed and going over to Constance put both arms around +her. "You are going to have this dress because mother and I want you to. +I can't possibly wear it myself, and it's a shame to lay it away in the +closet until it is all out of style. Please, please take it. You simply +must, for I won't go to the dance unless you do, and you know how +dreadfully I should hate to miss it. I mean what I say, too." + +"I'll take it," said Constance, slowly. + +Suddenly she slipped from Marjorie's encircling arm and leaned against +the chiffonier, covering her face with her hands. + +"Constance!" Marjorie cried out in surprise. "You mustn't cry." + +"I--can't--help--it." The words came brokenly. "Ever since I was little +I've dreamed about a blue dress like this. You--are--too--good--to--me. +Nobody--was--ever--good to me before." + +It was a quarter to eleven o'clock before Constance, her tears dried, +her face beaming with a new expression of happiness, left the Deans' +house, accompanied by Mr. Dean, who had come in shortly before ten +o'clock and insisted on seeing her safely home. + +Later, as she prepared for bed in her bare little room she could not +help wondering why Marjorie had desired her for a best friend, and had +clung to her in spite of the displeasure of certain other girls. She +wondered, too, if there were any way in which she might show Marjorie +her affection and gratitude, and she made a solemn resolve that if that +time came she would prove herself worthy of Marjorie Dean's friendship. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE HALLOWE'EN DANCE + + +Saturday dawned as inauspiciously as any other day in the week, but to +the high school boys and girls of the little city of Sanford it was a +day set apart. Aside from commencement, the great event of their high +school year was about to take place. + +As early as eight o'clock that morning the decorating committee of +Weston High School was up and laboring manfully at the task of turning +Weston's big gymnasium into a veritable bower of beauty, which should, +in due season, draw forth plenty of admiring "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" from +their gentle guests. For three days the committee had been borrowing, +with lavish promises of safe return, as many cushions, draperies, +chairs, divans and various other articles calculated to fitly adorn the +ballroom, as their families and friends confidingly allowed them to +carry off. + +Their progress along this line had been painstakingly watched by +numerous pairs of sharp, young eyes, and the report had gone forth among +the girls that this particular Hallowe'en party was going to be "the +nicest dance the boys had ever given." + +To Marjorie Dean, however, the event promised more than the usual +interest. It was to be her first opportunity of entering into the social +life of the boys and girls of Sanford. In B---- she had numbered many +stanch friends among the young men of Lafayette High School, but she had +lived in Sanford for, what seemed to her, a very long time and had not +met a single Weston boy. Jerry had promised to introduce Marjorie to her +brother and to the tall, fair-haired youth known as the Crane, but so +far the young people had not been thrown together. Marjorie had no +silly, sentimental ideas in her curly brown head about boys. From early +childhood she had been allowed to play with them. She was fond of their +games and had always evinced far more interest in marbles, tops and even +baseball than she had in dolls. Still, at sixteen, she was not a hoyden +nor a tomboy, but a merry, light-hearted girl with a strong, healthy +body and a feeling of comradeship toward boys in general which was to +carry her far in her later life. + +At the time she had given Constance the blue gown she had also gained +her friend's rather reluctant consent to come to dinner at the Deans' on +the great night and dress with her for the dance. Marjorie attributed +Constance's hesitation to shyness. Always reticent regarding her home +life, Constance, aside from her one outburst relating to her family +on the day when she had advised Marjorie against her friendship, had +said little or nothing further of her home. So Marjorie did not know +that it was not a matter of shyness, but rather a question of who would +keep house and get the supper while she was out enjoying herself, that +caused Constance to demur before accepting the invitation. Then she +remembered that Hallowe'en came on Saturday and decided that she could +manage after all. + +The momentous Saturday dawned clear and cold, with just the suspicion of +a fall tang to the air. It was a busy day for the Weston boys, and when +at four o'clock the last garland of green had been twined about the +gymnasium posts and the gallery railing, while the last flag had been +painstakingly hung at the proper angle, the dozen or more of young men +who formed the decorating committee viewed their work with boyish pride. + +"It looks bully," shouted an enthusiastic freshman, with a sweep of his +arm which was intended to include the whole room. "If the girls aren't +suited with this, they won't be invited over here again in a hurry." + +"Hear him rave!" sadly commented a sophomore. "It takes a freshman to +fall all over himself." + +"That's because we are young and have more enthusiasm," retorted the +freshman, his freckled face alive with an impish grin. + + "Desist from your squabbles + And join in the waltz," + +caroled an extremely tall, thin youth, pirouetting on his toes, and +waving a long trail of ground pine about his head in true première +danseuse fashion. + +There was a shout of laughter from the boys at this burst of +terpsichorean art. The tall youth pranced and whirled the length of the +gymnasium and back, ending his performance with a swift, high kick and a +bow that bade fair to dislocate his spine. + +"Did I hear someone laugh?" he asked severely, drawing down his face +with such an indescribably funny expression that the laughter broke +forth afresh. "It is evident that you don't appreciate my rare ability +as a dancer." + +"You mean as a grasshopper," jeered the freckle-faced youth. + +"Exactly. No, I don't either. How dare you insult me?" He made a lengthy +lunge toward the freshman, who promptly dodged behind a tall, +good-looking young man who had at that moment joined the group. + +The lunging youth brought up short with, "Hello, Hal, I thought you had +gone." + +"So I had. Got halfway home and found I'd left my pocketknife here. +Maybe I didn't hotfoot it back though. Hope the girls will like the +looks of things." He cast approving eyes about the transformed +gymnasium. "Jerry's been raving to me ever since school began about her +new friend, Marjorie Dean. Have you met her? I understand she is coming +to-night." + +"Not I, I can't tell one of those girls from another," grumbled the +Crane. "You know just how much I like girls. I don't mind helping get +ready for this business, but I'd rather take a licking than come back +here to-night. You'll see me vanishing around the corner and out of here +at the very first chance. Girls are an awful nuisance anyway." + +"Nothing like true chivalry," murmured the freckle-faced freshman. An +instant later he was sprinting down the gymnasium as fast as his short +legs could carry him, the Crane in hot pursuit. + +"Cut it out, fellows," laughed Harold Macy. "You'll upset something or +other, and then, look out." + +"If we do it will be the Crane's fault," came plaintively from the +freckle-faced freshman, as he dodged his pursuer with an agility born of +long practice. "I don't see why he wants to chase me. I merely made a +simple remark." + +"Now that you've owned up to its being simple I'll let you off this +time," declared the Crane, magnanimously, "but see that it doesn't +happen again." + +"I will," was the glib promise. "I'm sorry I said you were a +grasshopper. You look more like a giraffe." + +Then he made a hurried exit through a nearby side door, leaving the +Crane to vow dire vengeance the next time he ventured within reach. + +A little further loitering and the group of boys broke up, and, leaving +the gymnasium, went home to get ready for the evening's fun and be back +in good season to help receive their guests. + +There were two guests, however, who dressed for the party with entirely +different emotions. To Constance it was the most wonderful night of her +life. She stole frequent, half-startled glances at her blue satin-shod +feet and even pinched a fold of her chiffon gown between her fingers to +feel if it were real. Mrs. Dean had arranged the girl's fair curling +hair in precisely the same fashion that Mary Raymond wore hers, and when +she had been hooked into the precious gown, with its exquisite little +sprays of rosebuds, she thought she knew just how poor, lowly Cinderella +felt when the fairy godmother touched her with her wand. While she was +being dressed she said little, yet Marjorie and her mother knew by the +happy light that crowded the wistful look quite out of her expressive +eyes that their guest was too deeply appreciative for words. + +Marjorie, who looked radiantly pretty in her frock of pink silk with its +overdress of delicate pink net, welcomed the dance with all the +enthusiasm of one who was heartily glad to get in touch with the social +side of her school life. She had forgotten for the moment that certain +girls in the freshman class had turned against her; that she was no +longer a member of the freshman basketball team. She remembered only +that it seemed ages since she had attended a party and she hoped +fervently that someone would ask her to dance. + +Jerry and Irma had arranged to call for Marjorie and Constance, as the +quartette were to use the Macys' limousine. When the automobile stopped +before the house, Jerry insisted on getting out and running into the +house to see her friends' gowns. Irma followed her, a smile of +good-natured tolerance on her placid face. + +"Jerry couldn't wait to see your dresses," she said, then exclaimed in +wonder: "How lovely you look, Constance, and what a perfectly sweet +gown!" + +Constance colored to the tips of her small ears. Jerry, too, began +voicing loud approval, and when, after having stood in line and been +inspected by Mrs. Dean, the four girls piled into the limousine, +Constance was overcome with the peculiar sensation of experiencing too +much happiness. She felt that it could not possibly last. + +The gymnasium was fairly well filled when they entered and by half past +eight o'clock the majority of the guests had arrived. Hardly had they +deposited their scarfs in the dressing-room and administered last +judicious pats to straying fluffy locks of hair when Jerry, who had +disappeared the moment they reached the dressing-room, came hurrying +back with the information that Hal was waiting outside to do the honors. +"You'd better hurry out and console the Crane, Irma," she added slyly. +"He looks about ten feet tall in his evening clothes and perfectly +miserable." + +Following in Jerry's wake Marjorie stepped into the gaily decorated room +and the next instant was shaking hands with handsome Hal Macy, the most +popular fellow in Weston High. As the brown eyes met the frank manly +gaze of the gray, there passed between the two young people a vivid +flash of liking and comradeship that was later to develop into a stanch +and beautiful friendship. + +"I am so glad to know you," said Marjorie, earnestly. "I am very fond of +your sister." + +"I am sure we shall be friends," declared Hal Macy. Involuntarily he put +out his hand. Marjorie's hand met it, and thus began the friendship +between Marjorie Dean and Hal Macy. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ON THE FIRING LINE + + +Introductions followed thick and fast. More than one pair of boyish eyes +had been centered approvingly on the girls that "Macy" was "rushing," +and he was soon besieged with gentle reminders not to be stingy, but to +give someone else a chance. + +When the enlivening strains of a popular dance began, Hal Macy pointed +significantly to his name on Marjorie's card. She nodded happily then +glanced quickly about to see if Constance had a partner. Surely enough, +she was just about to dance off with a rather tall, slender lad, whose +dark, sensitive face, heavy-browed, black-lashed eyes of intense blue +and straight-lipped, sensitive mouth caused her to say impulsively, "Oh, +who is that nice-looking boy dancing with Constance?" + +Hal glanced after the two graceful, gliding figures. "That's Lawrence +Armitage. He's one of the best fellows in school and my chum. You ought +to hear him play on the violin. He's going to Europe to study when he +finishes high school." + +"How interesting," commented Marjorie as they joined the dancers. Then, +as Mignon La Salle, wearing an elaborate apricot satin frock, flashed by +them on the arm of a rather stout boy, with a disagreeable face, +Marjorie suddenly remembered the existence of Mignon, Muriel and Susan. +Her eyes began an eager search for the Picture Girl. Muriel was sure to +look pretty in evening dress. Mignon's frock made her look older, she +decided. She soon spied Muriel, whose gown of white lace was vastly +becoming. So was Susan Atwell's dress of old rose and silver. She +wondered a trifle wickedly if they had not been surprised to see +Constance blossom out in such brave attire. Then she put the thought +aside as unworthy and determined to remember only the good time she was +having. + +After each dance the four friends managed to meet and compare notes +before they were off again with their next partners, and as the party +progressed it became noticeable that there were no wallflowers in that +particular group. + +"What do you think of that Stevens girl to-night, Mignon?" inquired +Susan Atwell as she and the French girl stood together for a moment +between dances. + +Mignon's elfish eyes gleamed angrily. "I think such beggars as she ought +never to be allowed to come to our parties. Goodness knows where she +borrowed that dress. Perhaps she didn't borrow it." She raised her +shoulders significantly. "If Laurie Armitage knew what a low, +disreputable family she has, I don't think he'd waste his time with +her." + +"Did Laurie ask you to dance to-night?" asked Susan inquisitively. + +But with a muttered, "I want to speak to Marcia," Mignon flounced off +without answering Susan's question, and the latter confided to Muriel +afterward that Mignon was mad as anything because Laurie hadn't noticed +her, but was trailing about after Miss Nobody Stevens. + +Completely unaware that she was adding to the French girl's list of +grievances, Constance had danced to her heart's content, quite positive +in her own mind that she had never met a more delightful boy than +Lawrence Armitage, and that never before had she so greatly enjoyed +herself. And now the wonderful party was almost over. She examined her +card to see with whom she had the next dance. Then her glance straying +down, she noticed that a bit of the tiny plaiting at the bottom of her +chiffon skirt had become loose and was hanging. Fearful of a fall, she +hurried toward the dressing-room. She would have the maid take a stitch +or two in it. + +But the maid was not in the room. + +A solitary figure in an apricot gown stood before the mirror, lingered +for a moment after Constance entered, then glided noiselessly out. +Evincing no sign of having seen Mignon, Constance began a diligent +hunt for a needle and thread. Failing to find them, she fastened the +loose bit of plaiting with a pin and hurried out into the gymnasium. Her +next dance was with Lawrence Armitage. She must not miss it. + +To her surprise Mignon re-entered the dressing-room as she left it. +Constance quickly made her way toward the corner which her friends had +selected as their headquarters. + +"I tore the plaiting of my dress," she said ruefully to Marjorie. "I +couldn't find the maid or a needle, so I had to pin it. I'm awfully +sorry. I don't know how it happened." + +"That's nothing," returned Marjorie, cheerfully. "I have a great long +tear in my sleeve. Someone caught hold of it in Paul Jones, and away it +went. Don't look so guilty over a little thing like that." + +"You don't----" began Constance, but she never finished. + +A tense little figure clad in apricot satin confronted her, crying out +in tones too plainly audible to those standing near, "Where is my +bracelet? What have you done with it?" + +Constance stared at her accuser in stupefied amazement. Her friends, +too, were for the moment speechless. + +"Answer me!" commanded Mignon. "I left it on the table in the +dressing-room. You were the only one in there at the time. When I +remembered and came back for it you were just leaving, but the bracelet +was gone. No one else except you could have taken it." + +Still Constance continued to stare in horror at the French girl. She +tried to speak, but the words would not come. Attracted by Mignon's +shrill tones, the dancers began to gather about the two girls. It was +Marjorie who came to her friend's defense. + +Even as a wee girl Marjorie Dean had possessed a temper. It was not an +ordinary temper. It was not easily aroused, but when once awakened it +shook her small body with intense fury and the object of her rage was +likely to remember her outburst forever after. Knowing it to be her +greatest fault, she had striven diligently to conquer it and it burst +forth only at rare intervals. To-night, however, the French girl's +heartless denunciation of Constance during a moment of happiness was too +monstrous to be borne. In a voice shaking with indignation she turned to +those surrounding her and said, "Will you please go on dancing? I have +something to say to Miss La Salle." + +They scattered as if by magic, leaving Marjorie facing Mignon, her arm +about Constance, her face a white mask, her eyes flaming with scorn. +Then she began in low, even tones: + +"I forbid you to say another word either to or about my friend Constance +Stevens. She has not taken your bracelet. She knows nothing about it. I +will answer for her as I would for myself. You have accused her of this +because you wish to disgrace her in the eyes of her friends and +schoolmates. I am not at all sure that you have lost it, but I am very +sure that Miss Stevens hasn't seen it. And now I hope I shall never be +called upon to speak to you again, for you are the cruelest, most +contemptible girl I have ever known; but, if I hear anything further of +this, I will take you to Miss Archer, to the Board of Education, if +necessary, and make you retract every word. Come on, Constance." + +With her arm still encircling the now weeping girl, Marjorie made her +way to the dressing-room. Jerry followed her within the next five +minutes. + +"The car's here," she announced briefly. "Hal and Laurie and the Crane +are going home with us." + +"Don't you cry, Constance," she soothed, patting the curly, golden head. +"Mignon made a goose of herself to-night. The boys are all disgusted, +and everyone knows she was making a fuss over nothing. You did exactly +right, too, Marjorie, when you sent us all about our business. I'm sorry +it happened, but you remember what I tell you, Mignon has hurt herself a +great deal more than she has hurt you." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A PITCHED BATTLE + + +After the echoes of the dance had died away, basketball received a new +impetus that brought it to the fore with a bound. With the renewed +interest in the coming game was also noised about the report that "Miss +Dean wasn't on the team any longer," and in some unknown fashion the +news that she had been "asked" to resign had also gone the round of the +study hall. The upper class girls were not particularly interested +either in Marjorie or her affairs. She had not lived in Sanford long +enough to become well-known to them, and as a rule the juniors and +seniors left the bringing up of the freshmen to their sophomore sisters. +The sophomores were too much absorbed in the progress of their own team +to trouble themselves greatly over what was happening in the freshman +organization. If Muriel or Mignon had resigned, then there would have +been good cause for predicting an easy victory, for both girls were +considered formidable opponents; but Marjorie was new material, untried +and unproven. + +It was in the freshman class, however, that comment ran rife. Since the +night of the Weston dance the class had been almost equally divided. A +little less than half the girls had either openly or by friendly smiles +and nods declared in favor of Marjorie and her friends. The remaining +members of the class, with a few neutral exceptions, were apparently +devoted to the French girl and Muriel. Among their adherents they also +counted Miss Merton, who took no pains to conceal her open dislike for +Marjorie, and Marcia Arnold, who even went so far as to try to explain +the situation to Miss Archer and was sternly reminded that the principal +would take no part in the private differences of her girls unless they +had something to do with breaking the rules of the school. + +The days immediately preceding the game were not cheerful ones for +Marjorie. She was still unhappy over her unjust dismissal from the team, +and she wondered if it had been much talked of among her classmates. At +home she had announced offhandedly her resignation from the team and +her mother had asked no questions. + +Mignon was greatly disturbed and displeased with the advent of Marjorie +Dean into Sanford High School. Young as she was, she was very shrewd, +and she at once foresaw in Marjorie's pretty face and attractive +personality a rival power. To be sure, Marjorie's father was not so rich +as her own, but it could not be denied that the Deans lived in a big +house on Maple avenue, that Marjorie wore "perfectly lovely" clothes and +had plenty of pocket money. In the beginning she had decided that it +would be better to make friends with her, but Marjorie's sturdy defense +of Constance and utter disregard for Mignon's significant warning had +shown her plainly that she could not influence the other girl to do what +she considered an unworthy act. Therefore, she had secretly determined +to make matters as disagreeable as lay within her power for the two +girls during her freshman year. Still she was obliged to admit to +herself that her next move would have to be planned and carried out with +more discretion. + +And now it was the Friday before the much-heralded basketball game which +was to be played between the sophomores and the freshmen, and the merits +and shortcomings of the respective organizations were being eagerly +discussed throughout the school. The game was to be called at half-past +two o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and from all accounts there was to be +no lack of spectators. + +"I wouldn't for anything miss that game to-morrow!" exclaimed Jerry +Macy, as she and Constance and Marjorie came down the steps of the +school together. "I hope the freshmen get the worst whitewashing that +any team in this school has ever had, too," she added, with a deliberate +air of spite. + +"You mustn't say that, Jerry," returned Marjorie, a faint color rising +to her cheeks. "You must not let my grievances affect your loyalty to +your class." + +"Do you mean to say that you want that horrid Mignon La Salle and her +crowd to win the game, and then go around crowing that it was all +because they put you out of the team? You needn't look so as though you +didn't believe me. You mark my word, if they win you'll find out that +they'll do just as I say. Freshman or no freshman, I'd rather see that +nice Ellen Seymour's team win any day." + +"So would I," echoed Constance, her face darkening with the remembrance +of her own wrongs at Mignon's hands. + +Marjorie was silent for a moment. She knew that Jerry's outburst rose +from pure devotion to her friends, and she could not blame Constance for +her hostile spirit. Still, was it right to allow personal grudges to +warp one's loyalty to one's class? If the record of their class read +badly at the end of their freshman year, whose fault would it be? She +had fought it all out with herself on the day she wrote her resignation, +and had wisely determined, then, not to allow it to spoil her year. + +"I know how you girls feel about this," she said slowly. "I felt the +same way until after I had written my resignation. While I was writing I +kept hoping that the team would lose and be sorry they had put someone +else in my place. Then it just came to me all of a sudden that a good +soldier wouldn't be a traitor to his country even if he were reduced in +rank or had something happen unpleasant to him in his camp." + +She stopped and looked embarrassed. She had forgotten that the girls +could not possibly know what she meant. She had never told any one in +Sanford High School about the pretty soldier play which she and Mary had +carried on for so long. It was one of the little intimate details of her +life which she preferred to keep to herself. Should she explain? Jerry's +impatient retort made it unnecessary. + +"The only traitor I know anything about is Mignon," she flung back, +failing to grasp the significance of Marjorie's comparison. + +Constance, however, had flashed a curious glance at her friend, saying +nothing. When Geraldine had nodded good-bye at her street, and the two +were alone, she asked: "What did you mean by comparing yourself to a +soldier, Marjorie?" + +Marjorie smiled. + +"I think I'd better tell you all about it. I've never told anyone else." + +"What a splendid game," mused Constance, half to herself, when Marjorie +had finished. "Do you--would you--could I be a soldier, too, Marjorie? +It would help me. You don't know. There are so many things." + +The wistful appeal touched Marjorie. + +"Of course you can," she assured. "You'd better come to my house to +luncheon to-morrow. You can join the army then and go to the game with +me." + +"I'm not going to the game." The look of expectancy died out of +Constance's face. + +"You can't be a soldier if you balk at the first disagreeable thing that +comes along," reminded Marjorie, slipping her arm through that of her +friend. Constance walked a few steps in stolid silence. She could not +make up her mind to watch the playing of the girls whom she felt she +hated, even to please Marjorie. It was not until they were about to +separate that Marjorie said quietly. "Shall I tell mother you are +coming?" and Constance forced herself to reply shortly, "I'll come." + +By half past one Saturday afternoon every seat in the large gallery +surrounding the gymnasium was filled, and by a quarter to two every +square foot of standing room was occupied by an enthusiastic audience +largely composed of boys and girls of the two high schools. Marjorie's +mother had after some little coaxing consented to come to the game with +her daughter as her guest. She sat with Constance and Marjorie in the +first row of the gallery, while beside her sat none other than Miss +Archer, whom they had encountered on their way to the high school and +who had invited them to take seats in the front row with her. She had +already met Mrs. Dean at the church which both women attended and had +conceived an instant liking for the pretty, gracious woman who looked +little older than her daughter. + +"Wasn't it nice of Miss Archer to ask us to sit here?" whispered +Marjorie in her friend's ear. "We have mother to thank for it. She is so +dear that no one can help liking her." Marjorie looked adoring +admiration at her mother's clear-cut profile. "Do you suppose anyone +will mistake us for faculty?" + +Both girls giggled softly at such an improbability. + +"I never went to a basketball game before," confessed Constance after a +time. "What are those girls over there in the red paper hats and big red +bows going to do?" + +"Oh, that's the sophomore class. They lead their class in the songs. The +green and purple girls are the freshman chorus." + +"I didn't even know our class colors were green and purple." + +"You didn't! Why, that's the reason you and I wore violets to the dance. +Almost every freshman had them." + +"Oh, look!" Constance's eyes were fixed upon a tiny purple figure that +had just emerged from a side door in the gymnasium and was walking +slowly across the big floor. Immediately afterward a door opened on the +opposite side and a diminutive scarlet-clad boy flashed forth. + +"They are the mascots," explained Marjorie, her gaze on the two children +who advanced to the center of the room and gravely shook hands. Then the +boy in red announced in a high, clear treble: "Ladies and gentlemen, the +noble sophomores!" + +The door swung wide and a band of lithe blue figures, bearing a huge +letter "S" done in scarlet on the fronts of their blouses, pattered into +the gymnasium, amid loud applause. + +"The valiant freshmen!" piped the purple-clad youngster. + +There was a rush of black-clad girls, with resplendent violet "F's" +ornamenting their breasts, another volley of cheers from the audience, +then a shrill blast from the referee's whistle rent the air, the teams +dropped into their places, the umpire, time-keeper and scorer took +their stations, and a tense silence settled over the audience. + +The referee balanced the ball. Ellen Seymour and Mignon La Salle +gathered themselves for the toss. Up it went. The two players leaped for +it. The referee's whistle sounded again. The struggle for basketball +honors began. + +A jubilant shout swelled from the throats of the watching freshmen and +their fans. Mignon had caught the ball. She sent it speeding toward +Helen Thornton, who fumbled it, and losing her head, threw it away +from, instead of to the basket. An audible sigh of disapproval came from +the freshman contingent as they beheld the ball pass into the hands of +the sophomores, who scored shortly afterward. + +Now that the ball was in their hands the sophomores proceeded to show +their friends and opponents a few things about playing. They had the +advantage and they kept it. Try as the freshmen might, they could not +score. The first unlucky error on the part of Helen Thornton had seemed +to turn the tide against them. Toward the close of the first half they +managed to score, but all too soon the whistle blew, with the score 8 to +2 in favor of the sophomores. + +Their fans went wild with delight and their chorus sang or rather +shouted gleefully their pet song, beginning, + + "Hail the sophomores, gallant band! + See how bold they take their stand!" + +to the tune of "Hail Columbia," coming out noisily on the concluding +lines, + + "Firm and steadfast shall they be, + Marching on to victory; + As a band of players, they + Shall be conquerors to-day." + +The freshmen answered with their song, "The Freshmen's Brave Banner," +but they did not sing as spiritedly as they had before the beginning of +the game. + +"I wonder what Jerry and Irma think," commented Marjorie. Their two +chums had been detailed to sing in the freshman chorus, which accounted +for their absence from the Dean party. + +"Jerry looks awfully cross," returned Constance, scanning the opposite +side of the gallery where Jerry was singing lustily, her straight, heavy +brows drawn together in a savage scowl. + +"There goes the whistle!" Marjorie leaned eagerly forward to see the +freshman team come in from the side room which they were using. Her +alert eyes noted that Muriel looked sulky, Mignon stormy, Susan Atwell +belligerent, Harriet Delaney offended, and that Helen Thornton, the +substitute who had replaced her, had been crying. + +Marjorie felt a thrill of pity for the unfortunate substitute. It looked +as though she had spent an unhappy quarter of an hour in the little side +room. + +The teams changed sides and hastened to their places. Again Mignon and +Ellen faced each other. Then the whistle shrilled and the second half of +the game was on. + +From the beginning of the second half it looked as though the freshmen +might retrieve their early losses. They worked with might and main and +made no false moves. Slowly their score climbed to six. So far the +sophomores had gained nothing. Then Ellen Seymour made a spectacular +throw to the basket and brought her team up two points. With the +realization that they were facing defeat the freshmen rallied and made a +desperate effort to hold their own, bringing their count up to eight. + +Two more points were gained and the score was tied, but the time was +growing short. Helen Thornton had the ball and was plainly trying to +elude the tantalizing sophomore who barred her way. She made a clumsy +feint of throwing the ball. It slipped from her fingers and rolled along +the floor. There was a mad scramble for it. Mignon and Ellen Seymour +leaped forward simultaneously. + +The crowd in the gallery was aroused to the height of excitement. +Marjorie, breathless, leaned far over the gallery rail. She knew every +detail of the dear old game. She saw Mignon's and Ellen's heads close +together as they sprang; then she saw Mignon give a sly, vicious side +lunge which threw Ellen almost off her feet. In the instant it took +Ellen to recover herself the French girl had seized the ball and was off +with it. Eluding her pursuers, she balanced herself on her toes, and +threw her prize toward the freshman basket. But it never reached there. +A long blue figure shot straight up into the air. Elizabeth Corey, a +girl whose sensational plays had made her a lion during her freshman +year, had intercepted the flying ball. She sent it spinning through the +air toward the sophomore nearest their basket, whose willing hands +received it and threw it home. + +Mignon's trickery had availed her little. The sophomores had won. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +WHAT HAPPENED ON BLUE MONDAY + + +For the next ten minutes the air was rent with the lusty voices of the +sophomore chorus and the joyous cheers of their fans. No echoing song +arose from freshman lips. The vanquished team had already betaken +themselves to their quarters, but the sophomore players were holding an +impromptu reception on the ground they had so hotly contested. + +Marjorie and Constance watched them eagerly. + +"Go downstairs, girls, and join the hero worshipers," smiled Miss +Archer. "We will excuse you, won't we, Mrs. Dean?" + +"Yes; after the fervent manner in which they hung over the railing it +would be cruel to keep them with us," smiled Mrs. Dean. + +"Let's find Jerry and Irma," said Marjorie, as they paused in the open +doorway of the gymnasium. + +Hardly had she spoken, when Jerry's unmistakable tones rose behind her. +The stout girl was talking excitedly, a rising note of indignation in +her voice. + +"I tell you I saw her push against Ellen Seymour," she declared. "You +must have seen her, too, Irma." + +"I thought so," admitted Irma, "but I wasn't sure." + +"Well, I was. Oh, girls, we were just going upstairs to find you! Now +that you're here, let's go into the gym, and join the celebration. I +don't know how you feel about it, but I'm glad the sophomores won," +Jerry ended, with an emphatic wag of her head. + +"Listen, Jerry," said Marjorie, earnestly, "you were talking so loudly +when you were behind us that I couldn't help hearing you. Did it seem to +you as though Mignon deliberately pushed against Ellen Seymour?" + +"I know she did," reiterated Jerry. "I watched her, for she is always +unfair and tricky. Anyone who has ever played on a team could tell. I'm +surprised that you----" She stopped abruptly. "I believe you saw her, +too. Confess, you did see her; now, didn't you?" + +Marjorie nodded. + +"Now's your chance to get even with her. Let's go to Miss Archer and +tell her," proposed the stout girl. "She'll send for Ellen Seymour and +then, good-bye freshman basketball for a while. But what do you care? +You aren't on the team any more. It would serve them right at that." + +"Oh, no," Marjorie looked her horror at the bare idea of tale-bearing. + +"Just as you say," shrugged Jerry. They were still standing just inside +the door watching the sophomore team receiving congratulations, when +they beheld a familiar figure in a black gymnasium suit pause squarely +in front of Ellen Seymour. They saw Ellen start angrily, then a confused +murmur of voices arose and the circle of fans and players closed in +about the two girls. + +"What's happened?" demanded Jerry. "Come on, girls." She hurried toward +the crowd, the three girls at her heels. Even as they joined the throng +they heard Mignon declare in a tone freighted with malice! "You +purposely pushed against me when we ran for the ball in our last play +and nearly threw me off my feet. You know that deliberate pushing, +striking or any kind of roughness is forbidden, and you could be +disqualified as a player. I do not know where the referee's eyes were, I +am sure, but I do know that you are not fit to be on a team, and I can +prove it by the other players of my team. I shall certainly complain to +Miss Archer about it the first thing Monday morning." + +"All right, I'll meet you in Miss Archer's office the first thing after +chapel," answered Ellen, coolly, ignoring everything save the French +girl's final threat. "Come along, girls." She beckoned to the other +members of her team, who had listened in blank amazement to the bold +accusation. With her head held high, a careless smile on her fine face, +Ellen marched through the crowd, which made way for her, and across the +gymnasium to the sophomores' room, accompanied by her team. + +"Isn't that a shame?" burst out Jerry. "Ellen will have an awful time to +prove herself innocent. She never touched Mignon. It was Mignon who +pushed her away. I saw her with my own eyes, and so did you, Marjorie. +Say," she looked blankly at Marjorie, "do you suppose it's our duty to +go to Miss Archer and tell her what we saw?" + +"I--don't--know." The words came doubtfully. "Perhaps it will all blow +over. I hate to carry tales. Suppose we wait until Monday and see? +Mignon may change her mind. Even if she doesn't, Miss Archer may not +listen to her. But, if she should, then we'll have to do it, Jerry. It +wouldn't be fair to Ellen to keep still about it; I heard Miss Archer +tell mother Monday that she would not tolerate the least bit of +roughness in the girls' games. She knew of several schools where girls +had been tripped or knocked down and seriously hurt. She said that if +any reports of rough playing were brought to her she would 'deal +severely with the offender.' Those were her very words." + +"All right; we'll wait," agreed Jerry. "I'm not crazy about reporting +even Mignon. Ellen can take care of herself, I guess." + +So the matter was apparently settled for the time, and the four girls +strolled home discussing the various features of the game. + +"How did you like the game, Captain?" she asked, saluting, as an hour +later she entered the living-room, where her mother sat reading. + +"Very well, indeed," replied her mother, laying down her magazine. +"Neither Miss Archer nor I understand all the fine points of the game, +but we managed to keep track of most of the plays. By the way, Marjorie, +when you go to school on Monday morning, I wish you to take this +magazine to Miss Archer. It contains an article which I have marked for +her. It is quite in line with a discussion we had this afternoon." + +"I'll remember," promised Marjorie, and when Monday morning came she +kept her word, starting for school with the magazine under her arm. + +"I'll run up to Miss Archer's office with it after chapel," she decided. + +When the morning service was over, Marjorie returned to the study hall, +and obtained Miss Merton's grudging permission to execute her +commission. + +"I wish to see Miss Archer," she said shortly, as Marcia Arnold looked +up from her writing just long enough to cast a half insolent glance of +inquiry in her direction. + +"You can't see her. She's busy." + +The color flew to Marjorie's cheeks at the bold refusal. Her first +impulse was to turn and walk away. She could see Miss Archer later. Then +her natural independence asserted itself, and she determined to stand +her ground at least long enough to discover whether or not Miss Archer +were really too busy to be seen. + +"Then I'll wait here until she is at liberty." + +Marcia frowned and seemed on the verge of further unpleasantness when +the sound of a buzzer from the inner office sent her hurrying toward it. +As she opened the door, Marjorie caught a fleeting glimpse of two +persons; one was Miss Archer, her face set and stern, the other Mignon +La Salle, her black eyes blazing with satisfaction. + +"Oh!" gasped Marjorie, remembering Mignon's threat, "she is reporting +poor Ellen." + +The door swung open again and the secretary glided past her and out into +the corridor with the peculiar sliding gait that had caused Jerry to +liken her to a "nice, wriggly snake." + +"She is going to bring Ellen here," guessed Marjorie. + +Sure enough, within five minutes Marcia returned, followed by Ellen +Seymour, whose pale, defiant face meant battle. Again the door of the +inner office closed with a portending click. Marcia Arnold did not +return to the outer office. + +Marjorie waited apprehensively, wondering if Ellen were holding her +own. Then to her utter amazement, the secretary appeared with a sulky, +"Miss Archer wants you," and returned to her desk. + +"Good morning, Miss Dean," was the principal's grave salutation. "I did +not know until I asked Miss Arnold to go for you that you were in the +outer office." + +"I have been waiting to give you the magazine that mother promised you. +She asked me to say to you that she had marked the article she wished +you to read." + +"Please thank your mother for me," returned Miss Archer, her face +relaxing, "and thank you for bringing it. To return to why I sent for +you, you understand the game of basketball, do you not?" + +"Yes," answered Marjorie, simply. + +"You have played on a team?" inquired the principal. + +"Yes." + +"Did I not see you at practice with the freshmen shortly before the +game?" + +Marjorie colored hotly. "I made the team, but afterward was asked to +resign because I did not play well enough." + +"Who asked you to resign?" + +"The note was signed by the manager of the team." + +"And is that the reason you stopped playing?" broke in Ellen Seymour, +with impulsive disregard for her surroundings. "I might have known it." + +Then she whirled upon Mignon in a burst of indignation as scathing as it +was unexpected. + +"How contemptible you are! I haven't the least doubt that you are to +blame for Miss Dean's leaving the team. You knew her to be a skilful +player and you were afraid she would outplay you. You know, too, that +when we jumped for the ball Saturday you purposely pushed me away from +it, almost throwing me down. It didn't do you the least bit of good, and +because you are spiteful you have set out to disgrace me and put a stain +on the sophomores' victory." + +"How dare you? You are not telling the truth! Prove your charge against +me, if you can," challenged Mignon, with blazing eyes. + +"It will be easier to prove than yours against me," flung back Ellen. + +"Girls, this is disgraceful! Not another word." Miss Archer's tone of +stern command had an immediate effect on the belligerents. + +"Please pardon me, Miss Archer." There was real contrition in Ellen's +voice. "I didn't mean to be so rude. I lost control of my temper." + +Mignon, however, made no apology. Her elfish eyes turned from Marjorie +to Ellen with an expression of concentrated hate. + +"Now, girls," began Miss Archer, firmly, "we are going to settle this +difficulty here in my office before anyone of you goes back to her +classes. That is the reason I have sent for Miss Dean. When Miss La +Salle entered her complaint against you, Miss Seymour, I decided that +you should have a chance to speak in your own behalf. No sooner were you +brought face to face than one accused the other of treachery. From the +front row of the gallery, where I sat on the afternoon of the game, I +could see every move of the players, but my eyes were not sufficiently +trained to detect the roughness of which you accuse each other. Then I +remembered that Miss Dean sat next to me and that she was a seasoned +player. So I sent for her to ask her in your presence if she saw the +alleged roughness on the part of either of you." + +There was a half-smothered exclamation of dismay from Marjorie. Ellen +was regarding her in mute appeal. Mignon's lips curled back in a sneer. +It was dreadful to remain under a cloud. + +"I am waiting for you to speak, Miss Dean." + +Marjorie drew a long breath. "Miss Seymour spoke the truth. I saw Miss +La Salle purposely push Miss Seymour away from the ball. Someone else +saw her, too--someone who sat on the other side of the gallery." Her +tones carried unmistakable truth with them. + +"It isn't true! It isn't true!" Mignon's voice rose to an enraged +shriek. "She only says so because she wants to pay me for making her +resign from the team." + +"What did I tell you?" asked Ellen Seymour, triumphantly. "She admits +that she was responsible for that resignation." + +"That will do," commanded Miss Archer, raising her hand. + +Ellen subsided meekly. + +Realizing that she had said too much, Mignon quieted as suddenly as she +had burst forth. + +"Miss Dean, are you perfectly sure of what you say?" questioned Miss +Archer. + +"I am quite sure," was the steady answer. + +A seemingly endless silence followed Marjorie's reply. The principal +surveyed the trio searchingly. + +"What girls comprise the freshman team?" At last she put the question +coldly to Mignon. + +The French girl sulkily named them. Miss Archer made note of their +names. The principal then pressed the buzzer that summoned her +secretary. + +"Send these young women to me at once," she directed, handing Marcia the +slip of paper. + +Turning to the three girls before her she said, "Miss Seymour, you may +go back to the study hall. Unless you hear from me further you are +exonerated from blame. I shall not need you either, Miss Dean. I am +sorry that I was obliged to involve you in this affair, but I am glad +that you were not afraid to tell the truth." + +Marjorie turned to follow Ellen Seymour from the room, when the door +opened and the freshman basketball team filed in. For a brief instant +the principal's attention was fixed upon the entering girls, and in that +instant Mignon found time to mutter in Marjorie's ear, "I'll never +forgive you for this and you'll be sorry. Just wait and see if you're +not." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MARJORIE'S WONDERFUL DISCOVERY + + +What transpired in Miss Archer's private office on that memorable +morning when the freshman team visited her in a body was a subject that +agitated high school circles for at least a week afterward. Other than +the team no one could furnish any authentic information as to what had +actually been said and done, but the amazing report that "Miss Archer +had disbanded the freshman basketball team" was on every one's tongue. +Whether or not another team would be selected no one knew. That would +depend wholly upon Miss Archer's decision. That the members of the team +had offended seriously there could be no doubt. As for the ex-members +themselves, they were absolutely mute on the subject. Among themselves, +however, they had a great deal to say, and, one and all, held Marjorie +Dean responsible for their downfall. + +When Miss Archer had commanded their presence in her office that +eventful morning it was not in connection with the conflicting +statements of Ellen Seymour and Mignon La Salle. Satisfied that Mignon +was the real offender, she had read that young woman a lesson on +untruthfulness and treachery in the presence of the team that left her +white with mortification, her stormy black eyes alone betraying her +rage. + +Then Miss Archer proceeded to the other business at hand, which was an +inquiry into their reason for requesting Marjorie Dean's resignation +from the team. One by one, the four girls, with the exception of Helen +Thornton, were questioned separately and acknowledged, in shamefaced +fashion, that Marjorie was a really good player. + +"Then why," Miss Archer had asked sharply, "did you ask her to resign?" +There had been no answer to this pertinent question, and then had +followed their principal's rebuke, sharp and stinging. + +"It is not often that I feel impelled to interfere in your games," she +had said. "Not long since I refused to listen to something Miss Arnold +tried to tell me; but, when several heartless girls deliberately combine +to humiliate and discomfit a companion under the flimsy pretext of 'the +good of the team' it is time to call a halt. Four girls were prime +movers in this contemptible plan. One girl was an accessory, and +therefore equally guilty. In justice to the traditions of Sanford High +School the girl who has suffered at your hands, and in defense of my own +self-respect, these offenders must be punished. So I am going to +disband your team and forbid any one of you to play basketball again +until I am satisfied that you know something of the first principles of +honor and fair play. However, I shall not forbid basketball to the +freshmen. The innocent shall not suffer with the guilty. A new team will +be chosen which I trust will be a credit rather than a detriment to our +high school. You are dismissed." + +Five girls, whose faces were an open indication of their chagrin, had +left the principal's office in a far more chastened frame of mind than +when they had entered it. Miss Archer's arraignment had been a most +unpleasant surprise, and in discussing it among themselves afterward, +Helen Thornton had caused Mignon to pour forth a torrent of biting words +by saying sulkily, that if Mignon had let Ellen Seymour alone everything +would have been all right. + +"Do you mean to say that you believe those miserable girls?" Mignon had +cried out. + +And Helen had answered with marked sarcasm, "No; I believe what I saw +with my own eyes, and I wish I'd never heard of your old team. I'm +ashamed to think I ever listened to you," and had walked away from the +group with a sore and penitent heart, never to return to their circle +again. + +All this was, of course, kept strictly secret by the other four +ex-members, who joined hands and vowed solemnly that they would weather +the gale together. The disbanding of the team by Miss Archer and Ellen +Seymour's vindication, could not be hushed up, however, and, despite +their protests that Miss Archer was unfair, and that the statements of +certain other girls were wholly unreliable, they lost ground with their +classmates. + +Marjorie, too, had been made to feel the weight of their displeasure, +for they took pains to circulate the report that it was she who had told +tales to the principal, and thus brought them to grief. Several of the +sophomores, including Ellen Seymour, heatedly denied the rumor, and a +number of freshmen also took up the cudgels in her behalf. Jerry, Irma +and Constance stood firmly by her, and, although the poor little +lieutenant was far more hurt over the allegation than she would show, +she kept a brave face to the front and tried to ignore the ill-natured +thrusts launched chiefly by Muriel and Mignon. + +But in the midst of this uncomfortable season Marjorie made a wonderful +discovery. It was quite by chance that she made it, and it concerned +Constance Stevens. Although the Mary girl had apparently grown very fond +of Marjorie and had almost entirely dropped her strange cloak of +reserve, she had never invited the girl who had so graciously befriended +her to her home. + +From the words of vehement protest which Constance had spoken on that +day when Marjorie had followed her and protested that they become +friends, she had partly understood the other girl's position in regard +to her family, and had tactfully avoided the subject ever afterward. She +had talked the matter over with her captain, and they had decided to +respect Constance's reticence and keep religiously away from anything +bordering on the discussion of her family. + +It was on a crisp November afternoon, several days before Thanksgiving, +that Marjorie made her discovery. As she walked into the living-room, +her books on her arm, her cheeks pink from the sharp, frosty air, her +mother hung up the telephone with: "Marjorie, do you think Constance +would like to go with us to the theatre to-night? Your father has just +telephoned me that he has four tickets." + +"She'd love it. I know she would. I'll hurry straight down to her house +and ask her." Marjorie dropped her books on the table with a joyful +thump. + +"Very well; but I wish you would wait until I finish my letter, then you +can post it on your way there." + +"Did Nora bake chocolate cake to-day?" asked Marjorie irrelevantly. + +"Yes." + +There was a rush of light feet from the room. Three minutes later +Marjorie returned, a huge piece of chocolate layer cake in her hand. + +"It's the best ever," she declared between bites. + +By the time the cake was eaten the letter was ready. + +"Hurry, dear," her mother called after her; "we shall have an early +dinner." + +It did not recur to Marjorie until within sight of the house where +Constance lived that she was an uninvited guest. What a queer-looking +little house it was! Long ago it had been painted a pale gray with white +trimmings, but now it was a dingy, hopeless color that defied +description. A child's dilapidated tricycle stood on the rickety porch, +which was approached by a flight of three unstable-looking steps. + +Her mind centered upon her errand, Marjorie paid small attention to her +surroundings. She bounded up the steps, searching with alert eyes for a +bell. Finding none she doubled her fist to knock, but paused suddenly +with upraised arm. From within the house came the vibrant notes of a +violin mingled with the soft accompaniment of a piano. + +"Schubert's 'Serenade,'" breathed Marjorie, delightedly, lowering her +arm. "I simply must listen." + +Suddenly a voice took up the plaintive strain. It was so high and sweet +and clear that the listener caught her breath in sheer amazement. + +She stood spellbound, while the wonderful voice sang on and on to the +last note of the exquisite "Serenade" that seemed to end in a long-drawn +sigh. + +Marjorie knocked lightly, but no one responded. + +The singer had begun again. This time it was Nevin's "Oh That We Two +Were Maying." + +She listened again; then, to her surprise, the door was gently opened. +Before her stood the tiny figure of a boy whose great black eyes looked +curiously into hers. Laying his finger upon his lips, he gravely +motioned with his other hand for her to enter. Then as he limped away +from the door Marjorie saw he was a cripple. + +Marjorie stepped noiselessly into the room, her eyes on the piano. A man +was seated before it. She could not see his face, but she noted that he +had an enormous shock of snow-white hair. At one side of him stood +another old man, his thin cheek resting lovingly against his violin, his +whole soul intent upon the flood of melody he was bringing forth, while +on the other side of the pianist, her quiet face fairly transfigured +stood Constance, pouring out her very heart in song. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE PEOPLE OF THE LITTLE GRAY HOUSE + + +Intent upon their music, neither the singer nor the two men were +immediately aware of the presence of another person in the room. + + "Oh, that we two were lying + Under the churchyard sod," + +sang Constance, voicing the pent-up longing of Kingsley's tenderly +regretful words and Nevin's wistful setting, while the violin sang a +subdued, pensive obligato. + +Marjorie stood very still, her gaze fastened upon Constance. The quaint +little boy stared at Marjorie with an equally intent interest. Thus, as +Constance began the last line the earnest, compelling regard of the +brown eyes caused her own to be turned toward Marjorie. + +"Oh!" she ejaculated in faltering surprise. "Where--where did you come +from? What made you come here?" + +There was mingled amazement, consternation and embarrassment in the +question. The white-haired pianist swung round on his stool, and the old +man with the violin raised his head and regarded the unexpected visitor +out of two mildly inquiring blue eyes. + +"I'm sorry," began Marjorie, her cheeks hot with the shame of being +unwelcome. "I suppose I ought not to have come, but----" + +Constance sprang to her side and catching her hands said contritely, +"Forgive me, dear, and please don't feel hurt. I--you see--I never +invite anyone here--because--well, just because we are so poor. I +thought you wouldn't care to come and so----" + +"I've always wanted to come," interrupted Marjorie, eagerly. "I don't +think you are poor. I think you are rich to have this wonderful music. I +never dreamed you could sing, Constance. What made you keep it a +secret?" + +"No one ever liked me well enough to care to know it until you came," +returned Constance simply. "I meant to tell you, but I kept on putting +it off." + +While the conversation went on between the two girls the one old man was +going over a pile of ragged-edged music on the piano, while the other +was industriously engaged with a troublesome E string. + +"Father, Uncle John!" called Constance, gently, "come here. I want you +to meet my friend Marjorie Dean." + +Both musicians left their self-appointed tasks and came forward. + +Marjorie gave her soft little hand to each in turn, and they bowed over +it with almost old-style courtesy. She looked curiously at Constance's +father. His daughter did not in any way resemble him. His was the face +of a dreamer, rather thin, with clean-cut features and dark eyes that +seemed to see past one and into another world of his own creation. In +spite of his white hair he was not old. Not more than forty-five, or, +perhaps fifty, Marjorie decided. The other man was much older, sixty at +least. He was very thin, and his gentle face wore a pathetically vacant +expression that brought back to Marjorie the rush of bitter words +Constance had poured forth on the day when she had declined to be +friends. "We take care of an old man who people say is crazy, and folks +call us Bohemians and gypsies and even vagabonds." + +"I came here to see if Constance could go to the theatre with us +to-night," explained Marjorie, rather shyly. "No, thank you, I won't sit +down. I promised mother I'd hurry home." + +"It is very kind in you to ask my daughter to share your pleasure," said +Constance's father, his somber face lighting with a smile that reminded +Marjorie of the sun suddenly bursting from behind a cloud. "I should +like to have her go." + +"Have her go," repeated the thin old man, bowing and beaming. + +"Is there a band at the theatre?" piped a small, solemn voice. + +Marjorie smiled down into the earnest, upraised face of the little boy. + +"Oh, yes, there is a big, big band at the theatre." + +"Then take me, too," returned the child calmly. + +"No, no," reproved Constance gently, "Charlie can't go to-night." + +A grieved look crept into the big black eyes. Without further words the +quaint little boy limped over to the old man, whom Constance had +addressed as Uncle John, and hid behind him. + +Forgetting formality, tender-hearted Marjorie sprang after him. She +knelt beside him and gathered him into her arms. He made no resistance, +merely regarded her with wistful curiosity. + +"Listen, dear little man," she said, "you and Constance and I will go to +the place where the big band plays some Saturday afternoon, and we'll +sit on the front seat where you can see every single thing they do. +Won't that be nice?" + +The boy nodded and slipped his tiny hand in hers. "I'm going to play in +the band when I grow up," he confided. "Connie can go to-night if she +promises to tell me all about it afterward." + +"You dear little soul," bubbled Marjorie, stroking his thick hair that +fell carelessly over his forehead and almost into his bright eyes. + +"I'll tell you all about everything, Charlie," promised Constance. + +"That means you will go," cried Marjorie, joyfully, rising from the +floor, the child's hand still in hers. + +"Yes, I will," returned Constance hesitatingly, "only--I--haven't +anything pretty to wear." + +"Pretty to wear," repeated Uncle John faithfully. + +"Never mind that," reassured Marjorie. "Just wear a fresh white blouse +with your blue suit. I'm sure that will look nice." + +"Will look nice," agreed Uncle John so promptly, that Marjorie started +slightly, then, noting that Constance seemed embarrassed, she nodded +genially at the old man, who smiled back like a pleased child. + +Remembering her mother's injunction, Marjorie took hasty leave of the +Stevens family and set off for home at a brisk pace. Her thoughts were +as active as her feet. She had seen enough in the last fifteen minutes +to furnish ample food for reflection, and she now believed she +understood her friend's strange reserve, which at times rose like a wall +between them. What strange and yet what utterly delightful people the +Stevens were! They really did remind one a little of gypsies. And what a +queer room she had been ushered into by the odd little boy named +Charlie! She smiled to herself as she contrasted her mother's homelike, +yet orderly living-room with the room she had just left, which evidently +did duty as a hall, living-room, music-room and also a playroom for +little Charlie. There were hats and coats and musical instruments, pile +upon pile of well-thumbed music, and numerous dilapidated playthings +that bore the marks of too ardent treasuring, all scattered about in +reckless confusion. No wonder Constance had fought shy of +acquaintanceships which were sure to ripen into schoolgirl visits. Poor +Constance! How dreadful it must be to have to keep house, cook the meals +and try to go to school! The Stevenses seemed to be very poor in +everything except music. She wondered how they lived. Perhaps the two +men played in orchestras. Still she had never heard anything about them +in school, where news circulated so quickly. + +"I'm going to ask Constance to tell me all about it," she decided, as +she skipped up the front steps. "Perhaps I can help her in some way." + +Constance rang the Deans' bell at exactly half past seven o'clock. Her +blue eyes were sparkling with joyous light, and her usually grave mouth +broke into little curves of happiness. It was to be a red-letter night +for her. + +The play was a clean, wholesome drama of American home life in which the +leading part was taken by a young girl, who appeared to be scarcely +older than Marjorie and Constance. The latter sat like one entranced +during the first act, and Marjorie spoke to her twice before she heard. + +"Constance," she breathed, "won't you please, please tell me all about +it?" + +"About what?" counter-questioned the other girl, reddening. + +"About your father and your wonderful voice, and, oh, all there is to +tell." + +"Marjorie," the Mary girl's tones were strained and wistful, "do you +really think it is wonderful?" + +"You will be a great singer some day," returned Marjorie, simply. + +"Oh, do you believe that?" Constance clasped her hands in ecstasy. "I +wish to be--I hope to be. If I could only go away to New York city and +study! Before we came here we lived in Buffalo. Father played in an +orchestra there. He had a friend who taught singing and I studied with +him for a year. Then he died suddenly of pneumonia and right after that +father fell on an icy pavement and broke his leg. By the time it was +well again another man had his place in the orchestra. He had a few +pupils, and long before his leg was well he used to sit in a big chair +and teach them. The money that they paid him for lessons was all we had +to live on." + +The rising of the curtain on the second act cut short the narrative. +With "I'll tell you the rest later," Constance turned eager eyes toward +the stage. + +"Isn't it a beautiful play?" she sighed, when the act ended. + +"Lovely," agreed Marjorie; "now tell me the rest." + +"Oh, there isn't much more to tell. It was the last of March when father +got hurt, but it was the middle of May before he was quite well again. +Then summer came and most of his pupils went away and we grew poorer and +poorer. Just when we were the poorest the editor of a new musical +magazine wrote him and asked him to write some articles. A friend of +father's in New York told the editor about father and gave him our +address. We decided to move to a smaller city, where we could live more +cheaply, and some of the musicians that father knew gave him a benefit +concert. The money from that helped us to move to Sanford, and father +has been writing articles off and on for the magazine ever since then. +It's better for all of us to be here. Uncle John isn't quite like other +people. When he was a young man he studied to be a virtuoso on the +violin. He overworked and had brain fever just before he was to give his +first recital. After he got well he never played the same again. He had +spent all the money his father left him on his musical education, so he +had to find work wherever he could. He played the violin in different +orchestras, but he was so absent-minded that he couldn't be trusted. +Sometimes he would go on playing after all the rest of the orchestra had +finished, and then he began to repeat things after people. + +"When father first met him they were playing in the same theatre +orchestra. One night a great tragedian was playing 'Hamlet,' and poor +Uncle John grew so interested that he said things after him as loud as +he could. The actor was dreadfully angry, and so was the leader of the +orchestra. He made the poor old man leave the theatre. After that he +played in other orchestras a little, but he couldn't be depended upon, +so no one wanted to hire him. + +"Father did all he could to help him, but he grew queerer and queerer. +Then he disappeared, and father didn't see him for a long while. One +cold winter night he found him wandering about the streets, so he +brought him to his room and he has been with father ever since. That was +years ago, before father was married. He isn't really my uncle. I just +call him that. The musicians used to call him 'Crazy Johnny.' His name +is John Roland." + +Although Constance had averred that there wasn't "much to tell," the +third act interrupted her recital, and it was during the interval before +the beginning of the last act that Marjorie heard the story of the +fourth member of the Stevenses' household, little lame Charlie. + +"Charlie has been with us a little over four years," returned Constance, +in answer to Marjorie's interested questions. "He is seven years old, +but you would hardly believe it. His mother died when he was a tiny +baby, and his father was a dreadful drunkard. He was a musician, too, a +clarionet player. He let Charlie fall downstairs when he was only two +years old and hurt his hip. That's why he's lame. His father used to go +away and be gone for days and leave the poor baby with his neighbors. +Father found out about it and took Charlie away from him, and we've had +him with us ever since." + +"It was splendid in your father to be so good to the poor old man and +Charlie," said Marjorie, warmly. + +"Father is the best man in the world," returned Constance, with fond +pride. "He is such a wonderful musician, too. He can play on the violin +as well as the piano, and he teaches both. If only he could get plenty +of work here in Sanford. He has a few pupils, and with the articles he +writes we manage to live, but the magazine is a small one and does not +pay much for them. He has tried ever so many times to get into the +theatre orchestra, but there seems to be no chance for him. I think +we'll go somewhere else to live before long. Perhaps to a big city +again. I'd love to stay here and go through high school with you, but I +am afraid I can't. I'm almost eighteen and I ought to work." + +"Oh, you mustn't think of leaving Sanford!" exclaimed Marjorie, in +sudden dismay. "What would I do without you? Perhaps things will be +brighter after a while. I am sure they will. Why couldn't your +father----" + +But the last act was on, and she did not finish what had promised to be +a suggestion. Nevertheless, a plan had taken shape in her busy mind, +which she determined to discuss with her father and mother. + +As if to further her design they found Mr. Stevens waiting outside the +theatre for his daughter and Marjorie lost no time in presenting him to +her father and mother. He greeted the Deans gravely, thanking them for +their kindness to his daughter, with a fine courtesy that made a marked +impression on them, and after he had gone his way, a happy, smiling +Constance beside him, Marjorie slipped her arms in those of her father +and mother, and walking between them told Constance's story all over +again. + +"I think it is positively noble in Mr. Stevens to take care of that old +man and little Charlie, when they have no claim upon him," she finished. + +"He has a remarkably fine, sensitive face," said Mrs. Dean. "I suppose +like nearly all persons of great musical gifts, he lacks the commercial +ability to manage his affairs successfully." + +"Don't you believe that if the people of Sanford only knew how +beautifully Mr. Stevens and the other man played together they might +hire them for afternoon teas and little parties and such things?" asked +Marjorie, with an earnestness that made her father say teasingly, "Are +you going to enlist in his cause as his business manager?" + +"You mustn't tease me, General," she reproved. "I'm in dead earnest. I +was just thinking to-night that Mr. Stevens ought to have an orchestra +of his own. You know mother promised me a party on my birthday, and +that's not until January tenth. Why can't I have it the night before +Thanksgiving? That will be next Wednesday. Mr. Stevens and Mr. Roland +can play for us to dance. A violin and piano will be plenty of music. If +everybody likes my orchestra, then someone will be sure to want to hire +it for some of the holiday parties. Don't you think that a nice plan?" + +"Very," laughed her father. "I see you have an eye to business, +Lieutenant." + +"You can have your party next week, if you like, dear," agreed Mrs. +Dean, who made it a point always to encourage her daughter's generous +impulses. + +"Then I'll send my invitations to-morrow," exulted Marjorie. "Hurrah for +the Stevens orchestra! Long may it wave!" She gave a joyous skip that +caused her father to exclaim "Steady!" and her mother to protest against +further jolting. + +"Beg your pardon, both of you," apologized the frisky lieutenant, giving +the arms to which she clung an affectionate squeeze, "but I simply had +to rejoice a little. Won't Constance be glad? I could never care quite +so much for Constance as I do for Mary, but I like her next best. She's +a dear and we're going to be friends as long as we live." + +But clouds have an uncomfortable habit of darkening the clearest skies +and even sworn friendships are not always timeproof. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +MARJORIE MEETS WITH A LOSS + + +By eight o'clock the following night twenty-eight invitations to +Marjorie Dean's Thanksgiving party were on their way. No one of the +invitations ran the risk of being declined. Marjorie had invited only +those boys and girls of her acquaintance who were quite likely to come +and when the momentous evening arrived they put in twenty-eight joyful +appearances and enjoyed the Deans' hospitality to the full. + +But to Constance, who wore her beautiful blue gown and went to the party +under the protection of her father, whose somber eyes gleamed with a +strange new happiness, and old John Roland, whose usually vacant +expression had changed to one of inordinate pride, it was, indeed, a +night to be remembered by the three. Charlie was to remain at home in +the care of a kindly neighbor. + +The long living-room had been stripped of everything save the piano, and +the polished hardwood floor was ideal to dance on. Uncle John had +received careful instructions beforehand from both Mr. Stevens and +Constance as to his behavior, and with a sudden flash of reason in his +faded eyes had gravely promised to "be good." + +He had kept his word, too, and from his station beside the piano he had +played like one inspired from the moment his violin sang the first magic +strains of the "Blue Danube" until it crooned softly the "Home, Sweet +Home" waltz. + +The dancers were wholly appreciative of the orchestra, as their coaxing +applause for more music after every number testified, and before the +evening was over several boys and girls had asked Marjorie if "those +dandy musicians" would play for anyone who wanted them. + +"Mother's giving a tea next week, and I'm going to tell her about these +men," the Crane had informed Marjorie. + +"Hal and I are going to give a party before long, and we'll have them, +too," Jerry had promised. Lawrence Armitage, who had managed to be found +near Constance the greater part of the evening, insisted on being +introduced to her father, and during supper, which was served at small +tables in the dining-room, he had sat at the same table with the two +players and Constance, and kept up an animated and interested discussion +on music with Mr. Stevens. + +But the crowning moment of the evening had been when, after supper, the +guests had gathered in the living-room to do stunts, and Constance had +sung Tosti's "Good-bye" and "Thy Blue Eyes," her exquisite voice coming +as a bewildering surprise to the assembled young people. How they had +crowded around her afterward! How glad Marjorie had been at the success +of her plan, and how Mr. Stevens' eyes had shone to hear his daughter +praised by her classmates! + +In less than a week afterward Constance rose from obscurity to +semi-popularity. The story of her singing was noised about through +school until it reached even the ears of the girls who had despised her +for her poverty. Muriel and Susan had looked absolute amazement when a +talkative freshman told the news as she received it from a girl who had +attended the party. Mignon, however, was secretly furious at the, to +her, unbelievable report that "that beggarly Stevens girl could actually +sing." She had never forgiven Constance for refusing to dishonorably +assist her in an algebra test, and after her unsuccessful attempt to +fasten the disappearance of her bracelet upon Constance she had disliked +her with that fierce hatred which the transgressor so often feels for +the one he or she has wronged. + +Next to Constance in Mignon's black book came Marjorie, who had caused +her to lose her proud position of center on the team, and in Miss Merton +and Marcia Arnold she had two staunch adherents. Just why Miss Merton +disliked Marjorie was hard to say. Perhaps she took violent exception to +the girl's gay, gracious manner and love of life, the early years of +which she was living so abundantly. At any rate, she never lost an +opportunity to harass or annoy the pretty freshman, and it was only by +keeping up an eternal vigilance that Marjorie managed to escape +constant, nagging reproof. + +Last of all, Marcia Arnold had a grievance against Marjorie. She was no +longer manager of the freshman team. A disagreeable ten minutes with +Miss Archer after the freshman team had been disbanded, on that dreadful +day, had been sufficient to deprive her of her office, and arouse her +resentment against Marjorie to a fever pitch. + +There were still a number of girls in the freshman class who clung to +Muriel and Mignon, but they were in the minority. At least two-thirds of +19-- had made friendly overtures not only to Marjorie, but to Constance +as well, and as the short December days slipped by, Marjorie began to +experience a contentment and peace in her school that she had not felt +since leaving dear old Franklin High. + +"Everything's going beautifully, Captain," she declared gaily to her +mother in answer to the latter's question, as she flashed into the +living-room one sunny winter afternoon, with dancing eyes and pink +cheeks. "It couldn't be better. I like almost every one in school; +Constance's father has more playing than he can do; you bought me that +darling collar and cuff set yesterday; I've a long letter from Mary; +I've studied all my lessons for to-day, and--oh, yes, we're going to +have creamed chicken and lemon meringue pie for dinner. Isn't that +enough to make me happy for one day at least?" + +"What a jumble of happiness!" laughed her mother. + +"Isn't it, though? And now Christmas is almost here. That's another +perfectly gigantic happiness," was Marjorie's extravagant comment. "I +love Christmas! That reminds me, Mother, you said you would help me play +Santa Claus to little Charlie. I don't believe he has ever spent a +really jolly Christmas. Of course, Mr. Stevens and Constance will give +him things, but he needs a whole lot more presents besides. He climbed +into my lap and told me all about what he wanted when I was over there +yesterday. I promised to speak to Santa Claus about it. Charlie isn't +going to hang up his stocking. He's going to leave a funny little wagon +that he drags around for Santa Claus. He told me very solemnly that he +knew Santa Claus couldn't fill it, for Connie had said that he never had +enough presents to go around, but she was sure he would have a few left +when he reached Charlie. + +"So Constance and I are going to decorate the wagon with evergreen and +hang strings of popcorn on it and fill it full of presents after he +goes to bed. He has promised to go very early Christmas eve. Mr. Roland +has a little violin he is going to give him, and Mr. Stevens has a +cunning chair for him. He has never had a chair of his own. Constance +has some picture books and toys, and I'm going to buy some, too. I saved +some money from my allowance this month on purpose for this." + +Marjorie's face glowed with generous enthusiasm as she talked. + +"I am going shopping day after to-morrow," said Mrs. Dean, "and as long +as it is Saturday, you had better go with me." + +"Oh, splendid!" cried Marjorie, dancing up and down on her tiptoes. +"Things are getting interestinger and interestinger." + +"Regardless of English," slyly supplemented her mother, as Marjorie +danced out of the room to answer the postman's ring. + +"Here are two letters for you, Captain, but not even a postcard for me. +I'd love to have a letter from Mary, but I haven't answered her last one +yet. I'll write to her to-morrow and send her present, too, with special +orders not to open it until Christmas." + +The next morning Marjorie hurried off to school early, in hopes of +seeing Constance before the morning session began. Her friend entered +the study hall just as the first bell rang, however, and Marjorie had +only time for a word or two in the corridor as they filed off to their +respective classes. + +"I'll see her in French class," thought Marjorie. "I'll ask Professor +Fontaine to let me sit with her." But when she reached the French room +and the class gathered, Constance was not among them, nor did she enter +the room later. Wondering what had happened, Marjorie reluctantly turned +her attention to the advance lesson. + +"We weel read this leetle poem togethaire," directed Professor Fontaine, +amiably, "but first I shall read eet to you. Eet is called 'Le +Papillon,' which means the 'botterfly.'" + +Unconsciously, Marjorie's hand strayed to the open neck of her blouse. +Then she dropped her hand in dismay. Her butterfly, her pretty talisman, +where was it? She remembered wearing it to school that morning, or +thought she remembered. Oh, yes, she now recalled that she had pinned it +to her coat lapel. It had always shone so bravely against the soft blue +broadcloth. She longed to rush downstairs to her locker before reporting +in the study hall for dismissal, but remembering how sourly Miss Merton +had looked at her only that morning, she decided to possess her soul in +patience until the session was dismissed. + +Once out of the study hall she dashed downstairs at full speed and +hastily opened her locker. As she seized her coat she noted vaguely that +Constance's hat and coat were missing, but her mind was centered on +her pin. Then an exclamation of grief and dismay escaped her. The lapel +was bare of ornament. Her butterfly was gone! + +"I wonder if I really did leave it at home?" was her distracted thought, +as she climbed the basement stairs with a heavy heart, after having +thoroughly examined the locker. But a close search of her room that noon +revealed no trace of the missing pin. Hot tears gathered in her eyes, +but she brushed them away, muttering: "I won't cry. It isn't lost. It +can't be. Oh, my pretty talisman!" She choked back a sob. "I sha'n't +tell mother unless it is really hopeless. It won't do any good and +she'll feel sorry because I do. It's my own fault. I should have seen +that my butterfly was securely fastened." + +On the way home from the school that afternoon Marjorie reported the +loss of her pin to Irma, Jerry and Constance, who had returned for the +afternoon session. + +"What a shame!" sympathized Jerry. "It was such a beauty." + +"I'm so sorry you lost it," condoled Irma. + +"So am I," echoed Constance. "I don't remember it. I'm not very +observing about jewelry, but I'm dreadfully sorry just the same." + +"It was----" began Marjorie, but a joyful whistle far up the street and +the faint ring of running feet put a sudden end to her description. +Lawrence Armitage, Hal Macy and the Crane had espied the girls from +afar and come with winged feet to join them. Their evident pleasure in +the girls' society, coupled with the indescribably funny antics of the +Crane, who had apparently appointed himself an amusement committee of +one, drove away Marjorie's distress over her loss for the time being, +and it was not until later that she remembered that she had not +described the butterfly pin to Constance. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +PLAYING SANTA CLAUS TO CHARLIE + + +The next morning Marjorie wrote a description of her pin. It was placed +at the end of the basement corridor above a small bulletin board, where +those who passed might read. She wondered if the loss of her talisman +would bring her bad luck. Before the day was over she gloomily decided +that it had, for during the last hour Miss Merton accused her of +whispering to the girl across the aisle, when she merely leaned forward +in her seat to pick up her handkerchief. Smarting with the teacher's +injustice, Marjorie politely but steadily contradicted the accusation, +and two minutes later found herself on the way to Miss Archer's office, +Miss Merton walking grimly beside her. + +Miss Archer had been through a particularly trying day, and was +irritable, while Miss Merton was consumed with spiteful rage at +Marjorie's "impertinence," and did not hesitate to put her side of the +story forward in a most unpleasant fashion. The principal turned coldly +to Marjory with, "Apologize to Miss Merton at once, Miss Dean, for +disturbing her," and Marjorie said, with uplifted chin and resentful +eyes, "I am sorry you thought I whispered, Miss Merton, for I did not +open my lips." Something in the proud carriage of the girl's head caused +Miss Archer to divine the truth of the firm statement, and she said, +more gently, "Very well, you are excused, Miss Dean; but I do not wish +to hear again that you have failed in courtesy to your teachers. This is +not the first time I have received such reports of you." + +With a steady, reproachful look at Miss Merton, whose shifting eyes +refused to meet hers, Marjorie walked from the room, ready to burst into +tears, and when the all but interminable afternoon was ended, hurried +home to the shelter of her faithful captain's arms and poured forth her +grief and wrongs. + +But the notice of the lost pin posted on the bulletin board brought +forth no trace of the vanished butterfly. Marjorie made a valiant effort +to thrust aside her heavy sense of loss and allow the spirit of +Christmas to enter her heart. She had promised Constance her help in +arranging Santa Claus' visit to Charlie, and, when on Christmas eve, at +a little after seven o'clock she set out for the Stevens' weighed down +by numerous festively-wrapped, be-ribboned packages, she was filled with +that quiet exaltation that attends the performance of a good deed and +happier than she had been for several days. + +"Shh!" Constance met her at the door, a warning finger on her lips. + +"Hasn't he gone to sleep yet?" asked Marjorie, sliding into the house in +mouse-like fashion. + +"Yes, but I thought he never would," returned Constance, with a relieved +sigh. "What do you think? Father is playing at the theatre to-night for +the first time. The pianist is ill. The leader of the orchestra was here +this afternoon to see if father would take his place. We can never be +grateful enough to you, Marjorie, for having father and Uncle John play +at your party." + +"Let's talk about Charlie's little wagon," proposed Marjorie, quickly. +"Nora popped and strung a lot of corn for me. It's in this bag. Do tell +me where I can put the rest of this armful of things." + +Constance made a place on one end of an old velvet couch for them. + +"This is yours." Marjorie flourished a wide, flat package tied with +long, graceful loops of narrow pale blue ribbon. "I tied it with blue +because that's your color. Don't you dare peep at it until to-morrow +morning. These two little packages are for your father and Mr. Roland, +and all the rest is for Charlie." + +"He will be the happiest boy in Sanford," said Constance, her own face +radiant. "He never dreamed of a Christmas like this." + +"Can we begin now?" asked Marjorie. "I'm so impatient to see how this +wagon will look when we get it fixed." + +"Wait a minute." Constance disappeared through the door leading into the +kitchen, returning with one arm piled high with evergreens, the other +wound around a small balsam tree. + +"Lawrence Armitage brought me this yesterday," she explained. "A party +of boys went to the woods to cut down Christmas trees. He brought me +this cunning little tree and all this ground pine and holly. Wasn't it +nice in him?" + +"Perfectly dear," agreed Marjorie. "I wonder if there is enough popcorn +for the tree, too. I have a lot of little ornaments and candles at home. +It won't take long to go there and back." She reached for her hat and +coat as she spoke and in spite of Constance's protests was soon speeding +home after the required decorations. + +"I made good time, didn't I?" she observed, as half an hour later she +burst into the Stevens' living-room without knocking. + +Then the work of making one small boy's Christmas merry was begun in +earnest. An hour later the sturdy baby balsam stood loaded with its crop +of strange fruit, and the faithful, rickety wagon, whose imperfections +were quite hidden beneath trails of thick, fragrant ground pine and +sprays of flame-berried holly, looked as though it had received a +visitation from the fairies. A diminutive black leather violin case, +encircled with a wreath of ground pine and tied with a huge red bow, +leaned against one wheel of the magic vehicle, and the cunning chair +with its absurd little arms and leather cushion was also twined with +green. + +"It's too lovely for words," breathed Constance, her admiring gaze +fastened upon the once dingy corner now bright with the flowers of love +and generosity, which had bloomed in all shapes and sizes of packages to +gladden one youngster's heart. + +"I wish I could be here when first he sees it," commented Marjorie. +"I'll be fast asleep then, for he told me that Mr. Roland promised to +call him very early." + +"He proposed staying up all night, but I was not enthusiastic over that +plan," laughed Constance. + +"I must go," decided Marjorie. "The hands of that clock fairly fly +around the dial. I'm sure I just came and yet they point to a quarter to +eleven." She reached reluctantly for her hat and her wraps. + +"How can I ever thank you, Marjorie," began Constance, but Marjorie put +a soft hand over her friend's lips. + +"Please don't," she implored. "I've loved to do it." She held out both +hands to Constance. "I wish you the merriest sort of a merry Christmas." + +"I hope you will have a perfectly wonderful day," was the earnest +response. "You'll come over to-morrow and see how happy you've made +Charlie and all of us, won't you?" + +"I'll come," promised Marjorie. "You couldn't keep me away." + +She reached home just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of her father +disappearing up the stairs with a huge box in his arms, while her mother +hastily dropped some thing into the drawer of the library table. + +"There, I caught both of you," she cried in triumph. "Confess you were +hiding things from me, weren't you?" + +"I'll answer your questions to-morrow," beamed her father. + +"I forgive you both as long as the things are for me," was her calm +declaration. + +"What is she talking about?" solemnly asked Mr. Dean, with an air of +complete mystification. + +"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" exclaimed Marjorie, +making a rush for him. + +"Help, help!" he called feebly. "The battalion has been ambushed and the +general captured." + +"And held prisoner," added Marjorie, severely. "Unless he informs the +second lieutenant what is in a certain big, white box with which he +escaped upstairs, he shall be court-martialed." + +"Put off the court-martial until to-morrow and perhaps I'll tell," +compromised the captured general, throwing his free arm across his +lieutenant's shoulder in a most unmilitary manner. + +"All right, I'll let you go on parole," returned his daughter. "I'm too +sleepy to do guard duty to-night. How I wish you might have seen +Charlie's little wagon when we finished it! We had a tree, too." + +Forgetting that she was sleepy, Marjorie poured forth the story of her +evening's work to her sympathetic listeners and it was ten minutes to +twelve before she said good-night and went yawning to bed. + +Eight o'clock Christmas morning found her awake and stirring. Wrapped in +her bathrobe, she pattered downstairs to the living-room, her arms full +of bundles, but her father and mother were already there before her, and +their packages greatly outnumbered hers. After the kisses and greetings +of the day had been given her father handed the big white box into her +outstretched arms. "Shall I tell you----" he began. + +"Don't you dare! I'm going to see for myself. Oh-h-h!" She had the lid +off, and was clasping to her breast a mass of soft brown fur. "Oh, +General, you dear thing! You sha'n't ever go to prison again." She +smothered her father in the coat and a rapturous embrace, causing him to +protest mildly. Her mother's gift of a bracelet watch also evoked +another burst of reckless enthusiasm. + +What a happy hour it was, to be sure, and how beautifully all her +friends had remembered her! Marjorie could hardly bear to leave her +presents long enough to eat breakfast, and when after breakfast she left +home for her Christmas call on the Stevens, she felt as though she must +sing "Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men," at the top of her voice as +she walked. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE UNLUCKY TALISMAN + + +There was a rapturous shriek of joy from Charlie as Constance opened the +door for Marjorie and their hands and lips met in Christmas greeting. +Marjorie stooped to embrace the excited little figure. "Santa Claus did +come to see Charlie, didn't he?" she exclaimed, in pretended surprise. +"And what did he bring?" + +For answer the child limped to his Christmas corner. "Oh, a fiddle," he +said reverently, clasping the little violin to his heart. "Now I shall +play in the band soon. Johnny said so." He thrust the violin under his +sharp little chin, the thin fingers of his left hand reaching across the +fingerboard, his left wrist curving into position. + +"Why, he holds it like a real violinist!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Can he +play?" + +Charlie answered her question by dragging his triumphant bow across the +helpless strings, drawing forth a wailing discord of tortured sound. + +"He thinks he can," giggled Constance. "I suppose those awful sounds +are the sweetest music to his ears. Luckily, we don't mind them. I hope +you don't. I hate to stop him, he is so delighted with himself." + +"I don't mind in the least," assured Marjorie. "I wouldn't spoil his +pleasure for anything in the world." + +Charlie had no intention of giving a concert that morning, however; he +had too many other things to distract his mind. + +Marjorie sat on the floor beside the Christmas tree, her feet tucked +under her, and listened with becoming gravity and attention while he +told her about Santa Claus' visit, and one by one brought forth his +precious presents for her to see. + +"He must have had enough presents to go around this year or he wouldn't +have left me so many," asserted the child with happy positiveness. +"Connie's going to write him a letter and say thank you for me. If I +don't say 'thank you' when someone gives me something, then I can never +play in the band. Johnny and father always say it. I'm sorry I didn't +write to Santa Claus before Christmas and ask him for a new leg. I can't +go fast on this one. It's been wearing out ever since I was a baby and +it keeps on getting shorter." + +"Santa Claus can't give you a new leg, Charlie boy," answered Marjorie, +her bright face clouding momentarily, "but perhaps some day we can find +a good, kind man who will make this poor little leg over like a new +one." + +"When you find him, you'll be sure to tell him all about me, won't you, +Marjorie?" he asked eagerly. + +"As sure as anything," nodded Marjory, brushing his heavy black hair out +of his eyes and kissing him gently. + +"Will you walk down to the drugstore with me, Marjorie?" put in +Constance, abruptly. + +Marjorie glanced up to meet her friend's troubled gaze. In an instant +she was on her feet. + +"It's a good thing I didn't take off my hat and coat. I'm ready to go, +you see." + +"Charlie can watch for us at the window," suggested Constance, hugging +the child. "We won't be long." + +Once outside the house there was an eloquent silence. "It's dreadful, +isn't it?" There was a catch in Constance's voice when finally she +spoke. + +"Can't he be cured?" queried Marjorie, softly. + +"Yes; so a specialist said, if only we had the money." + +"He is such a quaint child, and he really and truly believes in Santa +Claus," mused Marjorie, aloud. "Most children of his age don't." + +"He's different," was the quick reply. "He has been brought up away from +other children and in a world of his own. He believes in fairies, too, +good ones and bad ones. But he loves music better than anything else in +the world, and his highest ambition in life is to play in the band. If +only I had the money to make him well! I'd love to see him strong and +sturdy like other children." + +"You mustn't talk about such sad things to-day, but just be happy," +counseled Marjorie, slipping her arm through that of her friend. +"Charlie is cheerful and jolly in spite of his poor lame leg. Perhaps +the New Year will bring you something glorious." + +"You are so comforting, Marjorie," sighed Constance. "I'll throw all my +cares to the winds and keep sunny all day if I can." + +"I must go now." They entered the little gray house again, just in time +to hear remonstrative squeaks from the E string of the diminutive +violin, blended with disheartened moans from the A and growls of protest +from the G string. + +"How did you like that?" inquired Charlie, calmly. + +"It was very noisy," criticised Constance. + +"It was a very hard passage to play," explained the embryo musician, +soberly. + +"It seems to have been," laughed Marjorie. + +"That is what Johnny says when he doesn't pay attention and makes a +mistake on the fiddle," confided Charlie. + +Constance's sad look vanished at this naive assertion. "He imitates +father and Uncle John in everything," she explained. "He will have +played his way through all the music in the house before to-morrow +night--most of it upside down, too." + +"I'd love to stay longer, but I promised to stop at Macy's and we have +our dinner at one o'clock. I wish you could come, too, but I know you'd +rather be at home. Thank you again for the hemstitched handkerchiefs. I +don't see how you found the time to make them." + +"Thank you for the lovely hand-embroidered blouse and all Charlie's +things," reminded Constance. "I hope we'll spend many, many more +Christmases together." + +"So do I," echoed Marjorie, as she kissed Charlie and held out her hand +to her friend. + +Her call on the Macys lasted the better part of an hour, for Jerry was +the recipient of a host of gifts, and insisted upon displaying them, +while Hal refused to pose gracefully in the background and absorbed as +much of Marjorie's attention as she would give him, secretly wondering +if she would be pleased with the box of American Beauty roses he had +ordered the florist to deliver at the Deans' residence at noon that day. + +What a blissful Christmas it was! From the moment of Marjorie's +awakening that morning until the day was done it was one long succession +of joyous surprises. And, oh, glorious thought! there were ten blessed +days of vacation stretching before her. + +"I'll see if Constance will go to the matinee Saturday," she planned +drowsily that night as she prepared for sleep. "We will take Charlie. I +promised him long ago that I would. I'll run over there to-morrow. Too +bad I didn't think of it to-day." + +But "to-morrow" brought its own deeds to be done, and so did the +following two days, and it was Friday afternoon before Marjorie found +time for her visit to the little gray house. + +Ever since Christmas it had snowed at intervals and the snow-plow men +had been kept busy clearing the streets. It was just the kind of weather +to wear one's fur coat, and Marjorie gave a little shiver of delight as +she slipped into her Christmas treasure. And how warm it was! The +searching east wind that was abroad that day held no discomfort for her. + +As she stepped briskly along over the hard-packed walk, hedged in by +high-piled snow, she thought rather soberly of her own good fortune and +wondered why so many beautiful things had been given to her while to +Constance life had grudged all but the barest necessities. With a rush +of generous impulse she resolved to do all in her power to smooth the +troubled way of her friend. + +When within sight of the house Marjorie's eyes were fastened upon the +living-room windows for some sign of Charlie, who would sit contentedly +at one of them by the hour watching the passersby. Catching sight of +his pale little face pressed to the window pane she waved her hand gaily +to him. He disappeared from the window and an instant later stood in the +open door, shouting gleefully, "Oh, Connie, here's Marjorie! Here's +Marjorie!" + +Marjorie bent and embraced the gleeful little boy. "How is Charlie +to-day?" she asked. + +"Pretty well," nodded the child. "I wish I had asked for that leg, +though. Mine hurts to-day." + +"You poor baby!" consoled Marjorie, tenderly. "But where is Connie, +dear?" + +"She's upstairs. I'll call her." + +He limped across the room to the stair door, which was situated at one +side of the living-room, and opened it. "Connie," he called, "Marjorie's +come to see us." + +There was a sound of quick footsteps on the stairs and Constance +appeared. "I didn't know you were here," she apologized. + +"Where were you on Thursday?" began Marjorie, laughingly. "You promised +to come over. Don't you remember?" + +"Yes," returned Constance, briefly. Then with a swift return of the old, +chilling reserve, which of late she had seemed to lose, "It was +impossible for me to come." + +Marjorie scrutinized her friend's face. The look of impassivity had come +back to it. "What is the matter, Constance?" she questioned anxiously. +"Has anything happened?" + +An expression of intense pain leaped into Constance's blue eyes. "I've +something to tell you, Marjorie. It's dreadful. I----" With a muffled +sob she threw herself, face down, upon the old velvet couch, her slender +shoulders shaking with passionate grief. + +"Why, Constance!" Marjorie regarded the sobbing girl in sympathetic +amazement. + +Charlie went over to the couch and patted Constance's fair head. "Don't +cry, Connie," he pleaded. Then, limping to a dilapidated writing desk in +the corner, which Marjorie never remembered to have seen open before, he +took from one of the lower pigeonholes a small, glittering object. + +"This is what makes Connie cry." He opened his hand and disclosed a +little object on his outstretched palm. "Shall I throw the old thing +into the fire, Connie?" + +With a sharp ejaculation of dismay, Constance sprang from the couch. One +swift glance toward the desk, then she caught Charlie's tiny hand in +hers. "Give it to Connie, this minute," she commanded sternly. For the +instant Marjorie was forgotten. + +Charlie's lips quivered with grieved surprise. Relinquishing his hold on +the object he wailed resentfully, "It is a horrid old thing. It made you +cry, and me, too." + +"Charlie, dear," soothed Constance. Then she glanced up to meet the +horrified stare of two accusing brown eyes. "Why--Marjorie!" she +exclaimed. + +"Where--where--did you get that pin?" Marjorie's soft voice sounded +harsh and unnatural. + +"That's what I started to tell you," faltered Constance. "Oh, it's so +dreadful I can't bear to speak of it. Yet I must tell you. I--the +pin----" she broke down and throwing herself on the lounge again began +to cry disconsolately. + +An appalling silence fell upon the shabby, music-littered room, broken +only by Constance's sobs. Marjorie stood rooted to the spot. Could it be +true that Constance, the girl she had fought for, the girl for whose +sake she had braved class ostracism, had deliberately stolen her pin? +Yet she must believe the evidence of her own eyes which had told her +that in Charlie's hand lay her cherished pin, her lost, much-mourned-for +butterfly! + +If Constance had deliberately taken the pin, then she was a thief. If +she had found it, but purposely failed to return it, she was still a +thief. Marjorie opened her lips to pour forth a torrent of reproaches, +but the words would not come. She had a wild desire to pry open the hand +which held her precious butterfly and seize it, but her hands remained +limply at her sides. It was her pin, her very own, yet she could not +touch it unless Constance chose to hand it to her. + +But Constance made no such proffer. Still clutching the precious +butterfly she continued to weep unrestrainedly. + +Marjorie waited patiently. + +Having failed hopelessly as a comforter, Charlie had hobbled to his +corner, where his Christmas tree still stood, and, with that blessed +forgetfulness of sorrow which childhood alone knows, had dragged forth +his violin and begun a dismal screeching and scraping, a nerve-racking +obligato to his foster sister's sobs. + +Five endless minutes passed, but Constance made no sign. + +"I'm--I'm going now," choked Marjorie. Hot tears lay thick on her +eyelashes. She stumbled blindly toward the door, her face averted from +the girl who had so misused and abused her friendship. "Good-bye, +Constance." + +Something in the reproachful ring of that "Good-bye," startled Constance +out of her grief. She had been too greatly overcome with her own trouble +to note the effect of her tears and broken words upon Marjorie. Surely +Marjorie was not angry with her for crying. + +"Wait a minute, Marjorie," she called. "Please don't be angry. I won't +cry any more. I want to tell you about the pin. It was----" + +But only the sound of a closing door answered her. Marjorie was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE CROWNING INJURY + + +Marjorie never remembered just how she reached home that afternoon. She +followed the familial streets mechanically, her brain tortured with but +one burning thought--Constance was a thief. Over and over the dreadful +sentence repeated itself in her mind. "How could she?" was her +half-sobbed whisper, as she slipped quietly into the house, and, without +glancing toward the living-room, went softly upstairs to her room. She +wanted to be alone. Not even her beloved captain could ease the hurt +dealt her by the girl she had loved and trusted. Her mother must never +know that Constance was unworthy. No one should know, but she could +never, never be friends with Constance again. + +With the tears running down her cheeks Marjorie took off the new fur +coat she had worn so proudly that afternoon and dropped it upon the +first convenient chair. Her hat followed it; then throwing herself +across the bed, she gave way to uncontrolled weeping. Until that moment +she had not realized how greatly she had loved this girl who had Mary's +eyes of true blue, but who was so sadly lacking in Mary's fine sense of +honor. + +Until the afternoon light waned and the shadows began to creep upon her +she lay mourning, and inconsolable. Her generous heart had been sorely +wounded and she could not easily thrust aside her dreadful sense of +loss; neither could she understand why Constance had partly acknowledged +that she took the butterfly pin, but had not offered to return it. + +"I couldn't ask her for it," she sighed to herself, as, at last, she +rose, switched on the electric light, and viewed her tear-swollen face +in the mirror, "not when she had kept it all this time. She knew how +dreadfully I felt over losing it, and she certainly saw the notice in +the hall." A flash of resentment tinged her grief. + +"I can't forgive her. I'll never forgive her. I----" Marjorie's lips +began to quiver ominously. "I won't cry any more," she asserted stoutly. +"My face is a sight now. Mother will ask me what the trouble is, and I +don't want a soul to know. Of course, we can't go to the matinee +to-morrow. We can't ever go anywhere together again." Once more the +tears threatened to fall. She shut her eyes and forced them back, then +went dejectedly down the hall to the bathroom to lave her flushed face +and aching eyes. + +By the time dinner was ready Marjorie showed no traces of her grief. +She was unusually quiet at dinner, however, and her mother inquired +anxiously if she were ill. + +"Did you wear your new coat this afternoon?" her father asked soberly. + +"Yes, General. I went to see Constance." Marjorie tried to speak +naturally. + +"Ah, that accounts for it," he declared, putting on a professional air. +"Too much magnificence has struck in. You have, no doubt, a +well-developed case of pride and vanity." + +"I haven't a single shred of either," protested Marjorie, laughing a +little at her father's tone, which was an exact imitation of their +former family physician. "That sounded just like good old Doctor Bates." + +"Are you and Constance going to take Charlie to the matinee to-morrow, +dear?" asked her mother. + +"No, Mother," returned Marjorie. Then as though determined to evade +further questioning, she asked: "May I go shopping with you?" + +"I wish you would. You can select the material for your new dress and +the lace for that blouse I am making for you. It is so pretty. My new +fashion book came to-day. I have picked out several styles of gowns for +you." + +"What did you pick out for me?" inquired Mr. Dean, ingenuously. + +"You can't have any new clothes. Too much magnificence would strike in. +You would have, no doubt, a well-developed case of pride and vanity," +retorted Marjorie, wickedly. + +"Report at the guard house at once, for disrespectful conduct to your +superior officer," ordered Mr. Dean with great severity. + +"Not to-night, thank you," bowed the disobedient lieutenant, as all +three rose from the table, "I'm going upstairs to my room to write a +letter." + +Once in her room Marjorie went to her desk and opened it with a +reluctance born of the knowledge of a painful task to be performed. +Seating herself, she reached for her pen and nibbled the end soberly as +she racked her brain for the best way to begin a note to Constance. +Finally she decided and wrote: + +"Dear Constance: + +"I cannot come over to your house to-morrow or ever again. I know what +you wanted to tell me. It is too dreadful to think of. You should have +told me before. I will never let anyone know, so you need not worry. You +have hurt me terribly, and I can't forgive you yet, but I hope I shall +some day. I don't like to mention things, but for your own sake won't +you try to do what is right about the pin? I shall always speak to you +in school, for I don't wish the girls to know we have separated. + + "Yours sorrowfully, + + "MARJORIE." + +When she had finished, the all-too-ready tears had again flooded her +eyes and dropped unrestrained upon the green blotting pad on her desk. +After a little she slowly wiped her eyes, and, without reading what she +had written, folded the letter, addressed and stamped it. Slipping into +her coat, she wound a silken scarf about her head and went downstairs. + +"I'm going out to the mailbox, Mother," she called, as she passed the +living-room door. + +"Very well," returned Mrs. Dean, abstractedly. She was deep in her book +and did not glance up, for which Marjorie was thankful. If her mother +noticed her reddened eyelids, explanations would necessarily follow. + +The next day dragged interminably. Even the usual pleasure of going +shopping with her captain could not mitigate the pain of yesterday's +shocking discovery. To Marjorie the bare idea of theft was abhorrent. +When, at the Hallowe'en dance, Mignon had accused Constance of taking +her bracelet, Marjorie's wrath at the insult to her friend had been +righteous and sweeping. + +That night, as she sat opposite her mother in the living-room trying to +read one of the books she had received for Christmas the incident of the +missing bracelet and Mignon's accusation suddenly loomed up in her mind +like an unwelcome specter. Suppose Mignon had been right, after all. +Jerry had openly asserted that she did not believe Mignon had really +lost her bracelet, and in her anger Marjorie had secretly agreed with +the stout girl. Suppose Constance had taken it. What if she were one of +those persons one reads of in books whom continued poverty had made +dishonest, or perhaps she was a kleptomaniac? The last idea, though +unpleasant to contemplate, was not so repugnant to her as the first; but +she did not believe it to be true. Constance's partial confession, +coupled with her ready tears, was positive proof that she had been +conscious of her act of theft. There was only one other theory left; she +had found the pin and succumbed to the temptation of keeping it. Yet +Constance had always averred that she did not care for jewelry, and +would not wear it if she possessed it. + +Marjorie went over these suppositions again and again, but each time her +theories ended with the bitter fact that, in spite of her tears, +Constance had kept her ill-gotten bauble. + +The vacation which had promised so much, and which she had happily +supposed would be all too short, seemed endless. During the long days +that followed she received no word from the girl in the little gray +house. If Constance had received her letter, she made no sign, and this +served to add to Marjorie's belief in her unworthiness. + +Jerry Macy's New Year's party proved a welcome relief from the hateful +experience through which she had passed. Although invited, Constance +was not among the merry gathering of young people, and Jerry loudly +lamented the fact. Mr. Stevens and Uncle John Roland, who furnished the +music for the dancing, greeted Marjorie with affectionate regard. It was +evident that they knew nothing of what had transpired. Constance was +ill, her father reported, but hoped to be able to return to school on +Tuesday. He thanked Marjorie for her remembrance of him and Charlie, and +Uncle John forgot himself and repeated everything after him with +grateful nods and smiles. + +During the evening Marjorie frequently found herself near the two +musicians, and Lawrence Armitage, secretly disappointed because of +Constance's absence, also did considerable loitering in their immediate +vicinity. If the troubled little lieutenant had had nothing on her mind, +she would have spent a most delightful evening, for the Macy's enormous +living-room had been transformed into a veritable ballroom, where the +guests might dance without bumping elbows at every turn, while Hal and +Jerry were the most hospitable entertainers. + +If Constance's father and foster uncle had not been present, she might +have forgotten her woes, but whenever she glanced at either, the +sorrowful face of the Mary girl rose before her. To make matters worse, +Jerry proposed to her that they call upon Constance the next day, and +Marjorie was obliged to refuse lamely without giving any apparent +reason. It was in the nature of a relief to her when the party broke up. +In spite of the gratifying knowledge that the girls had pronounced her +new white silk frock the prettiest gown of all, and that Hal Macy had +been her devoted cavalier, Marjorie Dean went to bed that night in a +most unhappy mood. + +The Monday before she returned to school she began a long letter to +Mary. She and Mary had sworn that, though miles divided them, they would +tell each other their secrets. Resolved to keep her word, she had +written her heart out to her chum, then had read the letter and torn it +into little pieces. Having written only pleasant things of her new +friend to Mary, she could not bear to take away her good name with a few +strokes of her pen. + +"If only Constance were true and honorable like Mary," she sighed as she +closed her desk, and selecting a book she wandered disconsolately +downstairs to the living-room to read; but her thoughts continually +reverted to her own grievance. "If she gives back my pin, I'll forgive +her," was her final conclusion as at last she laid her book aside with +an impatient sigh, and sitting down on a little stool near the fire, +stared gloomily into its ruddy depths; "but I never, never, never can +feel the same toward her again." + +Marjorie went to school on Tuesday morning vaguely hoping that +Constance would see things in a finer light and act accordingly. +Unselfish in most respects, the poor little soldier had forgotten +everything save the fact that she was the injured one. To her it seemed +as though the other girl's crushing weight of half-acknowledged guilt +ought to make her a willing suppliant for pardon. During the early part +of the morning session she waited, half expecting to receive a contrite +plea for grace from the Mary girl. + +When her French hour came, she hurried into the classroom, thinking that +she might see Constance before the class gathered; but Professor +Fontaine had closed the door and remarked genially, "_Bon jour, +mesdemoiselles. Comment vous portez vous, aujourd'hui_. I trost that you +have not forgotten your French during your 'oliday," when it opened +quietly to admit Constance. + +Marjorie regarded her gravely, noting that she looked pale and tired. +Suddenly her eyes opened in wide, unbelieving amazement. With a +half-smothered exclamation that caused half the class to turn and look +at her, including Mignon, whose alert eyes traveled knowingly between +the two girls, she tore her gaze from the disturbing sight, and, putting +one hand over her eyes, leaned her head on her arm. For fastened at the +open neck of Constance's blouse was her butterfly pin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MIGNON PLANS MISCHIEF + + +To Marjorie, torn between resentment of Constance's bold display of the +stolen pin and shame for her utter absence of honor, the French lesson +was a confused jumble. She heard but dimly the rise and fall of +Professor Fontaine's voice as he conducted the lesson, and when he +called upon her to recite she stared at him dazedly and finally managed +to stammer that she was not prepared. + +"Ah, Mademoiselle Dean, I am of a certainty moch surprised that you +cannot translate thees paragraph," the little man declared +reproachfully. "I weel begeen eet for you, and you shall do the rest, +_N'est pas?_" + +Marjorie stumbled through the paragraph with hot cheeks and a strong +desire to throw her book into the air and rush from the recitation. When +class was over she seized her books and left the room without looking in +Constance's direction. + +The eyes of the latter followed her with an expression of perplexed, +questioning sorrow that, had Marjorie noted and interpreted as such, +might have caused her to doubt what seemed plain, thresh the matter out +frankly with Constance, and thus save them both many weeks of +misunderstanding and heartache. + +At the close of the morning session Marjorie lingered until she was sure +that Constance had taken her wraps from the locker and departed. The +thought of her beloved pin ornamenting the other girl's blouse was too +bitter to be tamely borne. Fierce resentment crowded out her gentler +feelings, and she could not trust herself to come in contact with her +faithless classmate and remain silent. + +On the steps of the school she met Jerry and Irma, who had posted +themselves to wait for her. + +"I thought you had decided to stay in there all day," grumbled Jerry. + +"It's only five minutes past twelve," protested Marjorie. + +"I thought it was at least half-past," retorted Jerry. "Say, Marjorie, +didn't you say that you'd lost your butterfly pin?" + +"Yes," replied Marjorie, shortly, bracing herself for what she felt +would follow. She was not the only one who had seen the pin in +Constance's possession. + +"Did Constance Stevens find it?" quizzed Jerry. + +"Yes." + +"Oh, then that's all right. I saw her wearing it this morning; and I'm +not the only one who saw her, either. Mignon had her eye on it in French +class, and I wouldn't be surprised to hear of some hateful remark she +had made about it. You know, she still insists that Constance took her +bracelet. She might be mean enough to say that Constance found your pin +and didn't give it back to you." + +Marjorie stared at Jerry in amazement. Without knowing it, the stout +girl had exactly stated the truth about the pin. + +"You needn't stare at me like that," went on Jerry. "Of course, we know +that Constance wouldn't be so silly as to try to keep a pin belonging to +someone else that everyone recognized; but lots of girls would believe +it. I suppose you let Constance wear it because you two are so chummy; +but you'd better get it back and wear it yourself. Then Mignon can't say +a word." + +"I'll think about it," was Marjorie's evasive answer, but once she had +said good-bye to the two girls she began to deliberate within herself as +to what she had best do. Here was an exigency against which she had +failed to provide. She had resolved never to betray Constance to the +girls, but now Constance had, by openly wearing the pin, betrayed +herself. Either she would be obliged to go to Constance and demand her +own or allow her to wear the bit of jewelry and create the impression +that she had sanctioned the wearing of it. + +When she returned to school that afternoon she had half determined to +see Constance and put the situation fairly to her, but rather to her +relief Constance did not appear at the afternoon session, nor was she in +school the next day. When Friday came and she was still absent, Marjorie +was divided between her pride and a desire to go to the little gray +house and settle matters. On Saturday she was still halting between two +opinions, and it was four o'clock Saturday afternoon before she put on +her wraps with the air of one who has made up her mind and started for +the Stevens'. + +As she approached the house she looked toward the particular window +where Charlie was so fond of stationing himself to peer out on the dingy +little street, but there was no sign of the boy's white, eager face. To +her vivid imagination the very house itself wore a sad, cheerless aspect +that filled her with a vague apprehension of some impending +unpleasantness. + +She knocked briskly at the door, then waited a little. There was no +response. She knocked again, harder and longer, but still silence +unbroken by any footfall, reigned within. After pounding upon the door +at intervals for at least ten minutes, she turned and walked dejectedly +away from the house of denial, speculating as to what could possibly +have become of the Stevens'. + +At the corner she almost ran against Mr. Stevens, who, with his soft +black felt hat pulled low over his forehead, was hurrying along, his +violin case under his arm. + +"Oh, Mr. Stevens," cried Marjorie, "where is Constance? I have just come +from your house, and there is no one at home." + +Mr. Stevens looked mildly surprised. "I thought you knew," he answered. +"Didn't Constance tell you she was going away? She and Charlie went to +New York City yesterday. They are to meet Constance's aunt there. It was +very unexpected. She received a letter from her aunt on Tuesday. I was +sure she had told you." Mr. Stevens' fine face took on an expression of +perplexity. + +"I did not know it," responded Marjorie, soberly. "When will she +return?" + +"I am not quite sure. I shall not know definitely until I hear from +her," was the discouraging reply. + +"I'm sorry I didn't see her," was all Marjorie could find words for, as +she turned to go. "Good-bye, Mr. Stevens." + +"Good-bye, Miss Marjorie." The musician bared his head, his thick, white +hair ruffling in the wind. "You will hear from Constance, no doubt." + +"No doubt I won't," breathed Marjorie, as she walked on. "What would he +say, I wonder, if he knew? He'll never know from me, neither will anyone +else. I hope those girls will forget all about seeing Constance wear the +pin." + +But the affair of the pin was destined not to sink into oblivion, for +the next morning Marjorie found on her desk the following note: + +"Miss Dean: + +"Do you think you are doing right in shielding a thief? It looks as +though a certain person either stole or found and kept a certain article +belonging to you and yet you allow her to wear it before your very eyes +without protest. If you do not immediately insist on the return of your +property and denounce the thief, we will put the matter before Miss +Archer, as this is not the first offense. This is the decision of +several indignant students who insist that the girls of the freshman +class shall be above reproach." + +Marjorie's eyes flashed her contempt of the anonymous missive. She +folded it quietly, then, reaching into her desk, drew forth a sheet of +note paper and wrote: + +"Miss La Salle: + +"Although the note I found on my desk is not signed, I am sure that you +wrote it. I do not think you have the slightest right to dictate to me +in a personal matter. Miss Stevens and I are perfectly capable of +settling our own affairs without the help of any member of the freshman +class. + + "Marjorie Dean." + +Mignon's pale face flushed crimson as she read the note which Marjorie +lost no time in sending to her via the student route, which was merely +the passing of it from desk to desk until it reached its destination. +With a scornful lifting of her shoulders she flung the note on her desk, +then snatching it up, tore it into tiny pieces. + +When school was dismissed she lingered and twenty minutes afterward +emerged from Miss Archer's office in company with Marcia Arnold, an +expression of triumph in her black eyes. + +When she reached home that afternoon she took from the drawer of her +dressing-table something small and shining and examined it carefully. +"It looks the same, but is it?" she muttered. "Where did the other come +from? I don't understand it in the least. Just the same, Marjorie Dean +thinks Miss Smarty Stevens took her pin. She was thunderstruck when she +saw that Stevens girl wearing it this morning. She's too much afraid of +not telling the truth to deny it in her letter. There's something gone +wrong with their friendship, too. I'm sure of it from the way they have +been acting. I don't know what it's all about, but I do know that this," +she touched the small, shining object, "shall never help them solve +their problem." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +PLANNING FOR THE MASQUERADE + + +On the morning following Mignon's visit to Miss Archer's office, +Marjorie was unpleasantly startled to hear Miss Merton call out +stridently just after opening exercises, "Miss Dean, report to Miss +Archer, at once." + +A battery of curious eyes was turned in speculation upon Marjorie as she +walked the length of the study hall, outwardly composed, but inwardly +resentful at Miss Merton's tone, which, to her sensitive ears, bordered +on insult. + +"Good morning, Miss Archer; Miss Merton said you wished to see me," +began Marjorie, quietly, as she entered the outer office where Miss +Archer stood, reading a letter which her secretary had just handed to +her for inspection. + +"Yes," returned the principal, briefly; "come with me." She led the way +to her inner office and, motioning to Marjorie to precede her, stepped +inside and closed the door. + +"Sit here, Miss Dean," she directed, indicating a chair at one side of +her desk. Then, seating herself, she turned to the young girl, and said, +with kind gravity: "I sent for you this morning because I wish to speak +frankly to you of one of your classmates. I shall expect you to be +absolutely frank, too. Very grave complaints have been brought to me by +Miss La Salle concerning Constance Stevens. She insists that Miss +Stevens is guilty of the theft of her bracelet, which disappeared on the +night of the dance given by the young men of Weston High School. As I +left the gymnasium some time before the party was over, I knew nothing +of this, and no word of it was brought to me afterward. + +"Miss La Salle also states that Miss Stevens has been wearing a gold +pin, in the form of a butterfly, which belongs to you and which you +advertised as lost. She declares that she is positive that Miss Stevens +found the pin and made no effort to return it to you, and that you are +shielding her from the effects of her own wrongdoing by allowing her to +continue to wear it. This latter seems to be a rather far-fetched +accusation, but Miss La Salle is so insistent in the matter that I was +going to settle that part of it, at least, by asking you where and when +you found your pin and whether you gave Miss Stevens permission to wear +it. + +"This may seem to you, my dear, like direct interference in your +personal affairs, but it is necessary that this matter be cleared up at +once. Miss Stevens cannot afford to allow such detrimental reports to +be circulated about her through the school." + +Miss Archer looked expectantly at Marjorie, who was strangely silent, +two signals of distress in her brown eyes. + +"I cannot answer your questions, Miss Archer," she answered at last, her +clear tones a trifle unsteady. + +The principal regarded her with amazed displeasure. Accustomed to having +the deciding voice in all matters pertaining to her position as head of +the school, she could not endure being crossed, particularly by a pupil. + +"I must insist upon an answer, Miss Dean. Your silence is unfair, not +only to Miss Stevens, but to the school. If Miss Stevens is innocent of +any wrongdoing, now is the time to clear her name of suspicion. If she +is guilty, by telling the true circumstances concerning your pin, you +are doing the school justice. A person who deliberately appropriates +that which does not belong to him or to her is a menace to the community +in which he or she lives, and should be removed from it. Our school is +our community. It must be kept free from those who are a detriment to +it," concluded Miss Archer, her mouth settling into lines of obstinate +firmness. + +The distress in Marjorie's face deepened. "I am sorry, Miss Archer, but +I can tell you nothing. Please don't think me stubborn and obstinate. I +can't help it. I--I have nothing to say." + +"I have explained to you the necessity for perfect frankness on your +part, and you have refused to comply with my demand," reproved the +principal. "I am deeply disappointed in you, Miss Dean. I looked for +better things from you. The affair will have to stand as it is until +Miss Stevens returns. I am sorry that you will not assist me in clearing +it up." She made a gesture of dismissal. "That is all, I believe, this +morning. You may return to the study hall." + +Without a word Marjorie rose and left the room, her eyes full of tears, +her proud spirit hurt to the quick. The icy reproach in the principal's +words was, indeed, hard to bear, and all for a girl who had proved +herself unworthy of friendship. Yet she could not help feeling a swift +pang of pity for Constance. How dreadful it would be for her when she +returned to Sanford and to school! + +But Constance seemed in no hurry to return. Midyear, with its burden of +examinations, its feverish hopes and fears, came and went. Then followed +a three days' vacation, and the new term began with a great readjusting +of programs and classes. Marjorie passed her state examinations in +American history and physiology, and decided upon physical geography and +English history in their places, as both were term studies. She entered +upon her second term's work with little enthusiasm, however. The +disagreeable, almost tragic events following the holidays had left a +shadow on her freshman days, that had promised so much. + +February came, smiled deceitfully, froze vindictively, threatened a +little, then thawed and froze again, as his next-door neighbor, March, +whisked resentfully down upon him, hurried him out of the running for a +whole year, and blustered about it for two weeks afterward. The swiftly +passing days, however, brought no word or sign concerning the absent +Constance, and, try as she might, Marjorie could not forget her. + +Mignon La Salle, though greatly disappointed over the failure of her +plan to humiliate the musician's daughter, was craftily biding her time, +resolved to strike the moment Constance returned to school. + +"Mignon certainly intends to make things interesting for Constance," +declared Jerry to Marjorie, as the French girl switched haughtily by +them one mild afternoon in late March on the way home from school. + +"Why do you say that?" asked Marjorie, quickly. "Have you heard anything +new?" + +"Nothing startling," replied Jerry. "You know Irma and Susan Atwell used +to be best friends until they began chumming with Mignon and Muriel. +Well, Susan is awfully angry with Mignon for something she said about +her, so she has dropped her, and Muriel, too. She went over to Irma's +house the other night and cried and said she was sorry she'd been so +silly. She wanted to be friends with Irma again." + +"What did Irma say?" asked Marjorie, breathlessly. + +"Oh, she made up with her, then and there," informed Jerry with fine +disgust. "I'd have kept her waiting a while. She deserved it. She told +Irma she hoped I'd forgive her, but I didn't make any rash promises." + +"What a hard-hearted person you are," smiled Marjorie. "But, tell me, +Jerry, what did you hear about Constance?" + +"Oh, yes. That's what I started out to tell you. Mignon told Susan last +week that she was only waiting for Constance to come back to school to +take her to Miss Archer and accuse her of stealing her bracelet." + +"How dreadful!" deplored Marjorie. "Perhaps Constance won't come back." + +"Yes, she will. She wrote a note to Miss Archer when she went away +saying that she had to go to New York City on business, but would return +to school as soon as possible. Marcia Arnold saw the note, and told +Mignon. Mignon told Susan before they had their fuss. Susan told Irma, +and she told me. Almost an endless chain, but not quite," finished Jerry +with a cheerful grin. + +"I should say so," returned Marjorie, in an abstracted tone. Her +thoughts were on the absent girl. She wondered why Constance had gone to +New York so suddenly and taken little Charlie with her. She wished she +had asked Mr. Stevens more about it. + +"See here, Marjorie," Jerry's blunt tones interrupted her musing. +"What's the trouble between you and Constance? I know something is the +matter, but I'd like most awfully well to know what it is." + +"I can't answer your question, Jerry," said Marjorie in a low tone. +"Would you care if I--if we didn't talk about Constance?" + +"Not a bit," rejoined the stout girl good-naturedly. "Never tell +anything you don't want to tell. We'll change the subject. Let's talk +about the Sanford High dance. What character do you intend to +represent?" + +"Is Sanford High going to give a party?" Marjorie voiced her surprise. + +"Of course. The Sanford High girls give one every spring, and the Weston +boys give their dance in the fall." + +"When is it to be?" + +"Not until after Easter, and this year it's going to be a lot of fun. We +are to have a fairy-tale masquerade." + +"I never heard of any such thing before." + +"Neither did I," went on Jerry, "that is, until yesterday. The +committee just decided upon it. You see, the girls always give a fancy +dress party, but not always a masquerade. This year a freshman who was +on the committee proposed that it would be a good stunt to make everyone +dress as a character in some old fairy tale. The rest of the committee +liked the idea, so you had better get busy and hunt up your costume." + +"But how did you happen to know so much about it?" + +"Well," Jerry looked impressive. "I was on the committee and I happened +to be the freshman who proposed it." + +"You clever girl!" exclaimed Marjorie, admiringly. "I think that is a +splendid idea. I wonder what I could go as?" + +"Snow White," suggested Jerry, eyeing her critically. "I can get seven +of the Weston boys to do the Seven Little Dwarfs and follow you around." + +"But Snow White had 'a skin like snow, cheeks as red as blood and hair +as black as ebony,'" quoted Marjorie. "I don't answer to that +description." + +"You are pretty, and so was she, and that's all you need to care," +returned Jerry, calmly. "Besides, the Seven Dwarfs will be great. Will +you do it?" + +"All right," acquiesced Marjorie. "What are you going as?" + +"One of the 'Fat Friars,'" giggled Jerry. "Don't you remember, 'Four +Fat Friars Fanning a Fainting Fly'? I'm going to ask three more stout +girls to join me. We'll wear long, gray frocks, get bald-headed wigs and +carry palmleaf fans. I don't know anyone who would be willing to go as +the 'Fainting Fly,' so we'll have to do without him, I guess." + +"You funny girl!" laughed Marjorie. "But how will everyone know who is +who after the unmasking? There will be so many queens and princesses and +kings and courtiers." + +"We thought of that and we are going to put up a notice for everyone to +carry cards. Some of the characters will be easy to guess without +cards." + +"I must tell mother about it as soon as I go home and ask her to help me +plan Snow White's costume. When will we receive our invitations?" + +"We only send printed invitations to the boys. Every girl in high school +is invited, of course. The invitations will be sent to the boys next +week, and the Sanford girls will be notified at once, so as to give them +plenty of time to plan their costumes." + +"I wish it were to be next week," murmured Marjorie, after she had left +Jerry and turned into her own street. "Everything has been gloomy and +horrid for so long. I'd love to have a good time again, just to see how +it seemed." + +She reflected rather sadly that the disagreeable happenings of her +freshman year had outweighed her good times. She had entered Sanford +High School with the resolve to like every girl there, and with the hope +that the girls would like her, but in some way everything had gone +wrong. Perhaps she had been to blame. She had been warned in the +beginning not to champion Constance Stevens. Yet the very girls who had +warned her could never have been her intimate friends. Her ideals and +theirs, if they had ideals, were too widely separated. No; she had been +right in standing up for Constance. The fault lay with the latter. It +was she who had betrayed friendship. + +Determined to go no further into this most painful of subjects, Marjorie +resolutely centered her thoughts upon the coming party. The moment she +reached home she ran upstairs to her room. Sitting down on the floor +before her bookcase, she drew out a thick red volume of Grimms' Fairy +Tales and read the story of Snow White. To her joy she discovered that +the colored frontispiece was a picture of Snow White begging admittance +at the home of the Seven Little Dwarfs. + +"I'll ask mother to make me a high-waisted white gown like this one, +with pale blue trimmings and a big blue sash," she planned. "I'll wear +my pale blue slippers, the ones that have no heels, and white silk +stockings. Thank goodness, my hair is curly. I'll let it hang loose on +my shoulders. Of course, it isn't as black as ebony; but then, I can't +help that." With the book still in her hand she ran down the stairs, +two at a time, to tell her mother. + +What mother is not interested in her daughter's school fun and parties? +Mrs. Dean entered at once into the planning of the costume and suggested +that Snow White's cards be made in the shape of little apples, one half +colored red, the other half green, and her name written diagonally +across the surface of the apple. + +Marjorie hailed the idea with delight. "May I buy the water-color paper +for the apples to-morrow, Captain?" + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Dean. "You ought to begin them at once. What is +Constance going to wear? She hasn't been here for a long time. Poor +child, I suppose her family keep her busy. Why not ask her to dinner +some night this week, Marjorie?" + +Marjorie flushed hotly. Her mother, who was busily engaged with an +intricate bit of embroidery, did not notice the added color in her +daughter's face. + +"Constance is in New York visiting her aunt," returned Marjorie. "She +has been there for a long time. Charlie is with her. I don't know when +they will be home." + +Something in her daughter's tone caused Mrs. Dean to glance quickly up +from her work. Marjorie was staring out of the window with unseeing +eyes. + +"Constance has hurt Marjorie's feelings by not writing to her," was +Mrs. Dean's thought. Aloud she said: "Did you know before Constance went +to New York that she intended going?" + +"No; she didn't tell me." + +Marjorie volunteered no further information, and Mrs. Dean refrained +from asking questions. She thought she understood her daughter's +reticence. Marjorie naturally felt that Constance was neglectful and a +little ungrateful, but would not say so. + +"I wish I could tell mother all about it," ruminated Marjorie, as she +went slowly upstairs to replace the Grimms'. "I can't bear to do it. I +suppose I shall some day, but it seems too dreadful to say, 'Mother, +Constance is a thief. She stole my butterfly pin. That's why she doesn't +come here any more.' It's like a disagreeable dream, and I wish I could +wake up some day to find that it's all been a dreadful mistake." + +But light is sure to follow darkness, and the loyal little lieutenant's +awakening was nearer at hand than she could foresee. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE AWAKENING + + +It was wilful, changeable April's last night, and, being in a tender +reminiscent mood, she dispensed her balmiest airs for the benefit of the +distinguished company who filled to overflowing the gymnasium of Sanford +High School, prepared to dance her last hours away. For the heroes and +heroines of fairy-tale renown had apparently left the books that had +held them captive for so long, and, jubilant in their unaccustomed +freedom, promenaded the floor of the gymnasium in twos, threes or in +whole companies. + +Simple Simon, whose tall, lank figure bore a startling resemblance to +that of the Crane, paraded the floor, calm and unafraid, with none less +personage than the terrible Blue Beard. Hansel and Gretel immediately +formed a warm attachment for Jack and Jill, and the quartet wandered +confidently about together. Little Miss Muffet, in spite of her reputed +daintiness, clung to the arm of Bearskin, who, despite the fact that his +furry coat was that of a buffalo instead of a bear, was a unique success +in his line. One suspected, too that the Brave Little Tailor, whose +waistcoat bore the modest inscription, "Seven at One Blow," and who +tripped over his long sword at regular two-minute intervals, had an +impish, freckled countenance. The straight, lithe figure of the youth +with the Magic Fiddle reminded one of Lawrence Armitage, while his +constant companion, Aladdin, a sultan of unequaled magnificence, had a +peculiar swing to his gait that reminded sharp-eyed observers of Hal +Macy. The Four Fat Friars loomed large and gray, and fanned imaginary +flies with commendable energy, while Snow White, accompanied by her +faithful dwarfs, made a radiantly beautiful figure and was greeted with +ejaculations of admiration wherever she chose to walk. + +There were kings and courtiers, queens and goose girls. There were +jesters and princesses, old witches and fairies. Mother Goose was there. +So were Jack Horner, Bo-peep, Little Boy Blue and many more of her +nursery children, not to mention two fearsome giants, at least ten feet +high, whose voluminous cloaks concealed figures which appeared far too +tall to be true. Rapunzel trailed about on the arm of her prince, her +beautiful hair, which looked suspiciously like nice new rope, confined +in a braid at least three inches wide and hanging gracefully to her +feet. Cinderella came to the party in her old kitchen dress, accompanied +by her fairy godmother, and Beauty was attended by a strange being clad +in a huge fur robe and a papier-mache tiger's head, which was +immediately recognized as the formidable Beast. + +The gallery of the gymnasium was crowded with the friends and families +of the maskers who were admitted by tickets, a limited number of which +had been issued. When the first notes of the grand march sounded there +was a great craning of necks and a loud buzz of expectation as the gaily +dressed company formed into line, and while the brilliant procession +circled the gymnasium a lively guessing went on as to who was who in +Fairyland. + +Mother Goose led the march with the Brave Little Tailor, who frisked +along in high glee and executed weird and wonderful steps for the +edification of his aged partner and the rest of the company in general. + +"Isn't it great, though," commented Aladdin to his partner, who was none +other than Snow White. "I know who you are. I'm sure I do. If I guess +correctly will you tell me?" + +Snow White nodded her curly head. + +"All right, here goes. You are Marjorie Dean." + +"I'm so glad you guessed right the first time," declared Snow White in a +muffled voice from behind her mask. "I've been perfectly crazy to talk +to someone. It's a gorgeous party, isn't it, Hal?" + +"The nicest one the Sanford girls have ever given the boys," returned +Hal Macy, warmly. "You'll give me the next dance, won't you, Marjorie?" + +"Of course," acquiesced Marjorie. "I think the grand march is going to +end in a minute." + +She danced the first dance with Hal. After that the Youth with the Magic +Fiddle claimed her, and when he asked in a tone of deep concern, "When +do you think Constance will be home, Marjorie?" she had no difficulty in +recognizing Lawrence Armitage. + +"I don't know, Laurie," she said rather confusedly. "I--I haven't heard +from her." + +"She wrote me one letter," declared Laurie, gloomily. "I answered it, +but she hasn't written me a line since." + +"Then you know----" began Marjorie. She did not finish. + +"Know what?" asked Laurie, impatiently. + +"Nothing," was the answer. + +"That's just it!" exclaimed the boy. "I know exactly nothing about +Constance. I thought you'd be sure to know something." + +Just then the dance came to an end. Jack and the Beanstalk, clad in +doublet and hose, and decorated with long green tendrils of that +fruitful vine, his famous hatchet slung over his shoulder by a stout +leather thong, claimed her for the next dance, and she had no time to +exchange further words with Laurie. + +The moment of unmasking was to follow the ninth dance. The eighth was +just about to begin. Marjorie caught sight of a huge lumbering figure +in princely garments heading in her direction, and turning fled toward +the dressing-room. She was quite sure of the prince's identity, which +was that of a youth whom she particularly disliked. Just as she reached +the sheltering door a familiar voice called out a low, cautious, +"Marjorie." Turning, she saw a stout, gray-robed friar hurrying toward +her. + +"I've hunted all over for you," declared the friar, in Jerry's +unmistakable tones. "Come into the dressing-room. Someone is waiting to +see you there." + +"Waiting to see me!" exclaimed Marjorie, in surprise. + +"That's what I said. Come along." Jerry caught her arm and pulled her +gently into the dressing-room. At one end of the room stood the dingy +figure of Cinderella, deep in conversation with her fairy godmother. + +At the sound of the opening door Cinderella wheeled and, with a +quavering little cry of "Marjorie!" ran forward to meet the newcomers. + +Marjorie stopped short and stared unbelievingly at the shabbily clothed +figure, but Cinderella had now torn off her mask and was fumbling with +trembling eagerness in the pocket of her apron. + +"Here it is, Marjorie, dear! I never dreamed you had one like it. No +wonder you felt dreadfully that day. Look at it." She thrust a small +glittering object into Marjorie's limp hand. + +Marjorie regarded the object with a look of growing amazement, which +suddenly changed to one of alarm. "It isn't mine!" she gasped. "It's +exactly like it except for one thing. Mine has no pearls here." She +touched the tips of the golden butterfly's wings. "Oh, Constance, can +you ever forgive me?" The pretty butterfly pin slipped from her lax +fingers and Marjorie burst into tears. + +"Don't cry, Marjorie," said Jerry, with unusual gentleness. "You didn't +know. It was just one of those miserable misunderstandings. Constance +wants to tell you about the pin." + +"But how--where----" quavered Marjorie. + +"Oh, I had an idea that there was some kind of a misunderstanding, so I +wrote Constance and asked her to come home as soon as she could," +explained Jerry. "Her father gave me her address. She was coming home +next week, anyhow, but I wrote her again and asked her to get here in +time for the dance. The minute I saw that butterfly pin I asked her +straight out and out where she got it. She told me, and then I knew that +the thing for me to do was to bring you two together. She only came home +last night, so we had to plan a costume in a hurry. You haven't said a +word about her fairy godmother, either. Take off your mask, dear fairy +godmother." + +"Irma!" cried Marjorie, as she glimpsed a laughing face. "Oh, it's too +wonderful!" She wound two penitent arms around Constance and kissed her. + +"I guess that will settle Mignon," commented Jerry, in triumph. "It is a +shame, but I suppose your butterfly pin is really lost. Constance will +tell you the history of hers." + +"I wish the bracelet problem could be solved, too," sighed Constance. +"Jerry tells me that Mignon is going to accuse me of taking it when I go +back to school. How can she be so cruel? I don't remember seeing it in +the dressing-room on the night of the Weston dance." + +"But I do!" called out a positive voice that caused them all to face the +intruder in astonishment. + +A slim, pale-faced girl, dressed as a shepherdess, emerged from behind a +curtain which hung in a little alcove at one end of the dressing-room. + +"Please excuse me for listening," apologized the girl. "I was standing +here looking out of the window when you girls came in and began to talk. +Before I could make up my mind what it was all about I heard Miss +Stevens talking about Miss La Salle's bracelet and the Weston dance. Did +Miss La Salle accuse you of taking her bracelet that night?" she asked, +her eyes upon Constance. + +"Yes," began Constance, "she----" + +"Miss La Salle is the real thief," interrupted the girl, dryly. "I saw +her take off her bracelet and lay it on the dressing table. I saw her +come and take it away after Miss Stevens left the room. I had to catch +the last train home that night. You know, I don't live in Sanford, and I +was sitting over in one corner of the dressing-room behind a chair +putting on my shoes. Neither Miss Stevens nor Miss La Salle saw me. I +wondered what Miss La Salle meant by doing as she did, but I never +understood until this minute. I'm glad I happened to be there that night +and I'm glad I happen to be here now. If there is likely to be any +trouble, just send for me. I'm Edna Halstead, of the junior class." + +The four girls had received this rapidly repeated information with +varying degrees of amazement. It was Marjorie who first sprang forward +and offered her hand to Edna Halstead. "It is the last word we needed to +clear Constance," she asserted, joyously. "Will you go to Miss Archer +with us on Monday?" + +"I should be glad to do so. I never could endure that La Salle girl," +was the frank response. + +"We'll go together," planned Jerry. "Every one of you meet me in Miss +Archer's living-room office on Monday morning before school begins." + +"I must go home now," demurred Constance. "I don't wish anyone to know +that I've been here." + +"Not even Laurie?" asked Marjorie, slyly. "He spoke of you to-night." + +Constance smiled. "You may tell him after the 'Home, Sweet Home' waltz." + +"There goes the music for the ninth dance," informed Jerry, who had +stepped to the door. + +"Oh, gracious, I promised this dance to Hal! I can't go. I simply must +hear about the pin, Connie." + +"I'll tell you just one thing about it," stipulated Constance, "but the +rest must wait until to-morrow, for Hal is too nice a boy to leave +without a partner." + +"Then tell me that one thing," begged Marjorie. + +"My aunt sent me the pin," was the quick answer. "Now kiss me good-night +and hurry along to Hal." + +And Marjorie kissed her and went with happiness singing joyfully in her +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE EXPLANATION + + +Owing to the fervent manner in which each succeeding dance was encored, +it was after midnight before the fairy-tale masquerade came to an end +and the lords and ladies of fairy lore became everyday boys and girls +again; and went home congratulating themselves on the blessed fact that +to-morrow was Saturday and that they could make up lost sleep the next +morning. + +Marjorie Dean, however, was not among the late sleepers. She was up and +about the house at her usual hour, for the day held promise of unusual +interest. First of all, Constance was coming to see her at ten o'clock. +Then too, it was May day, a gloriously sunshiny May day, without the +faintest trace of cloud in the deep blue sky. As a third pleasant +anticipation, her class had planned a Mayday picnic at a point about +two miles up the river. It had been an unusually early spring, and the +wild flowers had blossomed in such profusion in the neighboring woods +about the town and along the river that the picnic had been planned +with a view to spending the day in gathering as many of them as +possible. + +The expedition having been organized by the officers of the class there +was no question of who should be invited or who should be left out. The +class was exhorted to turn out in a body, and with the exception of a +few girls who had made plans for that Saturday prior to their knowledge +of the picnic, the freshmen of 19-- had promised to attend. + +"Oh, dear, I wish ten o'clock were here!" sighed Marjorie as she +straightened the last object on her dressing table and viewed with +satisfaction the immaculate order to which she had reduced her room. +Keeping her room clean and dainty was almost a sacred obligation with +Marjorie. Her mother had spared neither time nor expense to make it a +marvel of pink-and-white beauty. The furniture was of white maple, the +thick, soft rug had a cream background scattered with small pink roses. +The window curtains were cunning ruffled affairs of fine white dotted +Swiss, while the window draperies were in pink-and-white French +cretonne. An attractive willow stand, which stood beside the bed, the +two pretty willow rockers piled high with pink and white cushions and +the creamy wallpaper with its graceful border of pink roses made the +room a perpetual joy to its appreciative owner. Marjorie always +referred to it as her "house" and when at home spent a great deal of her +time there. + +But this morning the May sunshine poured rapturously in at her open +windows, touched her brown hair with mischievous golden fingers that +left gleaming imprints on her curls, and mutely coaxed her to come out +and play. + +"I can't stand it indoors another minute," she breathed impatiently. +"It's almost ten. I'll walk down to the corner. Perhaps I'll see +Constance coming." + +As she was about to leave the window she caught a glimpse of a slender +blue figure far down the street. With a cry of, "Oh, there she is!" +Marjorie raced out of her room, down the stairs and across the lawn to +the gate. + +"You dear thing!" she called, her hands extended. + +The next instant the two girls were embracing with a degree of affection +known only to those who, after blind misunderstanding, once more see the +light. + +Tears of contrition stood in Marjorie's eyes as she led Constance into +the house and upstairs to her room. "Can you ever forgive me?" she +faltered, pushing Constance gently into a chair and drawing her own +opposite that of her friend. + +"There is nothing to forgive," returned Constance, unsteadily. "You +didn't know. If only I had made you stay that day until we came to an +understanding! When you said 'Good-bye' in that queer tone, I called to +you to wait, for it seemed to me you were angry; but you had gone. Then +your note came. I didn't know how you could possibly have learned about +the pin, for I hadn't told a soul besides father and Uncle John. It +occurred to me that perhaps you had seen Uncle John and he had told you. +When I read what you said about not seeing me again I thought just one +thing, that, knowing my story, you didn't care to be friends with me any +more." + +"What do you mean, Constance?" Marjorie's query was full of compelling +insistence. "I don't know any story about you." + +"I know that you don't, dear; but I thought you knew. When Uncle John +came in that afternoon I asked him if he had seen you in the last two +days, and he said 'no,' and then 'yes.' I asked him if he had told you +about what had happened to me, and he declared that he couldn't +remember. I was sure that he had told you, because he often says that +when he is afraid father or I won't approve of something he has done. +That is the reason I didn't come to see you. Then I went to New York in +a hurry without dreaming of what your letter really meant. Jerry wrote +me two days before I had planned to come home. So I changed my plans and +started for Sanford the same day her letter reached me. Charlie was so +much better that I wasn't needed." + +"Charlie?" repeated Marjorie, in bewildered interrogation. + +"Yes," nodded Constance. "Haven't you seen father since I left? Didn't +he tell you?" + +"Only once. I--he--I didn't let him know about us. It was right after +you went away. He said you had taken Charlie with you. I met him in the +street and stopped only a minute. I had come from your house that day +but there was no one at home. I couldn't bear to let things go on as +they had. + +"Now," declared Marjorie, drawing a long breath, "begin at the beginning +and tell me every single thing." + +"I will," assured Constance, emphatically. "Let me see. It began the day +after Christmas. A letter came from New York in the morning mail +addressed to father. I gave it to him, and after he read it he sat so +still and looked so white that I thought he was going to faint. Then he +made me come and sit down beside him and told me that the letter was +from my mother's sister in New York and that she was rich and wanted me +to come and live with her. + +"I said that I would never desert my own father no matter how poor he +was, and then he told me that he was only my foster father, just as he +was Charlie's. That my own father had been his best friend when they +were boys. Later on, my father became a worthless, drunken wretch and my +mother had to do sewing to take care of herself and me. My mother's +family never forgave her for marrying my father and would not help her. +She was not strong and could not stand it to be so poor and work so +hard. She died when I was a year old, and just a month afterward my +father died with pneumonia. No one wanted me, so I was put in an orphan +asylum, but Father Stevens, who had been trying to find my father, heard +where I was and took me to live with him. He wrote to my aunt first, but +she said she didn't want me. That is the first part of my story." + +"It sounds like a story in a book," said Marjorie, softly. "Go on, +Connie." + +"This letter that father received was from my aunt," continued +Constance. "She had been trying to find us for more than two years. +Finally, she saw father's name signed to an article in the musical +magazine, so she wrote a letter and asked the publishers to forward it. +She said in the letter that she was now an old woman who had found that +blood was thicker than water, and that she wanted her sister's daughter, +who must now be a young woman, to come and live with her. With the +letter came a jeweler's box, and in the box was the butterfly pin. She +sent it to me as a Christmas gift. + +"I cried and said I would not go, but father said it was the opportunity +of my life time and that I must. He said that he had no legal right to +me and that he loved me too dearly to stand in my way. It almost broke +my heart. How I hated that butterfly and my aunt, too. When you came to +see me that unlucky day I was feeling the worst. That very night I wrote +my aunt a long letter. I told her just how I felt, how much I loved +father and Charlie and poor old Uncle John and that I could never, never +give them up. Father didn't know I wrote the letter. He thought I was +becoming resigned to going away. I went back to school and wore the pin, +as my aunt had asked me to do in a little note enclosed in father's +letter. + +"Then her letter came and it was so much nicer than the other that I +cried out of pure happiness. She asked me to bring Charlie to New York. +She knew a famous specialist who she thought might help, if not cure +him. She asked me to make her a visit and said she would never wish me +to come to live with her except of my own free will. + +"We went to New York as you know, and, Marjorie"--Constance made an +impressive pause--"Charlie is going to be entirely well in a little +while. The specialist operated on his hip and the operation was +successful. He will be able to walk before very long. When he knew I was +coming home he said, 'Tell Marjorie that I don't need to ask Santa Claus +for a new leg next year, because the good, kind man she told me about +fixed mine.'" + +"Dear little Charlie," murmured Marjorie. "I'm so glad." + +A pleasant silence fell upon the two young girls. So much had happened +that for a brief moment each was busy with her own thoughts. + +"Are you coming back to school to finish the year, Constance?" asked +Marjorie, at last. + +"Yes. I am going to try to make up for lost time. I'll take in June the +examinations I should have tried in January. I hope to be a Sanford +sophomore, Marjorie. Aunt Edith is coming to visit us this summer. She +is going to bring Charlie home." + +Constance remained with Marjorie until almost noon. + +"I wish you'd stay to luncheon," coaxed the little lieutenant. + +"I can't. I'm sorry. I promised father I'd be home at noon." + +"Then I wish you were going to the picnic this afternoon." + +Constance shook her head, looking wistful, nevertheless. + +"I'd rather not. Mignon will be there. It is better to be out of sight +and out of mind until after Monday." + +"Everything is turning out beautifully," sighed Marjorie. "There's only +one thing more that I could possibly wish for." + +"What is that?" asked Constance quickly. + +"My lost butterfly." + +"Perhaps it will fly back home when you least expect it," consoled +Constance. + +"Lost pins don't fly," retorted Marjorie. "If they did my butterfly +would have come back to me long ago." + +But, even then, though she could not know it, her cherished butterfly +was poising its golden wings for the homeward flight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MARJORIE DEAN TO THE RESCUE + + +By one o'clock that afternoon 19-- had assembled at the big elm tree on +the river road which had been chosen as a meeting place. The flower +hunters had planned to follow the road for a mile to a point where a +boat house, which had a small teashop connected with it, was situated. +Owing to the continued spring weather the proprietor had opened the +place earlier than usual and it was decided that the picnickers should +make this their headquarters, returning there for tea when they grew +tired of roaming the neighboring woods. + +Marjorie Dean had not hailed the prospect of 19--'s picnic with +enthusiasm. She did not welcome the idea of coming into close contact +with the little knot of freshmen that were loyal to Mignon La Salle's +interests. However, it would be a pleasure to walk in the fresh spring +woods and gather flowers, so she started for the rendezvous that +afternoon determined to have the best kind of a time possible under the +circumstances. + +She had promised to call for Jerry, but the latter, accompanied by +Irma, met her halfway between the two houses. + +"I thought you were never coming," grumbled the stout girl, in her +characteristic fashion. + +"I've heard those words before," giggled Marjorie. "Haven't you, Irma?" + +"Something very similar," laughed Irma. + +Jerry grinned broadly. + +"Shouldn't be surprised if you had," she admitted. "It's the first May I +ever remember that it hasn't rained. I hope the weather doesn't change +its mind and pour before we get home." + +"Don't speak of it," cautioned Irma, superstitiously. "You'll bring rain +down upon us if you do. May is a weepy month, you know." + +"Weeps or no weeps, I suppose we'll have the pleasure of seeing our dear +friends, Mignon and Muriel, to-day. I could weep for that," growled +Jerry, resentfully. + +Arrived at the elm tree, the girls found the majority of their +classmates already there. To Marjorie's secret disgust, Marcia Arnold +was among the number of upper-class girls chosen to chaperon the +picnickers. + +"Mignon's work," confided Jerry, as she caught sight of Marcia. "I hope +she falls into the river and gets a good wetting," she added, with +cheerful malice. + +"Jerry!" expostulated Irma in horror. "You mustn't say such awful +things." + +"I didn't say I hoped she'd get drowned," flung back Jerry. "I'd just +like to see her get a good ducking." + +It was impossible not to laugh at Jerry, who, encouraged by their +laughter, made various other uncomplimentary remarks about the offending +junior. + +The picnic party set out for the boathouse with merry shouts and echoing +laughter. The quiet air rang with the melody of school songs welling +from care-free young throats as the crowd of rollicking girls tramped +along the river road. + +Spring had not been niggardly with her flower wealth, and gracious, +smiling May trailed her pink-and-white skirts over carpets of living +green, starred with hepaticas and spring beauties, while, from under +clusters of green-brown leaves, the trailing arbutus lifted its shy, +delicate face to peep out, the loveliest messenger of spring. + +The girls pounced upon the fragrant clumps of blossoms and began an +enthusiastic filling of baskets. Held captive by the lure of the waking +woods, the time slipped by unnoticed, and it was after four o'clock +before the majority of the flower-hunters turned their steps toward the +boathouse. + +Mignon La Salle, Muriel Harding, Marcia Arnold and half a dozen girls +who were worshipful admirers of the French girl, soon found flower +gathering decidedly monotonous. + +"Let's hurry out of these stupid woods," proposed Mignon. "My feet are +damp and I'm sure I saw a snake a minute ago." + +"Let's go canoeing," proposed Muriel Harding, as they came in sight of +the boathouse. + +"The very thing," exulted Mignon. "Let me see; there are nine of us. +That will be three in a canoe. I'll hire the canoes and tell the man to +send the bill to my father." + +With quick, catlike springs, she ran lightly down the bank, across the +road and disappeared into the boathouse. Ten minutes later three canoes +floated on the surface of the river, swollen almost to the banks by +April's frequent tearful outbursts. Mignon stood on the shore and gave +voluble orders as the girls cautiously took seats in the bobbing craft. + +"Get in, Marcia," she commanded, pointing to the third canoe. + +Marcia obeyed with nervous expressions of fear. + +An hour later, from a little slope just inside the woods, Marjorie and +her friends, who had reluctantly directed their steps toward the +boathouse, glimpsed the returning canoeing party through the trees. The +canoers had lifted their voices in song, and Marcia Arnold, forgetful of +her fears, was singing as gaily as the rest. + +"It's dangerous to go canoeing now," commented Jerry, judicially. "The +river's too high." + +"Can you swim?" asked Irma, irrelevantly of Marjorie. + +"Yes," nodded Marjorie. "I won a prize at the seashore last year +for----" + +A sharp, terror-freighted scream rang out. The eyes of the trio were +instantly fastened upon the river, where floated an overturned canoe +with two girls struggling near it in the water. They saw the one girl +strike out for shore, and, unheeding her companions' wild cries, swim +steadily toward the river bank. + +"Oh!" gasped Marjorie. Then she darted down the slope, scattering the +flowers from her basket as she ran. At the river's edge she threw aside +her sweater and, sitting down on the ground, tore off her shoes. Poising +herself on the bank, she cut the water in a clean, sharp dive and, an +instant later, came up not far from Marcia Arnold, who was making +desperate efforts to keep afloat. + +A few skilful strokes and she had reached the now sinking secretary's +side. Slipping her left hand under Marcia's chin, she managed to keep +her head above water and support her with her left arm while she struck +out strongly for shore with her right. The water was very cold, but the +distance was short, and Marjorie felt herself equal to her task. + +To the panic-stricken girls on shore it seemed hours, instead of not +more than ten minutes, before Marjorie reached the bank with her burden. +Willing hands grasped Marcia, who, with unusual presence of mind for one +threatened by drowning, had tried to lighten Marjorie's brave effort to +rescue her. Once on dry land she dropped back unconscious, while +Marjorie clambered ashore, little disturbed by her wetting. + +It was Jerry, however, who now rose to the occasion. + +"Marjorie Dean," she ordered, "go into that tea shop this minute. I'm +going to my house to get you some dry clothes. I'll be back in a little +while." + +Marjorie allowed herself to be led into the back room of the little +shop, where Marcia was already being divested of her wet clothing. +Fifteen minutes afterward the two girls sat garbed in voluminous +wrappers, belonging to the boat tender's wife, sipping hot tea. Marjorie +smiled and talked gaily with her admiring classmates, but Marcia sat +white and silent. + +Suddenly a girl entered the room and pushed her way through the crowd of +girls to Marcia's side. It was Muriel Harding. + +"How do you feel, Marcia?" she asked tremulously. + +"I'm all right now," quavered Marcia. + +Muriel turned impulsively to Marjorie, and bending down, kissed her +cheek. "You are a brave, brave girl, Marjorie Dean, and I hope some day +I'll be worthy of your friendship." Then she turned and fairly ran from +the room. + +Before Marjorie could recover from her surprise, Jerry's loud, cheerful +tones were heard outside. + +"Here's a whole wardrobe," she proclaimed, setting down two suitcases +with a flourish. "I came back in our car, and as soon as you girls are +dressed, I'll take you home, and as many more as the car will hold," she +added genially. + +It was a triumphant little procession that marched to the spot where the +Macy's huge car stood ready. As Marjorie put her foot on the step a +girl's voice called out, "Three cheers for Marjorie Dean!" and the car +glided off in the midst of a noisy but heartfelt ovation. + +They were well down the road when Marjorie felt a timid hand upon hers. +Marcia Arnold's eyes looked penitently into her own. "Will you forgive +me, Marjorie?" she said, almost in a whisper. "I've been so hateful." + +"Don't ever think of it again," comforted Marjorie, patting the other +girl's hand. + +"I must think of it," returned Marcia, earnestly. "I--I can't talk about +it now, but may I come to see you to-morrow afternoon? I have something +to tell you." + +"Come by all means," invited Marjorie. "I must say good-bye now. Here we +are at my house. I hope mother won't be too much alarmed when I tell +her. I'll have to explain Jerry's clothes. They are not quite a perfect +fit, as you can see." + +Marcia held the young girl's hand between her own. "I'll come to see you +at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon. Maybe I can show you then how +deeply I feel what you did for me to-day." + +"I wonder what she is so mysterious over," thought Marjorie, as she ran +up the steps. "I never dreamed that she and I would be friends. And +Muriel, too. How perfectly dear she was. But"--Marjorie stopped short in +the middle of the veranda--"what do you suppose became of Mignon?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +LETTING BYGONES BE BYGONES + + +Marjorie touched the button of the electric bell for admittance, but her +finger had scarcely left it when the door was opened by her mother, who +regarded her daughter with mingled amazement and alarm. + +"Why, Marjorie!" she cried. "What has happened to you?" + +"Don't be frightened, Mother. I know I look awfully funny!" Marjorie +stepped into the hall, with a superb disregard for her strange +appearance, assumed with a view to calming Mrs. Dean's fears. + +"I--a canoe tipped over and I helped one of the girls out of the river +and got wet. My clothes are down at the boathouse drying. Jerry went +home and brought back some of hers for me. That's why I look so +different. She didn't come here for fear of scaring you." + +"You have been in the river!" gasped her mother in horror, "and it's +unusually high just now." + +"But it didn't hurt me a bit," averred Marjorie, cheerfully. "I can +swim, and someone had to help Marcia. Come upstairs with me while I get +into my own clothes and I'll tell you all about it." + +They had reached her room and Mrs. Dean was eyeing her lively little +lieutenant doubtfully. "Are you sure you feel well, Marjorie?" she asked +anxiously. + +"Perfectly splendid, Captain," was the extravagant assurance, as +Marjorie gently backed her mother into a chair. "I'm going to get out of +Jerry's clothes and into my own and then we'll have a nice comfy old +talk." + +Slipping into a one-piece frock of blue linen, Marjorie brushed her +dampened brown curls thoroughly dry and let them fall over her +shoulders. Placing a sofa pillow on the floor close to her mother, she +settled herself cozily at her mother's side and leaned against her knee, +looking far more like a little girl than a young woman of seventeen. + +It was a very long talk, for there was much to be said, and it lasted +until the sun dropped low in the west and the early twilight shadows +fell. + +A sudden loud ring of the doorbell sent Marjorie scurrying to the door. +She opened it to find a messenger boy, bearing a long, white box with +the name of Sanford's principal florist upon it. + +"For Miss Marjorie Dean," said the boy, handing her the box. + +"Oh!" ejaculated the surprised lieutenant, almost dropping the box in +her astonishment. Carrying it to the living-room table, she lifted the +lid and exclaimed again over its fragrant contents. Exquisite, +long-stemmed pink roses had been someone's tribute to Marjorie, and a +card tucked in among their perfumed petals proclaimed that someone to be +Harold Macy. At the bottom of the card was inscribed in Hal's boyish +hand, "To my friend, Marjorie Dean, a real heroine." + +Marjorie had scarcely recovered from this pleasant shock when her father +appeared upon the scene and gathered her into his arms with an anxious, +"How's my brave little lieutenant?" + +"Why, General, who told you?" cried Marjorie. "I never dreamed you'd +hear of it." + +"It came to me through Mr. Arnold, who has the next office to mine," +said Mr. Dean. "Mrs. Arnold telephoned him as soon as her daughter +reached home. She was afraid he might hear an incorrect report of it +from some other source." + +"We never thought of that. We should have telephoned you. But it's my +fault. I kept mother up in my room and talked so long to her that she +forgot it," avowed Marjorie, apologetically. + +"It's too late for apologies," Mr. Dean assumed an air of deep injury. +Then he laughed and drew from his coat pocket a small package. "Here's +an appreciation of bravery," he declared. "To the brave belongs the +golden circlet of courage. We might also call it your commission to +first lieutenancy. I think you've won your promotion." + +Marjorie's second surprise was a gold bracelet, delicately chased, for +which she had sighed more than once. + +Sunday dawned as radiantly as had the preceding day. Marjorie went to +church in a peculiarly exalted mood, and came home feeling at peace with +the world. After dinner she took a book and went out into a little +vine-covered pagoda built at one end of the lawn, which was fitted with +rustic seats and a small table. Here it was that she and her captain had +planned to spend many of the long summer afternoons reading and sewing, +and it was here that Marcia found her. + +"I have something for you, Marjorie," she said in a low voice. Then she +opened a little silver mesh bag and drawing forth a small, glittering +object handed it to the other girl. + +Marjorie's eyes opened wide. With a gurgle of joy she caught the little +object and fingered it lovingly. "My very own butterfly! Where in the +world did you find it, Marcia?" + +"I didn't find it," returned Marcia, huskily. + +"Then who did?" + +"Mignon. She found it the day after you lost it. I don't like to tell +you these things, but I believe it is right that you should know. She +kept it merely to hurt you. She knew you were fond of it. Muriel told +her all about your receiving it as a farewell gift from your friends. +I--I--am to blame, too. I knew she had it. She intended to give it back +after a while. Then she saw Miss Stevens with one like it and noticed +the queer way you looked at her pin in French class that day. She is +very shrewd and observing. She suspected that you girls had quarreled, +and so she put two and two together. She actually hates Miss Stevens, +and told me she would never give the pin back if she could make Miss +Stevens any trouble by keeping it. + +"Then she went to Miss Archer and told her about her bracelet and the +pin, too." Marcia paused, looking miserable. + +"Miss Archer sent for me and questioned me about my pin," said Marjorie, +gravely. "She is vexed with me still because I wouldn't say anything. +You see I had misjudged Constance. I thought she had found it and kept +it. It is only lately that I learned what a dreadful mistake I made. I +think I ought to let you know, Marcia, that Constance is in Sanford. She +is coming back to school on Monday and going straight to Miss Archer's +office to prove her innocence. Constance was Cinderella at the dance +Friday night. Jerry made her come to the party on purpose to bring us +together. Constance's butterfly pin was a present from her aunt. We know +the truth about Mignon's bracelet, too. Did you know that Mignon never +lost it, Marcia? She only pretended that she had." + +The secretary shook her head in emphatic denial. "I'm not guilty of +that, at least. I hope I'll never do anything underhanded or +dishonorable again. It's dreadful to think that Miss Archer will have to +know what a despicable girl I've been, but that's part of my punishment. +I suppose she won't have me for her secretary any more." + +Marcia's face wore an expression of complete resignation. She had been a +party to a dishonorable act, and her reaping promised to be bitter +indeed. + +"It means a whole lot to you to be secretary, doesn't it, Marcia?" asked +Marjorie, slowly. + +"Yes. This is my third year. I've been saving the money to go to +college. Father couldn't afford to pay all my expenses. I----" Marcia +broke down and covered her face with her hands. + +Marjorie regarded the secretary with a puzzled frown. She was apparently +turning over some problem in her mind. + +"Marcia, how did you obtain my butterfly from Mignon?" + +Marcia's hands dropped slowly from her face. "I went to her house this +morning and made her give it to me. She tried to make me promise that I +would say she found it only a day or two ago. I didn't promise. I'm glad +I can say that." + +"Would you go with me to her home?" asked Marjorie, abruptly. "I have +thought of a way to settle the whole affair without Miss Archer knowing +about either of you." + +"Oh, if it could only be settled among ourselves!" cried Marcia, +clasping her hands. "I'll go with you. She is at home this afternoon, +too. I came from her house here." + +"Wait just a moment, then, until I run indoors for my hat." + +Marjorie walked briskly across the lawn to the house. She was back in a +twinkling, a pretty white flower-trimmed hat on her head, carrying a +white fluffy parasol that matched her dainty lingerie gown. + +"How beautiful Mignon's home is!" she exclaimed softly, as they entered +the beautiful grounds of the La Salle estate and walked up the broad +driveway bordered with maples. "There's Mignon on the veranda. She is +alone. I am glad of that." + +"What are you going to say to her?" asked Marcia, her curiosity getting +the better of her dejection, for Mignon had risen with a muttered +exclamation, and was coming toward them with the quick, catlike +movements that so characterized her. + +"What do you mean, Marcia Arnold," she began fiercely, "by----" + +"Miss Arnold is not responsible for our call this afternoon, Miss La +Salle," broke in Marjorie, coolly. "I asked her to come here with me." + +Mignon glared at the other girl in speechless anger. Her roving black +eyes suddenly spied the butterfly pinned in the lace folds of Marjorie's +frock. + +"Oh, I see," she sneered. "You think I'm going to tell you all about +your trumpery butterfly pin. You are mistaken, I shall tell you +nothing." + +"I believe I am in possession of all the facts concerning my butterfly," +returned Marjorie, dryly, "and also those relating to your supposedly +lost bracelet." + +"'Supposedly lost?'" repeated Mignon, arching her eyebrows. "Have you +found it? If you have, give it to me at once." + +"There is only one person who can do that," said Marjorie, gravely, "and +that person is you." + +The betraying color flew to the French girl's cheeks. "What do you +mean?" she asked, but her voice shook. + +"Why do you ask me that?" retorted Marjorie, with sudden impatience. +"You know that on the night of the Weston dance you pretended you had +lost your bracelet in order to throw suspicion on Miss Stevens. Someone +saw you lay your bracelet on the dressing table. The same person saw you +leave the room, return a few minutes afterward and pick it up from the +table. How could you be so cruel and dishonorable?" + +"It isn't true," stormed Mignon. "Constance Stevens is a thief. A +thief, do you hear? And when she comes back to Sanford the school shall +know it." + +"No, Constance Stevens is not a thief. You are the real thief," said +Marjorie with quiet condemnation. "Knowing the butterfly pin to be mine, +you kept it for many weeks. However, I did not come here to quarrel with +you. I came to help Marcia and to save you from the effects of your own +wrongdoing. Constance Stevens is in Sanford. She is going to Miss Archer +to-morrow to prove her innocence. I am going with her. The girl who +knows the truth about your bracelet will be there, too. You knew long +ago that Constance's butterfly pin was her very own." + +"Of course I knew it," sneered Mignon. There was a look of consternation +in her eyes, however. + +"Then that is another point against you. You do not deserve to be let +off so easily, but for Marcia's sake, I am going to say that if you will +go with Constance and me to Miss Archer to-morrow morning and withdraw +your charges against Constance, stating that you have your bracelet, we +will never mention the subject again. Meet me in Miss Archer's outer +office at twenty minutes past eight." She did not even turn to look at +the discomfited Mignon as she issued her command. + +"Marjorie," said Marcia, hesitatingly, as they walked in silence down +the poplar-shaded street. "Shall I--had I--do you wish me to go with +you to Miss Archer?" + +Marjorie cast a quick, searching glance at the thoroughly repentant +junior. "What for?" she smiled, ignoring all that had been. They had now +come to where their ways parted. Marjorie held out her hand. "We are +going to be friends forever and always, aren't we, Marcia?" + +Marcia clasped the extended hand with fervor. "'Forever and always,'" +she repeated. And through all their high school days that followed she +kept her word. + +Three unusually silent young women met in Miss Archer's living-room +office the next morning and awaited their opportunity to see the +principal. + +"Miss Archer will see you," Marcia Arnold informed them after a wait of +perhaps five minutes, and the trio filed into the inner office. + +"Good morning, girls," greeted Miss Archer, viewing them searchingly. +"Miss Stevens, I am glad that you have returned, but I am sorry to say +that during your absence I have heard a number of unpleasant rumors +concerning you." + +Constance flushed, then her color receded, leaving her very white. + +Before the principal could continue, Marjorie's earnest tones rang out. + +"Miss Archer, Miss Stevens and I had a misunderstanding. When you asked +me about it I could not tell you. It has since been cleared away. My +butterfly pin has been found, but it was not the one Miss Stevens wore. +See, here are the two pins. Mine has no pearls at the tips of the wings." +She extended her open palm to the principal. In it lay two butterfly +pins, precisely alike save for the pearl-tipped wings of the one. + +Miss Archer looked long at the pins. Then she lifted them to meet the +blue and the brown eyes whose gaze was fastened earnestly upon her. What +she saw seemed to satisfy her. She held out her hand to Marjorie and +Constance in turn. + +"They are very alike," was her sole comment, as Marjorie returned +Constance's pin. Then Miss Archer turned to Mignon. + +"I am sorry I accused Miss Stevens of taking my bracelet," murmured +Mignon, sulkily. "I have it in my possession. Here it is." She thrust +out an unwilling wrist, on which was the bracelet. + +"I am glad that you have exonerated Miss Stevens from all suspicion." +Miss Archer's quiet face expressed little of what was going on in her +mind. "I am also thankful that an apparently serious matter has been so +easily settled." She did not offer her hand to Mignon, who left the +office without answering. + +A moment later, Marjorie and Constance were in the outer office standing +at Marcia Arnold's desk. "It's all settled, Marcia, with no names +mentioned," she said reassuringly. "Good-bye, we'll see you later. +We'll have to hurry or we'll be late for the opening exercises." + +In the corridor outside the study hall, Marcia and Constance paused by +common consent and faced each other. + +"Connie, dear," Marjorie said softly. "There's only a little more than a +month of our freshman year left. It isn't very much time, but I believe +we won't have to try very hard to make up in happiness for what we've +lost." + +"I am so happy this morning, and so grateful to you, Marjorie, for all +you've done for me, and most of all for your friendship," was +Constance's earnest answer. "I hope you will never have cause to +question my loyalty and that next year we'll be sophomore chums, tried +and true." + +"We'll simply have to be," laughed Marjorie, with joyous certainty, "for +I don't see how we can very well get along without each other." + + +THE END + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +THE GIRL SCOUTS SERIES + +By Edith Lavell + +A new copyright series of Girl Scouts stories by an author of wide +experience in Scouts' craft, as Director of Girl Scouts of Philadelphia. + +Clothbound, with Attractive Color Designs. Price, 65 Cents Each. + +THE GIRL SCOUTS AT MISS ALLEN'S SCHOOL +THE GIRL SCOUTS AT CAMP +THE GIRL SCOUTS' GOOD TURN +THE GIRL SCOUTS' CANOE TRIP +THE GIRL SCOUTS' RIVALS +THE GIRL SCOUTS ON THE RANCH +THE GIRL SCOUTS' VACATION ADVENTURES +THE GIRL SCOUTS' MOTOR TRIP + +For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the +Publishers. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY 114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +MARJORIE DEAN COLLEGE SERIES + +By Pauline Lester + +Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean High School Series. + +Those who have read the Marjorie Dean High School Series will be eager +to read this new series, as Marjorie Dean continues to be the heroine in +these stories. + +All Cloth Bound. Copyright Titles. Price, 65 Cents Each. + +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE FRESHMAN +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SOPHOMORE +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE JUNIOR +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SENIOR + +For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the +Publishers. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY 114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL SERIES + +By Pauline Lester + +Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean College Series. + +These are clean, wholesome stories that will be of great interest to all +girls of high school age. + +All Cloth Bound. Copyright Titles. Price, 65 Cents Each. + +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR + +For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the +Publishers. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY 114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS SERIES + +By Hildegard G. Frey + +A Series of Outdoor Stories for Girls 12 to 16 Years. + +All Cloth Bound. Copyright Titles. Price, 65 Cents Each. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE MAINE WOODS; + or, The Winnebagos go Camping. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT SCHOOL; + or, The Wohelo Weavers. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT ONOWAY HOUSE; + or, The Magic Garden. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS GO MOTORING; + or, Along the Road That Leads the Way. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS' LARKS AND PRANKS; + or, The House of the Open Door. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON ELLEN'S ISLE; + or, The Trail of the Seven Cedars. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON THE OPEN ROAD; + or, Glorify Work. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS DO THEIR BIT; + or, Over the Top with the Winnebagos. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS SOLVE A MYSTERY; + or, The Christmas Adventure at Carver House. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT CAMP KEEWAYDIN; + or, Down Paddles. + +For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the +Publishers. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY 114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK + + + + * * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's Notes + +1. Punctuation and hyphenation have been brought into conformity + with current standards. +2. Obvious typographical errors corrected. +3. Modifications to text: + p. 62 came to she ears -> came to her ears + p. 132 "Yes," answered the Marjorie -> Yes, answered Marjorie + p. 144 voicing the pent-up long -> voicing the pent-up longing + p. 197 lace took on an expression -> face took on an expression + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN*** + + +******* This file should be named 23644-8.txt or 23644-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23644 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Marjorie Dean High School Freshman</p> +<p>Author: Pauline Lester</p> +<p>Release Date: November 27, 2007 [eBook #23644]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<table summary="" style="font-size: smaller; border: 1px solid black; padding:1em"> +<tr><td style="text-align:center;"> +<span style='font-size:2em;'>MARJORIE DEAN</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:1.2em;'>HIGH SCHOOL SERIES</span><br /> +<i>By Pauline Lester</i><br /> +<hr style='width:10%' /> +<span style='font-size:0.8em;'>CLOTH BOUND, COVER DESIGNS<br /> +IN COLORS</span><br /> +<hr style='width:10%' /> +</td></tr> +<tr><td style="text-align:left;"> +<div style="margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;"> +MARJORIE DEAN,<br /> HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN.<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN,<br /> HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE.<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN,<br /> HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR.<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN,<br /> HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR. +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<div class="figcenter" style='width:382px'> +<a name="illus-000" id="illus-000"></a> +<img src="images/dean-fpc.jpg" alt="Poising herself on the bank, she cut the water in a clean, sharp dive. Page 234. Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman" title="" width="382" /><br /> +<span class="caption">Poising herself on the bank, she cut the water in a clean, sharp dive. Page 234. Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman</span> +</div> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<table style="margin: auto; border: black 1px solid; width:25em" summary=""><tr><td> +<p style=" font-size:2.2em; margin-top:1em;">MARJORIE DEAN</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.8em; margin-bottom:0.5em;">High School Freshman</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.8em; margin-bottom:2em;">By PAULINE LESTER</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.0em; margin-bottom:1em;">AUTHOR OF</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.0em;">"Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore"</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.0em;">"Marjorie Dean, High School Junior"</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.0em; margin-bottom:3em;">"Marjorie Dean, High School Senior"</p> +<div class='figcenter'> + <img alt="emblem" src="images/dean-emb.png" /> +</div> +<p style=" font-size:1.3em; margin-top:3em;">A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:2em;">Publishers New York</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<div style='font-size:smaller; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em;'> +<p class='center'>Copyright, 1917<br /> +<span class="smcap">By A. L. Burt Company</span></p> +<hr style='width:10%' /> +<p class='center'>MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN</p> +</div> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<h1>MARJORIE DEAN,<br />HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN</h1> + +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_3" id="pg_3">3</a></span> +<a name="THE_PARTING_OF_THE_WAYS_81" id="THE_PARTING_OF_THE_WAYS_81"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE PARTING OF THE WAYS</h3> +</div> + +<p>"What am I going to do without you, Marjorie?" Mary Raymond's blue eyes +looked suspiciously misty as she solemnly regarded her chum.</p> + +<p>"What am I going to do without <i>you</i>, you mean," corrected Marjorie +Dean, with a wistful smile. "Please, please don't let's talk of it. I +simply can't bear it."</p> + +<p>"One, two—only two more weeks now," sighed Mary. "You'll surely write +to me, Marjorie?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, silly girl," returned Marjorie, patting her friend's arm +affectionately. "I'll write at least once a week."</p> + +<p>Marjorie Dean's merry face looked unusually sober as she walked down the +corridor beside Mary and into the locker room of the Franklin High +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_4" id="pg_4">4</a></span>School. The two friends put on their wraps almost in silence. The +majority of the girl students of the big city high school had passed out +some little time before. Marjorie had lingered for a last talk with Miss +Fielding, who taught English and was the idol of the school, while Mary +had hung about outside the classroom to wait for her chum. It seemed to +Mary that the greatest sorrow of her sixteen years had come. Marjorie, +her sworn ally and confidante, was going away for good and all.</p> + +<p>When, six years before, a brown-eyed little girl of nine, with long +golden-brown curls, had moved into the house next door to the Raymonds, +Mary had lost no time in making her acquaintance. They had begun with +shy little nods and smiles, which soon developed into doorstep +confidences. Within two weeks Mary, whose eyes were very blue, and whose +short yellow curls reminded one of the golden petals of a daffodil, had +become Marjorie's adorer and slave. She it was who had escorted Marjorie +to the Lincoln Grammar School and seen her triumphantly through her +first week there. She had thrilled with unselfish pride to see how +quickly the other little girls of the school had succumbed to Marjorie's +charm. She had felt a most delightful sense of pardonable vanity when, +as the year progressed, Marjorie had preferred her above all the others. +She had clung to Mary, even though Alice Lawton, who rode to school +every day in a shining limousine, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_5" id="pg_5">5</a></span>had tried her utmost to be best +friends with the brown-eyed little girl whose pretty face and lovable +personality had soon made her the pet of the school.</p> + +<p>Year after year Mary and Marjorie had lived side by side and kept their +childish faith. But now, here they were, just beginning their freshman +year in Franklin High School, to which they had so long looked forward, +and about to be separated; for Marjorie's father had been made manager +of the northern branch of his employer's business and Marjorie was going +to live in the little city of Sanford. Instead of being a freshman in +dear old Franklin, she was to enter the freshman class in Sanford High +School, where she didn't know a solitary girl, and where she was sure +she would be too unhappy for words.</p> + +<p>During the first days which had followed the dismaying news that +Marjorie Dean was going to leave Franklin High School and go hundreds of +miles away, the two friends had talked of little else. There was so much +to be said, yet now that their parting was but two weeks off they felt +the weight of the coming separation bearing heavily upon them. Both +young faces wore expressions of deepest gloom as they walked slowly down +the steps of the school building and traversed the short space of stone +walk that led to the street.</p> + +<p>It was Marjorie who broke the silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_6" id="pg_6">6</a></span>"No other girl can ever be as dear to me as you are. You know that, +don't you, Mary?"</p> + +<p>Mary nodded mutely. Her blue eyes had filled with a sudden rush of hot +tears.</p> + +<p>"But it won't do any good," continued Marjorie, slowly, "for us to mourn +over being separated. We know how we feel about each other, and that's +going to be a whole lot of comfort to us after—I'm gone." Her girlish +treble faltered slightly. Then she threw her arm across Mary's shoulder +and said with forced steadiness of tone: "I'm not going to be a silly +and cry. This is one of those 'vicissitudes' of life that Professor +Taylor was talking about in chapel yesterday. We must be very brave. +We'll write lots of letters and visit each other during vacation, and +perhaps, some day I'll come back here to live."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will. You must come back," nodded Mary, her face +brightening at the prospect of a future reunion, even though remote.</p> + +<p>"Can't you come with me to dinner?" coaxed Marjorie, as they paused at +the corner where they were accustomed to wait for their respective +street cars. "You know, you are one of mother's exceptions. I never have +to give notice before bringing you home."</p> + +<p>"Not to-night. I'm going out this evening," returned Mary, vaguely. "I +must hurry home."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" asked Marjorie, curiously. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_7" id="pg_7">7</a></span>"You never said a +word about it this morning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, didn't I? Well, I'm going out with——Here comes your car, +Marjorie. You'd better hurry home, too."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Marjorie's brown eyes looked their reproach. "Do you want to get +rid of me, Mary? I've oceans of time before dinner. You know we never +have it until half-past six. Never mind, I'll take this car. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>With a proud little nod of her head, Marjorie climbed the steps of the +car which had now stopped at their corner, without giving her friend an +opportunity for reply. Mary looked after the moving car with a rueful +smile that changed to one of glee. Her eyes danced. "She hasn't the +least idea of what's going to happen," thought the little fluffy-haired +girl. "Won't she be surprised? Now that she's gone, Clark and Ethel and +Seldon ought to be here."</p> + +<p>A shrill whistle farther up the street caused her to glance quickly in +the direction of the sound. Two young men were hurrying toward her, +their boyish faces alight with enthusiasm and good nature.</p> + +<p>"It's all O.K., Mary," called the taller of the two, his black eyes +glowing. "Every last thing has been thought of. Ethel has the pin. +She'll be along in a minute."</p> + +<p>"It's a peach!" shouted the smaller lad, waving <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_8" id="pg_8">8</a></span>his cap, then jamming +it down on his thick, fair hair. "We've been waiting up the street for +Marjorie to take her car. Thought she'd never start."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I hurt her feelings," deplored Mary. "I forgot myself and +told her she'd better hurry home. She looked at me in the most +reproachful way."</p> + +<p>"Cheer up," laughed Clark Grayson, the black-eyed youth. "To-night'll +fix things. All the fellows are coming."</p> + +<p>"So are all the girls," returned Mary, happily. "I do wish Ethel would +hurry. I'm so anxious to see the pin. I know Marjorie will love it. Oh, +here comes Ethel now."</p> + +<p>Ethel Duval, a tall, slender girl of sixteen, with earnest, gray-blue +eyes and wavy, flaxen hair, joined the trio with: "I'm so glad we +waited. I wanted you to see the pin, Mary." She was fumbling busily in +her shopping bag as she spoke. "Here it is." She held up a small, square +package, which, when divested of its white paper wrapping, disclosed a +blue plush box. A second later Mary was exclaiming over the dainty +beauty of the bit of jewelry lying securely on its white satin bed. The +pin was fashioned in the form of a golden butterfly, the body of which +was set with tiny pearls.</p> + +<p>"Oh-h-h!" breathed Mary. "Isn't it wonderful! But do you suppose her +mother will allow her to <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_9" id="pg_9">9</a></span>accept such an expensive gift? It must have +cost a lot of money."</p> + +<p>"Fifteen dollars," announced Clark, cheerfully, "but it was a case of +only fifty cents apiece, and besides, it's for Marjorie. Fifteen times +fifteen dollars wouldn't be too much for her. Every fellow and girl that +was invited accepted the invitation and handed over the tax. To make +things sure, Ethel went round to see Marjorie's mother about it and won +her over to our side. So that's settled."</p> + +<p>"It's perfectly lovely," sighed Mary in rapture, "and you boys have +worked so hard to make the whole affair a gorgeous success. I'm afraid +we had better be moving on, though. It won't be long now until half-past +seven. I do hope everyone will be on time."</p> + +<p>"They've all been warned," declared Seldon Ames. "Good-bye, then, until +to-night." The two boys raised their caps and swung down the street, +while Mary and Ethel stopped for one more look at the precious pin that +in later days was to mean far more to their schoolmate, Marjorie Dean, +than they had ever dreamed.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="GOODBYE_MARJORIE_DEAN_252" id="GOODBYE_MARJORIE_DEAN_252"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>GOOD-BYE, MARJORIE DEAN</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Whatever you do, don't laugh, or speak above a whisper, or fall up the +steps, or do anything else that will give us away before we're ready," +lectured Clark Grayson to the little crowd of happy-faced boys and girls +who were gathered round him on the corner above Marjorie Dean's home. +"We'd better advance by fives. Seldon, you go with the first lot. When I +give the signal, this way," Clark puckered his lips and emitted a soft +whistle, "ring the bell."</p> + +<p>"Right-o," softly retorted three or four boyish voices.</p> + +<p>Clark rapidly divided his little squad of thirty into fives, and moved +toward the house with the first division. Two minutes later the next +five conspirators began to move, and in an incredibly short space of +time the surprise party was overflowing the Dean veranda and front +steps. The boy who had been appointed bell ringer pressed his finger +firmly against the electric bell. There came the sound of a quick +footstep, then Marjorie herself opened the door, to <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_11" id="pg_11">11</a></span>be greeted with a +merry shout of "Surprise! Surprise!"</p> + +<p>"Why—what—who!" she gasped.</p> + +<p>"Just exactly," agreed Clark Grayson. "'Why—what—who'—and enough +others to make thirty. Of course, if you don't want us——"</p> + +<p>"Stop teasing me, Clark, until I get over my surprise, at least," begged +Marjorie. "No, I never suspected a single thing," she said, in answer to +Ethel Duval's question. "Here are mother and father. They know more +about all this than they'll say. They made me believe they were going to +a party."</p> + +<p>"And so we are," declared her father, as he and Mrs. Dean came forward +to welcome their young guests, with the cordiality and graciousness for +which they were noted among Marjorie's friends.</p> + +<p>"Come this way, girls," invited Marjorie's mother, who, in an evening +frock of white silk, looked almost as young as the bevy of pretty girls +that followed her. "Mr. Dean will look after you, boys."</p> + +<p>Once she had helped her mother usher the girls into the upstairs +sleeping room set aside for their use, Marjorie lost no time in slipping +over to the dressing table where Mary stood, patting her fluffy hair and +lamenting because it would not stay smooth.</p> + +<p>"You dear thing," whispered Marjorie, slipping her arm about her chum. +"I'll forgive you for not <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_12" id="pg_12">12</a></span>telling me where you were going. I was +terribly hurt for a minute, though. You know we've never had secrets +from each other."</p> + +<p>"And we never will," declared Mary, firmly. "Promise me, Marjorie, that +you'll always tell me things; that is, when they're not someone else's +secrets."</p> + +<p>"I will," promised Marjorie, solemnly. "We'll write our secrets to each +other instead of telling them. Now I must leave you for a minute and see +if everyone is having a good time. We'll have another comfy old talk +later."</p> + +<p>To Mary Raymond fell the altogether agreeable task of keeping Marjorie +away from the dining-room, where Mrs. Dean, Ethel Duval and two of her +classmates busied themselves with the decorating of the two long tables. +By ten o'clock all was ready for the guests. In the middle of each +table, rising from a centerpiece of ferns, was a green silk pennant, +bearing the figures 19— embroidered in scarlet. The staffs of the two +pennants were wound with green and scarlet ribazine which extended in +long streamers to each place, and was tied to dainty hand-painted +pennant-shaped cards, on which appeared the names of the guests. Laid +beside the place cards were funny little favors, which had been +gleefully chosen with a sly view toward exploiting every one's pet +hobby, while at either end of each table were tall vases of red roses, +which seemed to <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_13" id="pg_13">13</a></span>nod their fragrant approval of the merry-making.</p> + +<p>"It's quite perfect, isn't it?" sighed Ethel, with deep satisfaction, +gently touching one of the red roses. "The very nicest part of it all is +that you've been just as enthusiastic as we over the party." She turned +affectionate eyes upon Mrs. Dean.</p> + +<p>"It could hardly be otherwise, my dear," returned Mrs. Dean. "Remember, +it is for my little girl that you have planned all this happiness. +Nothing can please me more than the thought that Marjorie has so many +friends. I only hope she will be equally fortunate in her new home, +though, I am sure, she will never forget her Franklin High School +chums."</p> + +<p>"We won't give her that chance," nodded Ethel, emphatically. "There, I +think we are ready. Clark wants to be your partner, Mrs. Dean, and +Seldon is to escort Marjorie to her place. We aren't going to give her +the pin until we are ready to drink the toasts. Robert Barrett is to be +toastmaster. Will you go first and announce supper?"</p> + +<p>There was a buzz of delight and admiration from the guests, as headed by +Marjorie and Seldon, the little procession marched into the dining-room. +For a moment the very sight of the gayly decked table with its weight of +goodies and wonderful red roses caused Marjorie's brown eyes to blur. +Then, as Seldon bowed her to the head of one of the tables, she winked +back her tears, and nodding gayly to the eager faces turned toward her +and said with her <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_14" id="pg_14">14</a></span>prettiest smile: "It's the very nicest surprise that +ever happened to me, and I hope you will all have a perfectly splendid +time to-night."</p> + +<p>"Three cheers for Marjorie Dean! May we give them, Mrs. Dean?" called +Robert Barrett.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean's smiling assent was lost in the volume of sound that went up +from thirty lusty young throats.</p> + +<p>"Now, Franklin High," proposed Mary Hammond, and the Franklin yell was +given by the girls. The boys, who were nearly all students at the La +Fayette High School, just around the corner from Franklin, responded +with their yell, and the merry little company began hunting their places +and seating themselves at the tables.</p> + +<p>Marjorie was far too much excited to eat. Her glances strayed +continually down the long tables to the cheery faces of her schoolmates. +It seemed almost too wonderful that her friends should care so much +about her.</p> + +<p>"Marjorie Dean, stop dreaming and eat your supper," commanded Mary, who +had been covertly watching her friend. "Clark, you are sitting next to +her. Make her eat her chicken salad. It's perfectly delicious."</p> + +<p>"Will you eat your salad or must I exercise my stern authority?" began +Clark, drawing down his face until he exactly resembled a certain +roundly disliked teacher of mathematics in the boys' high <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_15" id="pg_15">15</a></span>school. There +was a laugh of recognition from the boys sitting nearest to Clark. He +continued to eye Marjorie severely.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I'm going to eat my salad," declared Marjorie, stoutly. "You +must give me time, though. I'm still too surprised to be hungry."</p> + +<p>But the greatest surprise was still in store for her. When everyone had +finished eating, Robert Barrett began his duties as toastmaster. Ethel +Duval came first with "What Friendships Mean to a Schoolgirl," and +Seldon Ames followed with a ridiculously funny little toast to "The High +School Fellows." Then Mr. and Mrs. Dean were toasted, and Lillian Hale, +a next-door neighbor and the only upper-class girl invited, gave solemn +counsel and advice to the "freshman babies."</p> + +<p>As Marjorie's dearest friend, to Mary had been accorded the honor of +giving the farewell toast, "Aufwiedersehen," and the presentation of the +pin. Mary's clear voice trembled slightly as she began the little speech +which she had composed and learned for the occasion. Then her faltering +tones gathered strength, and before she realized that she was actually +making a speech, she had reached the most important part of it and was +saying, "We wish you to keep and wear this remembrance of our good will +throughout your school life in Sanford. We hope you will make new +friends, and we ask only that you won't forget the old."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_16" id="pg_16">16</a></span>"I can't begin to tell you how much I thank you all," Marjorie +responded, her tones not quite steady, her face lighted with a fond +pride that lay very near to tears. "I shall love my butterfly all my +life, and never forget that you gave it to me. I am going to call it my +talisman, and I am sure it will bring me good luck."</p> + +<p>But neither the givers nor Marjorie Dean could possibly guess that, in +the days to come, the beautiful golden butterfly was to prove anything +but a talisman to the popular little freshman.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_GIRL_WHO_LOOKED_LIKE_MARY_418" id="THE_GIRL_WHO_LOOKED_LIKE_MARY_418"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>THE GIRL WHO LOOKED LIKE MARY</h3> +</div> + +<p>"It's rather nice to have so much room, but I know I shall never feel +quite at home here," murmured Marjorie Dean, under her breath, as she +came slowly down the steps of her new home and paused for a moment in +the middle of the stone walk which led to the street. Her wistful glance +strayed over the stretch of lawn, still green, then turned to rest on +the house, a comfortable three-story structure of wood, painted dark +green, with lighter green trimmings. Her mother's sudden appearance at +the window caused Marjorie to retrace her steps. Luncheon was ready.</p> + +<p>"Everything is so different," she sighed, as she climbed the steps she +had so lately descended. "I've been here a week, and I haven't met a +single girl. I don't believe there are any girls in this neighborhood. I +should feel a good deal worse, too, if the Franklin girls hadn't been +such dears!" Marjorie's last comment, spoken half aloud, referred to the +numerous letters she had received since her arrival <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_18" id="pg_18">18</a></span>in the town of +Sanford from her Franklin High School friends, now so many miles away. +Mary Raymond had not only fulfilled her promise to write one long letter +every week, but had mailed Marjorie, almost daily, hurriedly-written +little notes full of the news of what went on among the boys and girls +she had left behind.</p> + +<p>It had been a busy, yet a very long week for Marjorie. The unpacking of +the Deans' furniture, which had been shipped to Sanford a week before +their arrival there, and the setting to rights of her new home had so +occupied the attention of Mrs. Dean and Nora, her faithful +maid-of-all-work, that Marjorie, aside from certain tasks allotted to +her to perform, was left for the most part to her own devices. As they +had arrived in Sanford on Monday, Marjorie's mother had decided to give +her daughter an opportunity to accustom herself to her new home and +surroundings before allowing her to enter the high school. So the day +for Marjorie's initial appearance in "The Sanford High School for Girls" +had been set for the following Monday.</p> + +<p>It was now Friday afternoon. Marjorie had spent the morning in writing a +fifteen-page letter to Mary, the minor refrain of which was: "I can't +tell you how much I miss you, Mary," and which contained views regarding +her future high school career that were far from being optimistic. She +had not finished her letter. She decided to leave it open until <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_19" id="pg_19">19</a></span>after +luncheon and, laying it aside for the time, she had tripped down stairs +and out doors.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do this afternoon, dear?" asked her mother as +Marjorie slipped into place at the luncheon table.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mother," was the almost doleful reply. "I thought I might +take a walk up Orchard street as far as Sargent's, that cunning little +confectioner's shop on the corner. Perhaps, if I go, I may see something +interesting to tell Mary. I haven't finished my letter."</p> + +<p>Marjorie did not add that her walk would include a last stroll past the +towering gray walls of a certain stone building on Lincoln avenue, which +bore over its massive oak doors the inscription, "The Sanford High +School for Girls." Almost every day since her arrival, she had visited +it, viewing it speculatively and with a curious kind of apprehension. +She was not afraid to plunge into her new school life, but deep down in +her heart she felt some little misgiving. What if the new girls proved +to be neither likable nor companionable? What if she liked them but they +did not like her? She had just begun the same apprehensive train of +thought that had been disturbing her peace of mind for the last four +days when her mother's voice broke the spell.</p> + +<p>"If you are going that far I wish you would go on to Parke & Whitfield's +for me. I should like you to match this embroidery silk. I have not +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_20" id="pg_20">20</a></span>enough of it to finish this collar and cuff set I am making for you."</p> + +<p>"I'll be your faithful servant and execute all your commissions, mum," +declared Marjorie with a little obeisance, her spirits rising a little +at the prospect of actual errands to perform. She was already tired of +aimlessly wandering along the wide, well-kept streets of Sanford, +feeling herself to be quite out of things. Even errands were actual +blessings sometimes, she decided, as a little later, she ran upstairs to +dress.</p> + +<p>"May I wear my best suit and hat, Mother?" she called anxiously down +from the head of the stairs. "It's such a lovely day, I'm sure it won't +rain, snow, hail or do anything else to spoil them."</p> + +<p>"Very well," answered Mrs. Dean, placidly.</p> + +<p>With a gurgle of delight Marjorie hurried into her room to put on her +new brown suit, which had the mark of a well-known tailor in the coat, +and her best hat, on which all the Franklin High girls had set their +seal of approval. She had shoes and gloves to match her suit, too, and +her dancing brown eyes and fluffy brown hair were the last touches +needed to complete the dainty little study in brown.</p> + +<p>"Don't I look nice in this suit?" she asked her mother saucily, turning +slowly around before the living-room mirror. "Aren't you and father +perfect dears to let me have it, though?" She whirled and descended upon +her mother with outstretched <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_21" id="pg_21">21</a></span>arms, enveloping her in an ecstatic hug +that sadly disturbed the proper angle of her brown velvet hat.</p> + +<p>"Don't be gone too long," reminded her mother. "You know father has +promised us tickets for the theatre to-night. We shall have an early +dinner."</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll remember, Captain." With a brisk touching of her hand +to her hat brim in salute Marjorie vanished through the door, to +reappear a moment later at the living-room window, flash a merry smile +at her mother, about face and march down the walk in true military +style.</p> + +<p>Long before when Marjorie was a tiny girl she had shown an unusual +preference for soldiers. She had owned enough wooden soldiers to make a +regiment and was never at a loss to invent war games in which they +figured. Sometimes, when she tired of her stiff, silent armies, which +could only move as she willed, she inveigled her father or mother into +being the hero, the enemy, the traitor or whatever her active +imagination chose to suggest. Her parents, amused at her boyish love of +military things, encouraged her in her play and entered into it with as +much spirit as the child herself. Her father, who had once been an +officer in the National Guard, taught her the manual of arms and she had +learned it with a will.</p> + +<p>Marjorie's military enthusiasm had been at its height when she met Mary +Raymond, who soon became equally fascinated with the stirring play. In +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_22" id="pg_22">22</a></span>time other interests crowded their lives. The hard-worked armies were +laid peacefully on their wooden backs to enjoy a long, undisturbed rest, +while Marjorie and Mary became soldiers instead, addressing Mr. Dean as +"General," Mrs. Dean as "Captain," and bestowing upon themselves the +rank of ordinary enlisted soldiers who must earn their promotion by +loyal and faithful service.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dean had been rather chary of promotions, frequently reminding his +little detachment that it is a far cry from the ranks of a private to +that of a commissioned officer. So when their parting came, Mary and +Marjorie had just received their commissions as second lieutenants, +their awards of faithful service in the grammar school.</p> + +<p>Lieutenant Marjorie smiled, then sighed, as she started on her walk. The +salute she had just given brought a flood of memories of Mary. She felt +she would not mind exploring this strange, new, high school territory if +Mary were with her. She was sure no girl in Sanford could understand her +as Mary had. On two different afternoons she had stood across the street +from the school at the time of dismissal. She had eagerly watched the +great oak doors open wide and the long lines of girls file out, waking +the still October air with their merry voices. She had been particularly +attracted toward one tall, lithe, graceful girl whose golden hair and +brown eyes made her unusually lovely. At first <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_23" id="pg_23">23</a></span>sight of her, lonely, +imaginative Marjorie had named her "The Picture Girl," and had decided +that she was a darling. She had noticed that the pretty girl was always +the center of a group and she had also noted that one small, +black-haired girl with an elfish face, who wore the most exquisite +clothes invariably walked at the tall girl's side. There was a +pink-cheeked girl, too, with laughing blue eyes and dimples, and a +fair-haired, serious-faced girl, who reminded Marjorie of Alice Duval. +They usually formed part of the group about the tall girl and her dark +companion, and there was also a very short, stout girl who puffed along +anxiously in the rear of the group as though never quite able to catch +up.</p> + +<p>Marjorie had already imagined much concerning this particular knot of +girls, and her desire to see them again before entering school was +responsible for her walk down Lincoln avenue that sunny fall afternoon. +She would do her errands first, she decided, then, returning by the way +of the school, pass there just at the time that the afternoon session +was dismissed. She went about her far-from-arduous commissions in +leisurely fashion, now and then glancing at her châtelaine watch to make +sure of the time. Three o'clock saw the daily procession of girls down +the high school steps, and released from classes for the day. She did +not intend to miss them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_24" id="pg_24">24</a></span>It was twenty minutes to three when Marjorie finished a remarkable +concoction of nuts, chocolate syrup and ice cream, a kind of glorified +nut sundae, rejoicing in the name of "Sargent Nectar," and left the +smart little confectioner's shop. As she neared the school building her +eyes suddenly became riveted upon a slim, blue-clad figure that +hesitated for on instant at the top of the high steps then ran lightly +down and came hurrying toward where she stood.</p> + +<p>"The advance guard," declared Marjorie half aloud. Then, as her eyes +sought the approaching girl: "Why, she looks like Mary! And she's been +crying! I'm going to speak to her." She took an impulsive step forward +as the stranger came abreast of her and began:</p> + +<p>"Won't you——"</p> + +<p>Marjorie's speech ended abruptly. The weeping girl cast one startled +glance toward her from a pair of wet blue eyes, lunged by her without +speaking and, breaking into a run, turned the corner and disappeared +from view. Marjorie surveyed the back of the rapidly vanishing yellow +head with rueful surprise. Then she gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"I should have known better," she reflected. "Of course, she'd hardly +care to tell her personal affairs to the first one who asks her. But she +made me think of Mary. Oh, dear, I'm so homesick. Not even my new suit +and hat can make me forget that. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_25" id="pg_25">25</a></span>I wouldn't have mother know it for the +world. I believe she is a wee bit homesick, too."</p> + +<p>Marjorie paused for an instant at her accustomed place on the opposite +side of the street, undecided whether to loiter there and once more +watch her future companions pass out of school or to go on about her +business. Suddenly the school doors swung wide and the pupils began +flocking out. The little stranger yielded to the temptation to linger +long enough to watch the five girls pass in whom she had become +interested. They were among the last to emerge and, the moment they +reached the steps, their voices rose in a confused babble, each one +determined to make herself heard above the others.</p> + +<p>"I knew she wouldn't do it," shrilled the stout girl, as they neared +Marjorie. "She's too stingy for words. That's the third time she's +refused to go into things with the rest of us."</p> + +<p>"Be still," reminded the Picture Girl; "she might have very good +reasons——"</p> + +<p>"Good reasons," scornfully mimicked the little dark girl, her black eyes +glittering angrily. "It was only because the plan was mine. She hates +me, and you all know why. I don't think you ought to stand up for her, +Muriel. You know how deceitful she is and what unkind things she said +about me."</p> + +<p>"I'm not standing up for her," contradicted Muriel, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_26" id="pg_26">26</a></span>but her tones +lacked force. "I only felt a little bit sorry for her. She looked ready +to cry all the afternoon. I think she went home early to avoid meeting +us."</p> + +<p>"That proves she is a coward," was the triumphant retort. "Remember——" +With a sudden swift movement she rose on tiptoe and, drawing the Picture +Girl's head to the level of her mouth, whispered something to her. The +fair-haired girl looked annoyed, the fat girl openly sulky and the +dimpled girl disapproving. Exchanging significant glances, they walked +on ahead of the other two.</p> + +<p>Without the slightest intention of being an eavesdropper, Marjorie had +heard every word of the loud-spoken conversation. Her eyes were fixed in +fascination upon the dark, sharp-featured face so close to the fair, +beautiful one. She suddenly recalled a picture she had once seen called +"The Evil Genius," in which a dark, mocking face peered over the +shoulder of a young man who sat at a table as though in deep thought. +This girl's vivid face bore a slight resemblance to that of the Evil +Genius, and it was not until the end of Marjorie's junior year in +Sanford that this sinister impression faded and disappeared forever.</p> + +<p>When the little company had passed on down the street, Marjorie turned +and followed them from a distance. For several blocks her way lay in the +same direction, but as she turned into her own <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_27" id="pg_27">27</a></span>street she swept a last +glance toward the five girls. She wondered whom they had been discussing +so freely. She was vaguely disappointed in the Picture Girl, who seemed +to her independent mind too easily influenced by the Evil Genius. +Marjorie had already begun to think of the small, dark girl as that. She +was glad not to be the girl they had discussed. Then, her thought +changing, a vision of two wet blue eyes and a tear-stained face set in +fluffy yellow curls came to her, and Marjorie knew that she had seen the +object of their discussion. A wave of sympathy for the offender swept +over her. "I don't believe she could do anything deceitful or horrid," +she reflected stoutly. "Her eyes are as true and as blue as Mary's. I'm +going to like her and be her friend, if she'll let me, for she certainly +seems to need one. I did so want to be friends with the Picture Girl, +but I can't help wishing she had been just a little bit braver."</p> + +<p>While Marjorie strolled thoughtfully home, deep in her own cogitations, +the five girls, having joined forces again, were discussing her.</p> + +<p>"Did you see that pretty girl standing across from the school as we came +out?" asked Susan Atwell, the girl with the dimples.</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Irma Linton. "I noticed her there the other day, too. I +wonder who she can be."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Muriel Harding. "She is <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_28" id="pg_28">28</a></span>awfully sweet though, and +dresses beautifully. She——"</p> + +<p>"I know all about her," interrupted Geraldine Macy. "Her father is the +new manager for Preston & Haines. They only moved here from the city +last week. Her name is Dean. That is, her last name. I don't know her +other name."</p> + +<p>"I am surprised that you don't know that," was the sarcastic comment of +Mignon La Salle, the little dark girl.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be," flung back the stout girl. "There are lots of things I +don't know that I'd like to know. For instance——"</p> + +<p>"Don't be cross, Jerry," interrupted Mignon, hastily. "I was only +teasing you." She cast a peculiar glance at the ruffled Jerry from under +her heavy lashes which the young woman failed to catch. "Tell us some +more about this new girl. I really didn't pay hardly any attention to +her to-day."</p> + +<p>"There isn't anything more to tell that I know of," muttered Jerry, +sulkily, her desire to distribute news quite gone. "Wait until Monday +and see. I know she's going to enter Sanford High and that she's a +freshman."</p> + +<p>"Then as freshmen it's our solemn duty to be nice to her and make her +feel at home," stated Muriel, seriously.</p> + +<p>Mignon La Salle shrugged her thin shoulders. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_29" id="pg_29">29</a></span>"Perhaps," she said, +without enthusiasm. "I shall wait until I see her before I decide that."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Marjorie had reached home, and, seated before the library +table, was writing for dear life on the letter she had begun to Mary. So +far she had had nothing to tell her chum regarding the young women who +were to be her classmates. To be sure, what she had seen and heard that +afternoon had amounted to nothing, but the girl who looked like Mary had +set her to longing all over again to be able, just for one afternoon, to +sit side by side on the front steps with her childhood's friend and talk +things over.</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>"You can't imagine, Mary," she wrote, "how sorry I felt when I saw that +poor girl crying with your eyes. They were just like yours. I forgot +everything except that she looked like you, and asked her what the +trouble was. Of course, she didn't answer me, but actually ran down the +street. I should have known better, but I felt so terribly sympathetic. +'Terribly' is the only word that expresses it. Right after she had gone +the others began to come out of school, and at last the five girls I +told you about came out. They were all talking at once, but I heard the +horrid, sharp-faced, dark girl say that someone was stingy and deceitful +and a lot of other unpleasant things. I thought the Picture Girl was +going to stand up for the person, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_30" id="pg_30">30</a></span>but that mean little Evil Genius +wouldn't let her. Then all at once it came to me that it was this Mary +girl they were talking about. It was really this one dark girl who said +most of the mean things. The others just listened to her. At any rate, +I'm going to find out who the Mary girl is and try to be a friend to her +just because she looks like you. Don't imagine I could ever like her +better than you, because you know I couldn't. But it's a true soldier's +duty to stand by his comrades on the firing line, you know, and I am +going to be this girl's freshman comrade, and, if she's one-half as nice +as you, I'll be ready to help her fight her battles.</p> + +<p>"Monday is the great day. I dread it, and yet I am looking forward to +it. I like the outside of the school, but will I like the inside? Mother +is going to the principal's office with me. I hope I sha'n't have to try +a lot of tiresome examinations. I have forgotten everything I ever knew, +and the weather has been too pleasant to study. This is such a pretty +town, with plenty of nice walks. If only you were here it would be quite +perfect. I do hope you can come and visit me at Easter. Must stop now, +as I hear mother calling me. We are going to walk down to meet father. +With my dearest love. Write soon.</p> + +<p style='text-align: right;'> +"Yours always, <br /> +<br /> +"Marjorie." +</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_31" id="pg_31">31</a></span>Marjorie folded, addressed and stamped her letter, then catching her +hat from the hallrack ran out the front door to overtake her mother who +had walked on ahead.</p> + +<p>"I finished my letter to Mary," she held it up for inspection, "and I've +something to report, Captain."</p> + +<p>"I am ready to hear you," smiled her mother, as they walked on arm in +arm.</p> + +<p>For the second time Marjorie related her little adventure, ending with +her resolve to learn to know and befriend, if necessary, the girl who +looked like Mary. Nor did she have the slightest premonition of how much +this readily-avowed championing of a stranger was to cost her.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="SANFORDS_LATEST_FRESHMAN_779" id="SANFORDS_LATEST_FRESHMAN_779"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>SANFORD'S LATEST FRESHMAN</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Will you tell me the way to the principal's office, please?"</p> + +<p>A clear voice broke in upon the conversation of two girls who had paused +before the broad stairway leading to the second floor of the Sanford +High School for a last word before separating for their morning +recitations.</p> + +<p>At the sound of the soft, interrupting voice, which contained a touch of +perplexity in its tones, both girls turned quickly to regard the owner. +They saw an attractive little figure, wearing a dainty blue cloth gown, +which was set off by hand-embroidered cuffs and an open rolling collar +of sheerest white. From under a smart blue hat escaped a wealth of soft, +brown curls, while two brown eyes looked into theirs with an expression +of appeal that brought forth instant reply.</p> + +<p>"Miss Archer's office is the last room on the east side of the +second-floor corridor. I am going there now and shall be glad to show +you the way," was <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_33" id="pg_33">33</a></span>the quick response of the taller of the two girls, +accompanied by a cheery smile that warmed Marjorie Dean's heart and made +her feel the least bit less of a stranger in this strange land which she +was about to explore.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she returned gratefully, trying to smile in an equally +friendly manner.</p> + +<p>Marjorie's first day of school had begun far from propitiously. She had +not reckoned on making her initial appearance in Sanford High School +alone. It had been planned that her mother should accompany her, but +when Monday morning came, her beloved captain had awakened with a +racking headache, which meant nothing less than lying in bed for a long, +pain-filled day in a darkened room.</p> + +<p>Torn between sympathy for her mother and her own disappointment, +Marjorie had experienced a desire to go to her captain's room and cry +her eyes out, but being fashioned of sturdier stuff, she made a +desperate effort to brace up and be a good soldier. This was just +another of those miserable "vicissitudes" that no one could foresee. She +must face it without grumbling. Her father had already telephoned for a +physician when she entered her mother's room, and Marjorie put on her +sweetest smile as she kissed her mother and assured her that she didn't +in the least mind going to school alone.</p> + +<p>As she followed the young woman up the stairs and down the long corridor +Marjorie felt her heart <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_34" id="pg_34">34</a></span>beat a little faster. Her low spirits of the +early morning began to rise. How good it seemed actually to be in school +again! And what a beautiful school it was! Even Franklin would appear +dingy beside it. She gazed appreciatively at the high ceiling and the +shining oak wainscotings of the wide corridor through which she was +passing. When her guide, who was tall, thin and plain of face, opened +the last door on the right and ushered her into a beautiful sunshiny +office which seemed more like a living-room than a place wherein +business was transacted, Marjorie uttered an involuntary, "Oh, how +lovely!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, isn't it though," returned the tall girl. "This is Miss Archer's +own idea, and, so far, it's proving a brilliant success. That is, we all +think so. Is Miss Archer in her private office?" she asked the young +woman who had risen from her desk near the door and came forward to +receive them.</p> + +<p>Marjorie would have liked to ask her new acquaintance what she meant, +but at that moment a door at the farther end of the room opened and a +stately, black-haired woman, with just a suspicion of gray at her +temples, emerged. She turned a pair of grave, deep-set eyes upon the +tall girl and said, pleasantly: "Well, Ellen, what can I do for you this +morning?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Archer!" exclaimed the tall girl, eagerly, with an impulsive +step forward, "you <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_35" id="pg_35">35</a></span>haven't forbidden basketball this year, have you? +Stella and I couldn't believe our ears when we heard it this morning!" +It was evident that the impetuous Ellen was on the best possible terms +with her principal.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember having issued an order to that effect," smiled Miss +Archer. "Where did you hear that bit of news?"</p> + +<p>Ellen Seymour's plain face flushed, then paled. "It was just a rumor," +she replied with reluctance. "I'd rather not mention names. Still, when +I heard it, I could not rest until I had asked you. The sophomores hope +to do something wonderful this year. We couldn't bear to believe for a +minute that there would be no basketball. We had planned to have a +tryout some day this week, after school. I'm so glad," she added +fervently. "Thank you, Miss Archer. Oh, pardon me," she turned to +Marjorie, "this is Miss Archer, our principal. Miss Archer, this young +lady wishes to see you. I met her in the corridor downstairs and +volunteered my services as guide."</p> + +<p>With a courteous nod to Marjorie, the tall girl left the room and the +principal turned her attention toward the prospective freshman.</p> + +<p>At the calm, kindly inquiry of the gray eyes Marjorie's feeling of +shyness vanished, and she said in her most soldierly manner, as though +speaking to her mother: "Miss Archer, my name is Marjorie <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_36" id="pg_36">36</a></span>Dean, and I +wish to enter the freshman class of Sanford High School. We moved to +Sanford from the city of B——. We have been here just a week. I was a +freshman in Franklin High School at B——."</p> + +<p>Miss Archer took the young girl's hand in hers. Her rather stern face +was lighted with a welcoming smile. Marjorie's direct speech and frank, +honest eyes had pleased the older woman.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to know that we are to have a new pupil," she said cordially. +"The freshman class is smaller than usual this year. So many girls leave +school when their grammar school course is finished. I wish we could +persuade these mothers and fathers to let their daughters have at least +a year of high school. It would help them so much in whatever kind of +work they elected to do later."</p> + +<p>"That is what mother says," returned Marjorie, quickly. "My mother +intended to come with me to-day, but was unable to do so." She did not +go into details. Young as she was, Marjorie had a horror of discussing +her personal affairs with a stranger. "She will call upon you later."</p> + +<p>"I shall be pleased to meet your mother," Miss Archer made courteous +answer. "The first and most important matter to be considered this +morning is your class standing. Let me see. B—— is in the same state as +the town of Sanford. I believe the system of credits is the same in all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_37" id="pg_37">37</a></span>the high schools throughout this state, as the examinations come from +the state board at the capital. What studies had you begun at B——?"</p> + +<p>"English composition, algebra, physiology, American history and French," +recited Marjorie, dutifully.</p> + +<p>Miss Archer raised her eyebrows. "You are ambitious. We usually allow +our pupils to carry only four subjects."</p> + +<p>"But these are quite easy subjects," pleaded Marjorie; "that is, all +except algebra. I am not especially clever in mathematics. I am obliged +to study very hard to make good recitations. Still, I should like to +continue with the subjects I have begun. Won't you try me until the end +of the first term?" she added, a coaxing note in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I will at least try you for a week or two. Then if I find that you are +not overtaxing your strength you may go on with them."</p> + +<p>"Thank you." Marjorie's relieved tone caused the principal to smile +again. It was not usual for a pupil to show concern over the prospect of +losing a subject. Many of the students rebelled at having to carry four +subjects.</p> + +<p>"Have you your grammar school certificate with you?" asked Miss Archer, +the smile giving way to a businesslike expression.</p> + +<p>Marjorie handed the principal the large envelope she had been carrying. +Miss Archer drew forth a <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_38" id="pg_38">38</a></span>square of thick white paper, ornamented with +the red seal by which the state board of school commissioners had +signified their approval of Marjorie Dean and her work in the grammar +school.</p> + +<p>The older woman read it carefully. "Yes, this is, as I thought the same +form of certificate. From this moment on you are a freshman in Sanford +High School, Miss Dean. I trust that you will be happy here. Sanford has +the reputation of being one of the finest schools in the state. I am +going to assign you to a seat in the study hall at once. Miss Merton is +in charge there. She will give you a printed form of our curriculum of +study. School opens at nine o'clock in the morning. The morning session +lasts until twelve o'clock. We have an hour and a quarter for luncheon, +and our last recitation for the day is over at half past three o'clock. +We have devotional exercises in the chapel on Monday and Friday +mornings, and the course in gymnastics is optional. There are, of +course, many other things regarding the regulations of the school which +you will gradually come to know."</p> + +<p>"Miss Arnold," the thin-faced, sharp-eyed young woman, who had been +covertly appraising Marjorie during her talk with Miss Archer, came +languidly forward. "This is Miss Dean." The two girls bowed rather +distantly. Marjorie had conceived an instant and violent dislike for +this lynx-eyed stranger. "Take Miss Dean to the locker room, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_39" id="pg_39">39</a></span>then to +Miss Merton. Say to Miss Merton that Miss Dean is a freshman, and that I +wish her assigned to a desk in the freshman section."</p> + +<p>With a last glance of pleasant approval, which Marjorie's pretty face, +dainty attire and frank, yet modest bearing had evoked, the principal +retired to her inner office, and Marjorie obediently followed her guide, +who, without speaking, set off down the corridor at almost unnecessary +speed. "This way," she directed curtly as they reached the main +corridor. They passed down the corridor, descended a second stairway and +brought up directly in front of long rows of lockers. Within five +minutes Marjorie's hat had been put away, and she had received a locker +key. This done, her companion hurried her upstairs and down the wide +corridor through which they had first come.</p> + +<p>Then she suddenly opened a door, and Marjorie found herself in an +enormous square room, which contained row upon row of shining oak desks, +occupied by what seemed to her hundreds of pupils. In reality there were +not more than two hundred and forty persons in the room, but in the eyes +of the little stranger everything was quadrupled. How different it was +from Franklin! So this was the study hall, one of the things on which +the school prided itself. In front of the rows of desks was one large +desk on a small raised platform, reminding Marjorie of an island in the +midst of a sea. At <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_40" id="pg_40">40</a></span>the desk sat a small, gray-haired woman, who peered +suspiciously over her glasses at Marjorie as she was lifelessly +introduced by Miss Arnold.</p> + +<p>"I don't like <i>her</i> at all," was the young girl's inward comment as she +walked behind the stiff, uncompromising, black-clothed back to a desk +almost in the middle of the last row of seats on the east side. But +Marjorie experienced a little shiver of delight as she seated herself, +for directly in front of her, and gazing at her with reassuring, smiling +eyes, was the Picture Girl.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="GETTING_ACQUAINTED_WITH_THE_PICTURE_GIRL_989" id="GETTING_ACQUAINTED_WITH_THE_PICTURE_GIRL_989"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH THE PICTURE GIRL</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Welcome to Sanford," whispered the girl, "and to the freshman class. I +was sure when I saw you the other day you couldn't be anything other +than a freshman."</p> + +<p>Marjorie flushed, then smiled faintly. "I didn't think any of the girls +would remember me," she confessed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I remember you perfectly. You were across the street from school on +three different days, weren't you?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie nodded. "I just had to come down and get acquainted with the +outside of the school. I was awfully curious about it."</p> + +<p>"Miss Harding," a cold voice at their elbows caused both girls to start. +So intent had they been on their conversation that they had not noticed +Miss Merton's approach, "you may answer any questions Miss Dean wishes +to ask regarding our course of study here as set forth in our +curriculum." She laid a closely printed sheet of paper before Marjorie. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_42" id="pg_42">42</a></span>"This does not mean, however, the personal conversation in which, I am +sorry to say, you appeared to be engrossed when I approached. Remember, +Miss Dean, that personal conversation will neither be excused nor +tolerated in the study hall. I trust I shall not have to remind you of +this again."</p> + +<p>Marjorie watched with unseeing eyes the angular form of the teacher as +she retreated to her platform. If Miss Merton had dealt her a blow on +her upturned face, it could have hurt no more severely than had this +unlooked-for reprimand. She was filled with a choking sense of shame +that threatened to end in a burst of angry sobs. The deep blush that had +risen to her face receded, leaving her very white. Those students +sitting in her immediate vicinity had, of course, heard Miss Merton. She +glanced quickly about to encounter two pairs of eyes. One pair was blue +and, it seemed to the embarrassed newcomer, sympathetic. Their owner was +the "Mary" girl, who sat two seats behind her in the next aisle. The +other pair was cruelly mocking, and they belonged to the girl that +Marjorie had mentally styled the Evil Genius. Something in their +taunting depths stirred an hitherto unawakened chord in gentle Marjorie +Dean. She returned the insolent gaze with one so full of steady strength +and defiance that the girl's eyes dropped before it and she devoted +herself assiduously to the open book which she held in her hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_43" id="pg_43">43</a></span>"Don't mind Miss Merton," whispered Muriel, comfortingly. "She is the +worst crank I ever saw. No one likes her. I don't believe even Miss +Archer does. She's been here for ages, so the Board of Education thinks +that Sanford High can't run without her, I guess."</p> + +<p>"I'm so mortified and ashamed," murmured Marjorie. "On my first day, +too."</p> + +<p>"Don't think about it," soothed Muriel. "What studies are you going to +take? I hope you will recite in some of my classes. Wait a moment. I'll +come back there and sit with you; then we'll make less noise. Miss +Merton told me to help you, you know," she reminded, with a soft +chuckle.</p> + +<p>The fair head and the dark one bent earnestly over the printed sheet. +Marjorie whispered her list of subjects to her new friend, who jotted +them down on the margin of the program.</p> + +<p>"How about 9.15 English Comp?" she asked. "That's my section."</p> + +<p>Marjorie nodded her approval.</p> + +<p>"Then you can recite algebra with me at 10.05, and there's a first-year +French class at 11.10. That brings three subjects in the morning. Now, +let me see about your history. If you can make your history and +physiology come the first two periods in the afternoon, you will be +through by three o'clock and can have that last half hour for study or +gym, or whatever you like. I am carrying only four subjects, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_44" id="pg_44">44</a></span>so I have +nothing but physical geography in the afternoon. I am through reciting +every day by 2 o'clock, so I learn most of my lessons in school and +hardly ever take my books home. If I were you, I'd drop one +subject—American History, for instance. You can study it later. The +freshman class is planning a lot of good times for this winter, and, of +course, you want to be in them, too, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I should say so," beamed Marjorie. "Still," her face sobering, "I think +I won't drop history. It's easy, and I love it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't," emphasized Muriel. "By the way, do you play +basketball?"</p> + +<p>"I played left guard on our team last year, and I had just been chosen +for center on the freshman team, at Franklin High, when I left there," +was the whispered reply.</p> + +<p>"That's encouraging," declared Muriel. "We haven't chosen our team yet. +We are to have a tryout at four o'clock on Friday afternoon in the +gymnasium. You can go to the meeting with me, although you will have met +most of the freshman class before Friday. Oh, yes, did Miss Archer tell +you that we report in the study hall at half-past eight o'clock on +Monday and Friday mornings? We have chapel exercises, and woe be unto +you if you are late. It's an unforgivable offense in Miss Merton's eyes +to walk into chapel after the service has begun. If you are late, you +take particular pains to linger <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_45" id="pg_45">45</a></span>around the corridor until the line +comes out of chapel, then you slide into your section and march into the +study hall as boldly as though you'd never been late in your life," +ended Muriel with a giggle, which she promptly smothered.</p> + +<p>"But what if Miss Merton sees one?"</p> + +<p>Muriel made a little resigned gesture. "Try it some day and see. There's +the 9.15 bell. Come along. If we hurry we'll have a minute with the +girls before class begins. All of my chums recite English this first +hour. You needn't stop at Miss Merton's desk. It'll be all right."</p> + +<p>Marjorie walked down the aisle behind Muriel, looking rather worried. +Then she touched Muriel's arm. "I think I'd rather stop and speak to +Miss Merton," she said with soft decision.</p> + +<p>"All right," the response came indifferently as Muriel, a bored look on +her youthful face, walked on ahead.</p> + +<p>Marjorie walked bravely up to the teacher. "Miss Merton, I have arranged +my studies and recitation hours. Miss Harding is going to show me the +way to the English composition class."</p> + +<p>Miss Merton stared coldly at the girl's vivid, colorless face, framed in +its soft brown curls. Her own youth had been prim and narrow, and she +felt that she almost hated this girl whose expressive features gave +promise of remarkable personality and abundant joy of living.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_46" id="pg_46">46</a></span>"Very well." The disagreeable note of dismissal in the teacher's voice +angered Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"I'll never again speak to her unless it's positively necessary," she +resolved resentfully. "I wish I'd taken Miss Harding's advice."</p> + +<p>"Well, did she snap your head off?" inquired Muriel as Marjorie joined +her.</p> + +<p>"No," was the brief answer.</p> + +<p>"It's a wonder. There goes the third bell. It's on to English comp for +us. I won't have time to introduce you to the girls. We'll have to wait +until noon. Miss Flint teaches English. She's a dear, and everyone likes +her."</p> + +<p>Muriel's voice dropped on her last speech, for they were now entering +the classroom. At the first flat-topped desk in one corner of the room +sat a small, fair woman with a sweet, sunshiny face that quite won +Marjorie to her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Flint, this is Miss Dean," began Muriel, as they stopped before +the desk. "She is a freshman and has just been registered in the study +hall by Miss Merton."</p> + +<p>A long, earnest glance passed between teacher and pupil, then Marjorie +felt her hand taken between two small, warm palms. "I am sure Miss Dean +and I are going to be friends," said a sweet, reassuring voice that +amply made up for Miss Merton's stiffness. "Are you a stranger in +Sanford, my dear? I am sure I have never seen you before."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_47" id="pg_47">47</a></span>"We have lived here a week," smiled Marjorie. "We moved here from +B——."</p> + +<p>"How interesting. Were you a student of Franklin High School? I have a +dear friend who teaches English there."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Marjorie, her eyes sparkling, "do you mean Miss +Fielding?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Miss Flint. "We were best friends during our college +days, too. Hampton College is our alma mater."</p> + +<p>"That is where I hope to go when I finish high school. Miss Fielding has +told me so many nice things about Hampton," was Marjorie's eager reply. +Then she added impetuously, "I'm going to like Sanford, too. I'm quite +sure of it."</p> + +<p>"That is the right spirit in which to begin your work here," was the +instant response. "I will assign you to that last seat in the third row. +We do not change seats. Each girl is given her own place for the year."</p> + +<p>Marjorie thanked Miss Flint, and made her way to the seat indicated. The +sound of footsteps in the corridor had ceased. A tall girl in the front +row of desks slipped from her seat and closed the door. Miss Flint rose, +faced her class, and the recitation began.</p> + +<p>After the class was dismissed Miss Flint detained Marjorie for a moment +to ask a few questions regarding her text and note books. Muriel waited +in <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_48" id="pg_48">48</a></span>the corridor. Her face wore an expression of extreme satisfaction. +It looked as though the new freshman might be a distinct addition to the +critical little company of girls who had set themselves as rulers and +arbiters of the freshman class. She was pretty, wore lovely clothes, +lived in a big house in a select neighborhood, had played center on a +city basketball team, and was the friend of Miss Flint's friend. To be +sure, Mignon La Salle might raise some objection to the newcomer. Mignon +was so unreasonably jealous. But for all her money, Mignon must not be +allowed always to have her own way. Muriel was sure the rest of the +girls would be quite in favor of adding Marjorie Dean to their number. +They needed one more girl to complete their sextette. To Marjorie should +fall the honor.</p> + +<p>"I'll introduce her to the girls this noon, and let them look her over. +Then I'll have a talk with them to-night and see what they think," +planned Muriel as she went back to the study hall at Marjorie's side.</p> + +<p>There was a hurried exchange of books, then Marjorie was rushed off to +her algebra recitation. Here she found herself at least two weeks ahead +of the others, and was able to solve a problem at the blackboard that +had puzzled several members of the class, thereby winning a reputation +for herself as a mathematician to which it afterward proved anything but +easy to live up to.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_49" id="pg_49">49</a></span>While in both her English and algebra classes Marjorie had searched the +room with alert eyes for the girl who looked like Mary. She felt vaguely +disappointed. She had hoped to come into closer contact with her. She +liked Muriel, she decided, but she did not altogether understand her +half-cordial, half-joking manner. She was rather glad that she was to go +to her French class alone. She had told Muriel not to bother. She could +find the classroom by herself.</p> + +<p>As she clicked down the short, left-hand, third floor corridor, she saw +just ahead of her a little blue-clad figure passing through the very +doorway for which she was making. An instant and she too had entered the +room. She stared about her, then walked to a seat directly opposite to +the one now occupied by the girl that looked like Mary. For a brief +moment the girl eyed Marjorie indifferently, then something in the +scrutiny of the other girl evidently annoyed her. She drew her straight +dark brows together in a displeased frown, and deliberately turned her +face away.</p> + +<p>By this time perhaps a dozen girls had entered, and, as the clang of the +third bell echoed through the school, an alert little man with a thin, +sensitive face and timid brown eyes, bustled into the room and carefully +closed the door. Hardly had he taken his hand from the knob when the +door was flung open, this time to admit a sharp-featured girl with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_50" id="pg_50">50</a></span>bright, dark eyes and a cruel, thin-lipped mouth. Smiling maliciously, +she swung the door shut with an echoing bang. The meek little professor +looked reproachfully at the offender, who did not even appear to see +him.</p> + +<p>"The Evil Genius," recognized Marjorie. Her eyes strayed furtively +toward the Mary girl, who had not paid the slightest attention to this +late arrival. "What a hateful person that black-eyed girl is," ran on +Marjorie's thoughts. "I know it was she who made that nice girl cry the +other day. I wish she wasn't quite so distant. The nice girl, I mean. +Oh, dear. I forgot to go up to the professor's desk and register. That's +his fault. He came in late. He'll see me in a minute and ask who I am."</p> + +<p>To her extreme surprise, the little man paid no particular attention to +her, but, opening his grammar, began the giving out of the next day's +lesson. This he explained volubly and with many gestures. Marjorie's +lips curved into a half smile as she compared this rather noisy +instructor with Professor Rousseau, of Franklin. Later, when he called +upon his pupils to recite, however, he was a different being. His +politely sarcastic arraignment of those who floundered through the +lessons, accompanied by certain ominous marks he placed after their +names in a fat black book that lay on his desk, plainly showed that, +despite his mild appearance, he was a force yet to be reckoned with.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_51" id="pg_51">51</a></span>"I hope he doesn't notice me until class is over," fidgeted Marjorie. +"It surely must be time for that bell to ring." She began nervously to +count those who were due to recite before her turn came. It would be so +embarrassing to do her explaining before this group of strange girls, +particularly before the Evil Genius. Ah, she had begun to read! And how +beautifully she read French! The critical professor was listening to the +smooth flow of words that tripped from her tongue with approbation +written on every feature. "She must have studied French before," +speculated Marjorie, as the professor directed the next girl to go on +with the exercise; "or else she is French. I believe she is. Oh, dear, +only two more girls."</p> + +<p>Clang! sounded the bell.</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness," breathed the relieved freshman.</p> + +<p>There was a general closing of books. "To-morrow I shall geev you a +wreetten test," warned Professor Fontaine. Then the second bell rang, +and the class filed out of the room.</p> + +<p>"Eet ees not strange that I haf overlooked you, Mademoiselle," explained +Professor Fontaine five minutes later, after listening to Marjorie's +apology for not presenting herself to him before class. "The freshmen +like to make so many alterations in their programs. They haf soch good +excuses for changeeng classes, but, sometimes, too, they do not tell +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_52" id="pg_52">52</a></span>me. Eet maks exasperation." He waved his hands comprehensively. "I am +pleased," he added, with true French courtesy, "to haf another pupil. +Ees eet that you like the French, Mademoiselle Dean?"</p> + +<p>"It is a beautiful language, Professor Fontaine," Marjorie assured him. +"I have only begun learning it, but I like it so much."</p> + +<p>"C'est vrai," murmured the delighted professor. "La Francais est une +belle langue. If, then, you like it, you weel study your lessons, n'est +pas?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try very hard to make good recitations. I will bring my books +to-morrow. We used the same grammar at Franklin High School."</p> + +<p>Marjorie hastened back to the study hall to find it empty. The clock on +the north wall pointed significant hands to ten minutes past twelve. The +Picture Girl had said that she wished Marjorie to meet her friends, but +she was not waiting. It was disappointing, but her own fault, thought +the lonely freshman as she left the study hall and went slowly +downstairs to the locker room. She gave an impatient sigh as she pinned +on her hat. Exploring new territory wasn't half so interesting as she +could wish. Then a light footstep sounded at her side. A dignified +little voice said, stiffly, "Will you please allow me to get my hat?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie whirled about in amazement. Could she believe her eyes? The +voice belonged to the Mary girl; they were to share the same locker.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_PLEDGE_1302" id="THE_PLEDGE_1302"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>THE PLEDGE</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad we are to have a locker together!" exclaimed Marjorie, +impulsively. "I've been very anxious to know you. I really owe you an +apology. I spoke to you in the street the other day. I don't know what +you thought of me, but you look so much like my dearest chum in +B—— that I called to you before I realized what I was doing."</p> + +<p>The other girl regarded Marjorie with the suspicious, uneasy eyes of a +cornered animal. Then, without answering, she reached for her hat and +was about to go silently on her way, when something in Marjorie's +gracious words seemed to touch her and she said, grudgingly, "I remember +you."</p> + +<p>"That's nice," beamed Marjorie. "I was afraid you wouldn't. Let me tell +you about my chum." She launched forth in an enthusiastic description of +Mary Raymond and of their long friendship. "I wrote Mary about having +seen a girl that looked like her. She will be very curious to see you. +She's <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_54" id="pg_54">54</a></span>coming to visit me some time during the year. So I hope you and I +will be friends. But I haven't even told you who I am. My name is +Marjorie Dean. Won't you please tell me yours?" She offered her hand +winningly, but the strange, self-contained young girl ignored it.</p> + +<p>"My name is Constance Stevens." Her voice was coldly reluctant, carrying +with it an unmistakable rebuff.</p> + +<p>Marjorie drew back, puzzled and hurt. She was not used to having her +friendly overtures rejected. The blue-eyed girl saw the shrinking +movement, and, stirred by some hitherto unknown impulse, stretched forth +her hand. "Please forgive me for being so rude," she said contritely. +"It is awfully sweet in you to tell me about your chum and to say that +you wish to be my friend. You are the first girl, who has been so nice +with me since I came to Sanford. How I hate them!" Her expressive face +darkened and her blue eyes became filled with brooding, sullen anger.</p> + +<p>"Are you going home to luncheon now?" asked Marjorie, with a view toward +keeping away from disagreeable subjects.</p> + +<p>The other girl nodded, then, pinning on her hat, the two left the +building. Marjorie wished to ask questions, but she did not know how to +begin with this strange, moody girl. There were so many things to say. +"Do you play basketball?" she asked, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_55" id="pg_55">55</a></span>almost timidly, when they had +traversed three blocks in silence.</p> + +<p>Constance shook her head. "I don't even know the game, let alone trying +to play it. Do you play?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have played every position on the team. I was chosen for center +of the freshman team at Franklin High just before I came here. One of +the freshmen has asked me to go to the tryout on Friday."</p> + +<p>The Mary girl looked wistfully at Marjorie. "I'm going to tell you +something," she announced with finality. "Truly, it's for your own good. +You mustn't try to be friends with me. If you do, you'll be sorry. We, +my father and I, are nobodies in this town. Father's a broken-down +musician who teaches the violin for a living. I've a little lame +brother, and we take care of a poor old musician, who, people say, is +crazy. He isn't, though. He's merely childish.</p> + +<p>"People call us Bohemians and gypsies and even vagabonds. They don't +understand that our greatest crime is just being poor. The girls in the +freshman class make fun of me and call me a tramp and a beggar behind my +back. One girl did try to be the least bit pleasant with me, but she +soon stopped. We've been in Sanford only two months, but it seems like a +hundred years. At first I was glad to think I was going to high school. +How I hate it now! But they sha'n't drive me away. I'll get <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_56" id="pg_56">56</a></span>my +education in spite of everything." Her lips drew together with resolute +purpose.</p> + +<p>"So, you see," her voice grew gentle, "you mustn't waste your time upon +me. The girls won't like you if you do, and you don't know how dreadful +it is to be left out of everything. Of course, you can speak to me, +but——" She paused and looked eloquent meaning at Marjorie. Her late +aloofness had quite vanished. Her small face was now soft and friendly, +making the resemblance to happy-go-lucky Mary Raymond more apparent.</p> + +<p>Marjorie laughed. Those who knew her best would have understood that her +laughter meant defiance. "I don't choose my friends because they are +rich or because others like them. I choose them because I want them +myself," she declared with a proud lift of her head. "I knew that +someone had been horrid to you the first day I ever saw you. I heard +several girls talking of you afterward. At least, I think they were +talking of you. I said to myself then that they had misjudged you. So I +went home and wrote my letter to Mary. I told mother all about you, too, +and that I was going to be your friend, if you would let me. I want you +to come and see me and meet mother and father. As for the girls in the +freshman class, I'd like to be friends with them, too, but I couldn't do +anything so contemptible and unfair as to dislike a girl just because +they thought they did. Now, you know <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_57" id="pg_57">57</a></span>what I think about it. Are we +going to share our locker and our troubles and our pleasures?"</p> + +<p>The tears flashed across Constance Stevens' eyes. Her hand slid into +Marjorie's, and thus began a friendship between the two freshmen that +was to defy time and change.</p> + +<p>They separated on the next corner and, throwing dignity to the winds, +Marjorie raced up the long walk and into the house to see if her captain +was better.</p> + +<p>"I came to report, Captain," she said gently as she tiptoed up to her +mother's bed. "How are you, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Better, Lieutenant," returned her mother, kissing the pretty, flushed +face. "Now for the report."</p> + +<p>"You are sure I won't make your head ache with my chatter?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear; it is ever so much better now."</p> + +<p>Marjorie went faithfully through with the events of the morning. "I had +to stand by my colors, Captain. I wouldn't be fit to be a soldier if I +didn't know how to stand fast. Just as though it makes any difference +whether a girl is rich or poor if she's a dear and one likes her. How +can some girls be so silly? They wouldn't be if they had Mary's and my +military training. When in doubt ask your captain."</p> + +<p>She laughed gaily, then her merry glance changed to one of dismay. "Good +gracious! It's fifteen <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_58" id="pg_58">58</a></span>minutes to one. I'll have to eat my luncheon in +a hurry." With a hasty kiss Marjorie flitted from the room and down the +stairs to the dining-room.</p> + +<p>After luncheon she lingered for a brief moment with her mother, then set +off for the afternoon session of school. But she could not help +wondering as she walked just how it would seem to be in the freshman +class but not of it.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_WARNING_1435" id="THE_WARNING_1435"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>THE WARNING</h3> +</div> + +<p>The afternoon session of school passed uneventfully for Marjorie. She +had returned too late from luncheon to hold more than a few words of +conversation with the Picture Girl. In spite of the watchful espionage +of Miss Merton, whose eyes seemed riveted to her side of the room, +Muriel managed to convey to Marjorie the news that the girls were dying +to meet her and were so sorry they had missed her at noon.</p> + +<p>"We waited for you more than ten minutes," Muriel whispered guardedly. +"Mignon saw you stop at Professor Fontaine's desk. We knew what that +meant. It always takes him forever to explain anything. Do you remember +a black-haired, black-eyed girl in the French class this morning? She +wore the sweetest brown crêpe-de-chine dress. Well, that's Mignon La +Salle. Her father is the richest man in Sanford. Mignon could go away to +school if she liked, but she doesn't care about it. Tell you more +later."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_60" id="pg_60">60</a></span>Muriel faced front with a sudden jerk that could mean but one thing. +Marjorie cast a fleeting glance at Miss Merton. The teacher was frowning +angrily, as though about to deliver a rebuke. Luckily for the two girls, +the first recitation bell rang and they stood not upon the order of +their going, but went with alacrity. Once outside the study-hall door +they were safe.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what ails Miss Merton," complained Muriel. "She has never +said a word to me before. That's twice to-day she has shown her claws."</p> + +<p>"She doesn't like me," said Marjorie, calmly, "and I don't like her. I +think she is the rudest teacher I ever knew. It was I, not you that she +meant that scolding for this morning."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" scoffed Muriel. "She likes you as well as she likes the rest +of us. I don't believe she is awfully, terribly, fearfully fond of +girls. When she was young she must have been one of those stiff, prim +goody-goodies; the distressingly snippy sort that made all her friends +so tired." Muriel laughed softly.</p> + +<p>Marjorie smiled at Muriel's unflattering description of Miss Merton's +youth, then her face sobered. In her heart she knew that Miss Merton +disliked her, and the knowledge was not pleasant. She made an earnest +resolve to overcome the teacher's prejudice. She would make Miss Merton +like her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_61" id="pg_61">61</a></span>Muriel went with her as far as the door of the history room, which was +in charge of Miss Atkins, a stout, middle-aged woman, who beamed amiably +upon Marjorie, entered her name in the class register, motioned her to a +front seat and promptly appeared to forget her existence. But though +Miss Atkins exhibited small personal interest in her new pupil, such was +not the case with regard to the subject which she taught. The lesson +dealt with the coming of the Virginia colonists, their settlement in +Jamestown and the final burning of the town. Miss Atkins' vivid +description of the colonists' determined struggles to gain a foothold in +the New World was well worth listening to. The reading of extracts from +special reference books pertaining to that gallant expedition into the +treacherous forests of an unknown, untried country made the lesson seem +doubly interesting. When the recitation was over Marjorie went back to +the study hall congratulating herself on the fact that she had not +dropped history, and reflecting that no one would ever have suspected +Miss Atkins of being so fascinating.</p> + +<p>As she groped in her desk for her textbook on physiology, she looked +about her for some sign of Constance Stevens. She recollected that she +had not seen her in her seat when the afternoon session began. The +moment her recitation in physiology was over she hastened to the locker +room. No, her <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_62" id="pg_62">62</a></span>new friend's hat was not there. She had not returned to +school after luncheon. Marjorie reached for her own hat, vaguely +wondering what had happened to keep Constance away from school.</p> + +<p>She stood meditatively poking her hatpins in and out of her hat, when +the sound of footsteps on the stairs came to her ears. School was over +for the day. She put on her hat in a hurry, took a swift peep at herself +as she passed the one large mirror that hung at the end of the +freshmen's lockers, and ran up the stairs. She would not disappoint +Muriel's friends again.</p> + +<p>This time she was first on the scene, standing on the identical spot +where she had stood the day Constance rushed weeping past her. Why +didn't her class come out? Surely she had heard their footsteps on the +stairs. But it was fully five minutes before the stream of girls began +to issue from the big doors. Then Muriel appeared, surrounded by her +friends, and in another instant the girl with the dimples, the +fair-haired girl, the stout girl and the Evil Genius were, with varying +degrees of friendliness, telling Marjorie Dean that they were glad to +meet her.</p> + +<p>Susan Atwell said so frankly with a delightful show of dimples. Irma +Linton looked the acme of gentle friendliness. Geraldine Macy's face +wore an expression of open admiration. Mignon La Salle's greeting, +however, was distinctly reserved. To be <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_63" id="pg_63">63</a></span>sure, she smiled; but Muriel, +who had been furtively watching her, knew that the French girl was not +pleased with the idea of admitting another girl to their fellowship.</p> + +<p>"The rest of the girls like her," thought Muriel. "Mignon will find +she'll have to give in this time." Purposely, to make sure she was +right, she said boldly: "Miss Dean, will you go to the basketball tryout +with us on Friday afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, do," urged Geraldine Macy, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"We'd love to have you," came from Susan Atwell. "We understand that you +are a star player."</p> + +<p>"Of course you must," smiled Irma Linton.</p> + +<p>The French girl alone hesitated. Her eyes roved speculatively from one +face to another, then she said suavely, "Come by all means, Miss Dean. +It will be quite interesting."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I shall be pleased to go with you." Marjorie ignored +Mignon's slight hesitation, although she had noted it. "I wonder if you +are all as fond of basketball as I," she went on quickly. "It's a +splendid game, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Her new acquaintances answered with emphasis that it was certainly a +great game, and, the ice now broken, they began to ply their new +acquaintance with questions. How did she like Sanford? Did it seem +strange to her after a big city high school? What subjects had she +selected? Had she met any other girls besides themselves?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_64" id="pg_64">64</a></span>Marjorie answered them readily enough. She was glad to be one of a +crowd of girls again.</p> + +<p>"Have you met any other girls?" asked Geraldine Macy, abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I met a Miss Seymour before I had even gone as far as Miss Archer's +office. She is a delightful girl, isn't she?"</p> + +<p>No one of the five girls made answer. The little freshman regarded them +perplexedly.</p> + +<p>"Mm!" ejaculated Muriel Harding. "You wouldn't think her quite so nice +if you knew as much about her as we do. Wait until you see her play +basketball. She plays center on the sophomore team, and she makes some +very peculiar plays. She's always creating trouble, too. She and some of +her sophomore friends seem to have a particular grudge against Mignon. +They are forever criticising her playing. They have even gone so far as +to say that we don't play fairly; that we are tricky. The idea!" Muriel +looked highly offended at the mere idea of any such thing.</p> + +<p>Marjorie listened without comment. Muriel's ready tirade against the +pleasant-faced sophomore who had willingly offered her services that +morning made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. Then Miss Seymour's +straightforward speech to Miss Archer came back to her. The sophomore +had been generous to her enemies, if they were enemies, in that she had +refused to mention any names. Marjorie <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_65" id="pg_65">65</a></span>wondered if Muriel or Mignon +would be equally generous in the same circumstances. She resolved to say +nothing of what she had been privileged to hear. It was not hers to +tell.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she divined, rather than saw, Mignon's elfish eyes fixed upon +her. "You met another girl, at noon, did you not, Miss Dean?" asked the +French girl, with an almost sarcastic inflection.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Miss Stevens," was the composed answer. "We share the same locker. +She is a nice girl, too, and I like her very much, so, please, don't say +anything against her," she ended, in half-smiling warning.</p> + +<p>Mignon La Salle's face grew dark. She recognized the challenging note in +the new girl's tone. Muriel, too, frowned. Susan Atwell sidled up to +Mignon, Irma Linton looked distressed and Geraldine Macy calmly curious +as to what would come next. It came in the way of a small tempest, for +the French girl lost her temper over Marjorie's retort.</p> + +<p>She stamped her foot in childish rage, saying vehemently: "She is a +nobody, that Stevens person, and her family are vagabonds. You will make +a great mistake if you choose her for your friend." Then, her rage +receding as suddenly as it had come, she shrugged her shoulders +deprecatingly. "Pardonnez moi." She bowed to Marjorie. "I spoke too +strongly. It is not for me to choose Miss Dean's <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_66" id="pg_66">66</a></span>friends." Slipping her +arm through Muriel's, she drew her ahead of the others. Susan Atwell +took a hurried step forward and caught her other arm, leaving Marjorie +to walk between Irma and Geraldine.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind her," said Jerry, in a low voice. "She has it in for that +Miss Stevens. She, the Stevens girl, did something, no one knows what, +to make Mignon angry with her. Mignon says Miss Stevens talked about her +and Muriel and Susan believed it, but Irma and I are not so silly."</p> + +<p>Two blocks further on Marjorie bade good-bye to the five girls. She said +it without enthusiasm. Their carping, quarrelsome attitude had taken all +the pleasure from knowing them. She made mental exception in favor of +Irma and Jerry. The gentleness of the one and the sturdy, outspoken +manner of the other had impressed her favorably. But she was sorely +disappointed in Muriel.</p> + +<p>Should she tell her mother of the disagreeable ending of her first day? +She decided not to do so. She would carry nothing save pleasant tales to +her captain to-day. And so that night, when she entered the living-room +and found her mother, in a becoming negligee, occupying the wide leather +couch by the window, she saluted, like a dutiful soldier, and included +in her report only the pleasant happenings of her first, +never-to-be-forgotten day in Sanford High School.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="STANDING_BY_HER_COLORS_1636" id="STANDING_BY_HER_COLORS_1636"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>STANDING BY HER COLORS</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Marjorie took her seat in the study hall the next morning, Muriel's +greeting was as affable as it had been before the disagreement of the +previous afternoon. She even went so far as to whisper, "Don't take +Mignon too seriously. She is really dreadfully hurt over the unkind +things Miss Stevens has said of her."</p> + +<p>Marjorie listened in polite silence to the Picture Girl's rather lame +apology in behalf of her friend. She could think of nothing to say. +Muriel had turned about in her seat, her eyes fixed expectantly upon the +other girl. But just then came an unexpected interruption.</p> + +<p>"Miss Dean," shrilled Miss Merton's high, querulous voice, "who gave you +permission to leave school before the regular hour of dismissal +yesterday afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"I did not——" began the astonished girl.</p> + +<p>"Young woman, do you mean to contradict me?" thundered Miss Merton.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_68" id="pg_68">68</a></span>Marjorie had now risen to her feet. Her pretty face had turned very +white, her brown eyes gleamed like two angry flames. "I had no intention +of contradicting you, Miss Merton." Her low, steady tones were full of +repressed indignation. "What I had begun to say was that I did not know +I was expected to return to the study hall after my last class. In the +high school which I attended in B—— we went from our last class to our +locker rooms. It is, of course, my fault. I should have inquired about +it beforehand." The freshman quietly resumed her seat.</p> + +<p>Every pair of eyes in the room was turned upon Marjorie.</p> + +<p>Miss Merton, however, had no intention of letting her off so easily. +"The rules and regulations of another high school do not, in the least, +interest me, Miss Dean," she said, with biting sarcasm. "It is my +business to see that the rules of <i>Sanford</i> High School are enforced, +and I propose to do it. You have been a pupil in this school for only +one day, yet I have been obliged to reprimand you on two different +occasions. If you annoy me further I shall consider myself fully +justified in sending you to Miss Archer."</p> + +<p>The ringing of the first recitation bell put an end to the little scene. +Marjorie rose from her seat and marched from the study hall, her head +held high. If Miss Merton expected her to break down <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_69" id="pg_69">69</a></span>and cry she would +find herself sadly mistaken. Muriel overtook her in the corridor. "My, +but Miss Merton hates you!" she commented cheerfully, as though enjoying +her classmate's discomfiture.</p> + +<p>Marjorie made no reply. Her proud spirit was too deeply crushed for +words. She went through her recitation in English that morning like one +in a dream. Several times during her French hour she gazed appealingly +at Constance, but the Mary girl kept her fair head turned resolutely +away. She did not appear at her locker either at noon or after school +was over, although Marjorie lingered, in the hope that she would come.</p> + +<p>So successfully did she manage to steer clear of Marjorie, who was too +proud to make advances in the face of Constance's marked avoidance, +that, when Friday came and the afternoon session was over, Marjorie was +escorted to the gymnasium by the Picture Girl and her friends, who, even +to Mignon, believed that the newcomer had been wise and taken their +brusque advice.</p> + +<p>At least half of the freshman class had elected to try for a place on +the team. Miss Randall, the instructor in gymnastics, and several +seniors had been chosen to pick the team, and when the six girls arrived +on the scene the testing had begun. Mignon La Salle was the first of +their group to play. Her almost marvelous agility, her quick, catlike +springs and her fleetness of foot called forth unstinted praise <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_70" id="pg_70">70</a></span>from +Marjorie. Muriel, too, played a skilful game; so did Susan Atwell. When +Marjorie was called upon to play left guard on a team composed of the +last lot of aspirants for basketball honors, she advanced to her +position rather nervously. Muriel, Mignon, Susan Atwell and two +freshmen, whom she did not know, were to oppose her. She wondered if she +could play fast enough to keep up with her clever opponents. Then, as +she caught the French girl's elfish eyes fixed upon her, mocking +incredulity in their depths, she rallied her doubting spirit and +resolved to outplay even Mignon.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later Marjorie Dean had been chosen to play left guard +on a team of which Mignon was center, Muriel, right guard, Susan Atwell, +right forward, and a freshman named Harriet Delaney, left forward. +Muriel had also been made captain, and several girls were chosen as +substitutes.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah for the new team!" cried Muriel Harding. "Let's call ourselves +the Invincibles. You certainly can play basketball, Miss Dean. How lucky +in you to come to Sanford just when we need you. By the way, 'Miss Dean' +is too formal. Please let us call you Marjorie. You can call us by our +first names. What's the use of so much formality among team-mates?"</p> + +<p>Being merely a very human young girl, Marjorie could not help feeling a +little bit pleased with herself. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_71" id="pg_71">71</a></span>She was glad she had played so well. +She felt that she had really begun to like her new associates very much. +Even Mignon must have her good points; and how wonderfully well she +played basketball! Perhaps Constance Stevens had been just a little bit +at fault. Certainly she had acted very queerly after that first day when +they had pledged their friendship. Had she, Marjorie, been wise to avow +unswerving loyalty to a stranger, and all because she looked like Mary +Raymond? Marjorie's disquieting reflections were interrupted by +something the French girl was saying.</p> + +<p>"It was too funny for anything, wasn't it, Muriel?" Mignon laughed with +gleeful malice.</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded Muriel. "We gave the sophomores a bad scare."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?" asked Irma Linton, curiously.</p> + +<p>Seeing that she had the attention of her audience, the French girl +began.</p> + +<p>"You remember the practice game we played against the sophomores last +week? According to my way of thinking, the sophomores played a very +rough game. I complained to Miss Seymour, their captain. She laughed at +me," Mignon scowled at the remembrance, "so I decided to teach her a +lesson."</p> + +<p>"I told Muriel about it, and between us we made up a dialogue. It was +all about the sophomores' <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_72" id="pg_72">72</a></span>unfair playing, and how surprised they would +be when they found themselves forbidden to play basketball. Then we +managed to walk out of school behind two girls that always tell +everything they know, and recited our dialogue. The next morning Muriel +saw one of the girls talking to Miss Seymour for all she was worth, so +we know that she faithfully repeated everything she heard. Miss Seymour +wouldn't dare go to Miss Archer with it for fear Miss Archer would ask +too many questions. You know Miss Archer said last year when Inez +Chester made such a fuss about her sprained wrist that if ever again one +team reported another for rough playing she would disband the accused +team and have Miss Randall select a new one. So I imagine we gave our +friends the sophs something to think about."</p> + +<p>"But who told you the sophomores would be forbidden to play?" demanded +candid Jerry.</p> + +<p>"No one told us, silly," retorted Muriel, her color rising. "We simply +said they would be surprised when they found themselves forbidden to +play. 'When' may mean next week or next month, or next year or century, +or any other time. We were only talking for their general edification."</p> + +<p>"Then nobody actually said a word about it?" persisted Jerry. "You just +made up all that stuff?"</p> + +<p>"It didn't do any hurt," began Muriel. "We thought——"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_73" id="pg_73">73</a></span>"Don't be such a prig, Jerry," put in Mignon, impatiently. "It isn't +half so wicked to play a joke on those stupid sophomores as it is to ask +one's mother for money for a fountain pen, and then use the money for +candy and ice cream."</p> + +<p>There was a chorus of giggles from the girls, in which Jerry did not +join. She was eyeing Mignon steadily. "See here, Mignon," she said with +offended dignity. "I just want you to know that I told my mother about +that money that very same night. I may have my faults, but I certainly +don't tell things that aren't true." Jerry punctuated this pertinent +speech with emphatic nods of her head, and, having said her say, walked +on a little ahead of her friends, the picture of belligerence.</p> + +<p>"Now, you've made Jerry angry, Mignon," laughed Susan Atwell.</p> + +<p>Mignon merely lifted her thin shoulders. "I can't please every one. If I +did, I should never please myself."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what ails Jerry all of a sudden," commented Muriel to +Marjorie. "She isn't usually so—so funny."</p> + +<p>Again Marjorie kept her own counsel. She, alone, knew that the object of +the rumor which Muriel and Mignon had started had failed. Ellen Seymour +had gone frankly to headquarters with it, and Miss Archer had asked no +questions. Marjorie wondered what these girls would say if they knew +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_74" id="pg_74">74</a></span>the truth. She did not like to criticize them, but were they truly +honorable? For a moment she wished she had refused to play on the team +with them. Muriel and Mignon, in particular, seemed so careless of other +people's feelings.</p> + +<p>Her sympathies were with Jerry, and quickening her pace she slipped her +arm through that of the fat girl, saying, "Don't you think to-morrow's +algebra lesson is hard?"</p> + +<p>Jerry viewed her companion's smiling face rather sulkily. Then +succumbing to the other's charm, she said in a mollified tone: "Of +course it's hard. They're all hard. I know I shall never pass in +algebra."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you will," was Marjorie's cheerful assurance. "It's my hardest +study, too; but I'm going to pass my final examination in it. I've +simply made up my mind that I must do it."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll make up my mind to pass, too," announced Jerry, inspired by +Marjorie's determined tones. "And, say, it would be splendid if we could +do our lessons together sometimes. My mother likes me to bring my school +friends home."</p> + +<p>"So does mine," returned Marjorie, cordially. "She says home is the +place for me to entertain my schoolmates. I hope you will come to see me +soon. It's your turn first, you know. Oh, please pardon me a moment, I +must speak to this girl!" The cause of this sudden exclamation was a +young woman in <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_75" id="pg_75">75</a></span>a well-worn blue suit who was coming across the street +directly ahead of them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Constance!" hailed Marjorie, "I have been looking for you. Stop a +minute!" Marjorie stood waiting for her friend with eager face and +outstretched hand. By this time the four other girls had come abreast of +the trio and had passed them, Irma Linton being the only one of them who +bowed to Constance. Jerry stood beside Marjorie for an instant, then +walked on and overtook her chums.</p> + +<p>"Please don't stop," begged Constance, her face expressing the liveliest +worry. "Really, you mustn't try to be friends with me. I wish to take +back my part of our compact. You've been chosen to play on the team, and +those girls seem to like you. I can't stand in your way, and my +friendship won't be worth anything to you, so just let's forget all we +said the other day."</p> + +<p>Marjorie stared hard at the other girl, the pathetic droop of whose lips +looked for all the world like Mary's when things went wrong. "You don't +mean that, and I won't give you up," she said with fine stubbornness. "I +haven't time to talk about it now. I must catch up with those girls. +Wait for me at our locker to-morrow noon, please, <i>please</i>."</p> + +<p>With a hasty squeeze of Constance's hand, Marjorie raced on up the +street to overtake her companions. They were so busily engaged in +discussing <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_76" id="pg_76">76</a></span>her, however, that they did not hear her approach, and +consequently did not lower their voices.</p> + +<p>"I will not speak to her; I will not play with her on the team!" she +heard Mignon La Salle sputter angrily.</p> + +<p>"We certainly don't care to bother with her if she's going to take up +with all sorts of low people." This loftily from Muriel, who was afraid +to cross the French girl.</p> + +<p>"My mother told me never to speak to any of those crazy Stevens +persons," added Susan Atwell, with a toss of her curly head. "I don't +care so very much for this Dean girl, either."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you make me tired, the whole lot of you," cried Jerry, with angry +contempt. "Marjorie Dean is nicer than all of you put together, and if +she likes that little white-faced Stevens girl, then the girl is all +right, even if her family were ragpickers. I'm ashamed of myself for +being so silly as to listen to any of Mignon's complaints against her. +You can do as you like, but if it's a case of being your friend or +Marjorie's, then I guess I'd rather be hers."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Geraldine." Marjorie's quiet voice caused the party to turn, +then exchange sheepish glances. "I don't wish you to quarrel over me," +she went on. "I should like to be friends with all of you, but none of +you can choose my friends for me any more than I can choose yours for +you."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_77" id="pg_77">77</a></span>"You can't chum with us and be the friend of that Miss Stevens," +muttered Mignon. "She is my enemy. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hear that," returned Marjorie, keeping her temper with +difficulty, "but she is not mine. I like her. I shall stand up for her +and be her friend as long as we go to Sanford High School. I am sorry to +seem disagreeable, but I shouldn't feel the least bit true to myself if +I were afraid to say what I think. This is my street. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Marjorie walked proudly away from the group. An instant and she heard +the patter of running feet behind her.</p> + +<p>"You can't get rid of us so easily," panted Geraldine Macy.</p> + +<p>"I think you are right, Marjorie," said Irma Linton, quietly, putting +out her hand. "I should like to be your friend."</p> + +<p>And the dividing of the sextette of girls was the dividing of the +freshman class of Sanford High School.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="A_BITTER_MOMENT_1912" id="A_BITTER_MOMENT_1912"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>A BITTER MOMENT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Marjorie went soberly up the steps of her home that afternoon. Her +pleasure in making the team had been short-lived. She wondered if it +would not be better to write her resignation. How could she bear to play +on a team when three of the members had decided to drop her +acquaintance? Still, they had not chosen her to play on the team; why, +then, should she resign? She decided to consult her captain on the +subject; then changed her mind. She would not trouble her mother with +such petty grievances. This prejudice against Constance Stevens had +originated wholly with Mignon La Salle. Perhaps the French girl would +soon forget it, and it would die a natural death. Marjorie was not +mortally hurt over the turn of the afternoon's affairs. She had not been +so deeply impressed with the importance of Mignon and her friends that +she failed to see their snobbish tendencies. She made mental exception +of Jerry and Irma. She was secretly glad that they had declared for her. +She <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_79" id="pg_79">79</a></span>liked Jerry's blunt independence and Irma's gentle, lovable +personality. With the optimism of sixteen, she declined to worry over +what had happened, and her report to her captain at the end of that +troubled afternoon included only the pleasant events of the day.</p> + +<p>When she went to school the next Monday morning she discovered that it +did hurt, just a trifle, to be deliberately cut by the Picture Girl, +and, instead of being greeted with Susan Atwell's dimpled smile, to +receive an icy stare from that young woman, as, later in the morning, +they passed each other in the corridor.</p> + +<p>In some mysterious manner the story of the disagreement had been noised +about the freshman class, with the result that Marjorie's acquaintance +was eagerly sought by a number of freshmen whom she knew merely by +sight, and that several girls, who had made it a point to smile and nod +to her, now passed her, frigid and unsmiling.</p> + +<p>As for the members of the little group Marjorie had watched so earnestly +before she had been enrolled as a freshman at Sanford, they were now +divided indeed. As the week progressed the "Terrible Trio," as Jerry had +satirically named Mignon, Muriel and Susan, endeavored to make plain to +whoever would listen to them that there was but one side to the story, +namely, their side. Emulating Marjorie's example, Jerry and Irma had +taken particular <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_80" id="pg_80">80</a></span>pains to be friendly with Constance Stevens. After an +eloquent dissertation on friendship, delivered by Marjorie at their +locker on the Monday morning following her disagreement with the other +girls, Constance had shed a few happy tears and admitted that she had +rather be "best friends" with Marjorie than anyone else in the world.</p> + +<p>The hardest part of it all for Marjorie was her basketball practice. It +was dreadful to be on speaking terms with only one girl on the team, +Harriet Delaney, and she was not overly cordial. Marjorie tried to +remember that Miss Randall had appointed her to her position, that the +right to play was hers; but the unfriendly players made her nervous, and +she lost her usual snap and daring. The second week's practice came, and +she resolved to play up to her usual form, but, try as she might, she +fell far short of the promise she had shown at the tryout. She also +noted uneasily that, no matter how early she reported for practice, the +team seemed always to be in the gymnasium before her and that one of the +substitutes invariably held her position.</p> + +<p>The freshmen had challenged the sophomores to play against them on the +first Saturday afternoon in November. It was now the latter part of +October and both teams were utilizing as much of their spare time as +possible in preparing for the fray.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to practice this afternoon?" whispered <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_81" id="pg_81">81</a></span>Geraldine Macy to +Marjorie as they left the algebra class on Monday morning.</p> + +<p>Marjorie nodded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," grumbled Jerry under her breath. "I wanted to talk to you +about the Hallowe'en party."</p> + +<p>"What Hallowe'en party?" asked Marjorie, opening her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you your invitation?" It was Jerry's turn to look surprised.</p> + +<p>"I don't even know what you're talking about."</p> + +<p>Their entrance into the study hall put an end to the conversation. It +was renewed at noon, however, when Jerry, Irma, Marjorie and Constance +trooped out of the school building together, a seemingly contented +quartet.</p> + +<p>"Just imagine, girls," announced Jerry, excitedly. "Marjorie doesn't +know a thing about the Hallowe'en party. She hasn't her invitation +either. I think that's awfully queer."</p> + +<p>"I haven't mine, but I know all about it," put in Constance Stevens, +quietly.</p> + +<p>"Who has charge of the invitations?" asked Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Miss Arnold. You'd better see her about yours to-day. Of course you +both want to go."</p> + +<p>"But what is it and where is it held?" questioned Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"It's a big dance. Weston High School, that's the boys' school, gives a +party to Sanford High on <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_82" id="pg_82">82</a></span>every Hallowe'en night. It's a town +institution and as unchangeable as any law the Medes and Persians ever +thought of making," informed Jerry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how splendid!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I should like to know some nice +Sanford boys, and I love to dance!"</p> + +<p>"Then you ought to meet my brother Hal," declared Jerry, solemnly, "for +he's the nicest, handsomest, best boy I know."</p> + +<p>"Wait until you see the Crane," laughed Irma Linton. "He's the tallest +boy in high school. He's six feet two inches now. They say he hasn't +stopped growing, either, and he is awfully thin. That's why the boys +call him the 'Crane.' He doesn't mind it a bit. His real name is Sherman +Norwood, but no one ever calls him that except the teachers."</p> + +<p>During the rest of the walk home the coming dance was the sole subject +under discussion. Yes, the girls wore evening gowns, if they had them. +Lots of girls wore their best summer dresses. The leading caterer of +Sanford always had charge of the refreshments and the boys paid the +bills. There was a real orchestra, too. Of course all the teachers were +there, but the pokey ones went home early and the jolly ones, like Miss +Flint and Miss Atkins, stayed until the last dance.</p> + +<p>There were countless other questions to ask, but the luncheon hour was +too short to admit of any lingering on the corner.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_83" id="pg_83">83</a></span>"I wish we had more time to talk," sighed Marjorie, reluctantly, as she +came to her street. "I'd love to hear more about the dance."</p> + +<p>"We'll tell you all there is to tell after school," promised Jerry. "Oh, +no, we can't either. You'll have to go to that old basketball practice. +What a nuisance it is. And to think you have to play on the team with +Mignon, Muriel and Susan, after the way they've treated you. Why don't +you resign?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I'll play next term," said Marjorie, slowly, "but I +feel as though I ought to stay on the team for the rest of this term. +Our game with the sophomores is set for two weeks from to-morrow; then, +I believe we are to play against two teams from nearby towns. It +wouldn't be fair to leave the team now, after having practiced with it."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I'd bother my head much about that part of it," sniffed +Jerry, "I'd just quit."</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't, Geraldine Macy," laughed Irma. "You might grumble, +but you wouldn't be so hateful."</p> + +<p>"You don't know how hateful I can be," warned Jerry. "Some other girls +are likely to find out, though."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye. I must not stop here another second," declared Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" floated after her as she walked rapidly toward home.</p> + +<p>"How goes it, Lieutenant?" asked her father, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_84" id="pg_84">84</a></span>who, with her mother, was +already seated at the table as she entered the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well, thank you, General," she replied, touching her hand to her +curly head.</p> + +<p>"I haven't heard you say a word about school for at least a week, my +dear," commented her mother. "Has the novelty of Sanford High worn off +so soon?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, Captain," returned Marjorie, earnestly. "I'm finding out +new things every day." She did not add that some of the "new things" had +not been agreeable, nor did she volunteer any further information +concerning her school. This touch of reticence on the part of her +usually talkative daughter caused her mother to look at her searchingly +and wonder if Marjorie had something on her mind which in due season +would be brought to light. The subject of the dance returning to the +young girl's thoughts, she began at once to talk of it, and her +enthusiastic description of the coming affair served to allay her +mother's vague impression that Marjorie was not quite happy, and she +entered into the important discussion of what her daughter should wear +with that unselfish interest belonging only to a mother.</p> + +<p>When Marjorie returned to school that afternoon she felt happier than +she had been since her advent into Sanford High School. The thought of +the coming dance brought with it a delightful thrill of <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_85" id="pg_85">85</a></span>anticipation. +She had always had such good times at the school dances given by her boy +and her girl chums of B——. She hoped she would enjoy this Hallowe'en +frolic. She wondered if the "Terrible Trio" would be there. She smiled +over Jerry's appropriate appellation, then frowned at herself for +countenancing it. Good soldiers didn't indulge in personalities.</p> + +<p>That afternoon she found it hard, however, to concentrate her +thoughts on her studies, and when Miss Atkins asked her on what day the +Pilgrim Fathers landed in America, she absent-mindedly replied +"Hallowe'en," to the great joy of her class. During her physiology hour +she managed to keep strictly to the subject; but she was impatient for +the afternoon to pass so that she could go to Miss Arnold for her +invitation.</p> + +<p>Her eyes sparkled, however, when, on returning to the study hall, she +saw lying on her desk a square white envelope addressed to her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, here it is," she thought delightedly. "I'm so glad. I wonder if +Constance has hers."</p> + +<p>She tore open the end of the envelope with eager fingers and drew out a +folded sheet of note paper. But the light died out of her face as she +read:</p> + +<p> +"My dear Miss Dean:<br /> +</p> + +<p>"For some time the members of the freshman team have been dissatisfied +with your playing, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_86" id="pg_86">86</a></span>have repeatedly urged me to allow Miss Thornton +to play in your position on the team. Not wishing to seem unfair, Miss +Randall and I watched your work at practice Wednesday afternoon and +agreed that the requested change would be best. As manager of the +freshmen team, their welfare must ever be my first consideration. I +therefore feel no hesitation in asking you for your resignation from the +team.</p> + +<p style='text-align: right;'> +"Yours sincerely, <br /> +<br /> +"<span class="smcap">Marcia Arnold</span>." +</p> + +<p>A sigh of humiliation that was half a sob rose to Marjorie's lips. Her +chin quivered ominously. Suddenly a dreadful thought flashed across her +brain. Suppose Mignon and the others were watching her to see how she +received the bad news. Marjorie's desire to cry left her. She leaned +back in her seat and assumed an air of indifference far removed from her +real state of mind. Then she calmly refolded the letter and placed it in +its envelope with the impassivity of a young sphinx.</p> + +<p>Later that afternoon, as Mignon La Salle strolled out of school between +her two satellites, Susan and Muriel, she was heard to declare with +disappointed peevishness that that priggish Miss Dean was either too +stupid to resent or too thick-skinned to feel a plain out-and-out snub.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="A_BLUE_GOWN_AND_A_SOLEMN_RESOLVE_2152" id="A_BLUE_GOWN_AND_A_SOLEMN_RESOLVE_2152"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>A BLUE GOWN AND A SOLEMN RESOLVE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The next day in school was a particularly trying one for poor Marjorie. +It was decidedly hard for the sore-hearted little freshman to believe +that Miss Arnold's motive in asking her to resign from the team had been +purely disinterested. She was reasonably sure that she had Mignon to +blame for the humiliation. Jerry Macy had told her of Miss Arnold's +respect for Mignon's father's money, and that Miss Archer's thin-lipped, +austere-looking secretary was one of the French girl's most devoted +followers.</p> + +<p>The wave of dislike which had swept over Marjorie upon first beholding +Marcia Arnold had, as the days passed, intensified rather than lessened. +Jerry, too, could not endure the secretary. "I never could bear her," +she had confided to Marjorie. "I'm glad she's a junior. I'll have two +years of comfort after she's gone. I suppose she deserves a lot of +credit for keeping up in her studies and earning money as a secretary at +the same time, but I'd rather have <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_88" id="pg_88">88</a></span>a nice wriggly snake, or a cheerful +crocodile for a friend if it comes to a choice."</p> + +<p>Marjorie was equally certain that Miss Arnold did not like her. She had +had occasion to ask the secretary several questions and the latter's +manner of answering had been curt, almost to rudeness. The desired +resignation was yet to be written. Marjorie had purposely delayed +writing it until the last hour of the afternoon session. She wished to +think before writing. It took her the greater part of the hour to +compose it, although, when it was finally copied on a sheet of note +paper she had brought to school for that purpose, it covered little more +than one side of the sheet.</p> + +<p>While she was addressing it for mailing, she suddenly remembered that +she had not yet asked Miss Arnold for her Hallowe'en invitation. Should +she hand the secretary her resignation instead of mailing it? She +decided that the more dignified course would be to mail it. As to the +invitation for the dance, she was entitled to it; therefore she was not +afraid to demand it. She wondered if Constance had received hers, and, +when her new friend returned from class, Marjorie managed to catch her +eye and question her by means of a sign language known only to +schoolgirls. A vigorous shake of Constance's fair head brought forth +more signs, which, when school was dismissed, resulted in a determined +march upon Miss Archer's office by the two <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_89" id="pg_89">89</a></span>friends, reinforced by Jerry +and Irma, who had managed to join Marjorie and Constance in the +corridor.</p> + +<p>"That's just why we waited," announced Jerry, wagging her head +emphatically when Marjorie explained her mission. "We wondered if she'd +given them to you. You let me do the talking. She won't have a word to +say when I'm through."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Jerry!" cautioned Irma. "She'll hear you."</p> + +<p>They were now entering Miss Archer's living-room office. Marcia Arnold, +who was seated before her desk, intent on the book she held in her hand, +raised her eyes and regarded the quartette with a displeased frown. Then +she addressed them in peremptory tones.</p> + +<p>"Please make less noise, girls. Your voices can be plainly heard in Miss +Archer's office and she is too busy now to be disturbed." This last with +a view to discouraging any attempt on their part to see the principal.</p> + +<p>"We didn't come to see Miss Archer," was Geraldine Macy's calm retort. +"We came to see you about Miss Dean's and Miss Stevens' invitations for +the dance. They haven't received them."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing whatever about them," snapped Miss Arnold, picking up +her book as a sign of dismissal.</p> + +<p>"You ought to know. The invitations were given <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_90" id="pg_90">90</a></span>to you by the boys' +committee," was Jerry's pertinent reminder. "You sent them the list of +names, didn't you? Perhaps you accidentally left out these two names."</p> + +<p>This was a malicious afterthought on Jerry's part, but it had a potent +effect on Marcia Arnold. A tide of red rose to her sallow face. For a +second her eyes wavered from the four pairs searchingly upon her. Then +she answered with elaborate carelessness: "It is just possible that +these two names have been omitted. I will go over my list and see."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do," advised Jerry, laconically. Then she slyly added: "It seems +funny, doesn't it, that when 'D' and 'S' are so far apart on the +alphabetical list, they should both happen to be overlooked? If the +girls don't receive their invitations by to-morrow night I'll speak to +my brother about it. He's the president of the junior class, you know, +and he'll take it up with the committee. Come on, girls."</p> + +<p>The three young women obediently following her, Jerry marched from the +room with the air of a conqueror. True to her prediction, Marcia Arnold +had found nothing to say to the stout girl's parting shot.</p> + +<p>"There really wasn't much use in our going. I'm afraid we weren't very +brave. We shouldn't have stood like wooden images and let you fight our +battles, Jerry. It was awfully dear in you, but I do hope Miss Arnold +won't think Constance and I are babies," demurred Marjorie.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_91" id="pg_91">91</a></span>"What do you care what she thinks as long as she hunts up your +invitations?" asked Jerry, with superb contempt. "What she thinks will +never hurt either of you."</p> + +<p>The belated invitations were delivered to the two freshmen by Miss +Arnold herself the next day, greatly to Jerry's satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"I saw her give them to you, girls," she whispered to Marjorie on the +way to the English class. "She looked mad as a hatter, too. She thought +she'd hold back your invitations until the last minute; then maybe you +would get mad and not go to the dance."</p> + +<p>"But why should she wish to keep us from going?" asked Marjorie, +wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Ask Mignon," was Jerry's enigmatical answer. "Very likely she knows +more about it than anyone else."</p> + +<p>Marjorie found no chance for conversation with Constance until they met +in French class. Even then she had only time to say, "Be sure to wait +for me this noon," before Professor Fontaine called his class to order +and attacked the advance lesson with his usual Latin ardor.</p> + +<p>Constance was first at their locker. She had already put on her own hat +and coat and was holding Marjorie's for her, when her friend arrived.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to wear, Constance?" asked Marjorie, as she put on +her coat and hat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_92" id="pg_92">92</a></span>"I'm not going," was the brief answer.</p> + +<p>"Not going!" Marjorie stared hard at her friend. Was Constance hurt +because she had not received her invitation? Then she went on, eagerly +apologetic: "It wasn't the Weston boys' fault that we didn't get our +invitations when the others received theirs. They didn't intend to leave +us out, even though they only knew our names."</p> + +<p>"It's not that." Constance's voice trembled a little. "I—I—well, I +haven't a dress fit to wear!" Her pale cheeks grew pink with shame as +she burst forth with this confession of poverty. "This blue suit and +three house dresses are all the clothes I have in the world. Don't say +you feel sorry for me. I shall hate you if you do. I sha'n't always be +poor. Some day," her eyes grew dreamy, "I'll have all sorts of lovely +clothes. When I am a——" She stopped abruptly, then said in her usual +half-sullen tones, "I can't go, so don't ask me."</p> + +<p>Marjorie looked curiously at this strange girl. The longer she knew +Constance the better she liked her, but she did not in the least +understand her. Suddenly a bright idea popped into her head. "I'm so +sorry you can't go to the dance," she commented, then promptly dropped +the subject. When she left Constance, however, she remarked innocently: +"Don't forget, you are coming home with me to-night. Don't say you can't. +You promised, you know."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_93" id="pg_93">93</a></span>"I will come," promised Constance, brightening. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>The moment Marjorie reached home she made a dash for her room and going +to her closet, emerged a moment afterward with an immense white +pasteboard box in her arms. Stopping only long enough to drop her wraps +on her bed she ran downstairs and burst into the dining-room with: "I +have found her, Mother. I've found the girl this was made for."</p> + +<p>"What is all this commotion about, Lieutenant?" asked her father, +teasingly. "Are we about to be attacked by the enemy? Salute your +superior officers and then state your case. Discipline must be preserved +at all costs in the army. Is it a requisition for new uniforms? You +soldiers are dreadfully hard on your clothes. Or is the post about to +move and is that a packing case?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie made a most unsoldierlike rush for him and, throwing her arms +about his neck, kissed his cheek. "You are a great big tease, and I +choose to salute you this way." Then she kissed her mother, saying: +"I've the loveliest plan, Captain. I'm sure that this dress will fit +Constance. She says she won't go to the school dance because she has no +pretty gown to wear. May I give her this darling blue one?" She opened +the box and drew forth a dainty frock of pale blue chiffon over silk. +The chiffon was caught up here and there with tiny clusters of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_94" id="pg_94">94</a></span>pinky-white rosebuds. The round neck was just low enough to show to +advantage a white girlish throat, while the soft, fluffy sleeves reached +barely to the elbows. It was a particularly beautiful and appropriate +frock for a young girl.</p> + +<p>"You see, General," explained Marjorie, "Aunt Mary sent this to me when +I graduated from grammar school. She hadn't seen me for two years and +didn't know I had grown so fast. She bought it ready made in one of the +New York stores. It was too short and too tight for me and to make it +over meant simply to spoil it. It was so sweet in her to send it that +when I wrote my thank you to her I couldn't bear to tell her that it +didn't fit, so I kept it just to look at. I didn't really need it, for, +thanks to you and mother, I have plenty of others. Don't you think I +ought to make someone else happy when I have the chance? It is right to +share one's spoils with a comrade, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Her father looked lovingly at the pretty, earnest face of his daughter +as she stood holding up the filmy gown, her eyes bright with unselfish +purpose. "I am very glad my little girl is so thoughtful of others," he +said. "Whatever your captain says is law. How about it, Captain?" His +wife and he exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>"You may give your friend the dress if you like, dear," consented Mrs. +Dean, "if you think she will accept it."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_95" id="pg_95">95</a></span>"That's just the point, Captain," returned Marjorie. "You know you said +I could bring Constance home for dinner to-night, and she is coming. +Perhaps we can think of some nice way to give it to her while she is +here."</p> + +<p>Marjorie carefully replaced the gown in its box and ran upstairs with +it. She returned with her hat and coat on her arm, and hanging them on +the hall rack hastened to eat her luncheon.</p> + +<p>All afternoon she puzzled as to how she might best offer Constance the +gown. When the four girls strolled homeward together after school she +had still not thought of a way. Jerry and Irma held forth, at length, +with true schoolgirl eloquence, upon the subject of their gowns. +Constance listened gravely without comment. Her small, impassive face +showed no sign of her hopeless longing for the pretty things she had +never possessed.</p> + +<p>Once inside the Dean's pleasant home, a flash of appreciation routed her +impassivity as Marjorie conducted her into the comfortable living-room +where Mrs. Dean sat reading, and her face softened under the spell of +the older woman's gentle greeting.</p> + +<p>"I am pleased to know you, Constance," said Mrs. Dean, offering her +hand. "I have been expecting you for some time. Now that I have seen you +I will say that you do look very much like Marjorie's friend Mary." She +did not add that this girl's face <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_96" id="pg_96">96</a></span>lacked the good-natured, happy +expression that so perfectly matched Mary Raymond's sunny curls. Yet she +noted that the blue eyes met hers openly and frankly, and that there was +an undeniable air of sincerity and truth about Constance which caused +one instinctively to trust her.</p> + +<p>To the formerly friendless girl who had never before been invited to the +home of a Sanford girl, the evening passed like a dream. Under the +genial atmosphere of the Dean household, her reserve melted and before +dinner was over she had forgotten all about herself and was laughing +merrily with Marjorie over Mr. Dean's nonsense. After dinner Mrs. Dean +played on the piano and Constance, who knew how to dance was initiated +into the mysteries of several new steps which were favorites of the +Franklin girls, and later the two girls spent a happy hour in Marjorie's +room with her books, of which she had a large collection.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear," sighed Constance, as she glanced at the clock on the +chiffonier. "It is ten o'clock. I must go."</p> + +<p>"Wait a few minutes," requested Marjorie. "I have something to show you, +but I must see mother for a minute first. Please excuse me. I'll be back +directly."</p> + +<p>"Mother," Marjorie hurried into the living-room. "Have you thought of a +way? Constance is going home, and it's now or never."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_97" id="pg_97">97</a></span>"Suppose you give it to her by yourself," suggested her mother. "I am +afraid my presence will embarrass her and then she will surely refuse."</p> + +<p>Marjorie stood eyeing her mother uncertainly. Then she laughed. "I know +the easiest way in the world," she declared, and was gone.</p> + +<p>When she entered the room Constance was kneeling interestedly before the +book-shelves. "You have the 'Jungle Books,' haven't you? Don't you love +them?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," laughed Marjorie. "Mary and I read them together. I always called +myself 'Bagheera' the black panther, and she always called herself +'Mogli, the man-cub.' We used to write notes to each other sometimes in +the language of the jungle."</p> + +<p>"How funny," smiled Constance. Her gaze intent upon the books, she did +not notice that Marjorie had stepped to her closet, returning to her bed +with a cloud of pink over her arm. Next she opened a big box and laid a +cloud of blue beside the one of pink. "Constance, come here a minute," +she said.</p> + +<p>Constance sprang up obediently. Her glance fell upon the bed and she +gave a little startled, admiring "Oh!"</p> + +<p>Marjorie linked her arm in that of her friend and drew her up to the +bed. "This gown," she pointed to the pink one, "is mine, and this one," +she withdrew her arm, and lifting the blue cloud held it out to +Constance, "is yours."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_98" id="pg_98">98</a></span>The Mary girl drew back sharply. "I don't know what you mean," she +muttered. "Please don't make fun of me."</p> + +<p>"I'm not making fun of you. It's your very own, and after I tell you all +about it you'll see just why it happens to be yours."</p> + +<p>Seated on the edge of the bed beside Marjorie, the wonderful blue gown +on her lap, the girl who had never owned a party dress before heard the +story of how it happened to be hers. At first she steadily refused its +acceptance, but in the end wily Marjorie persuaded her to "just try it +on," and when she saw herself, for the first time in her +poverty-stricken young life, wearing a real evening gown that glimpsed +her unusually white neck and arms she wavered. So intent was she upon +examining her reflection that she did not notice Marjorie had slipped +from the room, returning with a pair of blue silk stockings and satin +slippers to match. "These go with it," she announced.</p> + +<p>"Oh—I—can't," faltered Constance, making a move toward unhooking the +frock.</p> + +<p>"Of course you can." Marjorie deposited the stockings and slippers on +the foot of her bed and going over to Constance put both arms around +her. "You are going to have this dress because mother and I want you to. +I can't possibly wear it myself, and it's a shame to lay it away in the +closet until it is all out of style. Please, please take it. You simply +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_99" id="pg_99">99</a></span>must, for I won't go to the dance unless you do, and you know how +dreadfully I should hate to miss it. I mean what I say, too."</p> + +<p>"I'll take it," said Constance, slowly.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she slipped from Marjorie's encircling arm and leaned against +the chiffonier, covering her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>"Constance!" Marjorie cried out in surprise. "You mustn't cry."</p> + +<p>"I—can't—help—it." The words came brokenly. "Ever since I was little +I've dreamed about a blue dress like this. You—are—too—good—to—me. +Nobody—was—ever—good to me before."</p> + +<p>It was a quarter to eleven o'clock before Constance, her tears dried, +her face beaming with a new expression of happiness, left the Deans' +house, accompanied by Mr. Dean, who had come in shortly before ten +o'clock and insisted on seeing her safely home.</p> + +<p>Later, as she prepared for bed in her bare little room she could not +help wondering why Marjorie had desired her for a best friend, and had +clung to her in spite of the displeasure of certain other girls. She +wondered, too, if there were any way in which she might show Marjorie +her affection and gratitude, and she made a solemn resolve that if that +time came she would prove herself worthy of Marjorie Dean's friendship.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_HALLOWEEN_DANCE_2485" id="THE_HALLOWEEN_DANCE_2485"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>THE HALLOWE'EN DANCE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Saturday dawned as inauspiciously as any other day in the week, but to +the high school boys and girls of the little city of Sanford it was a +day set apart. Aside from commencement, the great event of their high +school year was about to take place.</p> + +<p>As early as eight o'clock that morning the decorating committee of +Weston High School was up and laboring manfully at the task of turning +Weston's big gymnasium into a veritable bower of beauty, which should, +in due season, draw forth plenty of admiring "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" from +their gentle guests. For three days the committee had been borrowing, +with lavish promises of safe return, as many cushions, draperies, +chairs, divans and various other articles calculated to fitly adorn the +ballroom, as their families and friends confidingly allowed them to +carry off.</p> + +<p>Their progress along this line had been painstakingly watched by +numerous pairs of sharp, young eyes, and the report had gone forth among +the girls <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_101" id="pg_101">101</a></span>that this particular Hallowe'en party was going to be "the +nicest dance the boys had ever given."</p> + +<p>To Marjorie Dean, however, the event promised more than the usual +interest. It was to be her first opportunity of entering into the social +life of the boys and girls of Sanford. In B—— she had numbered many +stanch friends among the young men of Lafayette High School, but she had +lived in Sanford for, what seemed to her, a very long time and had not +met a single Weston boy. Jerry had promised to introduce Marjorie to her +brother and to the tall, fair-haired youth known as the Crane, but so +far the young people had not been thrown together. Marjorie had no +silly, sentimental ideas in her curly brown head about boys. From early +childhood she had been allowed to play with them. She was fond of their +games and had always evinced far more interest in marbles, tops and even +baseball than she had in dolls. Still, at sixteen, she was not a hoyden +nor a tomboy, but a merry, light-hearted girl with a strong, healthy +body and a feeling of comradeship toward boys in general which was to +carry her far in her later life.</p> + +<p>At the time she had given Constance the blue gown she had also gained +her friend's rather reluctant consent to come to dinner at the Deans' on +the great night and dress with her for the dance. Marjorie attributed +Constance's hesitation to shyness. Always reticent regarding her home +life, Constance, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_102" id="pg_102">102</a></span>aside from her one outburst relating to her family +on the day when she had advised Marjorie against her friendship, had +said little or nothing further of her home. So Marjorie did not know +that it was not a matter of shyness, but rather a question of who would +keep house and get the supper while she was out enjoying herself, that +caused Constance to demur before accepting the invitation. Then she +remembered that Hallowe'en came on Saturday and decided that she could +manage after all.</p> + +<p>The momentous Saturday dawned clear and cold, with just the suspicion of +a fall tang to the air. It was a busy day for the Weston boys, and when +at four o'clock the last garland of green had been twined about the +gymnasium posts and the gallery railing, while the last flag had been +painstakingly hung at the proper angle, the dozen or more of young men +who formed the decorating committee viewed their work with boyish pride.</p> + +<p>"It looks bully," shouted an enthusiastic freshman, with a sweep of his +arm which was intended to include the whole room. "If the girls aren't +suited with this, they won't be invited over here again in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Hear him rave!" sadly commented a sophomore. "It takes a freshman to +fall all over himself."</p> + +<p>"That's because we are young and have more enthusiasm," retorted the +freshman, his freckled face alive with an impish grin.</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em;'> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_103" id="pg_103">103</a></span> +"Desist from your squabbles<br /> +And join in the waltz,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>caroled an extremely tall, thin youth, pirouetting on his toes, and +waving a long trail of ground pine about his head in true première +danseuse fashion.</p> + +<p>There was a shout of laughter from the boys at this burst of +terpsichorean art. The tall youth pranced and whirled the length of the +gymnasium and back, ending his performance with a swift, high kick and a +bow that bade fair to dislocate his spine.</p> + +<p>"Did I hear someone laugh?" he asked severely, drawing down his face +with such an indescribably funny expression that the laughter broke +forth afresh. "It is evident that you don't appreciate my rare ability +as a dancer."</p> + +<p>"You mean as a grasshopper," jeered the freckle-faced youth.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. No, I don't either. How dare you insult me?" He made a lengthy +lunge toward the freshman, who promptly dodged behind a tall, +good-looking young man who had at that moment joined the group.</p> + +<p>The lunging youth brought up short with, "Hello, Hal, I thought you had +gone."</p> + +<p>"So I had. Got halfway home and found I'd left my pocketknife here. +Maybe I didn't hotfoot it back though. Hope the girls will like the +looks of things." He cast approving eyes about the transformed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_104" id="pg_104">104</a></span>gymnasium. "Jerry's been raving to me ever since school began about her +new friend, Marjorie Dean. Have you met her? I understand she is coming +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Not I, I can't tell one of those girls from another," grumbled the +Crane. "You know just how much I like girls. I don't mind helping get +ready for this business, but I'd rather take a licking than come back +here to-night. You'll see me vanishing around the corner and out of here +at the very first chance. Girls are an awful nuisance anyway."</p> + +<p>"Nothing like true chivalry," murmured the freckle-faced freshman. An +instant later he was sprinting down the gymnasium as fast as his short +legs could carry him, the Crane in hot pursuit.</p> + +<p>"Cut it out, fellows," laughed Harold Macy. "You'll upset something or +other, and then, look out."</p> + +<p>"If we do it will be the Crane's fault," came plaintively from the +freckle-faced freshman, as he dodged his pursuer with an agility born of +long practice. "I don't see why he wants to chase me. I merely made a +simple remark."</p> + +<p>"Now that you've owned up to its being simple I'll let you off this +time," declared the Crane, magnanimously, "but see that it doesn't +happen again."</p> + +<p>"I will," was the glib promise. "I'm sorry I said you were a +grasshopper. You look more like a giraffe."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_105" id="pg_105">105</a></span>Then he made a hurried exit through a nearby side door, leaving the +Crane to vow dire vengeance the next time he ventured within reach.</p> + +<p>A little further loitering and the group of boys broke up, and, leaving +the gymnasium, went home to get ready for the evening's fun and be back +in good season to help receive their guests.</p> + +<p>There were two guests, however, who dressed for the party with entirely +different emotions. To Constance it was the most wonderful night of her +life. She stole frequent, half-startled glances at her blue satin-shod +feet and even pinched a fold of her chiffon gown between her fingers to +feel if it were real. Mrs. Dean had arranged the girl's fair curling +hair in precisely the same fashion that Mary Raymond wore hers, and when +she had been hooked into the precious gown, with its exquisite little +sprays of rosebuds, she thought she knew just how poor, lowly Cinderella +felt when the fairy godmother touched her with her wand. While she was +being dressed she said little, yet Marjorie and her mother knew by the +happy light that crowded the wistful look quite out of her expressive +eyes that their guest was too deeply appreciative for words.</p> + +<p>Marjorie, who looked radiantly pretty in her frock of pink silk with its +overdress of delicate pink net, welcomed the dance with all the +enthusiasm of one who was heartily glad to get in touch with the social +side of her school life. She had forgotten for the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_106" id="pg_106">106</a></span>moment that certain +girls in the freshman class had turned against her; that she was no +longer a member of the freshman basketball team. She remembered only +that it seemed ages since she had attended a party and she hoped +fervently that someone would ask her to dance.</p> + +<p>Jerry and Irma had arranged to call for Marjorie and Constance, as the +quartette were to use the Macys' limousine. When the automobile stopped +before the house, Jerry insisted on getting out and running into the +house to see her friends' gowns. Irma followed her, a smile of +good-natured tolerance on her placid face.</p> + +<p>"Jerry couldn't wait to see your dresses," she said, then exclaimed in +wonder: "How lovely you look, Constance, and what a perfectly sweet +gown!"</p> + +<p>Constance colored to the tips of her small ears. Jerry, too, began +voicing loud approval, and when, after having stood in line and been +inspected by Mrs. Dean, the four girls piled into the limousine, +Constance was overcome with the peculiar sensation of experiencing too +much happiness. She felt that it could not possibly last.</p> + +<p>The gymnasium was fairly well filled when they entered and by half past +eight o'clock the majority of the guests had arrived. Hardly had they +deposited their scarfs in the dressing-room and administered last +judicious pats to straying fluffy locks of hair when Jerry, who had +disappeared the moment <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_107" id="pg_107">107</a></span>they reached the dressing-room, came hurrying +back with the information that Hal was waiting outside to do the honors. +"You'd better hurry out and console the Crane, Irma," she added slyly. +"He looks about ten feet tall in his evening clothes and perfectly +miserable."</p> + +<p>Following in Jerry's wake Marjorie stepped into the gaily decorated room +and the next instant was shaking hands with handsome Hal Macy, the most +popular fellow in Weston High. As the brown eyes met the frank manly +gaze of the gray, there passed between the two young people a vivid +flash of liking and comradeship that was later to develop into a stanch +and beautiful friendship.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to know you," said Marjorie, earnestly. "I am very fond of +your sister."</p> + +<p>"I am sure we shall be friends," declared Hal Macy. Involuntarily he put +out his hand. Marjorie's hand met it, and thus began the friendship +between Marjorie Dean and Hal Macy.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="ON_THE_FIRING_LINE_2689" id="ON_THE_FIRING_LINE_2689"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>ON THE FIRING LINE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Introductions followed thick and fast. More than one pair of boyish eyes +had been centered approvingly on the girls that "Macy" was "rushing," +and he was soon besieged with gentle reminders not to be stingy, but to +give someone else a chance.</p> + +<p>When the enlivening strains of a popular dance began, Hal Macy pointed +significantly to his name on Marjorie's card. She nodded happily then +glanced quickly about to see if Constance had a partner. Surely enough, +she was just about to dance off with a rather tall, slender lad, whose +dark, sensitive face, heavy-browed, black-lashed eyes of intense blue +and straight-lipped, sensitive mouth caused her to say impulsively, "Oh, +who is that nice-looking boy dancing with Constance?"</p> + +<p>Hal glanced after the two graceful, gliding figures. "That's Lawrence +Armitage. He's one of the best fellows in school and my chum. You ought +to hear him play on the violin. He's going to Europe to study when he +finishes high school."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_109" id="pg_109">109</a></span>"How interesting," commented Marjorie as they joined the dancers. Then, +as Mignon La Salle, wearing an elaborate apricot satin frock, flashed by +them on the arm of a rather stout boy, with a disagreeable face, +Marjorie suddenly remembered the existence of Mignon, Muriel and Susan. +Her eyes began an eager search for the Picture Girl. Muriel was sure to +look pretty in evening dress. Mignon's frock made her look older, she +decided. She soon spied Muriel, whose gown of white lace was vastly +becoming. So was Susan Atwell's dress of old rose and silver. She +wondered a trifle wickedly if they had not been surprised to see +Constance blossom out in such brave attire. Then she put the thought +aside as unworthy and determined to remember only the good time she was +having.</p> + +<p>After each dance the four friends managed to meet and compare notes +before they were off again with their next partners, and as the party +progressed it became noticeable that there were no wallflowers in that +particular group.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of that Stevens girl to-night, Mignon?" inquired +Susan Atwell as she and the French girl stood together for a moment +between dances.</p> + +<p>Mignon's elfish eyes gleamed angrily. "I think such beggars as she ought +never to be allowed to come to our parties. Goodness knows where she +borrowed that dress. Perhaps she didn't borrow it." <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_110" id="pg_110">110</a></span>She raised her +shoulders significantly. "If Laurie Armitage knew what a low, +disreputable family she has, I don't think he'd waste his time with +her."</p> + +<p>"Did Laurie ask you to dance to-night?" asked Susan inquisitively.</p> + +<p>But with a muttered, "I want to speak to Marcia," Mignon flounced off +without answering Susan's question, and the latter confided to Muriel +afterward that Mignon was mad as anything because Laurie hadn't noticed +her, but was trailing about after Miss Nobody Stevens.</p> + +<p>Completely unaware that she was adding to the French girl's list of +grievances, Constance had danced to her heart's content, quite positive +in her own mind that she had never met a more delightful boy than +Lawrence Armitage, and that never before had she so greatly enjoyed +herself. And now the wonderful party was almost over. She examined her +card to see with whom she had the next dance. Then her glance straying +down, she noticed that a bit of the tiny plaiting at the bottom of her +chiffon skirt had become loose and was hanging. Fearful of a fall, she +hurried toward the dressing-room. She would have the maid take a stitch +or two in it.</p> + +<p>But the maid was not in the room.</p> + +<p>A solitary figure in an apricot gown stood before the mirror, lingered +for a moment after Constance entered, then glided noiselessly out. +Evincing no sign of having seen Mignon, Constance began a diligent +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_111" id="pg_111">111</a></span>hunt for a needle and thread. Failing to find them, she fastened the +loose bit of plaiting with a pin and hurried out into the gymnasium. Her +next dance was with Lawrence Armitage. She must not miss it.</p> + +<p>To her surprise Mignon re-entered the dressing-room as she left it. +Constance quickly made her way toward the corner which her friends had +selected as their headquarters.</p> + +<p>"I tore the plaiting of my dress," she said ruefully to Marjorie. "I +couldn't find the maid or a needle, so I had to pin it. I'm awfully +sorry. I don't know how it happened."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing," returned Marjorie, cheerfully. "I have a great long +tear in my sleeve. Someone caught hold of it in Paul Jones, and away it +went. Don't look so guilty over a little thing like that."</p> + +<p>"You don't——" began Constance, but she never finished.</p> + +<p>A tense little figure clad in apricot satin confronted her, crying out +in tones too plainly audible to those standing near, "Where is my +bracelet? What have you done with it?"</p> + +<p>Constance stared at her accuser in stupefied amazement. Her friends, +too, were for the moment speechless.</p> + +<p>"Answer me!" commanded Mignon. "I left it on the table in the +dressing-room. You were the only one in there at the time. When I +remembered <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_112" id="pg_112">112</a></span>and came back for it you were just leaving, but the bracelet +was gone. No one else except you could have taken it."</p> + +<p>Still Constance continued to stare in horror at the French girl. She +tried to speak, but the words would not come. Attracted by Mignon's +shrill tones, the dancers began to gather about the two girls. It was +Marjorie who came to her friend's defense.</p> + +<p>Even as a wee girl Marjorie Dean had possessed a temper. It was not an +ordinary temper. It was not easily aroused, but when once awakened it +shook her small body with intense fury and the object of her rage was +likely to remember her outburst forever after. Knowing it to be her +greatest fault, she had striven diligently to conquer it and it burst +forth only at rare intervals. To-night, however, the French girl's +heartless denunciation of Constance during a moment of happiness was too +monstrous to be borne. In a voice shaking with indignation she turned to +those surrounding her and said, "Will you please go on dancing? I have +something to say to Miss La Salle."</p> + +<p>They scattered as if by magic, leaving Marjorie facing Mignon, her arm +about Constance, her face a white mask, her eyes flaming with scorn. +Then she began in low, even tones:</p> + +<p>"I forbid you to say another word either to or about my friend Constance +Stevens. She has not taken your bracelet. She knows nothing about it. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_113" id="pg_113">113</a></span>I +will answer for her as I would for myself. You have accused her of this +because you wish to disgrace her in the eyes of her friends and +schoolmates. I am not at all sure that you have lost it, but I am very +sure that Miss Stevens hasn't seen it. And now I hope I shall never be +called upon to speak to you again, for you are the cruelest, most +contemptible girl I have ever known; but, if I hear anything further of +this, I will take you to Miss Archer, to the Board of Education, if +necessary, and make you retract every word. Come on, Constance."</p> + +<p>With her arm still encircling the now weeping girl, Marjorie made her +way to the dressing-room. Jerry followed her within the next five +minutes.</p> + +<p>"The car's here," she announced briefly. "Hal and Laurie and the Crane +are going home with us."</p> + +<p>"Don't you cry, Constance," she soothed, patting the curly, golden head. +"Mignon made a goose of herself to-night. The boys are all disgusted, +and everyone knows she was making a fuss over nothing. You did exactly +right, too, Marjorie, when you sent us all about our business. I'm sorry +it happened, but you remember what I tell you, Mignon has hurt herself a +great deal more than she has hurt you."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="A_PITCHED_BATTLE_2843" id="A_PITCHED_BATTLE_2843"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>A PITCHED BATTLE</h3> +</div> + +<p>After the echoes of the dance had died away, basketball received a new +impetus that brought it to the fore with a bound. With the renewed +interest in the coming game was also noised about the report that "Miss +Dean wasn't on the team any longer," and in some unknown fashion the +news that she had been "asked" to resign had also gone the round of the +study hall. The upper class girls were not particularly interested +either in Marjorie or her affairs. She had not lived in Sanford long +enough to become well-known to them, and as a rule the juniors and +seniors left the bringing up of the freshmen to their sophomore sisters. +The sophomores were too much absorbed in the progress of their own team +to trouble themselves greatly over what was happening in the freshman +organization. If Muriel or Mignon had resigned, then there would have +been good cause for predicting an easy victory, for both girls were +considered formidable opponents; <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_115" id="pg_115">115</a></span>but Marjorie was new material, untried +and unproven.</p> + +<p>It was in the freshman class, however, that comment ran rife. Since the +night of the Weston dance the class had been almost equally divided. A +little less than half the girls had either openly or by friendly smiles +and nods declared in favor of Marjorie and her friends. The remaining +members of the class, with a few neutral exceptions, were apparently +devoted to the French girl and Muriel. Among their adherents they also +counted Miss Merton, who took no pains to conceal her open dislike for +Marjorie, and Marcia Arnold, who even went so far as to try to explain +the situation to Miss Archer and was sternly reminded that the principal +would take no part in the private differences of her girls unless they +had something to do with breaking the rules of the school.</p> + +<p>The days immediately preceding the game were not cheerful ones for +Marjorie. She was still unhappy over her unjust dismissal from the team, +and she wondered if it had been much talked of among her classmates. At +home she had announced offhandedly her resignation from the team and +her mother had asked no questions.</p> + +<p>Mignon was greatly disturbed and displeased with the advent of Marjorie +Dean into Sanford High School. Young as she was, she was very shrewd, +and she at once foresaw in Marjorie's pretty face <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_116" id="pg_116">116</a></span>and attractive +personality a rival power. To be sure, Marjorie's father was not so rich +as her own, but it could not be denied that the Deans lived in a big +house on Maple avenue, that Marjorie wore "perfectly lovely" clothes and +had plenty of pocket money. In the beginning she had decided that it +would be better to make friends with her, but Marjorie's sturdy defense +of Constance and utter disregard for Mignon's significant warning had +shown her plainly that she could not influence the other girl to do what +she considered an unworthy act. Therefore, she had secretly determined +to make matters as disagreeable as lay within her power for the two +girls during her freshman year. Still she was obliged to admit to +herself that her next move would have to be planned and carried out with +more discretion.</p> + +<p>And now it was the Friday before the much-heralded basketball game which +was to be played between the sophomores and the freshmen, and the merits +and shortcomings of the respective organizations were being eagerly +discussed throughout the school. The game was to be called at half-past +two o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and from all accounts there was to be +no lack of spectators.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't for anything miss that game to-morrow!" exclaimed Jerry +Macy, as she and Constance and Marjorie came down the steps of the +school together. "I hope the freshmen get the worst whitewashing <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_117" id="pg_117">117</a></span>that +any team in this school has ever had, too," she added, with a deliberate +air of spite.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't say that, Jerry," returned Marjorie, a faint color rising +to her cheeks. "You must not let my grievances affect your loyalty to +your class."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you want that horrid Mignon La Salle and her +crowd to win the game, and then go around crowing that it was all +because they put you out of the team? You needn't look so as though you +didn't believe me. You mark my word, if they win you'll find out that +they'll do just as I say. Freshman or no freshman, I'd rather see that +nice Ellen Seymour's team win any day."</p> + +<p>"So would I," echoed Constance, her face darkening with the remembrance +of her own wrongs at Mignon's hands.</p> + +<p>Marjorie was silent for a moment. She knew that Jerry's outburst rose +from pure devotion to her friends, and she could not blame Constance for +her hostile spirit. Still, was it right to allow personal grudges to +warp one's loyalty to one's class? If the record of their class read +badly at the end of their freshman year, whose fault would it be? She +had fought it all out with herself on the day she wrote her resignation, +and had wisely determined, then, not to allow it to spoil her year.</p> + +<p>"I know how you girls feel about this," she said slowly. "I felt the +same way until after I had written my resignation. While I was writing I +kept <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_118" id="pg_118">118</a></span>hoping that the team would lose and be sorry they had put someone +else in my place. Then it just came to me all of a sudden that a good +soldier wouldn't be a traitor to his country even if he were reduced in +rank or had something happen unpleasant to him in his camp."</p> + +<p>She stopped and looked embarrassed. She had forgotten that the girls +could not possibly know what she meant. She had never told any one in +Sanford High School about the pretty soldier play which she and Mary had +carried on for so long. It was one of the little intimate details of her +life which she preferred to keep to herself. Should she explain? Jerry's +impatient retort made it unnecessary.</p> + +<p>"The only traitor I know anything about is Mignon," she flung back, +failing to grasp the significance of Marjorie's comparison.</p> + +<p>Constance, however, had flashed a curious glance at her friend, saying +nothing. When Geraldine had nodded good-bye at her street, and the two +were alone, she asked: "What did you mean by comparing yourself to a +soldier, Marjorie?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie smiled.</p> + +<p>"I think I'd better tell you all about it. I've never told anyone else."</p> + +<p>"What a splendid game," mused Constance, half to herself, when Marjorie +had finished. "Do you—would you—could I be a soldier, too, Marjorie? +It <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_119" id="pg_119">119</a></span>would help me. You don't know. There are so many things."</p> + +<p>The wistful appeal touched Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Of course you can," she assured. "You'd better come to my house to +luncheon to-morrow. You can join the army then and go to the game with +me."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to the game." The look of expectancy died out of +Constance's face.</p> + +<p>"You can't be a soldier if you balk at the first disagreeable thing that +comes along," reminded Marjorie, slipping her arm through that of her +friend. Constance walked a few steps in stolid silence. She could not +make up her mind to watch the playing of the girls whom she felt she +hated, even to please Marjorie. It was not until they were about to +separate that Marjorie said quietly. "Shall I tell mother you are +coming?" and Constance forced herself to reply shortly, "I'll come."</p> + +<p>By half past one Saturday afternoon every seat in the large gallery +surrounding the gymnasium was filled, and by a quarter to two every +square foot of standing room was occupied by an enthusiastic audience +largely composed of boys and girls of the two high schools. Marjorie's +mother had after some little coaxing consented to come to the game with +her daughter as her guest. She sat with Constance and Marjorie in the +first row of the gallery, while beside her sat none other than Miss +Archer, whom they had encountered on their way to the high school <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_120" id="pg_120">120</a></span>and +who had invited them to take seats in the front row with her. She had +already met Mrs. Dean at the church which both women attended and had +conceived an instant liking for the pretty, gracious woman who looked +little older than her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it nice of Miss Archer to ask us to sit here?" whispered +Marjorie in her friend's ear. "We have mother to thank for it. She is so +dear that no one can help liking her." Marjorie looked adoring +admiration at her mother's clear-cut profile. "Do you suppose anyone +will mistake us for faculty?"</p> + +<p>Both girls giggled softly at such an improbability.</p> + +<p>"I never went to a basketball game before," confessed Constance after a +time. "What are those girls over there in the red paper hats and big red +bows going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's the sophomore class. They lead their class in the songs. The +green and purple girls are the freshman chorus."</p> + +<p>"I didn't even know our class colors were green and purple."</p> + +<p>"You didn't! Why, that's the reason you and I wore violets to the dance. +Almost every freshman had them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, look!" Constance's eyes were fixed upon a tiny purple figure that +had just emerged from a side door in the gymnasium and was walking +slowly across the big floor. Immediately afterward a door <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_121" id="pg_121">121</a></span>opened on the +opposite side and a diminutive scarlet-clad boy flashed forth.</p> + +<p>"They are the mascots," explained Marjorie, her gaze on the two children +who advanced to the center of the room and gravely shook hands. Then the +boy in red announced in a high, clear treble: "Ladies and gentlemen, the +noble sophomores!"</p> + +<p>The door swung wide and a band of lithe blue figures, bearing a huge +letter "S" done in scarlet on the fronts of their blouses, pattered into +the gymnasium, amid loud applause.</p> + +<p>"The valiant freshmen!" piped the purple-clad youngster.</p> + +<p>There was a rush of black-clad girls, with resplendent violet "F's" +ornamenting their breasts, another volley of cheers from the audience, +then a shrill blast from the referee's whistle rent the air, the teams +dropped into their places, the umpire, time-keeper and scorer took +their stations, and a tense silence settled over the audience.</p> + +<p>The referee balanced the ball. Ellen Seymour and Mignon La Salle +gathered themselves for the toss. Up it went. The two players leaped for +it. The referee's whistle sounded again. The struggle for basketball +honors began.</p> + +<p>A jubilant shout swelled from the throats of the watching freshmen and +their fans. Mignon had caught the ball. She sent it speeding toward +Helen Thornton, who fumbled it, and losing her head, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_122" id="pg_122">122</a></span>threw it away +from, instead of to the basket. An audible sigh of disapproval came from +the freshman contingent as they beheld the ball pass into the hands of +the sophomores, who scored shortly afterward.</p> + +<p>Now that the ball was in their hands the sophomores proceeded to show +their friends and opponents a few things about playing. They had the +advantage and they kept it. Try as the freshmen might, they could not +score. The first unlucky error on the part of Helen Thornton had seemed +to turn the tide against them. Toward the close of the first half they +managed to score, but all too soon the whistle blew, with the score 8 to +2 in favor of the sophomores.</p> + +<p>Their fans went wild with delight and their chorus sang or rather +shouted gleefully their pet song, beginning,</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em'> +"Hail the sophomores, gallant band!<br /> +See how bold they take their stand!"<br /> +</p> + +<p>to the tune of "Hail Columbia," coming out noisily on the concluding +lines,</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em'> +"Firm and steadfast shall they be,<br /> +Marching on to victory;<br /> +As a band of players, they<br /> +Shall be conquerors to-day."<br /> +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_123" id="pg_123">123</a></span>The freshmen answered with their song, "The Freshmen's Brave Banner," +but they did not sing as spiritedly as they had before the beginning of +the game.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what Jerry and Irma think," commented Marjorie. Their two +chums had been detailed to sing in the freshman chorus, which accounted +for their absence from the Dean party.</p> + +<p>"Jerry looks awfully cross," returned Constance, scanning the opposite +side of the gallery where Jerry was singing lustily, her straight, heavy +brows drawn together in a savage scowl.</p> + +<p>"There goes the whistle!" Marjorie leaned eagerly forward to see the +freshman team come in from the side room which they were using. Her +alert eyes noted that Muriel looked sulky, Mignon stormy, Susan Atwell +belligerent, Harriet Delaney offended, and that Helen Thornton, the +substitute who had replaced her, had been crying.</p> + +<p>Marjorie felt a thrill of pity for the unfortunate substitute. It looked +as though she had spent an unhappy quarter of an hour in the little side +room.</p> + +<p>The teams changed sides and hastened to their places. Again Mignon and +Ellen faced each other. Then the whistle shrilled and the second half of +the game was on.</p> + +<p>From the beginning of the second half it looked as though the freshmen +might retrieve their early losses. They worked with might and main and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_124" id="pg_124">124</a></span>made no false moves. Slowly their score climbed to six. So far the +sophomores had gained nothing. Then Ellen Seymour made a spectacular +throw to the basket and brought her team up two points. With the +realization that they were facing defeat the freshmen rallied and made a +desperate effort to hold their own, bringing their count up to eight.</p> + +<p>Two more points were gained and the score was tied, but the time was +growing short. Helen Thornton had the ball and was plainly trying to +elude the tantalizing sophomore who barred her way. She made a clumsy +feint of throwing the ball. It slipped from her fingers and rolled along +the floor. There was a mad scramble for it. Mignon and Ellen Seymour +leaped forward simultaneously.</p> + +<p>The crowd in the gallery was aroused to the height of excitement. +Marjorie, breathless, leaned far over the gallery rail. She knew every +detail of the dear old game. She saw Mignon's and Ellen's heads close +together as they sprang; then she saw Mignon give a sly, vicious side +lunge which threw Ellen almost off her feet. In the instant it took +Ellen to recover herself the French girl had seized the ball and was off +with it. Eluding her pursuers, she balanced herself on her toes, and +threw her prize toward the freshman basket. But it never reached there. +A long blue figure shot straight up into the air. Elizabeth Corey, a +girl whose sensational plays had made her a lion during her freshman +year, had <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_125" id="pg_125">125</a></span>intercepted the flying ball. She sent it spinning through the +air toward the sophomore nearest their basket, whose willing hands +received it and threw it home.</p> + +<p>Mignon's trickery had availed her little. The sophomores had won.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="WHAT_HAPPENED_ON_BLUE_MONDAY_3134" id="WHAT_HAPPENED_ON_BLUE_MONDAY_3134"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>WHAT HAPPENED ON BLUE MONDAY</h3> +</div> + +<p>For the next ten minutes the air was rent with the lusty voices of the +sophomore chorus and the joyous cheers of their fans. No echoing song +arose from freshman lips. The vanquished team had already betaken +themselves to their quarters, but the sophomore players were holding an +impromptu reception on the ground they had so hotly contested.</p> + +<p>Marjorie and Constance watched them eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Go downstairs, girls, and join the hero worshipers," smiled Miss +Archer. "We will excuse you, won't we, Mrs. Dean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; after the fervent manner in which they hung over the railing it +would be cruel to keep them with us," smiled Mrs. Dean.</p> + +<p>"Let's find Jerry and Irma," said Marjorie, as they paused in the open +doorway of the gymnasium.</p> + +<p>Hardly had she spoken, when Jerry's unmistakable tones rose behind her. +The stout girl was talking excitedly, a rising note of indignation in +her voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_127" id="pg_127">127</a></span>"I tell you I saw her push against Ellen Seymour," she declared. "You +must have seen her, too, Irma."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," admitted Irma, "but I wasn't sure."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was. Oh, girls, we were just going upstairs to find you! Now +that you're here, let's go into the gym, and join the celebration. I +don't know how you feel about it, but I'm glad the sophomores won," +Jerry ended, with an emphatic wag of her head.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Jerry," said Marjorie, earnestly, "you were talking so loudly +when you were behind us that I couldn't help hearing you. Did it seem to +you as though Mignon deliberately pushed against Ellen Seymour?"</p> + +<p>"I know she did," reiterated Jerry. "I watched her, for she is always +unfair and tricky. Anyone who has ever played on a team could tell. I'm +surprised that you——" She stopped abruptly. "I believe you saw her, +too. Confess, you did see her; now, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie nodded.</p> + +<p>"Now's your chance to get even with her. Let's go to Miss Archer and +tell her," proposed the stout girl. "She'll send for Ellen Seymour and +then, good-bye freshman basketball for a while. But what do you care? +You aren't on the team any more. It would serve them right at that."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_128" id="pg_128">128</a></span>"Oh, no," Marjorie looked her horror at the bare idea of tale-bearing.</p> + +<p>"Just as you say," shrugged Jerry. They were still standing just inside +the door watching the sophomore team receiving congratulations, when +they beheld a familiar figure in a black gymnasium suit pause squarely +in front of Ellen Seymour. They saw Ellen start angrily, then a confused +murmur of voices arose and the circle of fans and players closed in +about the two girls.</p> + +<p>"What's happened?" demanded Jerry. "Come on, girls." She hurried toward +the crowd, the three girls at her heels. Even as they joined the throng +they heard Mignon declare in a tone freighted with malice! "You +purposely pushed against me when we ran for the ball in our last play +and nearly threw me off my feet. You know that deliberate pushing, +striking or any kind of roughness is forbidden, and you could be +disqualified as a player. I do not know where the referee's eyes were, I +am sure, but I do know that you are not fit to be on a team, and I can +prove it by the other players of my team. I shall certainly complain to +Miss Archer about it the first thing Monday morning."</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll meet you in Miss Archer's office the first thing after +chapel," answered Ellen, coolly, ignoring everything save the French +girl's final threat. "Come along, girls." She beckoned to the other +members of her team, who had listened in <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_129" id="pg_129">129</a></span>blank amazement to the bold +accusation. With her head held high, a careless smile on her fine face, +Ellen marched through the crowd, which made way for her, and across the +gymnasium to the sophomores' room, accompanied by her team.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that a shame?" burst out Jerry. "Ellen will have an awful time to +prove herself innocent. She never touched Mignon. It was Mignon who +pushed her away. I saw her with my own eyes, and so did you, Marjorie. +Say," she looked blankly at Marjorie, "do you suppose it's our duty to +go to Miss Archer and tell her what we saw?"</p> + +<p>"I—don't—know." The words came doubtfully. "Perhaps it will all blow +over. I hate to carry tales. Suppose we wait until Monday and see? +Mignon may change her mind. Even if she doesn't, Miss Archer may not +listen to her. But, if she should, then we'll have to do it, Jerry. It +wouldn't be fair to Ellen to keep still about it; I heard Miss Archer +tell mother Monday that she would not tolerate the least bit of +roughness in the girls' games. She knew of several schools where girls +had been tripped or knocked down and seriously hurt. She said that if +any reports of rough playing were brought to her she would 'deal +severely with the offender.' Those were her very words."</p> + +<p>"All right; we'll wait," agreed Jerry. "I'm not crazy about reporting +even Mignon. Ellen can take care of herself, I guess."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_130" id="pg_130">130</a></span>So the matter was apparently settled for the time, and the four girls +strolled home discussing the various features of the game.</p> + +<p>"How did you like the game, Captain?" she asked, saluting, as an hour +later she entered the living-room, where her mother sat reading.</p> + +<p>"Very well, indeed," replied her mother, laying down her magazine. +"Neither Miss Archer nor I understand all the fine points of the game, +but we managed to keep track of most of the plays. By the way, Marjorie, +when you go to school on Monday morning, I wish you to take this +magazine to Miss Archer. It contains an article which I have marked for +her. It is quite in line with a discussion we had this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I'll remember," promised Marjorie, and when Monday morning came she +kept her word, starting for school with the magazine under her arm.</p> + +<p>"I'll run up to Miss Archer's office with it after chapel," she decided.</p> + +<p>When the morning service was over, Marjorie returned to the study hall, +and obtained Miss Merton's grudging permission to execute her +commission.</p> + +<p>"I wish to see Miss Archer," she said shortly, as Marcia Arnold looked +up from her writing just long enough to cast a half insolent glance of +inquiry in her direction.</p> + +<p>"You can't see her. She's busy."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_131" id="pg_131">131</a></span>The color flew to Marjorie's cheeks at the bold refusal. Her first +impulse was to turn and walk away. She could see Miss Archer later. Then +her natural independence asserted itself, and she determined to stand +her ground at least long enough to discover whether or not Miss Archer +were really too busy to be seen.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll wait here until she is at liberty."</p> + +<p>Marcia frowned and seemed on the verge of further unpleasantness when +the sound of a buzzer from the inner office sent her hurrying toward it. +As she opened the door, Marjorie caught a fleeting glimpse of two +persons; one was Miss Archer, her face set and stern, the other Mignon +La Salle, her black eyes blazing with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" gasped Marjorie, remembering Mignon's threat, "she is reporting +poor Ellen."</p> + +<p>The door swung open again and the secretary glided past her and out into +the corridor with the peculiar sliding gait that had caused Jerry to +liken her to a "nice, wriggly snake."</p> + +<p>"She is going to bring Ellen here," guessed Marjorie.</p> + +<p>Sure enough, within five minutes Marcia returned, followed by Ellen +Seymour, whose pale, defiant face meant battle. Again the door of the +inner office closed with a portending click. Marcia Arnold did not +return to the outer office.</p> + +<p>Marjorie waited apprehensively, wondering if <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_132" id="pg_132">132</a></span>Ellen were holding her +own. Then to her utter amazement, the secretary appeared with a sulky, +"Miss Archer wants you," and returned to her desk.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Miss Dean," was the principal's grave salutation. "I did +not know until I asked Miss Arnold to go for you that you were in the +outer office."</p> + +<p>"I have been waiting to give you the magazine that mother promised you. +She asked me to say to you that she had marked the article she wished +you to read."</p> + +<p>"Please thank your mother for me," returned Miss Archer, her face +relaxing, "and thank you for bringing it. To return to why I sent for +you, you understand the game of basketball, do you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Marjorie, simply.</p> + +<p>"You have played on a team?" inquired the principal.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Did I not see you at practice with the freshmen shortly before the +game?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie colored hotly. "I made the team, but afterward was asked to +resign because I did not play well enough."</p> + +<p>"Who asked you to resign?"</p> + +<p>"The note was signed by the manager of the team."</p> + +<p>"And is that the reason you stopped playing?" <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_133" id="pg_133">133</a></span>broke in Ellen Seymour, +with impulsive disregard for her surroundings. "I might have known it."</p> + +<p>Then she whirled upon Mignon in a burst of indignation as scathing as it +was unexpected.</p> + +<p>"How contemptible you are! I haven't the least doubt that you are to +blame for Miss Dean's leaving the team. You knew her to be a skilful +player and you were afraid she would outplay you. You know, too, that +when we jumped for the ball Saturday you purposely pushed me away from +it, almost throwing me down. It didn't do you the least bit of good, and +because you are spiteful you have set out to disgrace me and put a stain +on the sophomores' victory."</p> + +<p>"How dare you? You are not telling the truth! Prove your charge against +me, if you can," challenged Mignon, with blazing eyes.</p> + +<p>"It will be easier to prove than yours against me," flung back Ellen.</p> + +<p>"Girls, this is disgraceful! Not another word." Miss Archer's tone of +stern command had an immediate effect on the belligerents.</p> + +<p>"Please pardon me, Miss Archer." There was real contrition in Ellen's +voice. "I didn't mean to be so rude. I lost control of my temper."</p> + +<p>Mignon, however, made no apology. Her elfish eyes turned from Marjorie +to Ellen with an expression of concentrated hate.</p> + +<p>"Now, girls," began Miss Archer, firmly, "we are <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_134" id="pg_134">134</a></span>going to settle this +difficulty here in my office before anyone of you goes back to her +classes. That is the reason I have sent for Miss Dean. When Miss La +Salle entered her complaint against you, Miss Seymour, I decided that +you should have a chance to speak in your own behalf. No sooner were you +brought face to face than one accused the other of treachery. From the +front row of the gallery, where I sat on the afternoon of the game, I +could see every move of the players, but my eyes were not sufficiently +trained to detect the roughness of which you accuse each other. Then I +remembered that Miss Dean sat next to me and that she was a seasoned +player. So I sent for her to ask her in your presence if she saw the +alleged roughness on the part of either of you."</p> + +<p>There was a half-smothered exclamation of dismay from Marjorie. Ellen +was regarding her in mute appeal. Mignon's lips curled back in a sneer. +It was dreadful to remain under a cloud.</p> + +<p>"I am waiting for you to speak, Miss Dean."</p> + +<p>Marjorie drew a long breath. "Miss Seymour spoke the truth. I saw Miss +La Salle purposely push Miss Seymour away from the ball. Someone else +saw her, too—someone who sat on the other side of the gallery." Her +tones carried unmistakable truth with them.</p> + +<p>"It isn't true! It isn't true!" Mignon's voice rose to an enraged +shriek. "She only says so because <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_135" id="pg_135">135</a></span>she wants to pay me for making her +resign from the team."</p> + +<p>"What did I tell you?" asked Ellen Seymour, triumphantly. "She admits +that she was responsible for that resignation."</p> + +<p>"That will do," commanded Miss Archer, raising her hand.</p> + +<p>Ellen subsided meekly.</p> + +<p>Realizing that she had said too much, Mignon quieted as suddenly as she +had burst forth.</p> + +<p>"Miss Dean, are you perfectly sure of what you say?" questioned Miss +Archer.</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure," was the steady answer.</p> + +<p>A seemingly endless silence followed Marjorie's reply. The principal +surveyed the trio searchingly.</p> + +<p>"What girls comprise the freshman team?" At last she put the question +coldly to Mignon.</p> + +<p>The French girl sulkily named them. Miss Archer made note of their +names. The principal then pressed the buzzer that summoned her +secretary.</p> + +<p>"Send these young women to me at once," she directed, handing Marcia the +slip of paper.</p> + +<p>Turning to the three girls before her she said, "Miss Seymour, you may +go back to the study hall. Unless you hear from me further you are +exonerated from blame. I shall not need you either, Miss Dean. I am +sorry that I was obliged to involve you in this <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_136" id="pg_136">136</a></span>affair, but I am glad +that you were not afraid to tell the truth."</p> + +<p>Marjorie turned to follow Ellen Seymour from the room, when the door +opened and the freshman basketball team filed in. For a brief instant +the principal's attention was fixed upon the entering girls, and in that +instant Mignon found time to mutter in Marjorie's ear, "I'll never +forgive you for this and you'll be sorry. Just wait and see if you're +not."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="MARJORIES_WONDERFUL_DISCOVERY_3423" id="MARJORIES_WONDERFUL_DISCOVERY_3423"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>MARJORIE'S WONDERFUL DISCOVERY</h3> +</div> + +<p>What transpired in Miss Archer's private office on that memorable +morning when the freshman team visited her in a body was a subject that +agitated high school circles for at least a week afterward. Other than +the team no one could furnish any authentic information as to what had +actually been said and done, but the amazing report that "Miss Archer +had disbanded the freshman basketball team" was on every one's tongue. +Whether or not another team would be selected no one knew. That would +depend wholly upon Miss Archer's decision. That the members of the team +had offended seriously there could be no doubt. As for the ex-members +themselves, they were absolutely mute on the subject. Among themselves, +however, they had a great deal to say, and, one and all, held Marjorie +Dean responsible for their downfall.</p> + +<p>When Miss Archer had commanded their presence in her office that +eventful morning it was not in connection with the conflicting +statements of Ellen <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_138" id="pg_138">138</a></span>Seymour and Mignon La Salle. Satisfied that Mignon +was the real offender, she had read that young woman a lesson on +untruthfulness and treachery in the presence of the team that left her +white with mortification, her stormy black eyes alone betraying her +rage.</p> + +<p>Then Miss Archer proceeded to the other business at hand, which was an +inquiry into their reason for requesting Marjorie Dean's resignation +from the team. One by one, the four girls, with the exception of Helen +Thornton, were questioned separately and acknowledged, in shamefaced +fashion, that Marjorie was a really good player.</p> + +<p>"Then why," Miss Archer had asked sharply, "did you ask her to resign?" +There had been no answer to this pertinent question, and then had +followed their principal's rebuke, sharp and stinging.</p> + +<p>"It is not often that I feel impelled to interfere in your games," she +had said. "Not long since I refused to listen to something Miss Arnold +tried to tell me; but, when several heartless girls deliberately combine +to humiliate and discomfit a companion under the flimsy pretext of 'the +good of the team' it is time to call a halt. Four girls were prime +movers in this contemptible plan. One girl was an accessory, and +therefore equally guilty. In justice to the traditions of Sanford High +School the girl who has suffered at your hands, and in defense of my own +self-respect, these offenders must be punished. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_139" id="pg_139">139</a></span>So I am going to +disband your team and forbid any one of you to play basketball again +until I am satisfied that you know something of the first principles of +honor and fair play. However, I shall not forbid basketball to the +freshmen. The innocent shall not suffer with the guilty. A new team will +be chosen which I trust will be a credit rather than a detriment to our +high school. You are dismissed."</p> + +<p>Five girls, whose faces were an open indication of their chagrin, had +left the principal's office in a far more chastened frame of mind than +when they had entered it. Miss Archer's arraignment had been a most +unpleasant surprise, and in discussing it among themselves afterward, +Helen Thornton had caused Mignon to pour forth a torrent of biting words +by saying sulkily, that if Mignon had let Ellen Seymour alone everything +would have been all right.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you believe those miserable girls?" Mignon had +cried out.</p> + +<p>And Helen had answered with marked sarcasm, "No; I believe what I saw +with my own eyes, and I wish I'd never heard of your old team. I'm +ashamed to think I ever listened to you," and had walked away from the +group with a sore and penitent heart, never to return to their circle +again.</p> + +<p>All this was, of course, kept strictly secret by the other four +ex-members, who joined hands and vowed solemnly that they would weather +the gale together. The disbanding of the team by Miss <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_140" id="pg_140">140</a></span>Archer and Ellen +Seymour's vindication, could not be hushed up, however, and, despite +their protests that Miss Archer was unfair, and that the statements of +certain other girls were wholly unreliable, they lost ground with their +classmates.</p> + +<p>Marjorie, too, had been made to feel the weight of their displeasure, +for they took pains to circulate the report that it was she who had told +tales to the principal, and thus brought them to grief. Several of the +sophomores, including Ellen Seymour, heatedly denied the rumor, and a +number of freshmen also took up the cudgels in her behalf. Jerry, Irma +and Constance stood firmly by her, and, although the poor little +lieutenant was far more hurt over the allegation than she would show, +she kept a brave face to the front and tried to ignore the ill-natured +thrusts launched chiefly by Muriel and Mignon.</p> + +<p>But in the midst of this uncomfortable season Marjorie made a wonderful +discovery. It was quite by chance that she made it, and it concerned +Constance Stevens. Although the Mary girl had apparently grown very fond +of Marjorie and had almost entirely dropped her strange cloak of +reserve, she had never invited the girl who had so graciously befriended +her to her home.</p> + +<p>From the words of vehement protest which Constance had spoken on that +day when Marjorie had followed her and protested that they become +friends, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_141" id="pg_141">141</a></span>she had partly understood the other girl's position in regard +to her family, and had tactfully avoided the subject ever afterward. She +had talked the matter over with her captain, and they had decided to +respect Constance's reticence and keep religiously away from anything +bordering on the discussion of her family.</p> + +<p>It was on a crisp November afternoon, several days before Thanksgiving, +that Marjorie made her discovery. As she walked into the living-room, +her books on her arm, her cheeks pink from the sharp, frosty air, her +mother hung up the telephone with: "Marjorie, do you think Constance +would like to go with us to the theatre to-night? Your father has just +telephoned me that he has four tickets."</p> + +<p>"She'd love it. I know she would. I'll hurry straight down to her house +and ask her." Marjorie dropped her books on the table with a joyful +thump.</p> + +<p>"Very well; but I wish you would wait until I finish my letter, then you +can post it on your way there."</p> + +<p>"Did Nora bake chocolate cake to-day?" asked Marjorie irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>There was a rush of light feet from the room. Three minutes later +Marjorie returned, a huge piece of chocolate layer cake in her hand.</p> + +<p>"It's the best ever," she declared between bites.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_142" id="pg_142">142</a></span>By the time the cake was eaten the letter was ready.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, dear," her mother called after her; "we shall have an early +dinner."</p> + +<p>It did not recur to Marjorie until within sight of the house where +Constance lived that she was an uninvited guest. What a queer-looking +little house it was! Long ago it had been painted a pale gray with white +trimmings, but now it was a dingy, hopeless color that defied +description. A child's dilapidated tricycle stood on the rickety porch, +which was approached by a flight of three unstable-looking steps.</p> + +<p>Her mind centered upon her errand, Marjorie paid small attention to her +surroundings. She bounded up the steps, searching with alert eyes for a +bell. Finding none she doubled her fist to knock, but paused suddenly +with upraised arm. From within the house came the vibrant notes of a +violin mingled with the soft accompaniment of a piano.</p> + +<p>"Schubert's 'Serenade,'" breathed Marjorie, delightedly, lowering her +arm. "I simply must listen."</p> + +<p>Suddenly a voice took up the plaintive strain. It was so high and sweet +and clear that the listener caught her breath in sheer amazement.</p> + +<p>She stood spellbound, while the wonderful voice sang on and on to the +last note of the exquisite "Serenade" that seemed to end in a long-drawn +sigh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_143" id="pg_143">143</a></span>Marjorie knocked lightly, but no one responded.</p> + +<p>The singer had begun again. This time it was Nevin's "Oh That We Two +Were Maying."</p> + +<p>She listened again; then, to her surprise, the door was gently opened. +Before her stood the tiny figure of a boy whose great black eyes looked +curiously into hers. Laying his finger upon his lips, he gravely +motioned with his other hand for her to enter. Then as he limped away +from the door Marjorie saw he was a cripple.</p> + +<p>Marjorie stepped noiselessly into the room, her eyes on the piano. A man +was seated before it. She could not see his face, but she noted that he +had an enormous shock of snow-white hair. At one side of him stood +another old man, his thin cheek resting lovingly against his violin, his +whole soul intent upon the flood of melody he was bringing forth, while +on the other side of the pianist, her quiet face fairly transfigured +stood Constance, pouring out her very heart in song.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_PEOPLE_OF_THE_LITTLE_GRAY_HOUSE_3599" id="THE_PEOPLE_OF_THE_LITTLE_GRAY_HOUSE_3599"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>THE PEOPLE OF THE LITTLE GRAY HOUSE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Intent upon their music, neither the singer nor the two men were +immediately aware of the presence of another person in the room.</p> + +<p style='margin-left:2em'> +"Oh, that we two were lying<br /> +Under the churchyard sod,"<br /> +</p> + +<p>sang Constance, voicing the pent-up longing of Kingsley's tenderly +regretful words and Nevin's wistful setting, while the violin sang a +subdued, pensive obligato.</p> + +<p>Marjorie stood very still, her gaze fastened upon Constance. The quaint +little boy stared at Marjorie with an equally intent interest. Thus, as +Constance began the last line the earnest, compelling regard of the +brown eyes caused her own to be turned toward Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she ejaculated in faltering surprise. "Where—where did you come +from? What made you come here?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_145" id="pg_145">145</a></span>There was mingled amazement, consternation and embarrassment in the +question. The white-haired pianist swung round on his stool, and the old +man with the violin raised his head and regarded the unexpected visitor +out of two mildly inquiring blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," began Marjorie, her cheeks hot with the shame of being +unwelcome. "I suppose I ought not to have come, but——"</p> + +<p>Constance sprang to her side and catching her hands said contritely, +"Forgive me, dear, and please don't feel hurt. I—you see—I never +invite anyone here—because—well, just because we are so poor. I +thought you wouldn't care to come and so——"</p> + +<p>"I've always wanted to come," interrupted Marjorie, eagerly. "I don't +think you are poor. I think you are rich to have this wonderful music. I +never dreamed you could sing, Constance. What made you keep it a +secret?"</p> + +<p>"No one ever liked me well enough to care to know it until you came," +returned Constance simply. "I meant to tell you, but I kept on putting +it off."</p> + +<p>While the conversation went on between the two girls the one old man was +going over a pile of ragged-edged music on the piano, while the other +was industriously engaged with a troublesome E string.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_146" id="pg_146">146</a></span>"Father, Uncle John!" called Constance, gently, "come here. I want you +to meet my friend Marjorie Dean."</p> + +<p>Both musicians left their self-appointed tasks and came forward.</p> + +<p>Marjorie gave her soft little hand to each in turn, and they bowed over +it with almost old-style courtesy. She looked curiously at Constance's +father. His daughter did not in any way resemble him. His was the face +of a dreamer, rather thin, with clean-cut features and dark eyes that +seemed to see past one and into another world of his own creation. In +spite of his white hair he was not old. Not more than forty-five, or, +perhaps fifty, Marjorie decided. The other man was much older, sixty at +least. He was very thin, and his gentle face wore a pathetically vacant +expression that brought back to Marjorie the rush of bitter words +Constance had poured forth on the day when she had declined to be +friends. "We take care of an old man who people say is crazy, and folks +call us Bohemians and gypsies and even vagabonds."</p> + +<p>"I came here to see if Constance could go to the theatre with us +to-night," explained Marjorie, rather shyly. "No, thank you, I won't sit +down. I promised mother I'd hurry home."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind in you to ask my daughter to share your pleasure," said +Constance's father, his somber face lighting with a smile that reminded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_147" id="pg_147">147</a></span>Marjorie of the sun suddenly bursting from behind a cloud. "I should +like to have her go."</p> + +<p>"Have her go," repeated the thin old man, bowing and beaming.</p> + +<p>"Is there a band at the theatre?" piped a small, solemn voice.</p> + +<p>Marjorie smiled down into the earnest, upraised face of the little boy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, there is a big, big band at the theatre."</p> + +<p>"Then take me, too," returned the child calmly.</p> + +<p>"No, no," reproved Constance gently, "Charlie can't go to-night."</p> + +<p>A grieved look crept into the big black eyes. Without further words the +quaint little boy limped over to the old man, whom Constance had +addressed as Uncle John, and hid behind him.</p> + +<p>Forgetting formality, tender-hearted Marjorie sprang after him. She +knelt beside him and gathered him into her arms. He made no resistance, +merely regarded her with wistful curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Listen, dear little man," she said, "you and Constance and I will go to +the place where the big band plays some Saturday afternoon, and we'll +sit on the front seat where you can see every single thing they do. +Won't that be nice?"</p> + +<p>The boy nodded and slipped his tiny hand in hers. "I'm going to play in +the band when I grow up," he confided. "Connie can go to-night if she +promises to tell me all about it afterward."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_148" id="pg_148">148</a></span>"You dear little soul," bubbled Marjorie, stroking his thick hair that +fell carelessly over his forehead and almost into his bright eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you all about everything, Charlie," promised Constance.</p> + +<p>"That means you will go," cried Marjorie, joyfully, rising from the +floor, the child's hand still in hers.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will," returned Constance hesitatingly, "only—I—haven't +anything pretty to wear."</p> + +<p>"Pretty to wear," repeated Uncle John faithfully.</p> + +<p>"Never mind that," reassured Marjorie. "Just wear a fresh white blouse +with your blue suit. I'm sure that will look nice."</p> + +<p>"Will look nice," agreed Uncle John so promptly, that Marjorie started +slightly, then, noting that Constance seemed embarrassed, she nodded +genially at the old man, who smiled back like a pleased child.</p> + +<p>Remembering her mother's injunction, Marjorie took hasty leave of the +Stevens family and set off for home at a brisk pace. Her thoughts were +as active as her feet. She had seen enough in the last fifteen minutes +to furnish ample food for reflection, and she now believed she +understood her friend's strange reserve, which at times rose like a wall +between them. What strange and yet what utterly delightful people the +Stevens were! They really did remind one a little of gypsies. And what a +queer room she had been ushered into by the odd little boy <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_149" id="pg_149">149</a></span>named +Charlie! She smiled to herself as she contrasted her mother's homelike, +yet orderly living-room with the room she had just left, which evidently +did duty as a hall, living-room, music-room and also a playroom for +little Charlie. There were hats and coats and musical instruments, pile +upon pile of well-thumbed music, and numerous dilapidated playthings +that bore the marks of too ardent treasuring, all scattered about in +reckless confusion. No wonder Constance had fought shy of +acquaintanceships which were sure to ripen into schoolgirl visits. Poor +Constance! How dreadful it must be to have to keep house, cook the meals +and try to go to school! The Stevenses seemed to be very poor in +everything except music. She wondered how they lived. Perhaps the two +men played in orchestras. Still she had never heard anything about them +in school, where news circulated so quickly.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to ask Constance to tell me all about it," she decided, as +she skipped up the front steps. "Perhaps I can help her in some way."</p> + +<p>Constance rang the Deans' bell at exactly half past seven o'clock. Her +blue eyes were sparkling with joyous light, and her usually grave mouth +broke into little curves of happiness. It was to be a red-letter night +for her.</p> + +<p>The play was a clean, wholesome drama of American home life in which the +leading part was taken by a young girl, who appeared to be scarcely +older <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_150" id="pg_150">150</a></span>than Marjorie and Constance. The latter sat like one entranced +during the first act, and Marjorie spoke to her twice before she heard.</p> + +<p>"Constance," she breathed, "won't you please, please tell me all about +it?"</p> + +<p>"About what?" counter-questioned the other girl, reddening.</p> + +<p>"About your father and your wonderful voice, and, oh, all there is to +tell."</p> + +<p>"Marjorie," the Mary girl's tones were strained and wistful, "do you +really think it is wonderful?"</p> + +<p>"You will be a great singer some day," returned Marjorie, simply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you believe that?" Constance clasped her hands in ecstasy. "I +wish to be—I hope to be. If I could only go away to New York city and +study! Before we came here we lived in Buffalo. Father played in an +orchestra there. He had a friend who taught singing and I studied with +him for a year. Then he died suddenly of pneumonia and right after that +father fell on an icy pavement and broke his leg. By the time it was +well again another man had his place in the orchestra. He had a few +pupils, and long before his leg was well he used to sit in a big chair +and teach them. The money that they paid him for lessons was all we had +to live on."</p> + +<p>The rising of the curtain on the second act cut short the narrative. +With "I'll tell you the rest <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_151" id="pg_151">151</a></span>later," Constance turned eager eyes toward +the stage.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a beautiful play?" she sighed, when the act ended.</p> + +<p>"Lovely," agreed Marjorie; "now tell me the rest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there isn't much more to tell. It was the last of March when father +got hurt, but it was the middle of May before he was quite well again. +Then summer came and most of his pupils went away and we grew poorer and +poorer. Just when we were the poorest the editor of a new musical +magazine wrote him and asked him to write some articles. A friend of +father's in New York told the editor about father and gave him our +address. We decided to move to a smaller city, where we could live more +cheaply, and some of the musicians that father knew gave him a benefit +concert. The money from that helped us to move to Sanford, and father +has been writing articles off and on for the magazine ever since then. +It's better for all of us to be here. Uncle John isn't quite like other +people. When he was a young man he studied to be a virtuoso on the +violin. He overworked and had brain fever just before he was to give his +first recital. After he got well he never played the same again. He had +spent all the money his father left him on his musical education, so he +had to find work wherever he could. He played the violin in different +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_152" id="pg_152">152</a></span>orchestras, but he was so absent-minded that he couldn't be trusted. +Sometimes he would go on playing after all the rest of the orchestra had +finished, and then he began to repeat things after people.</p> + +<p>"When father first met him they were playing in the same theatre +orchestra. One night a great tragedian was playing 'Hamlet,' and poor +Uncle John grew so interested that he said things after him as loud as +he could. The actor was dreadfully angry, and so was the leader of the +orchestra. He made the poor old man leave the theatre. After that he +played in other orchestras a little, but he couldn't be depended upon, +so no one wanted to hire him.</p> + +<p>"Father did all he could to help him, but he grew queerer and queerer. +Then he disappeared, and father didn't see him for a long while. One +cold winter night he found him wandering about the streets, so he +brought him to his room and he has been with father ever since. That was +years ago, before father was married. He isn't really my uncle. I just +call him that. The musicians used to call him 'Crazy Johnny.' His name +is John Roland."</p> + +<p>Although Constance had averred that there wasn't "much to tell," the +third act interrupted her recital, and it was during the interval before +the beginning of the last act that Marjorie heard the story of the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_153" id="pg_153">153</a></span>fourth member of the Stevenses' household, little lame Charlie.</p> + +<p>"Charlie has been with us a little over four years," returned Constance, +in answer to Marjorie's interested questions. "He is seven years old, +but you would hardly believe it. His mother died when he was a tiny +baby, and his father was a dreadful drunkard. He was a musician, too, a +clarionet player. He let Charlie fall downstairs when he was only two +years old and hurt his hip. That's why he's lame. His father used to go +away and be gone for days and leave the poor baby with his neighbors. +Father found out about it and took Charlie away from him, and we've had +him with us ever since."</p> + +<p>"It was splendid in your father to be so good to the poor old man and +Charlie," said Marjorie, warmly.</p> + +<p>"Father is the best man in the world," returned Constance, with fond +pride. "He is such a wonderful musician, too. He can play on the violin +as well as the piano, and he teaches both. If only he could get plenty +of work here in Sanford. He has a few pupils, and with the articles he +writes we manage to live, but the magazine is a small one and does not +pay much for them. He has tried ever so many times to get into the +theatre orchestra, but there seems to be no chance for him. I think +we'll go somewhere else to live before long. Perhaps to a <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_154" id="pg_154">154</a></span>big city +again. I'd love to stay here and go through high school with you, but I +am afraid I can't. I'm almost eighteen and I ought to work."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't think of leaving Sanford!" exclaimed Marjorie, in +sudden dismay. "What would I do without you? Perhaps things will be +brighter after a while. I am sure they will. Why couldn't your +father——"</p> + +<p>But the last act was on, and she did not finish what had promised to be +a suggestion. Nevertheless, a plan had taken shape in her busy mind, +which she determined to discuss with her father and mother.</p> + +<p>As if to further her design they found Mr. Stevens waiting outside the +theatre for his daughter and Marjorie lost no time in presenting him to +her father and mother. He greeted the Deans gravely, thanking them for +their kindness to his daughter, with a fine courtesy that made a marked +impression on them, and after he had gone his way, a happy, smiling +Constance beside him, Marjorie slipped her arms in those of her father +and mother, and walking between them told Constance's story all over +again.</p> + +<p>"I think it is positively noble in Mr. Stevens to take care of that old +man and little Charlie, when they have no claim upon him," she finished.</p> + +<p>"He has a remarkably fine, sensitive face," said Mrs. Dean. "I suppose +like nearly all persons of <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_155" id="pg_155">155</a></span>great musical gifts, he lacks the commercial +ability to manage his affairs successfully."</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe that if the people of Sanford only knew how +beautifully Mr. Stevens and the other man played together they might +hire them for afternoon teas and little parties and such things?" asked +Marjorie, with an earnestness that made her father say teasingly, "Are +you going to enlist in his cause as his business manager?"</p> + +<p>"You mustn't tease me, General," she reproved. "I'm in dead earnest. I +was just thinking to-night that Mr. Stevens ought to have an orchestra +of his own. You know mother promised me a party on my birthday, and +that's not until January tenth. Why can't I have it the night before +Thanksgiving? That will be next Wednesday. Mr. Stevens and Mr. Roland +can play for us to dance. A violin and piano will be plenty of music. If +everybody likes my orchestra, then someone will be sure to want to hire +it for some of the holiday parties. Don't you think that a nice plan?"</p> + +<p>"Very," laughed her father. "I see you have an eye to business, +Lieutenant."</p> + +<p>"You can have your party next week, if you like, dear," agreed Mrs. +Dean, who made it a point always to encourage her daughter's generous +impulses.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll send my invitations to-morrow," exulted Marjorie. "Hurrah for +the Stevens orchestra! <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_156" id="pg_156">156</a></span>Long may it wave!" She gave a joyous skip that +caused her father to exclaim "Steady!" and her mother to protest against +further jolting.</p> + +<p>"Beg your pardon, both of you," apologized the frisky lieutenant, giving +the arms to which she clung an affectionate squeeze, "but I simply had +to rejoice a little. Won't Constance be glad? I could never care quite +so much for Constance as I do for Mary, but I like her next best. She's +a dear and we're going to be friends as long as we live."</p> + +<p>But clouds have an uncomfortable habit of darkening the clearest skies +and even sworn friendships are not always timeproof.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="MARJORIE_MEETS_WITH_A_LOSS_3922" id="MARJORIE_MEETS_WITH_A_LOSS_3922"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>MARJORIE MEETS WITH A LOSS</h3> +</div> + +<p>By eight o'clock the following night twenty-eight invitations to +Marjorie Dean's Thanksgiving party were on their way. No one of the +invitations ran the risk of being declined. Marjorie had invited only +those boys and girls of her acquaintance who were quite likely to come +and when the momentous evening arrived they put in twenty-eight joyful +appearances and enjoyed the Deans' hospitality to the full.</p> + +<p>But to Constance, who wore her beautiful blue gown and went to the party +under the protection of her father, whose somber eyes gleamed with a +strange new happiness, and old John Roland, whose usually vacant +expression had changed to one of inordinate pride, it was, indeed, a +night to be remembered by the three. Charlie was to remain at home in +the care of a kindly neighbor.</p> + +<p>The long living-room had been stripped of everything save the piano, and +the polished hardwood floor was ideal to dance on. Uncle John had +received <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_158" id="pg_158">158</a></span>careful instructions beforehand from both Mr. Stevens and +Constance as to his behavior, and with a sudden flash of reason in his +faded eyes had gravely promised to "be good."</p> + +<p>He had kept his word, too, and from his station beside the piano he had +played like one inspired from the moment his violin sang the first magic +strains of the "Blue Danube" until it crooned softly the "Home, Sweet +Home" waltz.</p> + +<p>The dancers were wholly appreciative of the orchestra, as their coaxing +applause for more music after every number testified, and before the +evening was over several boys and girls had asked Marjorie if "those +dandy musicians" would play for anyone who wanted them.</p> + +<p>"Mother's giving a tea next week, and I'm going to tell her about these +men," the Crane had informed Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Hal and I are going to give a party before long, and we'll have them, +too," Jerry had promised. Lawrence Armitage, who had managed to be found +near Constance the greater part of the evening, insisted on being +introduced to her father, and during supper, which was served at small +tables in the dining-room, he had sat at the same table with the two +players and Constance, and kept up an animated and interested discussion +on music with Mr. Stevens.</p> + +<p>But the crowning moment of the evening had been when, after supper, the +guests had gathered in <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_159" id="pg_159">159</a></span>the living-room to do stunts, and Constance had +sung Tosti's "Good-bye" and "Thy Blue Eyes," her exquisite voice coming +as a bewildering surprise to the assembled young people. How they had +crowded around her afterward! How glad Marjorie had been at the success +of her plan, and how Mr. Stevens' eyes had shone to hear his daughter +praised by her classmates!</p> + +<p>In less than a week afterward Constance rose from obscurity to +semi-popularity. The story of her singing was noised about through +school until it reached even the ears of the girls who had despised her +for her poverty. Muriel and Susan had looked absolute amazement when a +talkative freshman told the news as she received it from a girl who had +attended the party. Mignon, however, was secretly furious at the, to +her, unbelievable report that "that beggarly Stevens girl could actually +sing." She had never forgiven Constance for refusing to dishonorably +assist her in an algebra test, and after her unsuccessful attempt to +fasten the disappearance of her bracelet upon Constance she had disliked +her with that fierce hatred which the transgressor so often feels for +the one he or she has wronged.</p> + +<p>Next to Constance in Mignon's black book came Marjorie, who had caused +her to lose her proud position of center on the team, and in Miss Merton +and Marcia Arnold she had two staunch adherents. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_160" id="pg_160">160</a></span>Just why Miss Merton +disliked Marjorie was hard to say. Perhaps she took violent exception to +the girl's gay, gracious manner and love of life, the early years of +which she was living so abundantly. At any rate, she never lost an +opportunity to harass or annoy the pretty freshman, and it was only by +keeping up an eternal vigilance that Marjorie managed to escape +constant, nagging reproof.</p> + +<p>Last of all, Marcia Arnold had a grievance against Marjorie. She was no +longer manager of the freshman team. A disagreeable ten minutes with +Miss Archer after the freshman team had been disbanded, on that dreadful +day, had been sufficient to deprive her of her office, and arouse her +resentment against Marjorie to a fever pitch.</p> + +<p>There were still a number of girls in the freshman class who clung to +Muriel and Mignon, but they were in the minority. At least two-thirds of +19— had made friendly overtures not only to Marjorie, but to Constance +as well, and as the short December days slipped by, Marjorie began to +experience a contentment and peace in her school that she had not felt +since leaving dear old Franklin High.</p> + +<p>"Everything's going beautifully, Captain," she declared gaily to her +mother in answer to the latter's question, as she flashed into the +living-room one sunny winter afternoon, with dancing eyes and pink +cheeks. "It couldn't be better. I like almost <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_161" id="pg_161">161</a></span>every one in school; +Constance's father has more playing than he can do; you bought me that +darling collar and cuff set yesterday; I've a long letter from Mary; +I've studied all my lessons for to-day, and—oh, yes, we're going to +have creamed chicken and lemon meringue pie for dinner. Isn't that +enough to make me happy for one day at least?"</p> + +<p>"What a jumble of happiness!" laughed her mother.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it, though? And now Christmas is almost here. That's another +perfectly gigantic happiness," was Marjorie's extravagant comment. "I +love Christmas! That reminds me, Mother, you said you would help me play +Santa Claus to little Charlie. I don't believe he has ever spent a +really jolly Christmas. Of course, Mr. Stevens and Constance will give +him things, but he needs a whole lot more presents besides. He climbed +into my lap and told me all about what he wanted when I was over there +yesterday. I promised to speak to Santa Claus about it. Charlie isn't +going to hang up his stocking. He's going to leave a funny little wagon +that he drags around for Santa Claus. He told me very solemnly that he +knew Santa Claus couldn't fill it, for Connie had said that he never had +enough presents to go around, but she was sure he would have a few left +when he reached Charlie.</p> + +<p>"So Constance and I are going to decorate the wagon with evergreen and +hang strings of popcorn <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_162" id="pg_162">162</a></span>on it and fill it full of presents after he +goes to bed. He has promised to go very early Christmas eve. Mr. Roland +has a little violin he is going to give him, and Mr. Stevens has a +cunning chair for him. He has never had a chair of his own. Constance +has some picture books and toys, and I'm going to buy some, too. I saved +some money from my allowance this month on purpose for this."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's face glowed with generous enthusiasm as she talked.</p> + +<p>"I am going shopping day after to-morrow," said Mrs. Dean, "and as long +as it is Saturday, you had better go with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, splendid!" cried Marjorie, dancing up and down on her tiptoes. +"Things are getting interestinger and interestinger."</p> + +<p>"Regardless of English," slyly supplemented her mother, as Marjorie +danced out of the room to answer the postman's ring.</p> + +<p>"Here are two letters for you, Captain, but not even a postcard for me. +I'd love to have a letter from Mary, but I haven't answered her last one +yet. I'll write to her to-morrow and send her present, too, with special +orders not to open it until Christmas."</p> + +<p>The next morning Marjorie hurried off to school early, in hopes of +seeing Constance before the morning session began. Her friend entered +the study hall just as the first bell rang, however, and Marjorie <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_163" id="pg_163">163</a></span>had +only time for a word or two in the corridor as they filed off to their +respective classes.</p> + +<p>"I'll see her in French class," thought Marjorie. "I'll ask Professor +Fontaine to let me sit with her." But when she reached the French room +and the class gathered, Constance was not among them, nor did she enter +the room later. Wondering what had happened, Marjorie reluctantly turned +her attention to the advance lesson.</p> + +<p>"We weel read this leetle poem togethaire," directed Professor Fontaine, +amiably, "but first I shall read eet to you. Eet is called 'Le +Papillon,' which means the 'botterfly.'"</p> + +<p>Unconsciously, Marjorie's hand strayed to the open neck of her blouse. +Then she dropped her hand in dismay. Her butterfly, her pretty talisman, +where was it? She remembered wearing it to school that morning, or +thought she remembered. Oh, yes, she now recalled that she had pinned it +to her coat lapel. It had always shone so bravely against the soft blue +broadcloth. She longed to rush downstairs to her locker before reporting +in the study hall for dismissal, but remembering how sourly Miss Merton +had looked at her only that morning, she decided to possess her soul in +patience until the session was dismissed.</p> + +<p>Once out of the study hall she dashed downstairs at full speed and +hastily opened her locker. As she seized her coat she noted vaguely that +Constance's <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_164" id="pg_164">164</a></span>hat and coat were missing, but her mind was centered on +her pin. Then an exclamation of grief and dismay escaped her. The lapel +was bare of ornament. Her butterfly was gone!</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I really did leave it at home?" was her distracted thought, +as she climbed the basement stairs with a heavy heart, after having +thoroughly examined the locker. But a close search of her room that noon +revealed no trace of the missing pin. Hot tears gathered in her eyes, +but she brushed them away, muttering: "I won't cry. It isn't lost. It +can't be. Oh, my pretty talisman!" She choked back a sob. "I sha'n't +tell mother unless it is really hopeless. It won't do any good and +she'll feel sorry because I do. It's my own fault. I should have seen +that my butterfly was securely fastened."</p> + +<p>On the way home from the school that afternoon Marjorie reported the +loss of her pin to Irma, Jerry and Constance, who had returned for the +afternoon session.</p> + +<p>"What a shame!" sympathized Jerry. "It was such a beauty."</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry you lost it," condoled Irma.</p> + +<p>"So am I," echoed Constance. "I don't remember it. I'm not very +observing about jewelry, but I'm dreadfully sorry just the same."</p> + +<p>"It was——" began Marjorie, but a joyful whistle far up the street and +the faint ring of running feet put a sudden end to her description. +Lawrence <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_165" id="pg_165">165</a></span>Armitage, Hal Macy and the Crane had espied the girls from +afar and come with winged feet to join them. Their evident pleasure in +the girls' society, coupled with the indescribably funny antics of the +Crane, who had apparently appointed himself an amusement committee of +one, drove away Marjorie's distress over her loss for the time being, +and it was not until later that she remembered that she had not +described the butterfly pin to Constance.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="PLAYING_SANTA_CLAUS_TO_CHARLIE_4129" id="PLAYING_SANTA_CLAUS_TO_CHARLIE_4129"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>PLAYING SANTA CLAUS TO CHARLIE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The next morning Marjorie wrote a description of her pin. It was placed +at the end of the basement corridor above a small bulletin board, where +those who passed might read. She wondered if the loss of her talisman +would bring her bad luck. Before the day was over she gloomily decided +that it had, for during the last hour Miss Merton accused her of +whispering to the girl across the aisle, when she merely leaned forward +in her seat to pick up her handkerchief. Smarting with the teacher's +injustice, Marjorie politely but steadily contradicted the accusation, +and two minutes later found herself on the way to Miss Archer's office, +Miss Merton walking grimly beside her.</p> + +<p>Miss Archer had been through a particularly trying day, and was +irritable, while Miss Merton was consumed with spiteful rage at +Marjorie's "impertinence," and did not hesitate to put her side of the +story forward in a most unpleasant fashion. The principal turned coldly +to Marjory with, "Apologize <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_167" id="pg_167">167</a></span>to Miss Merton at once, Miss Dean, for +disturbing her," and Marjorie said, with uplifted chin and resentful +eyes, "I am sorry you thought I whispered, Miss Merton, for I did not +open my lips." Something in the proud carriage of the girl's head caused +Miss Archer to divine the truth of the firm statement, and she said, +more gently, "Very well, you are excused, Miss Dean; but I do not wish +to hear again that you have failed in courtesy to your teachers. This is +not the first time I have received such reports of you."</p> + +<p>With a steady, reproachful look at Miss Merton, whose shifting eyes +refused to meet hers, Marjorie walked from the room, ready to burst into +tears, and when the all but interminable afternoon was ended, hurried +home to the shelter of her faithful captain's arms and poured forth her +grief and wrongs.</p> + +<p>But the notice of the lost pin posted on the bulletin board brought +forth no trace of the vanished butterfly. Marjorie made a valiant effort +to thrust aside her heavy sense of loss and allow the spirit of +Christmas to enter her heart. She had promised Constance her help in +arranging Santa Claus' visit to Charlie, and, when on Christmas eve, at +a little after seven o'clock she set out for the Stevens' weighed down +by numerous festively-wrapped, be-ribboned packages, she was filled with +that quiet exaltation that attends the performance of a good deed and +happier than she had been for several days.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_168" id="pg_168">168</a></span>"Shh!" Constance met her at the door, a warning finger on her lips.</p> + +<p>"Hasn't he gone to sleep yet?" asked Marjorie, sliding into the house in +mouse-like fashion.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I thought he never would," returned Constance, with a relieved +sigh. "What do you think? Father is playing at the theatre to-night for +the first time. The pianist is ill. The leader of the orchestra was here +this afternoon to see if father would take his place. We can never be +grateful enough to you, Marjorie, for having father and Uncle John play +at your party."</p> + +<p>"Let's talk about Charlie's little wagon," proposed Marjorie, quickly. +"Nora popped and strung a lot of corn for me. It's in this bag. Do tell +me where I can put the rest of this armful of things."</p> + +<p>Constance made a place on one end of an old velvet couch for them.</p> + +<p>"This is yours." Marjorie flourished a wide, flat package tied with +long, graceful loops of narrow pale blue ribbon. "I tied it with blue +because that's your color. Don't you dare peep at it until to-morrow +morning. These two little packages are for your father and Mr. Roland, +and all the rest is for Charlie."</p> + +<p>"He will be the happiest boy in Sanford," said Constance, her own face +radiant. "He never dreamed of a Christmas like this."</p> + +<p>"Can we begin now?" asked Marjorie. "I'm so <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_169" id="pg_169">169</a></span>impatient to see how this +wagon will look when we get it fixed."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute." Constance disappeared through the door leading into the +kitchen, returning with one arm piled high with evergreens, the other +wound around a small balsam tree.</p> + +<p>"Lawrence Armitage brought me this yesterday," she explained. "A party +of boys went to the woods to cut down Christmas trees. He brought me +this cunning little tree and all this ground pine and holly. Wasn't it +nice in him?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly dear," agreed Marjorie. "I wonder if there is enough popcorn +for the tree, too. I have a lot of little ornaments and candles at home. +It won't take long to go there and back." She reached for her hat and +coat as she spoke and in spite of Constance's protests was soon speeding +home after the required decorations.</p> + +<p>"I made good time, didn't I?" she observed, as half an hour later she +burst into the Stevens' living-room without knocking.</p> + +<p>Then the work of making one small boy's Christmas merry was begun in +earnest. An hour later the sturdy baby balsam stood loaded with its crop +of strange fruit, and the faithful, rickety wagon, whose imperfections +were quite hidden beneath trails of thick, fragrant ground pine and +sprays of flame-berried holly, looked as though it had received a +visitation from the fairies. A diminutive black <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_170" id="pg_170">170</a></span>leather violin case, +encircled with a wreath of ground pine and tied with a huge red bow, +leaned against one wheel of the magic vehicle, and the cunning chair +with its absurd little arms and leather cushion was also twined with +green.</p> + +<p>"It's too lovely for words," breathed Constance, her admiring gaze +fastened upon the once dingy corner now bright with the flowers of love +and generosity, which had bloomed in all shapes and sizes of packages to +gladden one youngster's heart.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could be here when first he sees it," commented Marjorie. +"I'll be fast asleep then, for he told me that Mr. Roland promised to +call him very early."</p> + +<p>"He proposed staying up all night, but I was not enthusiastic over that +plan," laughed Constance.</p> + +<p>"I must go," decided Marjorie. "The hands of that clock fairly fly +around the dial. I'm sure I just came and yet they point to a quarter to +eleven." She reached reluctantly for her hat and her wraps.</p> + +<p>"How can I ever thank you, Marjorie," began Constance, but Marjorie put +a soft hand over her friend's lips.</p> + +<p>"Please don't," she implored. "I've loved to do it." She held out both +hands to Constance. "I wish you the merriest sort of a merry Christmas."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will have a perfectly wonderful day," was the earnest +response. "You'll come over to-morrow <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_171" id="pg_171">171</a></span>and see how happy you've made +Charlie and all of us, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll come," promised Marjorie. "You couldn't keep me away."</p> + +<p>She reached home just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of her father +disappearing up the stairs with a huge box in his arms, while her mother +hastily dropped some thing into the drawer of the library table.</p> + +<p>"There, I caught both of you," she cried in triumph. "Confess you were +hiding things from me, weren't you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll answer your questions to-morrow," beamed her father.</p> + +<p>"I forgive you both as long as the things are for me," was her calm +declaration.</p> + +<p>"What is she talking about?" solemnly asked Mr. Dean, with an air of +complete mystification.</p> + +<p>"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" exclaimed Marjorie, +making a rush for him.</p> + +<p>"Help, help!" he called feebly. "The battalion has been ambushed and the +general captured."</p> + +<p>"And held prisoner," added Marjorie, severely. "Unless he informs the +second lieutenant what is in a certain big, white box with which he +escaped upstairs, he shall be court-martialed."</p> + +<p>"Put off the court-martial until to-morrow and perhaps I'll tell," +compromised the captured general, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_172" id="pg_172">172</a></span>throwing his free arm across his +lieutenant's shoulder in a most unmilitary manner.</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll let you go on parole," returned his daughter. "I'm too +sleepy to do guard duty to-night. How I wish you might have seen +Charlie's little wagon when we finished it! We had a tree, too."</p> + +<p>Forgetting that she was sleepy, Marjorie poured forth the story of her +evening's work to her sympathetic listeners and it was ten minutes to +twelve before she said good-night and went yawning to bed.</p> + +<p>Eight o'clock Christmas morning found her awake and stirring. Wrapped in +her bathrobe, she pattered downstairs to the living-room, her arms full +of bundles, but her father and mother were already there before her, and +their packages greatly outnumbered hers. After the kisses and greetings +of the day had been given her father handed the big white box into her +outstretched arms. "Shall I tell you——" he began.</p> + +<p>"Don't you dare! I'm going to see for myself. Oh-h-h!" She had the lid +off, and was clasping to her breast a mass of soft brown fur. "Oh, +General, you dear thing! You sha'n't ever go to prison again." She +smothered her father in the coat and a rapturous embrace, causing him to +protest mildly. Her mother's gift of a bracelet watch also evoked +another burst of reckless enthusiasm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_173" id="pg_173">173</a></span>What a happy hour it was, to be sure, and how beautifully all her +friends had remembered her! Marjorie could hardly bear to leave her +presents long enough to eat breakfast, and when after breakfast she left +home for her Christmas call on the Stevens, she felt as though she must +sing "Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men," at the top of her voice as +she walked.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_UNLUCKY_TALISMAN_4323" id="THE_UNLUCKY_TALISMAN_4323"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>THE UNLUCKY TALISMAN</h3> +</div> + +<p>There was a rapturous shriek of joy from Charlie as Constance opened the +door for Marjorie and their hands and lips met in Christmas greeting. +Marjorie stooped to embrace the excited little figure. "Santa Claus did +come to see Charlie, didn't he?" she exclaimed, in pretended surprise. +"And what did he bring?"</p> + +<p>For answer the child limped to his Christmas corner. "Oh, a fiddle," he +said reverently, clasping the little violin to his heart. "Now I shall +play in the band soon. Johnny said so." He thrust the violin under his +sharp little chin, the thin fingers of his left hand reaching across the +fingerboard, his left wrist curving into position.</p> + +<p>"Why, he holds it like a real violinist!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Can he +play?"</p> + +<p>Charlie answered her question by dragging his triumphant bow across the +helpless strings, drawing forth a wailing discord of tortured sound.</p> + +<p>"He thinks he can," giggled Constance. "I suppose <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_175" id="pg_175">175</a></span>those awful sounds +are the sweetest music to his ears. Luckily, we don't mind them. I hope +you don't. I hate to stop him, he is so delighted with himself."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind in the least," assured Marjorie. "I wouldn't spoil his +pleasure for anything in the world."</p> + +<p>Charlie had no intention of giving a concert that morning, however; he +had too many other things to distract his mind.</p> + +<p>Marjorie sat on the floor beside the Christmas tree, her feet tucked +under her, and listened with becoming gravity and attention while he +told her about Santa Claus' visit, and one by one brought forth his +precious presents for her to see.</p> + +<p>"He must have had enough presents to go around this year or he wouldn't +have left me so many," asserted the child with happy positiveness. +"Connie's going to write him a letter and say thank you for me. If I +don't say 'thank you' when someone gives me something, then I can never +play in the band. Johnny and father always say it. I'm sorry I didn't +write to Santa Claus before Christmas and ask him for a new leg. I can't +go fast on this one. It's been wearing out ever since I was a baby and +it keeps on getting shorter."</p> + +<p>"Santa Claus can't give you a new leg, Charlie boy," answered Marjorie, +her bright face clouding momentarily, "but perhaps some day we can find +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_176" id="pg_176">176</a></span>a good, kind man who will make this poor little leg over like a new +one."</p> + +<p>"When you find him, you'll be sure to tell him all about me, won't you, +Marjorie?" he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"As sure as anything," nodded Marjory, brushing his heavy black hair out +of his eyes and kissing him gently.</p> + +<p>"Will you walk down to the drugstore with me, Marjorie?" put in +Constance, abruptly.</p> + +<p>Marjorie glanced up to meet her friend's troubled gaze. In an instant +she was on her feet.</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing I didn't take off my hat and coat. I'm ready to go, +you see."</p> + +<p>"Charlie can watch for us at the window," suggested Constance, hugging +the child. "We won't be long."</p> + +<p>Once outside the house there was an eloquent silence. "It's dreadful, +isn't it?" There was a catch in Constance's voice when finally she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Can't he be cured?" queried Marjorie, softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; so a specialist said, if only we had the money."</p> + +<p>"He is such a quaint child, and he really and truly believes in Santa +Claus," mused Marjorie, aloud. "Most children of his age don't."</p> + +<p>"He's different," was the quick reply. "He has been brought up away from +other children and in a world of his own. He believes in fairies, too, +good <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_177" id="pg_177">177</a></span>ones and bad ones. But he loves music better than anything else in +the world, and his highest ambition in life is to play in the band. If +only I had the money to make him well! I'd love to see him strong and +sturdy like other children."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't talk about such sad things to-day, but just be happy," +counseled Marjorie, slipping her arm through that of her friend. +"Charlie is cheerful and jolly in spite of his poor lame leg. Perhaps +the New Year will bring you something glorious."</p> + +<p>"You are so comforting, Marjorie," sighed Constance. "I'll throw all my +cares to the winds and keep sunny all day if I can."</p> + +<p>"I must go now." They entered the little gray house again, just in time +to hear remonstrative squeaks from the E string of the diminutive +violin, blended with disheartened moans from the A and growls of protest +from the G string.</p> + +<p>"How did you like that?" inquired Charlie, calmly.</p> + +<p>"It was very noisy," criticised Constance.</p> + +<p>"It was a very hard passage to play," explained the embryo musician, +soberly.</p> + +<p>"It seems to have been," laughed Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"That is what Johnny says when he doesn't pay attention and makes a +mistake on the fiddle," confided Charlie.</p> + +<p>Constance's sad look vanished at this naive assertion. "He imitates +father and Uncle John in <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_178" id="pg_178">178</a></span>everything," she explained. "He will have +played his way through all the music in the house before to-morrow +night—most of it upside down, too."</p> + +<p>"I'd love to stay longer, but I promised to stop at Macy's and we have +our dinner at one o'clock. I wish you could come, too, but I know you'd +rather be at home. Thank you again for the hemstitched handkerchiefs. I +don't see how you found the time to make them."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for the lovely hand-embroidered blouse and all Charlie's +things," reminded Constance. "I hope we'll spend many, many more +Christmases together."</p> + +<p>"So do I," echoed Marjorie, as she kissed Charlie and held out her hand +to her friend.</p> + +<p>Her call on the Macys lasted the better part of an hour, for Jerry was +the recipient of a host of gifts, and insisted upon displaying them, +while Hal refused to pose gracefully in the background and absorbed as +much of Marjorie's attention as she would give him, secretly wondering +if she would be pleased with the box of American Beauty roses he had +ordered the florist to deliver at the Deans' residence at noon that day.</p> + +<p>What a blissful Christmas it was! From the moment of Marjorie's +awakening that morning until the day was done it was one long succession +of joyous surprises. And, oh, glorious thought! there were ten blessed +days of vacation stretching before her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_179" id="pg_179">179</a></span>"I'll see if Constance will go to the matinee Saturday," she planned +drowsily that night as she prepared for sleep. "We will take Charlie. I +promised him long ago that I would. I'll run over there to-morrow. Too +bad I didn't think of it to-day."</p> + +<p>But "to-morrow" brought its own deeds to be done, and so did the +following two days, and it was Friday afternoon before Marjorie found +time for her visit to the little gray house.</p> + +<p>Ever since Christmas it had snowed at intervals and the snow-plow men +had been kept busy clearing the streets. It was just the kind of weather +to wear one's fur coat, and Marjorie gave a little shiver of delight as +she slipped into her Christmas treasure. And how warm it was! The +searching east wind that was abroad that day held no discomfort for her.</p> + +<p>As she stepped briskly along over the hard-packed walk, hedged in by +high-piled snow, she thought rather soberly of her own good fortune and +wondered why so many beautiful things had been given to her while to +Constance life had grudged all but the barest necessities. With a rush +of generous impulse she resolved to do all in her power to smooth the +troubled way of her friend.</p> + +<p>When within sight of the house Marjorie's eyes were fastened upon the +living-room windows for some sign of Charlie, who would sit contentedly +at <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_180" id="pg_180">180</a></span>one of them by the hour watching the passersby. Catching sight of +his pale little face pressed to the window pane she waved her hand gaily +to him. He disappeared from the window and an instant later stood in the +open door, shouting gleefully, "Oh, Connie, here's Marjorie! Here's +Marjorie!"</p> + +<p>Marjorie bent and embraced the gleeful little boy. "How is Charlie +to-day?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well," nodded the child. "I wish I had asked for that leg, +though. Mine hurts to-day."</p> + +<p>"You poor baby!" consoled Marjorie, tenderly. "But where is Connie, +dear?"</p> + +<p>"She's upstairs. I'll call her."</p> + +<p>He limped across the room to the stair door, which was situated at one +side of the living-room, and opened it. "Connie," he called, "Marjorie's +come to see us."</p> + +<p>There was a sound of quick footsteps on the stairs and Constance +appeared. "I didn't know you were here," she apologized.</p> + +<p>"Where were you on Thursday?" began Marjorie, laughingly. "You promised +to come over. Don't you remember?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Constance, briefly. Then with a swift return of the old, +chilling reserve, which of late she had seemed to lose, "It was +impossible for me to come."</p> + +<p>Marjorie scrutinized her friend's face. The look of impassivity had come +back to it. "What is the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_181" id="pg_181">181</a></span>matter, Constance?" she questioned anxiously. +"Has anything happened?"</p> + +<p>An expression of intense pain leaped into Constance's blue eyes. "I've +something to tell you, Marjorie. It's dreadful. I——" With a muffled +sob she threw herself, face down, upon the old velvet couch, her slender +shoulders shaking with passionate grief.</p> + +<p>"Why, Constance!" Marjorie regarded the sobbing girl in sympathetic +amazement.</p> + +<p>Charlie went over to the couch and patted Constance's fair head. "Don't +cry, Connie," he pleaded. Then, limping to a dilapidated writing desk in +the corner, which Marjorie never remembered to have seen open before, he +took from one of the lower pigeonholes a small, glittering object.</p> + +<p>"This is what makes Connie cry." He opened his hand and disclosed a +little object on his outstretched palm. "Shall I throw the old thing +into the fire, Connie?"</p> + +<p>With a sharp ejaculation of dismay, Constance sprang from the couch. One +swift glance toward the desk, then she caught Charlie's tiny hand in +hers. "Give it to Connie, this minute," she commanded sternly. For the +instant Marjorie was forgotten.</p> + +<p>Charlie's lips quivered with grieved surprise. Relinquishing his hold on +the object he wailed resentfully, "It is a horrid old thing. It made you +cry, and me, too."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_182" id="pg_182">182</a></span>"Charlie, dear," soothed Constance. Then she glanced up to meet the +horrified stare of two accusing brown eyes. "Why—Marjorie!" she +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Where—where—did you get that pin?" Marjorie's soft voice sounded +harsh and unnatural.</p> + +<p>"That's what I started to tell you," faltered Constance. "Oh, it's so +dreadful I can't bear to speak of it. Yet I must tell you. I—the +pin——" she broke down and throwing herself on the lounge again began +to cry disconsolately.</p> + +<p>An appalling silence fell upon the shabby, music-littered room, broken +only by Constance's sobs. Marjorie stood rooted to the spot. Could it be +true that Constance, the girl she had fought for, the girl for whose +sake she had braved class ostracism, had deliberately stolen her pin? +Yet she must believe the evidence of her own eyes which had told her +that in Charlie's hand lay her cherished pin, her lost, much-mourned-for +butterfly!</p> + +<p>If Constance had deliberately taken the pin, then she was a thief. If +she had found it, but purposely failed to return it, she was still a +thief. Marjorie opened her lips to pour forth a torrent of reproaches, +but the words would not come. She had a wild desire to pry open the hand +which held her precious butterfly and seize it, but her hands remained +limply at her sides. It was her pin, her very own, yet she could not +touch it unless Constance chose to hand it to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_183" id="pg_183">183</a></span>But Constance made no such proffer. Still clutching the precious +butterfly she continued to weep unrestrainedly.</p> + +<p>Marjorie waited patiently.</p> + +<p>Having failed hopelessly as a comforter, Charlie had hobbled to his +corner, where his Christmas tree still stood, and, with that blessed +forgetfulness of sorrow which childhood alone knows, had dragged forth +his violin and begun a dismal screeching and scraping, a nerve-racking +obligato to his foster sister's sobs.</p> + +<p>Five endless minutes passed, but Constance made no sign.</p> + +<p>"I'm—I'm going now," choked Marjorie. Hot tears lay thick on her +eyelashes. She stumbled blindly toward the door, her face averted from +the girl who had so misused and abused her friendship. "Good-bye, +Constance."</p> + +<p>Something in the reproachful ring of that "Good-bye," startled Constance +out of her grief. She had been too greatly overcome with her own trouble +to note the effect of her tears and broken words upon Marjorie. Surely +Marjorie was not angry with her for crying.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute, Marjorie," she called. "Please don't be angry. I won't +cry any more. I want to tell you about the pin. It was——"</p> + +<p>But only the sound of a closing door answered her. Marjorie was gone.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_CROWNING_INJURY_4610" id="THE_CROWNING_INJURY_4610"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>THE CROWNING INJURY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Marjorie never remembered just how she reached home that afternoon. She +followed the familial streets mechanically, her brain tortured with but +one burning thought—Constance was a thief. Over and over the dreadful +sentence repeated itself in her mind. "How could she?" was her +half-sobbed whisper, as she slipped quietly into the house, and, without +glancing toward the living-room, went softly upstairs to her room. She +wanted to be alone. Not even her beloved captain could ease the hurt +dealt her by the girl she had loved and trusted. Her mother must never +know that Constance was unworthy. No one should know, but she could +never, never be friends with Constance again.</p> + +<p>With the tears running down her cheeks Marjorie took off the new fur +coat she had worn so proudly that afternoon and dropped it upon the +first convenient chair. Her hat followed it; then throwing herself +across the bed, she gave way to uncontrolled weeping. Until that moment +she had not realized <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_185" id="pg_185">185</a></span>how greatly she had loved this girl who had Mary's +eyes of true blue, but who was so sadly lacking in Mary's fine sense of +honor.</p> + +<p>Until the afternoon light waned and the shadows began to creep upon her +she lay mourning, and inconsolable. Her generous heart had been sorely +wounded and she could not easily thrust aside her dreadful sense of +loss; neither could she understand why Constance had partly acknowledged +that she took the butterfly pin, but had not offered to return it.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't ask her for it," she sighed to herself, as, at last, she +rose, switched on the electric light, and viewed her tear-swollen face +in the mirror, "not when she had kept it all this time. She knew how +dreadfully I felt over losing it, and she certainly saw the notice in +the hall." A flash of resentment tinged her grief.</p> + +<p>"I can't forgive her. I'll never forgive her. I——" Marjorie's lips +began to quiver ominously. "I won't cry any more," she asserted stoutly. +"My face is a sight now. Mother will ask me what the trouble is, and I +don't want a soul to know. Of course, we can't go to the matinee +to-morrow. We can't ever go anywhere together again." Once more the +tears threatened to fall. She shut her eyes and forced them back, then +went dejectedly down the hall to the bathroom to lave her flushed face +and aching eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_186" id="pg_186">186</a></span>By the time dinner was ready Marjorie showed no traces of her grief. +She was unusually quiet at dinner, however, and her mother inquired +anxiously if she were ill.</p> + +<p>"Did you wear your new coat this afternoon?" her father asked soberly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, General. I went to see Constance." Marjorie tried to speak +naturally.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that accounts for it," he declared, putting on a professional air. +"Too much magnificence has struck in. You have, no doubt, a +well-developed case of pride and vanity."</p> + +<p>"I haven't a single shred of either," protested Marjorie, laughing a +little at her father's tone, which was an exact imitation of their +former family physician. "That sounded just like good old Doctor Bates."</p> + +<p>"Are you and Constance going to take Charlie to the matinee to-morrow, +dear?" asked her mother.</p> + +<p>"No, Mother," returned Marjorie. Then as though determined to evade +further questioning, she asked: "May I go shopping with you?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you would. You can select the material for your new dress and +the lace for that blouse I am making for you. It is so pretty. My new +fashion book came to-day. I have picked out several styles of gowns for +you."</p> + +<p>"What did you pick out for me?" inquired Mr. Dean, ingenuously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_187" id="pg_187">187</a></span>"You can't have any new clothes. Too much magnificence would strike in. +You would have, no doubt, a well-developed case of pride and vanity," +retorted Marjorie, wickedly.</p> + +<p>"Report at the guard house at once, for disrespectful conduct to your +superior officer," ordered Mr. Dean with great severity.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, thank you," bowed the disobedient lieutenant, as all +three rose from the table, "I'm going upstairs to my room to write a +letter."</p> + +<p>Once in her room Marjorie went to her desk and opened it with a +reluctance born of the knowledge of a painful task to be performed. +Seating herself, she reached for her pen and nibbled the end soberly as +she racked her brain for the best way to begin a note to Constance. +Finally she decided and wrote:</p> + +<p>"Dear Constance:</p> + +<p>"I cannot come over to your house to-morrow or ever again. I know what +you wanted to tell me. It is too dreadful to think of. You should have +told me before. I will never let anyone know, so you need not worry. You +have hurt me terribly, and I can't forgive you yet, but I hope I shall +some day. I don't like to mention things, but for your own sake won't +you try to do what is right about the pin? I shall always speak to you +in school, for I don't wish the girls to know we have separated.</p> + +<p style='text-align: right;'> +"Yours sorrowfully, <br /> +<br /> +"<span class="smcap">Marjorie</span>." +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_188" id="pg_188">188</a></span>When she had finished, the all-too-ready tears had again flooded her +eyes and dropped unrestrained upon the green blotting pad on her desk. +After a little she slowly wiped her eyes, and, without reading what she +had written, folded the letter, addressed and stamped it. Slipping into +her coat, she wound a silken scarf about her head and went downstairs.</p> + +<p>"I'm going out to the mailbox, Mother," she called, as she passed the +living-room door.</p> + +<p>"Very well," returned Mrs. Dean, abstractedly. She was deep in her book +and did not glance up, for which Marjorie was thankful. If her mother +noticed her reddened eyelids, explanations would necessarily follow.</p> + +<p>The next day dragged interminably. Even the usual pleasure of going +shopping with her captain could not mitigate the pain of yesterday's +shocking discovery. To Marjorie the bare idea of theft was abhorrent. +When, at the Hallowe'en dance, Mignon had accused Constance of taking +her bracelet, Marjorie's wrath at the insult to her friend had been +righteous and sweeping.</p> + +<p>That night, as she sat opposite her mother in the living-room trying to +read one of the books she had received for Christmas the incident of the +missing bracelet and Mignon's accusation suddenly loomed up in her mind +like an unwelcome specter. Suppose Mignon had been right, after all. +Jerry <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_189" id="pg_189">189</a></span>had openly asserted that she did not believe Mignon had really +lost her bracelet, and in her anger Marjorie had secretly agreed with +the stout girl. Suppose Constance had taken it. What if she were one of +those persons one reads of in books whom continued poverty had made +dishonest, or perhaps she was a kleptomaniac? The last idea, though +unpleasant to contemplate, was not so repugnant to her as the first; but +she did not believe it to be true. Constance's partial confession, +coupled with her ready tears, was positive proof that she had been +conscious of her act of theft. There was only one other theory left; she +had found the pin and succumbed to the temptation of keeping it. Yet +Constance had always averred that she did not care for jewelry, and +would not wear it if she possessed it.</p> + +<p>Marjorie went over these suppositions again and again, but each time her +theories ended with the bitter fact that, in spite of her tears, +Constance had kept her ill-gotten bauble.</p> + +<p>The vacation which had promised so much, and which she had happily +supposed would be all too short, seemed endless. During the long days +that followed she received no word from the girl in the little gray +house. If Constance had received her letter, she made no sign, and this +served to add to Marjorie's belief in her unworthiness.</p> + +<p>Jerry Macy's New Year's party proved a welcome relief from the hateful +experience through which <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_190" id="pg_190">190</a></span>she had passed. Although invited, Constance +was not among the merry gathering of young people, and Jerry loudly +lamented the fact. Mr. Stevens and Uncle John Roland, who furnished the +music for the dancing, greeted Marjorie with affectionate regard. It was +evident that they knew nothing of what had transpired. Constance was +ill, her father reported, but hoped to be able to return to school on +Tuesday. He thanked Marjorie for her remembrance of him and Charlie, and +Uncle John forgot himself and repeated everything after him with +grateful nods and smiles.</p> + +<p>During the evening Marjorie frequently found herself near the two +musicians, and Lawrence Armitage, secretly disappointed because of +Constance's absence, also did considerable loitering in their immediate +vicinity. If the troubled little lieutenant had had nothing on her mind, +she would have spent a most delightful evening, for the Macy's enormous +living-room had been transformed into a veritable ballroom, where the +guests might dance without bumping elbows at every turn, while Hal and +Jerry were the most hospitable entertainers.</p> + +<p>If Constance's father and foster uncle had not been present, she might +have forgotten her woes, but whenever she glanced at either, the +sorrowful face of the Mary girl rose before her. To make matters worse, +Jerry proposed to her that they call upon Constance the next day, and +Marjorie was <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_191" id="pg_191">191</a></span>obliged to refuse lamely without giving any apparent +reason. It was in the nature of a relief to her when the party broke up. +In spite of the gratifying knowledge that the girls had pronounced her +new white silk frock the prettiest gown of all, and that Hal Macy had +been her devoted cavalier, Marjorie Dean went to bed that night in a +most unhappy mood.</p> + +<p>The Monday before she returned to school she began a long letter to +Mary. She and Mary had sworn that, though miles divided them, they would +tell each other their secrets. Resolved to keep her word, she had +written her heart out to her chum, then had read the letter and torn it +into little pieces. Having written only pleasant things of her new +friend to Mary, she could not bear to take away her good name with a few +strokes of her pen.</p> + +<p>"If only Constance were true and honorable like Mary," she sighed as she +closed her desk, and selecting a book she wandered disconsolately +downstairs to the living-room to read; but her thoughts continually +reverted to her own grievance. "If she gives back my pin, I'll forgive +her," was her final conclusion as at last she laid her book aside with +an impatient sigh, and sitting down on a little stool near the fire, +stared gloomily into its ruddy depths; "but I never, never, never can +feel the same toward her again."</p> + +<p>Marjorie went to school on Tuesday morning <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_192" id="pg_192">192</a></span>vaguely hoping that +Constance would see things in a finer light and act accordingly. +Unselfish in most respects, the poor little soldier had forgotten +everything save the fact that she was the injured one. To her it seemed +as though the other girl's crushing weight of half-acknowledged guilt +ought to make her a willing suppliant for pardon. During the early part +of the morning session she waited, half expecting to receive a contrite +plea for grace from the Mary girl.</p> + +<p>When her French hour came, she hurried into the classroom, thinking that +she might see Constance before the class gathered; but Professor +Fontaine had closed the door and remarked genially, "<i>Bon jour, +mesdemoiselles. Comment vous portez vous, aujourd'hui</i>. I trost that you +have not forgotten your French during your 'oliday," when it opened +quietly to admit Constance.</p> + +<p>Marjorie regarded her gravely, noting that she looked pale and tired. +Suddenly her eyes opened in wide, unbelieving amazement. With a +half-smothered exclamation that caused half the class to turn and look +at her, including Mignon, whose alert eyes traveled knowingly between +the two girls, she tore her gaze from the disturbing sight, and, putting +one hand over her eyes, leaned her head on her arm. For fastened at the +open neck of Constance's blouse was her butterfly pin.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="MIGNON_PLANS_MISCHIEF_4840" id="MIGNON_PLANS_MISCHIEF_4840"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>MIGNON PLANS MISCHIEF</h3> +</div> + +<p>To Marjorie, torn between resentment of Constance's bold display of the +stolen pin and shame for her utter absence of honor, the French lesson +was a confused jumble. She heard but dimly the rise and fall of +Professor Fontaine's voice as he conducted the lesson, and when he +called upon her to recite she stared at him dazedly and finally managed +to stammer that she was not prepared.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mademoiselle Dean, I am of a certainty moch surprised that you +cannot translate thees paragraph," the little man declared +reproachfully. "I weel begeen eet for you, and you shall do the rest, +<i>N'est pas?</i>"</p> + +<p>Marjorie stumbled through the paragraph with hot cheeks and a strong +desire to throw her book into the air and rush from the recitation. When +class was over she seized her books and left the room without looking in +Constance's direction.</p> + +<p>The eyes of the latter followed her with an expression of perplexed, +questioning sorrow that, had <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_194" id="pg_194">194</a></span>Marjorie noted and interpreted as such, +might have caused her to doubt what seemed plain, thresh the matter out +frankly with Constance, and thus save them both many weeks of +misunderstanding and heartache.</p> + +<p>At the close of the morning session Marjorie lingered until she was sure +that Constance had taken her wraps from the locker and departed. The +thought of her beloved pin ornamenting the other girl's blouse was too +bitter to be tamely borne. Fierce resentment crowded out her gentler +feelings, and she could not trust herself to come in contact with her +faithless classmate and remain silent.</p> + +<p>On the steps of the school she met Jerry and Irma, who had posted +themselves to wait for her.</p> + +<p>"I thought you had decided to stay in there all day," grumbled Jerry.</p> + +<p>"It's only five minutes past twelve," protested Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"I thought it was at least half-past," retorted Jerry. "Say, Marjorie, +didn't you say that you'd lost your butterfly pin?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Marjorie, shortly, bracing herself for what she felt +would follow. She was not the only one who had seen the pin in +Constance's possession.</p> + +<p>"Did Constance Stevens find it?" quizzed Jerry.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then that's all right. I saw her wearing it <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_195" id="pg_195">195</a></span>this morning; and I'm +not the only one who saw her, either. Mignon had her eye on it in French +class, and I wouldn't be surprised to hear of some hateful remark she +had made about it. You know, she still insists that Constance took her +bracelet. She might be mean enough to say that Constance found your pin +and didn't give it back to you."</p> + +<p>Marjorie stared at Jerry in amazement. Without knowing it, the stout +girl had exactly stated the truth about the pin.</p> + +<p>"You needn't stare at me like that," went on Jerry. "Of course, we know +that Constance wouldn't be so silly as to try to keep a pin belonging to +someone else that everyone recognized; but lots of girls would believe +it. I suppose you let Constance wear it because you two are so chummy; +but you'd better get it back and wear it yourself. Then Mignon can't say +a word."</p> + +<p>"I'll think about it," was Marjorie's evasive answer, but once she had +said good-bye to the two girls she began to deliberate within herself as +to what she had best do. Here was an exigency against which she had +failed to provide. She had resolved never to betray Constance to the +girls, but now Constance had, by openly wearing the pin, betrayed +herself. Either she would be obliged to go to Constance and demand her +own or allow her to wear the bit of jewelry and create the impression +that she had sanctioned the wearing of it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_196" id="pg_196">196</a></span>When she returned to school that afternoon she had half determined to +see Constance and put the situation fairly to her, but rather to her +relief Constance did not appear at the afternoon session, nor was she in +school the next day. When Friday came and she was still absent, Marjorie +was divided between her pride and a desire to go to the little gray +house and settle matters. On Saturday she was still halting between two +opinions, and it was four o'clock Saturday afternoon before she put on +her wraps with the air of one who has made up her mind and started for +the Stevens'.</p> + +<p>As she approached the house she looked toward the particular window +where Charlie was so fond of stationing himself to peer out on the dingy +little street, but there was no sign of the boy's white, eager face. To +her vivid imagination the very house itself wore a sad, cheerless aspect +that filled her with a vague apprehension of some impending +unpleasantness.</p> + +<p>She knocked briskly at the door, then waited a little. There was no +response. She knocked again, harder and longer, but still silence +unbroken by any footfall, reigned within. After pounding upon the door +at intervals for at least ten minutes, she turned and walked dejectedly +away from the house of denial, speculating as to what could possibly +have become of the Stevens'.</p> + +<p>At the corner she almost ran against Mr. Stevens, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_197" id="pg_197">197</a></span>who, with his soft +black felt hat pulled low over his forehead, was hurrying along, his +violin case under his arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Stevens," cried Marjorie, "where is Constance? I have just come +from your house, and there is no one at home."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens looked mildly surprised. "I thought you knew," he answered. +"Didn't Constance tell you she was going away? She and Charlie went to +New York City yesterday. They are to meet Constance's aunt there. It was +very unexpected. She received a letter from her aunt on Tuesday. I was +sure she had told you." Mr. Stevens' fine face took on an expression of +perplexity.</p> + +<p>"I did not know it," responded Marjorie, soberly. "When will she +return?"</p> + +<p>"I am not quite sure. I shall not know definitely until I hear from +her," was the discouraging reply.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry I didn't see her," was all Marjorie could find words for, as +she turned to go. "Good-bye, Mr. Stevens."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Miss Marjorie." The musician bared his head, his thick, white +hair ruffling in the wind. "You will hear from Constance, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"No doubt I won't," breathed Marjorie, as she walked on. "What would he +say, I wonder, if he knew? He'll never know from me, neither will anyone +else. I hope those girls will forget all about seeing Constance wear the +pin."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_198" id="pg_198">198</a></span>But the affair of the pin was destined not to sink into oblivion, for +the next morning Marjorie found on her desk the following note:</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>"Miss Dean:</p> + +<p>"Do you think you are doing right in shielding a thief? It looks as +though a certain person either stole or found and kept a certain article +belonging to you and yet you allow her to wear it before your very eyes +without protest. If you do not immediately insist on the return of your +property and denounce the thief, we will put the matter before Miss +Archer, as this is not the first offense. This is the decision of +several indignant students who insist that the girls of the freshman +class shall be above reproach."</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>Marjorie's eyes flashed her contempt of the anonymous missive. She +folded it quietly, then, reaching into her desk, drew forth a sheet of +note paper and wrote:</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p>"Miss La Salle:</p> + +<p>"Although the note I found on my desk is not signed, I am sure that you +wrote it. I do not think you have the slightest right to dictate to me +in a personal matter. Miss Stevens and I are perfectly capable of +settling our own affairs without the help of any member of the freshman +class.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'>"Marjorie Dean."</p> + +<hr class='minor' /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_199" id="pg_199">199</a></span>Mignon's pale face flushed crimson as she read the note which Marjorie +lost no time in sending to her via the student route, which was merely +the passing of it from desk to desk until it reached its destination. +With a scornful lifting of her shoulders she flung the note on her desk, +then snatching it up, tore it into tiny pieces.</p> + +<p>When school was dismissed she lingered and twenty minutes afterward +emerged from Miss Archer's office in company with Marcia Arnold, an +expression of triumph in her black eyes.</p> + +<p>When she reached home that afternoon she took from the drawer of her +dressing-table something small and shining and examined it carefully. +"It looks the same, but is it?" she muttered. "Where did the other come +from? I don't understand it in the least. Just the same, Marjorie Dean +thinks Miss Smarty Stevens took her pin. She was thunderstruck when she +saw that Stevens girl wearing it this morning. She's too much afraid of +not telling the truth to deny it in her letter. There's something gone +wrong with their friendship, too. I'm sure of it from the way they have +been acting. I don't know what it's all about, but I do know that this," +she touched the small, shining object, "shall never help them solve +their problem."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="PLANNING_FOR_THE_MASQUERADE_5034" id="PLANNING_FOR_THE_MASQUERADE_5034"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>PLANNING FOR THE MASQUERADE</h3> +</div> + +<p>On the morning following Mignon's visit to Miss Archer's office, +Marjorie was unpleasantly startled to hear Miss Merton call out +stridently just after opening exercises, "Miss Dean, report to Miss +Archer, at once."</p> + +<p>A battery of curious eyes was turned in speculation upon Marjorie as she +walked the length of the study hall, outwardly composed, but inwardly +resentful at Miss Merton's tone, which, to her sensitive ears, bordered +on insult.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Miss Archer; Miss Merton said you wished to see me," +began Marjorie, quietly, as she entered the outer office where Miss +Archer stood, reading a letter which her secretary had just handed to +her for inspection.</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned the principal, briefly; "come with me." She led the way +to her inner office and, motioning to Marjorie to precede her, stepped +inside and closed the door.</p> + +<p>"Sit here, Miss Dean," she directed, indicating a <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_201" id="pg_201">201</a></span>chair at one side of +her desk. Then, seating herself, she turned to the young girl, and said, +with kind gravity: "I sent for you this morning because I wish to speak +frankly to you of one of your classmates. I shall expect you to be +absolutely frank, too. Very grave complaints have been brought to me by +Miss La Salle concerning Constance Stevens. She insists that Miss +Stevens is guilty of the theft of her bracelet, which disappeared on the +night of the dance given by the young men of Weston High School. As I +left the gymnasium some time before the party was over, I knew nothing +of this, and no word of it was brought to me afterward.</p> + +<p>"Miss La Salle also states that Miss Stevens has been wearing a gold +pin, in the form of a butterfly, which belongs to you and which you +advertised as lost. She declares that she is positive that Miss Stevens +found the pin and made no effort to return it to you, and that you are +shielding her from the effects of her own wrongdoing by allowing her to +continue to wear it. This latter seems to be a rather far-fetched +accusation, but Miss La Salle is so insistent in the matter that I was +going to settle that part of it, at least, by asking you where and when +you found your pin and whether you gave Miss Stevens permission to wear +it.</p> + +<p>"This may seem to you, my dear, like direct interference in your +personal affairs, but it is necessary that this matter be cleared up at +once. Miss <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_202" id="pg_202">202</a></span>Stevens cannot afford to allow such detrimental reports to +be circulated about her through the school."</p> + +<p>Miss Archer looked expectantly at Marjorie, who was strangely silent, +two signals of distress in her brown eyes.</p> + +<p>"I cannot answer your questions, Miss Archer," she answered at last, her +clear tones a trifle unsteady.</p> + +<p>The principal regarded her with amazed displeasure. Accustomed to having +the deciding voice in all matters pertaining to her position as head of +the school, she could not endure being crossed, particularly by a pupil.</p> + +<p>"I must insist upon an answer, Miss Dean. Your silence is unfair, not +only to Miss Stevens, but to the school. If Miss Stevens is innocent of +any wrongdoing, now is the time to clear her name of suspicion. If she +is guilty, by telling the true circumstances concerning your pin, you +are doing the school justice. A person who deliberately appropriates +that which does not belong to him or to her is a menace to the community +in which he or she lives, and should be removed from it. Our school is +our community. It must be kept free from those who are a detriment to +it," concluded Miss Archer, her mouth settling into lines of obstinate +firmness.</p> + +<p>The distress in Marjorie's face deepened. "I am sorry, Miss Archer, but +I can tell you nothing. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_203" id="pg_203">203</a></span>Please don't think me stubborn and obstinate. I +can't help it. I—I have nothing to say."</p> + +<p>"I have explained to you the necessity for perfect frankness on your +part, and you have refused to comply with my demand," reproved the +principal. "I am deeply disappointed in you, Miss Dean. I looked for +better things from you. The affair will have to stand as it is until +Miss Stevens returns. I am sorry that you will not assist me in clearing +it up." She made a gesture of dismissal. "That is all, I believe, this +morning. You may return to the study hall."</p> + +<p>Without a word Marjorie rose and left the room, her eyes full of tears, +her proud spirit hurt to the quick. The icy reproach in the principal's +words was, indeed, hard to bear, and all for a girl who had proved +herself unworthy of friendship. Yet she could not help feeling a swift +pang of pity for Constance. How dreadful it would be for her when she +returned to Sanford and to school!</p> + +<p>But Constance seemed in no hurry to return. Midyear, with its burden of +examinations, its feverish hopes and fears, came and went. Then followed +a three days' vacation, and the new term began with a great readjusting +of programs and classes. Marjorie passed her state examinations in +American history and physiology, and decided upon physical geography and +English history in their places, as both were term studies. She entered +upon <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_204" id="pg_204">204</a></span>her second term's work with little enthusiasm, however. The +disagreeable, almost tragic events following the holidays had left a +shadow on her freshman days, that had promised so much.</p> + +<p>February came, smiled deceitfully, froze vindictively, threatened a +little, then thawed and froze again, as his next-door neighbor, March, +whisked resentfully down upon him, hurried him out of the running for a +whole year, and blustered about it for two weeks afterward. The swiftly +passing days, however, brought no word or sign concerning the absent +Constance, and, try as she might, Marjorie could not forget her.</p> + +<p>Mignon La Salle, though greatly disappointed over the failure of her +plan to humiliate the musician's daughter, was craftily biding her time, +resolved to strike the moment Constance returned to school.</p> + +<p>"Mignon certainly intends to make things interesting for Constance," +declared Jerry to Marjorie, as the French girl switched haughtily by +them one mild afternoon in late March on the way home from school.</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that?" asked Marjorie, quickly. "Have you heard anything +new?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing startling," replied Jerry. "You know Irma and Susan Atwell used +to be best friends until they began chumming with Mignon and Muriel. +Well, Susan is awfully angry with Mignon for something she said about +her, so she has dropped <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_205" id="pg_205">205</a></span>her, and Muriel, too. She went over to Irma's +house the other night and cried and said she was sorry she'd been so +silly. She wanted to be friends with Irma again."</p> + +<p>"What did Irma say?" asked Marjorie, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she made up with her, then and there," informed Jerry with fine +disgust. "I'd have kept her waiting a while. She deserved it. She told +Irma she hoped I'd forgive her, but I didn't make any rash promises."</p> + +<p>"What a hard-hearted person you are," smiled Marjorie. "But, tell me, +Jerry, what did you hear about Constance?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. That's what I started out to tell you. Mignon told Susan last +week that she was only waiting for Constance to come back to school to +take her to Miss Archer and accuse her of stealing her bracelet."</p> + +<p>"How dreadful!" deplored Marjorie. "Perhaps Constance won't come back."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will. She wrote a note to Miss Archer when she went away +saying that she had to go to New York City on business, but would return +to school as soon as possible. Marcia Arnold saw the note, and told +Mignon. Mignon told Susan before they had their fuss. Susan told Irma, +and she told me. Almost an endless chain, but not quite," finished Jerry +with a cheerful grin.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_206" id="pg_206">206</a></span>"I should say so," returned Marjorie, in an abstracted tone. Her +thoughts were on the absent girl. She wondered why Constance had gone to +New York so suddenly and taken little Charlie with her. She wished she +had asked Mr. Stevens more about it.</p> + +<p>"See here, Marjorie," Jerry's blunt tones interrupted her musing. +"What's the trouble between you and Constance? I know something is the +matter, but I'd like most awfully well to know what it is."</p> + +<p>"I can't answer your question, Jerry," said Marjorie in a low tone. +"Would you care if I—if we didn't talk about Constance?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," rejoined the stout girl good-naturedly. "Never tell +anything you don't want to tell. We'll change the subject. Let's talk +about the Sanford High dance. What character do you intend to +represent?"</p> + +<p>"Is Sanford High going to give a party?" Marjorie voiced her surprise.</p> + +<p>"Of course. The Sanford High girls give one every spring, and the Weston +boys give their dance in the fall."</p> + +<p>"When is it to be?"</p> + +<p>"Not until after Easter, and this year it's going to be a lot of fun. We +are to have a fairy-tale masquerade."</p> + +<p>"I never heard of any such thing before."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_207" id="pg_207">207</a></span>"Neither did I," went on Jerry, "that is, until yesterday. The +committee just decided upon it. You see, the girls always give a fancy +dress party, but not always a masquerade. This year a freshman who was +on the committee proposed that it would be a good stunt to make everyone +dress as a character in some old fairy tale. The rest of the committee +liked the idea, so you had better get busy and hunt up your costume."</p> + +<p>"But how did you happen to know so much about it?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Jerry looked impressive. "I was on the committee and I happened +to be the freshman who proposed it."</p> + +<p>"You clever girl!" exclaimed Marjorie, admiringly. "I think that is a +splendid idea. I wonder what I could go as?"</p> + +<p>"Snow White," suggested Jerry, eyeing her critically. "I can get seven +of the Weston boys to do the Seven Little Dwarfs and follow you around."</p> + +<p>"But Snow White had 'a skin like snow, cheeks as red as blood and hair +as black as ebony,'" quoted Marjorie. "I don't answer to that +description."</p> + +<p>"You are pretty, and so was she, and that's all you need to care," +returned Jerry, calmly. "Besides, the Seven Dwarfs will be great. Will +you do it?"</p> + +<p>"All right," acquiesced Marjorie. "What are you going as?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_208" id="pg_208">208</a></span>"One of the 'Fat Friars,'" giggled Jerry. "Don't you remember, 'Four +Fat Friars Fanning a Fainting Fly'? I'm going to ask three more stout +girls to join me. We'll wear long, gray frocks, get bald-headed wigs and +carry palmleaf fans. I don't know anyone who would be willing to go as +the 'Fainting Fly,' so we'll have to do without him, I guess."</p> + +<p>"You funny girl!" laughed Marjorie. "But how will everyone know who is +who after the unmasking? There will be so many queens and princesses and +kings and courtiers."</p> + +<p>"We thought of that and we are going to put up a notice for everyone to +carry cards. Some of the characters will be easy to guess without +cards."</p> + +<p>"I must tell mother about it as soon as I go home and ask her to help me +plan Snow White's costume. When will we receive our invitations?"</p> + +<p>"We only send printed invitations to the boys. Every girl in high school +is invited, of course. The invitations will be sent to the boys next +week, and the Sanford girls will be notified at once, so as to give them +plenty of time to plan their costumes."</p> + +<p>"I wish it were to be next week," murmured Marjorie, after she had left +Jerry and turned into her own street. "Everything has been gloomy and +horrid for so long. I'd love to have a good time again, just to see how +it seemed."</p> + +<p>She reflected rather sadly that the disagreeable happenings of her +freshman year had outweighed <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_209" id="pg_209">209</a></span>her good times. She had entered Sanford +High School with the resolve to like every girl there, and with the hope +that the girls would like her, but in some way everything had gone +wrong. Perhaps she had been to blame. She had been warned in the +beginning not to champion Constance Stevens. Yet the very girls who had +warned her could never have been her intimate friends. Her ideals and +theirs, if they had ideals, were too widely separated. No; she had been +right in standing up for Constance. The fault lay with the latter. It +was she who had betrayed friendship.</p> + +<p>Determined to go no further into this most painful of subjects, Marjorie +resolutely centered her thoughts upon the coming party. The moment she +reached home she ran upstairs to her room. Sitting down on the floor +before her bookcase, she drew out a thick red volume of Grimms' Fairy +Tales and read the story of Snow White. To her joy she discovered that +the colored frontispiece was a picture of Snow White begging admittance +at the home of the Seven Little Dwarfs.</p> + +<p>"I'll ask mother to make me a high-waisted white gown like this one, +with pale blue trimmings and a big blue sash," she planned. "I'll wear +my pale blue slippers, the ones that have no heels, and white silk +stockings. Thank goodness, my hair is curly. I'll let it hang loose on +my shoulders. Of course, it isn't as black as ebony; but then, I can't +help that." <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_210" id="pg_210">210</a></span>With the book still in her hand she ran down the stairs, +two at a time, to tell her mother.</p> + +<p>What mother is not interested in her daughter's school fun and parties? +Mrs. Dean entered at once into the planning of the costume and suggested +that Snow White's cards be made in the shape of little apples, one half +colored red, the other half green, and her name written diagonally +across the surface of the apple.</p> + +<p>Marjorie hailed the idea with delight. "May I buy the water-color paper +for the apples to-morrow, Captain?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Mrs. Dean. "You ought to begin them at once. What is +Constance going to wear? She hasn't been here for a long time. Poor +child, I suppose her family keep her busy. Why not ask her to dinner +some night this week, Marjorie?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie flushed hotly. Her mother, who was busily engaged with an +intricate bit of embroidery, did not notice the added color in her +daughter's face.</p> + +<p>"Constance is in New York visiting her aunt," returned Marjorie. "She +has been there for a long time. Charlie is with her. I don't know when +they will be home."</p> + +<p>Something in her daughter's tone caused Mrs. Dean to glance quickly up +from her work. Marjorie was staring out of the window with unseeing +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Constance has hurt Marjorie's feelings by not <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_211" id="pg_211">211</a></span>writing to her," was +Mrs. Dean's thought. Aloud she said: "Did you know before Constance went +to New York that she intended going?"</p> + +<p>"No; she didn't tell me."</p> + +<p>Marjorie volunteered no further information, and Mrs. Dean refrained +from asking questions. She thought she understood her daughter's +reticence. Marjorie naturally felt that Constance was neglectful and a +little ungrateful, but would not say so.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could tell mother all about it," ruminated Marjorie, as she +went slowly upstairs to replace the Grimms'. "I can't bear to do it. I +suppose I shall some day, but it seems too dreadful to say, 'Mother, +Constance is a thief. She stole my butterfly pin. That's why she doesn't +come here any more.' It's like a disagreeable dream, and I wish I could +wake up some day to find that it's all been a dreadful mistake."</p> + +<p>But light is sure to follow darkness, and the loyal little lieutenant's +awakening was nearer at hand than she could foresee.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_AWAKENING_5344" id="THE_AWAKENING_5344"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>THE AWAKENING</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was wilful, changeable April's last night, and, being in a tender +reminiscent mood, she dispensed her balmiest airs for the benefit of the +distinguished company who filled to overflowing the gymnasium of Sanford +High School, prepared to dance her last hours away. For the heroes and +heroines of fairy-tale renown had apparently left the books that had +held them captive for so long, and, jubilant in their unaccustomed +freedom, promenaded the floor of the gymnasium in twos, threes or in +whole companies.</p> + +<p>Simple Simon, whose tall, lank figure bore a startling resemblance to +that of the Crane, paraded the floor, calm and unafraid, with none less +personage than the terrible Blue Beard. Hansel and Gretel immediately +formed a warm attachment for Jack and Jill, and the quartet wandered +confidently about together. Little Miss Muffet, in spite of her reputed +daintiness, clung to the arm of Bearskin, who, despite the fact that his +furry coat was that of a buffalo instead of a bear, was a unique success +in his <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_213" id="pg_213">213</a></span>line. One suspected, too that the Brave Little Tailor, whose +waistcoat bore the modest inscription, "Seven at One Blow," and who +tripped over his long sword at regular two-minute intervals, had an +impish, freckled countenance. The straight, lithe figure of the youth +with the Magic Fiddle reminded one of Lawrence Armitage, while his +constant companion, Aladdin, a sultan of unequaled magnificence, had a +peculiar swing to his gait that reminded sharp-eyed observers of Hal +Macy. The Four Fat Friars loomed large and gray, and fanned imaginary +flies with commendable energy, while Snow White, accompanied by her +faithful dwarfs, made a radiantly beautiful figure and was greeted with +ejaculations of admiration wherever she chose to walk.</p> + +<p>There were kings and courtiers, queens and goose girls. There were +jesters and princesses, old witches and fairies. Mother Goose was there. +So were Jack Horner, Bo-peep, Little Boy Blue and many more of her +nursery children, not to mention two fearsome giants, at least ten feet +high, whose voluminous cloaks concealed figures which appeared far too +tall to be true. Rapunzel trailed about on the arm of her prince, her +beautiful hair, which looked suspiciously like nice new rope, confined +in a braid at least three inches wide and hanging gracefully to her +feet. Cinderella came to the party in her old kitchen dress, accompanied +by her fairy godmother, and Beauty was attended by a strange being clad +in <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_214" id="pg_214">214</a></span>a huge fur robe and a papier-mache tiger's head, which was +immediately recognized as the formidable Beast.</p> + +<p>The gallery of the gymnasium was crowded with the friends and families +of the maskers who were admitted by tickets, a limited number of which +had been issued. When the first notes of the grand march sounded there +was a great craning of necks and a loud buzz of expectation as the gaily +dressed company formed into line, and while the brilliant procession +circled the gymnasium a lively guessing went on as to who was who in +Fairyland.</p> + +<p>Mother Goose led the march with the Brave Little Tailor, who frisked +along in high glee and executed weird and wonderful steps for the +edification of his aged partner and the rest of the company in general.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it great, though," commented Aladdin to his partner, who was none +other than Snow White. "I know who you are. I'm sure I do. If I guess +correctly will you tell me?"</p> + +<p>Snow White nodded her curly head.</p> + +<p>"All right, here goes. You are Marjorie Dean."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad you guessed right the first time," declared Snow White in a +muffled voice from behind her mask. "I've been perfectly crazy to talk +to someone. It's a gorgeous party, isn't it, Hal?"</p> + +<p>"The nicest one the Sanford girls have ever given the boys," returned +Hal Macy, warmly. "You'll <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_215" id="pg_215">215</a></span>give me the next dance, won't you, Marjorie?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," acquiesced Marjorie. "I think the grand march is going to +end in a minute."</p> + +<p>She danced the first dance with Hal. After that the Youth with the Magic +Fiddle claimed her, and when he asked in a tone of deep concern, "When +do you think Constance will be home, Marjorie?" she had no difficulty in +recognizing Lawrence Armitage.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Laurie," she said rather confusedly. "I—I haven't heard +from her."</p> + +<p>"She wrote me one letter," declared Laurie, gloomily. "I answered it, +but she hasn't written me a line since."</p> + +<p>"Then you know——" began Marjorie. She did not finish.</p> + +<p>"Know what?" asked Laurie, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"That's just it!" exclaimed the boy. "I know exactly nothing about +Constance. I thought you'd be sure to know something."</p> + +<p>Just then the dance came to an end. Jack and the Beanstalk, clad in +doublet and hose, and decorated with long green tendrils of that +fruitful vine, his famous hatchet slung over his shoulder by a stout +leather thong, claimed her for the next dance, and she had no time to +exchange further words with Laurie.</p> + +<p>The moment of unmasking was to follow the ninth dance. The eighth was +just about to begin. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_216" id="pg_216">216</a></span>Marjorie caught sight of a huge lumbering figure +in princely garments heading in her direction, and turning fled toward +the dressing-room. She was quite sure of the prince's identity, which +was that of a youth whom she particularly disliked. Just as she reached +the sheltering door a familiar voice called out a low, cautious, +"Marjorie." Turning, she saw a stout, gray-robed friar hurrying toward +her.</p> + +<p>"I've hunted all over for you," declared the friar, in Jerry's +unmistakable tones. "Come into the dressing-room. Someone is waiting to +see you there."</p> + +<p>"Waiting to see me!" exclaimed Marjorie, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"That's what I said. Come along." Jerry caught her arm and pulled her +gently into the dressing-room. At one end of the room stood the dingy +figure of Cinderella, deep in conversation with her fairy godmother.</p> + +<p>At the sound of the opening door Cinderella wheeled and, with a +quavering little cry of "Marjorie!" ran forward to meet the newcomers.</p> + +<p>Marjorie stopped short and stared unbelievingly at the shabbily clothed +figure, but Cinderella had now torn off her mask and was fumbling with +trembling eagerness in the pocket of her apron.</p> + +<p>"Here it is, Marjorie, dear! I never dreamed you had one like it. No +wonder you felt dreadfully <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_217" id="pg_217">217</a></span>that day. Look at it." She thrust a small +glittering object into Marjorie's limp hand.</p> + +<p>Marjorie regarded the object with a look of growing amazement, which +suddenly changed to one of alarm. "It isn't mine!" she gasped. "It's +exactly like it except for one thing. Mine has no pearls here." She +touched the tips of the golden butterfly's wings. "Oh, Constance, can +you ever forgive me?" The pretty butterfly pin slipped from her lax +fingers and Marjorie burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Marjorie," said Jerry, with unusual gentleness. "You didn't +know. It was just one of those miserable misunderstandings. Constance +wants to tell you about the pin."</p> + +<p>"But how—where——" quavered Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had an idea that there was some kind of a misunderstanding, so I +wrote Constance and asked her to come home as soon as she could," +explained Jerry. "Her father gave me her address. She was coming home +next week, anyhow, but I wrote her again and asked her to get here in +time for the dance. The minute I saw that butterfly pin I asked her +straight out and out where she got it. She told me, and then I knew that +the thing for me to do was to bring you two together. She only came home +last night, so we had to plan a costume in a hurry. You haven't said a +word about her fairy godmother, either. Take off your mask, dear fairy +godmother."</p> + +<p>"Irma!" cried Marjorie, as she glimpsed a laughing <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_218" id="pg_218">218</a></span>face. "Oh, it's too +wonderful!" She wound two penitent arms around Constance and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"I guess that will settle Mignon," commented Jerry, in triumph. "It is a +shame, but I suppose your butterfly pin is really lost. Constance will +tell you the history of hers."</p> + +<p>"I wish the bracelet problem could be solved, too," sighed Constance. +"Jerry tells me that Mignon is going to accuse me of taking it when I go +back to school. How can she be so cruel? I don't remember seeing it in +the dressing-room on the night of the Weston dance."</p> + +<p>"But I do!" called out a positive voice that caused them all to face the +intruder in astonishment.</p> + +<p>A slim, pale-faced girl, dressed as a shepherdess, emerged from behind a +curtain which hung in a little alcove at one end of the dressing-room.</p> + +<p>"Please excuse me for listening," apologized the girl. "I was standing +here looking out of the window when you girls came in and began to talk. +Before I could make up my mind what it was all about I heard Miss +Stevens talking about Miss La Salle's bracelet and the Weston dance. Did +Miss La Salle accuse you of taking her bracelet that night?" she asked, +her eyes upon Constance.</p> + +<p>"Yes," began Constance, "she——"</p> + +<p>"Miss La Salle is the real thief," interrupted the girl, dryly. "I saw +her take off her bracelet and lay it on the dressing table. I saw her +come and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_219" id="pg_219">219</a></span>take it away after Miss Stevens left the room. I had to catch +the last train home that night. You know, I don't live in Sanford, and I +was sitting over in one corner of the dressing-room behind a chair +putting on my shoes. Neither Miss Stevens nor Miss La Salle saw me. I +wondered what Miss La Salle meant by doing as she did, but I never +understood until this minute. I'm glad I happened to be there that night +and I'm glad I happen to be here now. If there is likely to be any +trouble, just send for me. I'm Edna Halstead, of the junior class."</p> + +<p>The four girls had received this rapidly repeated information with +varying degrees of amazement. It was Marjorie who first sprang forward +and offered her hand to Edna Halstead. "It is the last word we needed to +clear Constance," she asserted, joyously. "Will you go to Miss Archer +with us on Monday?"</p> + +<p>"I should be glad to do so. I never could endure that La Salle girl," +was the frank response.</p> + +<p>"We'll go together," planned Jerry. "Every one of you meet me in Miss +Archer's living-room office on Monday morning before school begins."</p> + +<p>"I must go home now," demurred Constance. "I don't wish anyone to know +that I've been here."</p> + +<p>"Not even Laurie?" asked Marjorie, slyly. "He spoke of you to-night."</p> + +<p>Constance smiled. "You may tell him after the 'Home, Sweet Home' waltz."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_220" id="pg_220">220</a></span>"There goes the music for the ninth dance," informed Jerry, who had +stepped to the door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, gracious, I promised this dance to Hal! I can't go. I simply must +hear about the pin, Connie."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you just one thing about it," stipulated Constance, "but the +rest must wait until to-morrow, for Hal is too nice a boy to leave +without a partner."</p> + +<p>"Then tell me that one thing," begged Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"My aunt sent me the pin," was the quick answer. "Now kiss me good-night +and hurry along to Hal."</p> + +<p>And Marjorie kissed her and went with happiness singing joyfully in her +heart.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="THE_EXPLANATION_5579" id="THE_EXPLANATION_5579"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>THE EXPLANATION</h3> +</div> + +<p>Owing to the fervent manner in which each succeeding dance was encored, +it was after midnight before the fairy-tale masquerade came to an end +and the lords and ladies of fairy lore became everyday boys and girls +again; and went home congratulating themselves on the blessed fact that +to-morrow was Saturday and that they could make up lost sleep the next +morning.</p> + +<p>Marjorie Dean, however, was not among the late sleepers. She was up and +about the house at her usual hour, for the day held promise of unusual +interest. First of all, Constance was coming to see her at ten o'clock. +Then too, it was May day, a gloriously sunshiny May day, without the +faintest trace of cloud in the deep blue sky. As a third pleasant +anticipation, her class had planned a Mayday picnic at a point about +two miles up the river. It had been an unusually early spring, and the +wild flowers had blossomed in such profusion in the neighboring woods +about the town and along the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_222" id="pg_222">222</a></span>river that the picnic had been planned +with a view to spending the day in gathering as many of them as +possible.</p> + +<p>The expedition having been organized by the officers of the class there +was no question of who should be invited or who should be left out. The +class was exhorted to turn out in a body, and with the exception of a +few girls who had made plans for that Saturday prior to their knowledge +of the picnic, the freshmen of 19— had promised to attend.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, I wish ten o'clock were here!" sighed Marjorie as she +straightened the last object on her dressing table and viewed with +satisfaction the immaculate order to which she had reduced her room. +Keeping her room clean and dainty was almost a sacred obligation with +Marjorie. Her mother had spared neither time nor expense to make it a +marvel of pink-and-white beauty. The furniture was of white maple, the +thick, soft rug had a cream background scattered with small pink roses. +The window curtains were cunning ruffled affairs of fine white dotted +Swiss, while the window draperies were in pink-and-white French +cretonne. An attractive willow stand, which stood beside the bed, the +two pretty willow rockers piled high with pink and white cushions and +the creamy wallpaper with its graceful border of pink roses made the +room a perpetual joy to its appreciative owner. Marjorie <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_223" id="pg_223">223</a></span>always +referred to it as her "house" and when at home spent a great deal of her +time there.</p> + +<p>But this morning the May sunshine poured rapturously in at her open +windows, touched her brown hair with mischievous golden fingers that +left gleaming imprints on her curls, and mutely coaxed her to come out +and play.</p> + +<p>"I can't stand it indoors another minute," she breathed impatiently. +"It's almost ten. I'll walk down to the corner. Perhaps I'll see +Constance coming."</p> + +<p>As she was about to leave the window she caught a glimpse of a slender +blue figure far down the street. With a cry of, "Oh, there she is!" +Marjorie raced out of her room, down the stairs and across the lawn to +the gate.</p> + +<p>"You dear thing!" she called, her hands extended.</p> + +<p>The next instant the two girls were embracing with a degree of affection +known only to those who, after blind misunderstanding, once more see the +light.</p> + +<p>Tears of contrition stood in Marjorie's eyes as she led Constance into +the house and upstairs to her room. "Can you ever forgive me?" she +faltered, pushing Constance gently into a chair and drawing her own +opposite that of her friend.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to forgive," returned Constance, unsteadily. "You +didn't know. If only I had made you stay that day until we came to an +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_224" id="pg_224">224</a></span>understanding! When you said 'Good-bye' in that queer tone, I called to +you to wait, for it seemed to me you were angry; but you had gone. Then +your note came. I didn't know how you could possibly have learned about +the pin, for I hadn't told a soul besides father and Uncle John. It +occurred to me that perhaps you had seen Uncle John and he had told you. +When I read what you said about not seeing me again I thought just one +thing, that, knowing my story, you didn't care to be friends with me any +more."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Constance?" Marjorie's query was full of compelling +insistence. "I don't know any story about you."</p> + +<p>"I know that you don't, dear; but I thought you knew. When Uncle John +came in that afternoon I asked him if he had seen you in the last two +days, and he said 'no,' and then 'yes.' I asked him if he had told you +about what had happened to me, and he declared that he couldn't +remember. I was sure that he had told you, because he often says that +when he is afraid father or I won't approve of something he has done. +That is the reason I didn't come to see you. Then I went to New York in +a hurry without dreaming of what your letter really meant. Jerry wrote +me two days before I had planned to come home. So I changed my plans and +started for Sanford the same day her letter reached me. Charlie was so +much better that I wasn't needed."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_225" id="pg_225">225</a></span>"Charlie?" repeated Marjorie, in bewildered interrogation.</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded Constance. "Haven't you seen father since I left? Didn't +he tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Only once. I—he—I didn't let him know about us. It was right after +you went away. He said you had taken Charlie with you. I met him in the +street and stopped only a minute. I had come from your house that day +but there was no one at home. I couldn't bear to let things go on as +they had.</p> + +<p>"Now," declared Marjorie, drawing a long breath, "begin at the beginning +and tell me every single thing."</p> + +<p>"I will," assured Constance, emphatically. "Let me see. It began the day +after Christmas. A letter came from New York in the morning mail +addressed to father. I gave it to him, and after he read it he sat so +still and looked so white that I thought he was going to faint. Then he +made me come and sit down beside him and told me that the letter was +from my mother's sister in New York and that she was rich and wanted me +to come and live with her.</p> + +<p>"I said that I would never desert my own father no matter how poor he +was, and then he told me that he was only my foster father, just as he +was Charlie's. That my own father had been his best friend when they +were boys. Later on, my father became a worthless, drunken wretch and my +mother <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_226" id="pg_226">226</a></span>had to do sewing to take care of herself and me. My mother's +family never forgave her for marrying my father and would not help her. +She was not strong and could not stand it to be so poor and work so +hard. She died when I was a year old, and just a month afterward my +father died with pneumonia. No one wanted me, so I was put in an orphan +asylum, but Father Stevens, who had been trying to find my father, heard +where I was and took me to live with him. He wrote to my aunt first, but +she said she didn't want me. That is the first part of my story."</p> + +<p>"It sounds like a story in a book," said Marjorie, softly. "Go on, +Connie."</p> + +<p>"This letter that father received was from my aunt," continued +Constance. "She had been trying to find us for more than two years. +Finally, she saw father's name signed to an article in the musical +magazine, so she wrote a letter and asked the publishers to forward it. +She said in the letter that she was now an old woman who had found that +blood was thicker than water, and that she wanted her sister's daughter, +who must now be a young woman, to come and live with her. With the +letter came a jeweler's box, and in the box was the butterfly pin. She +sent it to me as a Christmas gift.</p> + +<p>"I cried and said I would not go, but father said it was the opportunity +of my life time and that I <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_227" id="pg_227">227</a></span>must. He said that he had no legal right to +me and that he loved me too dearly to stand in my way. It almost broke +my heart. How I hated that butterfly and my aunt, too. When you came to +see me that unlucky day I was feeling the worst. That very night I wrote +my aunt a long letter. I told her just how I felt, how much I loved +father and Charlie and poor old Uncle John and that I could never, never +give them up. Father didn't know I wrote the letter. He thought I was +becoming resigned to going away. I went back to school and wore the pin, +as my aunt had asked me to do in a little note enclosed in father's +letter.</p> + +<p>"Then her letter came and it was so much nicer than the other that I +cried out of pure happiness. She asked me to bring Charlie to New York. +She knew a famous specialist who she thought might help, if not cure +him. She asked me to make her a visit and said she would never wish me +to come to live with her except of my own free will.</p> + +<p>"We went to New York as you know, and, Marjorie"—Constance made an +impressive pause—"Charlie is going to be entirely well in a little +while. The specialist operated on his hip and the operation was +successful. He will be able to walk before very long. When he knew I was +coming home he said, 'Tell Marjorie that I don't need to ask Santa Claus +for a new leg next year, because the good, kind man she told me about +fixed mine.'"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_228" id="pg_228">228</a></span>"Dear little Charlie," murmured Marjorie. "I'm so glad."</p> + +<p>A pleasant silence fell upon the two young girls. So much had happened +that for a brief moment each was busy with her own thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Are you coming back to school to finish the year, Constance?" asked +Marjorie, at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I am going to try to make up for lost time. I'll take in June the +examinations I should have tried in January. I hope to be a Sanford +sophomore, Marjorie. Aunt Edith is coming to visit us this summer. She +is going to bring Charlie home."</p> + +<p>Constance remained with Marjorie until almost noon.</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd stay to luncheon," coaxed the little lieutenant.</p> + +<p>"I can't. I'm sorry. I promised father I'd be home at noon."</p> + +<p>"Then I wish you were going to the picnic this afternoon."</p> + +<p>Constance shook her head, looking wistful, nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather not. Mignon will be there. It is better to be out of sight +and out of mind until after Monday."</p> + +<p>"Everything is turning out beautifully," sighed Marjorie. "There's only +one thing more that I could possibly wish for."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_229" id="pg_229">229</a></span>"What is that?" asked Constance quickly.</p> + +<p>"My lost butterfly."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it will fly back home when you least expect it," consoled +Constance.</p> + +<p>"Lost pins don't fly," retorted Marjorie. "If they did my butterfly +would have come back to me long ago."</p> + +<p>But, even then, though she could not know it, her cherished butterfly +was poising its golden wings for the homeward flight.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="MARJORIE_DEAN_TO_THE_RESCUE_5796" id="MARJORIE_DEAN_TO_THE_RESCUE_5796"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>MARJORIE DEAN TO THE RESCUE</h3> +</div> + +<p>By one o'clock that afternoon 19— had assembled at the big elm tree on +the river road which had been chosen as a meeting place. The flower +hunters had planned to follow the road for a mile to a point where a +boat house, which had a small teashop connected with it, was situated. +Owing to the continued spring weather the proprietor had opened the +place earlier than usual and it was decided that the picnickers should +make this their headquarters, returning there for tea when they grew +tired of roaming the neighboring woods.</p> + +<p>Marjorie Dean had not hailed the prospect of 19—'s picnic with +enthusiasm. She did not welcome the idea of coming into close contact +with the little knot of freshmen that were loyal to Mignon La Salle's +interests. However, it would be a pleasure to walk in the fresh spring +woods and gather flowers, so she started for the rendezvous that +afternoon determined to have the best kind of a time possible under the +circumstances.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_231" id="pg_231">231</a></span>She had promised to call for Jerry, but the latter, accompanied by +Irma, met her halfway between the two houses.</p> + +<p>"I thought you were never coming," grumbled the stout girl, in her +characteristic fashion.</p> + +<p>"I've heard those words before," giggled Marjorie. "Haven't you, Irma?"</p> + +<p>"Something very similar," laughed Irma.</p> + +<p>Jerry grinned broadly.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't be surprised if you had," she admitted. "It's the first May I +ever remember that it hasn't rained. I hope the weather doesn't change +its mind and pour before we get home."</p> + +<p>"Don't speak of it," cautioned Irma, superstitiously. "You'll bring rain +down upon us if you do. May is a weepy month, you know."</p> + +<p>"Weeps or no weeps, I suppose we'll have the pleasure of seeing our dear +friends, Mignon and Muriel, to-day. I could weep for that," growled +Jerry, resentfully.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the elm tree, the girls found the majority of their +classmates already there. To Marjorie's secret disgust, Marcia Arnold +was among the number of upper-class girls chosen to chaperon the +picnickers.</p> + +<p>"Mignon's work," confided Jerry, as she caught sight of Marcia. "I hope +she falls into the river and gets a good wetting," she added, with +cheerful malice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_232" id="pg_232">232</a></span>"Jerry!" expostulated Irma in horror. "You mustn't say such awful +things."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say I hoped she'd get drowned," flung back Jerry. "I'd just +like to see her get a good ducking."</p> + +<p>It was impossible not to laugh at Jerry, who, encouraged by their +laughter, made various other uncomplimentary remarks about the offending +junior.</p> + +<p>The picnic party set out for the boathouse with merry shouts and echoing +laughter. The quiet air rang with the melody of school songs welling +from care-free young throats as the crowd of rollicking girls tramped +along the river road.</p> + +<p>Spring had not been niggardly with her flower wealth, and gracious, +smiling May trailed her pink-and-white skirts over carpets of living +green, starred with hepaticas and spring beauties, while, from under +clusters of green-brown leaves, the trailing arbutus lifted its shy, +delicate face to peep out, the loveliest messenger of spring.</p> + +<p>The girls pounced upon the fragrant clumps of blossoms and began an +enthusiastic filling of baskets. Held captive by the lure of the waking +woods, the time slipped by unnoticed, and it was after four o'clock +before the majority of the flower-hunters turned their steps toward the +boathouse.</p> + +<p>Mignon La Salle, Muriel Harding, Marcia Arnold and half a dozen girls +who were worshipful <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_233" id="pg_233">233</a></span>admirers of the French girl, soon found flower +gathering decidedly monotonous.</p> + +<p>"Let's hurry out of these stupid woods," proposed Mignon. "My feet are +damp and I'm sure I saw a snake a minute ago."</p> + +<p>"Let's go canoeing," proposed Muriel Harding, as they came in sight of +the boathouse.</p> + +<p>"The very thing," exulted Mignon. "Let me see; there are nine of us. +That will be three in a canoe. I'll hire the canoes and tell the man to +send the bill to my father."</p> + +<p>With quick, catlike springs, she ran lightly down the bank, across the +road and disappeared into the boathouse. Ten minutes later three canoes +floated on the surface of the river, swollen almost to the banks by +April's frequent tearful outbursts. Mignon stood on the shore and gave +voluble orders as the girls cautiously took seats in the bobbing craft.</p> + +<p>"Get in, Marcia," she commanded, pointing to the third canoe.</p> + +<p>Marcia obeyed with nervous expressions of fear.</p> + +<p>An hour later, from a little slope just inside the woods, Marjorie and +her friends, who had reluctantly directed their steps toward the +boathouse, glimpsed the returning canoeing party through the trees. The +canoers had lifted their voices in song, and Marcia Arnold, forgetful of +her fears, was singing as gaily as the rest.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_234" id="pg_234">234</a></span>"It's dangerous to go canoeing now," commented Jerry, judicially. "The +river's too high."</p> + +<p>"Can you swim?" asked Irma, irrelevantly of Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded Marjorie. "I won a prize at the seashore last year +for——"</p> + +<p>A sharp, terror-freighted scream rang out. The eyes of the trio were +instantly fastened upon the river, where floated an overturned canoe +with two girls struggling near it in the water. They saw the one girl +strike out for shore, and, unheeding her companions' wild cries, swim +steadily toward the river bank.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" gasped Marjorie. Then she darted down the slope, scattering the +flowers from her basket as she ran. At the river's edge she threw aside +her sweater and, sitting down on the ground, tore off her shoes. Poising +herself on the bank, she cut the water in a clean, sharp dive and, an +instant later, came up not far from Marcia Arnold, who was making +desperate efforts to keep afloat.</p> + +<p>A few skilful strokes and she had reached the now sinking secretary's +side. Slipping her left hand under Marcia's chin, she managed to keep +her head above water and support her with her left arm while she struck +out strongly for shore with her right. The water was very cold, but the +distance was short, and Marjorie felt herself equal to her task.</p> + +<p>To the panic-stricken girls on shore it seemed <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_235" id="pg_235">235</a></span>hours, instead of not +more than ten minutes, before Marjorie reached the bank with her burden. +Willing hands grasped Marcia, who, with unusual presence of mind for one +threatened by drowning, had tried to lighten Marjorie's brave effort to +rescue her. Once on dry land she dropped back unconscious, while +Marjorie clambered ashore, little disturbed by her wetting.</p> + +<p>It was Jerry, however, who now rose to the occasion.</p> + +<p>"Marjorie Dean," she ordered, "go into that tea shop this minute. I'm +going to my house to get you some dry clothes. I'll be back in a little +while."</p> + +<p>Marjorie allowed herself to be led into the back room of the little +shop, where Marcia was already being divested of her wet clothing. +Fifteen minutes afterward the two girls sat garbed in voluminous +wrappers, belonging to the boat tender's wife, sipping hot tea. Marjorie +smiled and talked gaily with her admiring classmates, but Marcia sat +white and silent.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a girl entered the room and pushed her way through the crowd of +girls to Marcia's side. It was Muriel Harding.</p> + +<p>"How do you feel, Marcia?" she asked tremulously.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right now," quavered Marcia.</p> + +<p>Muriel turned impulsively to Marjorie, and bending down, kissed her +cheek. "You are a brave, brave <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_236" id="pg_236">236</a></span>girl, Marjorie Dean, and I hope some day +I'll be worthy of your friendship." Then she turned and fairly ran from +the room.</p> + +<p>Before Marjorie could recover from her surprise, Jerry's loud, cheerful +tones were heard outside.</p> + +<p>"Here's a whole wardrobe," she proclaimed, setting down two suitcases +with a flourish. "I came back in our car, and as soon as you girls are +dressed, I'll take you home, and as many more as the car will hold," she +added genially.</p> + +<p>It was a triumphant little procession that marched to the spot where the +Macy's huge car stood ready. As Marjorie put her foot on the step a +girl's voice called out, "Three cheers for Marjorie Dean!" and the car +glided off in the midst of a noisy but heartfelt ovation.</p> + +<p>They were well down the road when Marjorie felt a timid hand upon hers. +Marcia Arnold's eyes looked penitently into her own. "Will you forgive +me, Marjorie?" she said, almost in a whisper. "I've been so hateful."</p> + +<p>"Don't ever think of it again," comforted Marjorie, patting the other +girl's hand.</p> + +<p>"I must think of it," returned Marcia, earnestly. "I—I can't talk about +it now, but may I come to see you to-morrow afternoon? I have something +to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Come by all means," invited Marjorie. "I must say good-bye now. Here we +are at my house. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_237" id="pg_237">237</a></span>hope mother won't be too much alarmed when I tell +her. I'll have to explain Jerry's clothes. They are not quite a perfect +fit, as you can see."</p> + +<p>Marcia held the young girl's hand between her own. "I'll come to see you +at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon. Maybe I can show you then how +deeply I feel what you did for me to-day."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what she is so mysterious over," thought Marjorie, as she ran +up the steps. "I never dreamed that she and I would be friends. And +Muriel, too. How perfectly dear she was. But"—Marjorie stopped short in +the middle of the veranda—"what do you suppose became of Mignon?"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a name="LETTING_BYGONES_BE_BYGONES_6008" id="LETTING_BYGONES_BE_BYGONES_6008"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>LETTING BYGONES BE BYGONES</h3> +</div> + +<p>Marjorie touched the button of the electric bell for admittance, but her +finger had scarcely left it when the door was opened by her mother, who +regarded her daughter with mingled amazement and alarm.</p> + +<p>"Why, Marjorie!" she cried. "What has happened to you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be frightened, Mother. I know I look awfully funny!" Marjorie +stepped into the hall, with a superb disregard for her strange +appearance, assumed with a view to calming Mrs. Dean's fears.</p> + +<p>"I—a canoe tipped over and I helped one of the girls out of the river +and got wet. My clothes are down at the boathouse drying. Jerry went +home and brought back some of hers for me. That's why I look so +different. She didn't come here for fear of scaring you."</p> + +<p>"You have been in the river!" gasped her mother in horror, "and it's +unusually high just now."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_239" id="pg_239">239</a></span>"But it didn't hurt me a bit," averred Marjorie, cheerfully. "I can +swim, and someone had to help Marcia. Come upstairs with me while I get +into my own clothes and I'll tell you all about it."</p> + +<p>They had reached her room and Mrs. Dean was eyeing her lively little +lieutenant doubtfully. "Are you sure you feel well, Marjorie?" she asked +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly splendid, Captain," was the extravagant assurance, as +Marjorie gently backed her mother into a chair. "I'm going to get out of +Jerry's clothes and into my own and then we'll have a nice comfy old +talk."</p> + +<p>Slipping into a one-piece frock of blue linen, Marjorie brushed her +dampened brown curls thoroughly dry and let them fall over her +shoulders. Placing a sofa pillow on the floor close to her mother, she +settled herself cozily at her mother's side and leaned against her knee, +looking far more like a little girl than a young woman of seventeen.</p> + +<p>It was a very long talk, for there was much to be said, and it lasted +until the sun dropped low in the west and the early twilight shadows +fell.</p> + +<p>A sudden loud ring of the doorbell sent Marjorie scurrying to the door. +She opened it to find a messenger boy, bearing a long, white box with +the name of Sanford's principal florist upon it.</p> + +<p>"For Miss Marjorie Dean," said the boy, handing her the box.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_240" id="pg_240">240</a></span>"Oh!" ejaculated the surprised lieutenant, almost dropping the box in +her astonishment. Carrying it to the living-room table, she lifted the +lid and exclaimed again over its fragrant contents. Exquisite, +long-stemmed pink roses had been someone's tribute to Marjorie, and a +card tucked in among their perfumed petals proclaimed that someone to be +Harold Macy. At the bottom of the card was inscribed in Hal's boyish +hand, "To my friend, Marjorie Dean, a real heroine."</p> + +<p>Marjorie had scarcely recovered from this pleasant shock when her father +appeared upon the scene and gathered her into his arms with an anxious, +"How's my brave little lieutenant?"</p> + +<p>"Why, General, who told you?" cried Marjorie. "I never dreamed you'd +hear of it."</p> + +<p>"It came to me through Mr. Arnold, who has the next office to mine," +said Mr. Dean. "Mrs. Arnold telephoned him as soon as her daughter +reached home. She was afraid he might hear an incorrect report of it +from some other source."</p> + +<p>"We never thought of that. We should have telephoned you. But it's my +fault. I kept mother up in my room and talked so long to her that she +forgot it," avowed Marjorie, apologetically.</p> + +<p>"It's too late for apologies," Mr. Dean assumed an air of deep injury. +Then he laughed and drew from his coat pocket a small package. "Here's +an appreciation of bravery," he declared. "To the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_241" id="pg_241">241</a></span>brave belongs the +golden circlet of courage. We might also call it your commission to +first lieutenancy. I think you've won your promotion."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's second surprise was a gold bracelet, delicately chased, for +which she had sighed more than once.</p> + +<p>Sunday dawned as radiantly as had the preceding day. Marjorie went to +church in a peculiarly exalted mood, and came home feeling at peace with +the world. After dinner she took a book and went out into a little +vine-covered pagoda built at one end of the lawn, which was fitted with +rustic seats and a small table. Here it was that she and her captain had +planned to spend many of the long summer afternoons reading and sewing, +and it was here that Marcia found her.</p> + +<p>"I have something for you, Marjorie," she said in a low voice. Then she +opened a little silver mesh bag and drawing forth a small, glittering +object handed it to the other girl.</p> + +<p>Marjorie's eyes opened wide. With a gurgle of joy she caught the little +object and fingered it lovingly. "My very own butterfly! Where in the +world did you find it, Marcia?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't find it," returned Marcia, huskily.</p> + +<p>"Then who did?"</p> + +<p>"Mignon. She found it the day after you lost it. I don't like to tell +you these things, but I believe it is right that you should know. She +kept it <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_242" id="pg_242">242</a></span>merely to hurt you. She knew you were fond of it. Muriel told +her all about your receiving it as a farewell gift from your friends. +I—I—am to blame, too. I knew she had it. She intended to give it back +after a while. Then she saw Miss Stevens with one like it and noticed +the queer way you looked at her pin in French class that day. She is +very shrewd and observing. She suspected that you girls had quarreled, +and so she put two and two together. She actually hates Miss Stevens, +and told me she would never give the pin back if she could make Miss +Stevens any trouble by keeping it.</p> + +<p>"Then she went to Miss Archer and told her about her bracelet and the +pin, too." Marcia paused, looking miserable.</p> + +<p>"Miss Archer sent for me and questioned me about my pin," said Marjorie, +gravely. "She is vexed with me still because I wouldn't say anything. +You see I had misjudged Constance. I thought she had found it and kept +it. It is only lately that I learned what a dreadful mistake I made. I +think I ought to let you know, Marcia, that Constance is in Sanford. She +is coming back to school on Monday and going straight to Miss Archer's +office to prove her innocence. Constance was Cinderella at the dance +Friday night. Jerry made her come to the party on purpose to bring us +together. Constance's butterfly pin was a present from her aunt. We know +the truth about Mignon's bracelet, too. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_243" id="pg_243">243</a></span>Did you know that Mignon never +lost it, Marcia? She only pretended that she had."</p> + +<p>The secretary shook her head in emphatic denial. "I'm not guilty of +that, at least. I hope I'll never do anything underhanded or +dishonorable again. It's dreadful to think that Miss Archer will have to +know what a despicable girl I've been, but that's part of my punishment. +I suppose she won't have me for her secretary any more."</p> + +<p>Marcia's face wore an expression of complete resignation. She had been a +party to a dishonorable act, and her reaping promised to be bitter +indeed.</p> + +<p>"It means a whole lot to you to be secretary, doesn't it, Marcia?" asked +Marjorie, slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. This is my third year. I've been saving the money to go to +college. Father couldn't afford to pay all my expenses. I——" Marcia +broke down and covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>Marjorie regarded the secretary with a puzzled frown. She was apparently +turning over some problem in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Marcia, how did you obtain my butterfly from Mignon?"</p> + +<p>Marcia's hands dropped slowly from her face. "I went to her house this +morning and made her give it to me. She tried to make me promise that I +would say she found it only a day or two ago. I didn't promise. I'm glad +I can say that."</p> + +<p>"Would you go with me to her home?" asked <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_244" id="pg_244">244</a></span>Marjorie, abruptly. "I have +thought of a way to settle the whole affair without Miss Archer knowing +about either of you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if it could only be settled among ourselves!" cried Marcia, +clasping her hands. "I'll go with you. She is at home this afternoon, +too. I came from her house here."</p> + +<p>"Wait just a moment, then, until I run indoors for my hat."</p> + +<p>Marjorie walked briskly across the lawn to the house. She was back in a +twinkling, a pretty white flower-trimmed hat on her head, carrying a +white fluffy parasol that matched her dainty lingerie gown.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful Mignon's home is!" she exclaimed softly, as they entered +the beautiful grounds of the La Salle estate and walked up the broad +driveway bordered with maples. "There's Mignon on the veranda. She is +alone. I am glad of that."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to say to her?" asked Marcia, her curiosity getting +the better of her dejection, for Mignon had risen with a muttered +exclamation, and was coming toward them with the quick, catlike +movements that so characterized her.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Marcia Arnold," she began fiercely, "by——"</p> + +<p>"Miss Arnold is not responsible for our call this afternoon, Miss La +Salle," broke in Marjorie, coolly. "I asked her to come here with me."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_245" id="pg_245">245</a></span>Mignon glared at the other girl in speechless anger. Her roving black +eyes suddenly spied the butterfly pinned in the lace folds of Marjorie's +frock.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," she sneered. "You think I'm going to tell you all about +your trumpery butterfly pin. You are mistaken, I shall tell you +nothing."</p> + +<p>"I believe I am in possession of all the facts concerning my butterfly," +returned Marjorie, dryly, "and also those relating to your supposedly +lost bracelet."</p> + +<p>"'Supposedly lost?'" repeated Mignon, arching her eyebrows. "Have you +found it? If you have, give it to me at once."</p> + +<p>"There is only one person who can do that," said Marjorie, gravely, "and +that person is you."</p> + +<p>The betraying color flew to the French girl's cheeks. "What do you +mean?" she asked, but her voice shook.</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask me that?" retorted Marjorie, with sudden impatience. +"You know that on the night of the Weston dance you pretended you had +lost your bracelet in order to throw suspicion on Miss Stevens. Someone +saw you lay your bracelet on the dressing table. The same person saw you +leave the room, return a few minutes afterward and pick it up from the +table. How could you be so cruel and dishonorable?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't true," stormed Mignon. "Constance <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_246" id="pg_246">246</a></span>Stevens is a thief. A +thief, do you hear? And when she comes back to Sanford the school shall +know it."</p> + +<p>"No, Constance Stevens is not a thief. You are the real thief," said +Marjorie with quiet condemnation. "Knowing the butterfly pin to be mine, +you kept it for many weeks. However, I did not come here to quarrel with +you. I came to help Marcia and to save you from the effects of your own +wrongdoing. Constance Stevens is in Sanford. She is going to Miss Archer +to-morrow to prove her innocence. I am going with her. The girl who +knows the truth about your bracelet will be there, too. You knew long +ago that Constance's butterfly pin was her very own."</p> + +<p>"Of course I knew it," sneered Mignon. There was a look of consternation +in her eyes, however.</p> + +<p>"Then that is another point against you. You do not deserve to be let +off so easily, but for Marcia's sake, I am going to say that if you will +go with Constance and me to Miss Archer to-morrow morning and withdraw +your charges against Constance, stating that you have your bracelet, we +will never mention the subject again. Meet me in Miss Archer's outer +office at twenty minutes past eight." She did not even turn to look at +the discomfited Mignon as she issued her command.</p> + +<p>"Marjorie," said Marcia, hesitatingly, as they walked in silence down +the poplar-shaded street. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_247" id="pg_247">247</a></span>"Shall I—had I—do you wish me to go with +you to Miss Archer?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie cast a quick, searching glance at the thoroughly repentant +junior. "What for?" she smiled, ignoring all that had been. They had now +come to where their ways parted. Marjorie held out her hand. "We are +going to be friends forever and always, aren't we, Marcia?"</p> + +<p>Marcia clasped the extended hand with fervor. "'Forever and always,'" +she repeated. And through all their high school days that followed she +kept her word.</p> + +<p>Three unusually silent young women met in Miss Archer's living-room +office the next morning and awaited their opportunity to see the +principal.</p> + +<p>"Miss Archer will see you," Marcia Arnold informed them after a wait of +perhaps five minutes, and the trio filed into the inner office.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, girls," greeted Miss Archer, viewing them searchingly. +"Miss Stevens, I am glad that you have returned, but I am sorry to say +that during your absence I have heard a number of unpleasant rumors +concerning you."</p> + +<p>Constance flushed, then her color receded, leaving her very white.</p> + +<p>Before the principal could continue, Marjorie's earnest tones rang out.</p> + +<p>"Miss Archer, Miss Stevens and I had a misunderstanding. When you asked +me about it I could <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_248" id="pg_248">248</a></span>not tell you. It has since been cleared away. My +butterfly pin has been found, but it was not the one Miss Stevens wore. +See, here are the two pins. Mine has no pearls at the tips of the wings." +She extended her open palm to the principal. In it lay two butterfly +pins, precisely alike save for the pearl-tipped wings of the one.</p> + +<p>Miss Archer looked long at the pins. Then she lifted them to meet the +blue and the brown eyes whose gaze was fastened earnestly upon her. What +she saw seemed to satisfy her. She held out her hand to Marjorie and +Constance in turn.</p> + +<p>"They are very alike," was her sole comment, as Marjorie returned +Constance's pin. Then Miss Archer turned to Mignon.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I accused Miss Stevens of taking my bracelet," murmured +Mignon, sulkily. "I have it in my possession. Here it is." She thrust +out an unwilling wrist, on which was the bracelet.</p> + +<p>"I am glad that you have exonerated Miss Stevens from all suspicion." +Miss Archer's quiet face expressed little of what was going on in her +mind. "I am also thankful that an apparently serious matter has been so +easily settled." She did not offer her hand to Mignon, who left the +office without answering.</p> + +<p>A moment later, Marjorie and Constance were in the outer office standing +at Marcia Arnold's desk. "It's all settled, Marcia, with no names +mentioned," <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_249" id="pg_249">249</a></span>she said reassuringly. "Good-bye, we'll see you later. +We'll have to hurry or we'll be late for the opening exercises."</p> + +<p>In the corridor outside the study hall, Marcia and Constance paused by +common consent and faced each other.</p> + +<p>"Connie, dear," Marjorie said softly. "There's only a little more than a +month of our freshman year left. It isn't very much time, but I believe +we won't have to try very hard to make up in happiness for what we've +lost."</p> + +<p>"I am so happy this morning, and so grateful to you, Marjorie, for all +you've done for me, and most of all for your friendship," was +Constance's earnest answer. "I hope you will never have cause to +question my loyalty and that next year we'll be sophomore chums, tried +and true."</p> + +<p>"We'll simply have to be," laughed Marjorie, with joyous certainty, "for +I don't see how we can very well get along without each other."</p> + +<p style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:3em; text-align:center;'>THE END</p> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> + <img src='images/dean-a01.png' alt='book-cover' /> +</div> + +<p style='text-align:center;font-size:x-large;'>The Girl Scouts Series</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>BY EDITH LAVELL</p> + +<p>A new copyright series of Girl Scouts stories by an author of wide +experience in Scouts' craft, as Director of Girl Scouts of Philadelphia.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>Clothbound, with Attractive Color Designs.<br />PRICE, 65 CENTS EACH</p> + +<p>THE GIRL SCOUTS AT MISS ALLEN'S SCHOOL<br /> +THE GIRL SCOUTS AT CAMP<br /> +THE GIRL SCOUTS' GOOD TURN<br /> +THE GIRL SCOUTS' CANOE TRIP<br /> +THE GIRL SCOUTS' RIVALS<br /> +THE GIRL SCOUTS ON THE RANCH<br /> +THE GIRL SCOUTS' VACATION ADVENTURES<br /> +THE GIRL SCOUTS' MOTOR TRIP</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price, by the Publishers.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>A. L. BURT COMPANY<br />114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> + <img src='images/dean-a02.png' alt='book-cover' /> +</div> + +<p style='text-align:center;font-size:x-large;'>Marjorie Dean College Series</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>BY PAULINE LESTER.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean High School Series.</p> + +<p>Those who have read the Marjorie Dean High School Series will be eager +to read this new series, as Marjorie Dean continues to be the heroine in +these stories.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>All Clothbound. Copyright Titles.<br />PRICE, 65 CENTS EACH</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE FRESHMAN<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SOPHOMORE<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE JUNIOR<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SENIOR<br /> +</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price, by the Publishers.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>A. L. BURT COMPANY<br />114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> + <img src='images/dean-a03.png' alt='book-cover' /> +</div> + +<p style='text-align:center;font-size:x-large;'>Marjorie Dean High School Series</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>BY PAULINE LESTER Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean College Series</p> + +<p>These are clean, wholesome stories that will be of great interest to all +girls of high school age.</p> + +<p class='center'> +All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles<br /> +<br /> +PRICE, 65 CENTS EACH<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p> +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR<br /> +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR<br /> +</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price, by the Publishers.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>A. L. BURT COMPANY<br />114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> + <img src='images/dean-a04.png' alt='book-cover' /> +</div> + +<p style='text-align:center;font-size:x-large;'>The Camp Fire Girls Series</p> + +<p class='center'>By HILDEGARD G. FREY</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class='center'>A Series of Outdoor Stories for Girls 12 to 16 Years.</p> + +<p class='center'> +All Cloth Bound Copyright Titles<br /> +PRICE, 65 CENTS EACH<br /> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE MAINE WOODS;<br /> or, The Winnebagos go Camping.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT SCHOOL<br /> or, The Wohelo Weavers.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT ONOWAY HOUSE<br /> or, The Magic Garden.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS GO MOTORING<br /> or, Along the Road That Leads the Way.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS' LARKS AND PRANKS<br /> or, The House of the Open Door.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON ELLEN'S ISLE<br /> or, The Trail of the Seven Cedars.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON THE OPEN ROAD<br /> or, Glorify Work.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS DO THEIR BIT<br /> or, Over the Top with the Winnebagos.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS SOLVE A MYSTERY<br /> or, The Christmas Adventure at Carver House.<br /> +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT CAMP KEEWAYDIN<br /> or, Down Paddles.<br /> +</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price, by the Publishers.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center;'>A. L. BURT COMPANY<br />114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK</p> + +<hr class='dashed' /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> +<p>1. Punctuation and hyphenation have been brought into conformity +with current standards.</p> +<p>2. Obvious typographical errors corrected.</p> +<p>3. Modifications to text:<br/> + p. 62 came to she ears -> came to her ears<br/> + p. 132 "Yes," answered the Marjorie -> Yes, answered Marjorie<br/> + p. 144 voicing the pent-up long -> voicing the pent-up longing<br/> + p. 197 lace took on an expression -> face took on an expression<br/> +</p> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 23644-h.txt or 23644-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23644">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/6/4/23644</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Marjorie Dean High School Freshman + + +Author: Pauline Lester + + + +Release Date: November 27, 2007 [eBook #23644] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL +FRESHMAN*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 23644-h.htm or 23644-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23644/23644-h/23644-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23644/23644-h.zip) + + + + + +MARJORIE DEAN +HIGH SCHOOL SERIES + +By PAULINE LESTER + +Cloth Bound, Cover Designs in Colors + +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN. +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE. +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR. +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR. + + * * * * * * + +[Illustration: Poising herself on the bank, she cut the water in a +clean, sharp dive. Page 234. Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman] + + * * * * * * + +MARJORIE DEAN +HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN + +by + +PAULINE LESTER + +Author of +"Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore" +"Marjorie Dean, High School Junior" +"Marjorie Dean, High School Senior" + + + + + + + +A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York + +Copyright, 1917 by A. L. Burt Company + + + + +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN + +CHAPTER I + +THE PARTING OF THE WAYS + + +"What am I going to do without you, Marjorie?" Mary Raymond's blue eyes +looked suspiciously misty as she solemnly regarded her chum. + +"What am I going to do without _you_, you mean," corrected Marjorie +Dean, with a wistful smile. "Please, please don't let's talk of it. I +simply can't bear it." + +"One, two--only two more weeks now," sighed Mary. "You'll surely write +to me, Marjorie?" + +"Of course, silly girl," returned Marjorie, patting her friend's arm +affectionately. "I'll write at least once a week." + +Marjorie Dean's merry face looked unusually sober as she walked down the +corridor beside Mary and into the locker room of the Franklin High +School. The two friends put on their wraps almost in silence. The +majority of the girl students of the big city high school had passed out +some little time before. Marjorie had lingered for a last talk with Miss +Fielding, who taught English and was the idol of the school, while Mary +had hung about outside the classroom to wait for her chum. It seemed to +Mary that the greatest sorrow of her sixteen years had come. Marjorie, +her sworn ally and confidante, was going away for good and all. + +When, six years before, a brown-eyed little girl of nine, with long +golden-brown curls, had moved into the house next door to the Raymonds, +Mary had lost no time in making her acquaintance. They had begun with +shy little nods and smiles, which soon developed into doorstep +confidences. Within two weeks Mary, whose eyes were very blue, and whose +short yellow curls reminded one of the golden petals of a daffodil, had +become Marjorie's adorer and slave. She it was who had escorted Marjorie +to the Lincoln Grammar School and seen her triumphantly through her +first week there. She had thrilled with unselfish pride to see how +quickly the other little girls of the school had succumbed to Marjorie's +charm. She had felt a most delightful sense of pardonable vanity when, +as the year progressed, Marjorie had preferred her above all the others. +She had clung to Mary, even though Alice Lawton, who rode to school +every day in a shining limousine, had tried her utmost to be best +friends with the brown-eyed little girl whose pretty face and lovable +personality had soon made her the pet of the school. + +Year after year Mary and Marjorie had lived side by side and kept their +childish faith. But now, here they were, just beginning their freshman +year in Franklin High School, to which they had so long looked forward, +and about to be separated; for Marjorie's father had been made manager +of the northern branch of his employer's business and Marjorie was going +to live in the little city of Sanford. Instead of being a freshman in +dear old Franklin, she was to enter the freshman class in Sanford High +School, where she didn't know a solitary girl, and where she was sure +she would be too unhappy for words. + +During the first days which had followed the dismaying news that +Marjorie Dean was going to leave Franklin High School and go hundreds of +miles away, the two friends had talked of little else. There was so much +to be said, yet now that their parting was but two weeks off they felt +the weight of the coming separation bearing heavily upon them. Both +young faces wore expressions of deepest gloom as they walked slowly down +the steps of the school building and traversed the short space of stone +walk that led to the street. + +It was Marjorie who broke the silence. + +"No other girl can ever be as dear to me as you are. You know that, +don't you, Mary?" + +Mary nodded mutely. Her blue eyes had filled with a sudden rush of hot +tears. + +"But it won't do any good," continued Marjorie, slowly, "for us to mourn +over being separated. We know how we feel about each other, and that's +going to be a whole lot of comfort to us after--I'm gone." Her girlish +treble faltered slightly. Then she threw her arm across Mary's shoulder +and said with forced steadiness of tone: "I'm not going to be a silly +and cry. This is one of those 'vicissitudes' of life that Professor +Taylor was talking about in chapel yesterday. We must be very brave. +We'll write lots of letters and visit each other during vacation, and +perhaps, some day I'll come back here to live." + +"Of course you will. You must come back," nodded Mary, her face +brightening at the prospect of a future reunion, even though remote. + +"Can't you come with me to dinner?" coaxed Marjorie, as they paused at +the corner where they were accustomed to wait for their respective +street cars. "You know, you are one of mother's exceptions. I never have +to give notice before bringing you home." + +"Not to-night. I'm going out this evening," returned Mary, vaguely. "I +must hurry home." + +"Where are you going?" asked Marjorie, curiously. "You never said a +word about it this morning." + +"Oh, didn't I? Well, I'm going out with----Here comes your car, +Marjorie. You'd better hurry home, too." + +"Why?" Marjorie's brown eyes looked their reproach. "Do you want to get +rid of me, Mary? I've oceans of time before dinner. You know we never +have it until half-past six. Never mind, I'll take this car. Good-bye." + +With a proud little nod of her head, Marjorie climbed the steps of the +car which had now stopped at their corner, without giving her friend an +opportunity for reply. Mary looked after the moving car with a rueful +smile that changed to one of glee. Her eyes danced. "She hasn't the +least idea of what's going to happen," thought the little fluffy-haired +girl. "Won't she be surprised? Now that she's gone, Clark and Ethel and +Seldon ought to be here." + +A shrill whistle farther up the street caused her to glance quickly in +the direction of the sound. Two young men were hurrying toward her, +their boyish faces alight with enthusiasm and good nature. + +"It's all O.K., Mary," called the taller of the two, his black eyes +glowing. "Every last thing has been thought of. Ethel has the pin. +She'll be along in a minute." + +"It's a peach!" shouted the smaller lad, waving his cap, then jamming +it down on his thick, fair hair. "We've been waiting up the street for +Marjorie to take her car. Thought she'd never start." + +"I am afraid I hurt her feelings," deplored Mary. "I forgot myself and +told her she'd better hurry home. She looked at me in the most +reproachful way." + +"Cheer up," laughed Clark Grayson, the black-eyed youth. "To-night'll +fix things. All the fellows are coming." + +"So are all the girls," returned Mary, happily. "I do wish Ethel would +hurry. I'm so anxious to see the pin. I know Marjorie will love it. Oh, +here comes Ethel now." + +Ethel Duval, a tall, slender girl of sixteen, with earnest, gray-blue +eyes and wavy, flaxen hair, joined the trio with: "I'm so glad we +waited. I wanted you to see the pin, Mary." She was fumbling busily in +her shopping bag as she spoke. "Here it is." She held up a small, square +package, which, when divested of its white paper wrapping, disclosed a +blue plush box. A second later Mary was exclaiming over the dainty +beauty of the bit of jewelry lying securely on its white satin bed. The +pin was fashioned in the form of a golden butterfly, the body of which +was set with tiny pearls. + +"Oh-h-h!" breathed Mary. "Isn't it wonderful! But do you suppose her +mother will allow her to accept such an expensive gift? It must have +cost a lot of money." + +"Fifteen dollars," announced Clark, cheerfully, "but it was a case of +only fifty cents apiece, and besides, it's for Marjorie. Fifteen times +fifteen dollars wouldn't be too much for her. Every fellow and girl that +was invited accepted the invitation and handed over the tax. To make +things sure, Ethel went round to see Marjorie's mother about it and won +her over to our side. So that's settled." + +"It's perfectly lovely," sighed Mary in rapture, "and you boys have +worked so hard to make the whole affair a gorgeous success. I'm afraid +we had better be moving on, though. It won't be long now until half-past +seven. I do hope everyone will be on time." + +"They've all been warned," declared Seldon Ames. "Good-bye, then, until +to-night." The two boys raised their caps and swung down the street, +while Mary and Ethel stopped for one more look at the precious pin that +in later days was to mean far more to their schoolmate, Marjorie Dean, +than they had ever dreamed. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GOOD-BYE, MARJORIE DEAN + + +"Whatever you do, don't laugh, or speak above a whisper, or fall up the +steps, or do anything else that will give us away before we're ready," +lectured Clark Grayson to the little crowd of happy-faced boys and girls +who were gathered round him on the corner above Marjorie Dean's home. +"We'd better advance by fives. Seldon, you go with the first lot. When I +give the signal, this way," Clark puckered his lips and emitted a soft +whistle, "ring the bell." + +"Right-o," softly retorted three or four boyish voices. + +Clark rapidly divided his little squad of thirty into fives, and moved +toward the house with the first division. Two minutes later the next +five conspirators began to move, and in an incredibly short space of +time the surprise party was overflowing the Dean veranda and front +steps. The boy who had been appointed bell ringer pressed his finger +firmly against the electric bell. There came the sound of a quick +footstep, then Marjorie herself opened the door, to be greeted with a +merry shout of "Surprise! Surprise!" + +"Why--what--who!" she gasped. + +"Just exactly," agreed Clark Grayson. "'Why--what--who'--and enough +others to make thirty. Of course, if you don't want us----" + +"Stop teasing me, Clark, until I get over my surprise, at least," begged +Marjorie. "No, I never suspected a single thing," she said, in answer to +Ethel Duval's question. "Here are mother and father. They know more +about all this than they'll say. They made me believe they were going to +a party." + +"And so we are," declared her father, as he and Mrs. Dean came forward +to welcome their young guests, with the cordiality and graciousness for +which they were noted among Marjorie's friends. + +"Come this way, girls," invited Marjorie's mother, who, in an evening +frock of white silk, looked almost as young as the bevy of pretty girls +that followed her. "Mr. Dean will look after you, boys." + +Once she had helped her mother usher the girls into the upstairs +sleeping room set aside for their use, Marjorie lost no time in slipping +over to the dressing table where Mary stood, patting her fluffy hair and +lamenting because it would not stay smooth. + +"You dear thing," whispered Marjorie, slipping her arm about her chum. +"I'll forgive you for not telling me where you were going. I was +terribly hurt for a minute, though. You know we've never had secrets +from each other." + +"And we never will," declared Mary, firmly. "Promise me, Marjorie, that +you'll always tell me things; that is, when they're not someone else's +secrets." + +"I will," promised Marjorie, solemnly. "We'll write our secrets to each +other instead of telling them. Now I must leave you for a minute and see +if everyone is having a good time. We'll have another comfy old talk +later." + +To Mary Raymond fell the altogether agreeable task of keeping Marjorie +away from the dining-room, where Mrs. Dean, Ethel Duval and two of her +classmates busied themselves with the decorating of the two long tables. +By ten o'clock all was ready for the guests. In the middle of each +table, rising from a centerpiece of ferns, was a green silk pennant, +bearing the figures 19-- embroidered in scarlet. The staffs of the two +pennants were wound with green and scarlet ribazine which extended in +long streamers to each place, and was tied to dainty hand-painted +pennant-shaped cards, on which appeared the names of the guests. Laid +beside the place cards were funny little favors, which had been +gleefully chosen with a sly view toward exploiting every one's pet +hobby, while at either end of each table were tall vases of red roses, +which seemed to nod their fragrant approval of the merry-making. + +"It's quite perfect, isn't it?" sighed Ethel, with deep satisfaction, +gently touching one of the red roses. "The very nicest part of it all is +that you've been just as enthusiastic as we over the party." She turned +affectionate eyes upon Mrs. Dean. + +"It could hardly be otherwise, my dear," returned Mrs. Dean. "Remember, +it is for my little girl that you have planned all this happiness. +Nothing can please me more than the thought that Marjorie has so many +friends. I only hope she will be equally fortunate in her new home, +though, I am sure, she will never forget her Franklin High School +chums." + +"We won't give her that chance," nodded Ethel, emphatically. "There, I +think we are ready. Clark wants to be your partner, Mrs. Dean, and +Seldon is to escort Marjorie to her place. We aren't going to give her +the pin until we are ready to drink the toasts. Robert Barrett is to be +toastmaster. Will you go first and announce supper?" + +There was a buzz of delight and admiration from the guests, as headed by +Marjorie and Seldon, the little procession marched into the dining-room. +For a moment the very sight of the gayly decked table with its weight of +goodies and wonderful red roses caused Marjorie's brown eyes to blur. +Then, as Seldon bowed her to the head of one of the tables, she winked +back her tears, and nodding gayly to the eager faces turned toward her +and said with her prettiest smile: "It's the very nicest surprise that +ever happened to me, and I hope you will all have a perfectly splendid +time to-night." + +"Three cheers for Marjorie Dean! May we give them, Mrs. Dean?" called +Robert Barrett. + +Mrs. Dean's smiling assent was lost in the volume of sound that went up +from thirty lusty young throats. + +"Now, Franklin High," proposed Mary Hammond, and the Franklin yell was +given by the girls. The boys, who were nearly all students at the La +Fayette High School, just around the corner from Franklin, responded +with their yell, and the merry little company began hunting their places +and seating themselves at the tables. + +Marjorie was far too much excited to eat. Her glances strayed +continually down the long tables to the cheery faces of her schoolmates. +It seemed almost too wonderful that her friends should care so much +about her. + +"Marjorie Dean, stop dreaming and eat your supper," commanded Mary, who +had been covertly watching her friend. "Clark, you are sitting next to +her. Make her eat her chicken salad. It's perfectly delicious." + +"Will you eat your salad or must I exercise my stern authority?" began +Clark, drawing down his face until he exactly resembled a certain +roundly disliked teacher of mathematics in the boys' high school. There +was a laugh of recognition from the boys sitting nearest to Clark. He +continued to eye Marjorie severely. + +"Of course, I'm going to eat my salad," declared Marjorie, stoutly. "You +must give me time, though. I'm still too surprised to be hungry." + +But the greatest surprise was still in store for her. When everyone had +finished eating, Robert Barrett began his duties as toastmaster. Ethel +Duval came first with "What Friendships Mean to a Schoolgirl," and +Seldon Ames followed with a ridiculously funny little toast to "The High +School Fellows." Then Mr. and Mrs. Dean were toasted, and Lillian Hale, +a next-door neighbor and the only upper-class girl invited, gave solemn +counsel and advice to the "freshman babies." + +As Marjorie's dearest friend, to Mary had been accorded the honor of +giving the farewell toast, "Aufwiedersehen," and the presentation of the +pin. Mary's clear voice trembled slightly as she began the little speech +which she had composed and learned for the occasion. Then her faltering +tones gathered strength, and before she realized that she was actually +making a speech, she had reached the most important part of it and was +saying, "We wish you to keep and wear this remembrance of our good will +throughout your school life in Sanford. We hope you will make new +friends, and we ask only that you won't forget the old." + +"I can't begin to tell you how much I thank you all," Marjorie +responded, her tones not quite steady, her face lighted with a fond +pride that lay very near to tears. "I shall love my butterfly all my +life, and never forget that you gave it to me. I am going to call it my +talisman, and I am sure it will bring me good luck." + +But neither the givers nor Marjorie Dean could possibly guess that, in +the days to come, the beautiful golden butterfly was to prove anything +but a talisman to the popular little freshman. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GIRL WHO LOOKED LIKE MARY + + +"It's rather nice to have so much room, but I know I shall never feel +quite at home here," murmured Marjorie Dean, under her breath, as she +came slowly down the steps of her new home and paused for a moment in +the middle of the stone walk which led to the street. Her wistful glance +strayed over the stretch of lawn, still green, then turned to rest on +the house, a comfortable three-story structure of wood, painted dark +green, with lighter green trimmings. Her mother's sudden appearance at +the window caused Marjorie to retrace her steps. Luncheon was ready. + +"Everything is so different," she sighed, as she climbed the steps she +had so lately descended. "I've been here a week, and I haven't met a +single girl. I don't believe there are any girls in this neighborhood. I +should feel a good deal worse, too, if the Franklin girls hadn't been +such dears!" Marjorie's last comment, spoken half aloud, referred to the +numerous letters she had received since her arrival in the town of +Sanford from her Franklin High School friends, now so many miles away. +Mary Raymond had not only fulfilled her promise to write one long letter +every week, but had mailed Marjorie, almost daily, hurriedly-written +little notes full of the news of what went on among the boys and girls +she had left behind. + +It had been a busy, yet a very long week for Marjorie. The unpacking of +the Deans' furniture, which had been shipped to Sanford a week before +their arrival there, and the setting to rights of her new home had so +occupied the attention of Mrs. Dean and Nora, her faithful +maid-of-all-work, that Marjorie, aside from certain tasks allotted to +her to perform, was left for the most part to her own devices. As they +had arrived in Sanford on Monday, Marjorie's mother had decided to give +her daughter an opportunity to accustom herself to her new home and +surroundings before allowing her to enter the high school. So the day +for Marjorie's initial appearance in "The Sanford High School for Girls" +had been set for the following Monday. + +It was now Friday afternoon. Marjorie had spent the morning in writing a +fifteen-page letter to Mary, the minor refrain of which was: "I can't +tell you how much I miss you, Mary," and which contained views regarding +her future high school career that were far from being optimistic. She +had not finished her letter. She decided to leave it open until after +luncheon and, laying it aside for the time, she had tripped down stairs +and out doors. + +"What are you going to do this afternoon, dear?" asked her mother as +Marjorie slipped into place at the luncheon table. + +"I don't know, Mother," was the almost doleful reply. "I thought I might +take a walk up Orchard street as far as Sargent's, that cunning little +confectioner's shop on the corner. Perhaps, if I go, I may see something +interesting to tell Mary. I haven't finished my letter." + +Marjorie did not add that her walk would include a last stroll past the +towering gray walls of a certain stone building on Lincoln avenue, which +bore over its massive oak doors the inscription, "The Sanford High +School for Girls." Almost every day since her arrival, she had visited +it, viewing it speculatively and with a curious kind of apprehension. +She was not afraid to plunge into her new school life, but deep down in +her heart she felt some little misgiving. What if the new girls proved +to be neither likable nor companionable? What if she liked them but they +did not like her? She had just begun the same apprehensive train of +thought that had been disturbing her peace of mind for the last four +days when her mother's voice broke the spell. + +"If you are going that far I wish you would go on to Parke & Whitfield's +for me. I should like you to match this embroidery silk. I have not +enough of it to finish this collar and cuff set I am making for you." + +"I'll be your faithful servant and execute all your commissions, mum," +declared Marjorie with a little obeisance, her spirits rising a little +at the prospect of actual errands to perform. She was already tired of +aimlessly wandering along the wide, well-kept streets of Sanford, +feeling herself to be quite out of things. Even errands were actual +blessings sometimes, she decided, as a little later, she ran upstairs to +dress. + +"May I wear my best suit and hat, Mother?" she called anxiously down +from the head of the stairs. "It's such a lovely day, I'm sure it won't +rain, snow, hail or do anything else to spoil them." + +"Very well," answered Mrs. Dean, placidly. + +With a gurgle of delight Marjorie hurried into her room to put on her +new brown suit, which had the mark of a well-known tailor in the coat, +and her best hat, on which all the Franklin High girls had set their +seal of approval. She had shoes and gloves to match her suit, too, and +her dancing brown eyes and fluffy brown hair were the last touches +needed to complete the dainty little study in brown. + +"Don't I look nice in this suit?" she asked her mother saucily, turning +slowly around before the living-room mirror. "Aren't you and father +perfect dears to let me have it, though?" She whirled and descended upon +her mother with outstretched arms, enveloping her in an ecstatic hug +that sadly disturbed the proper angle of her brown velvet hat. + +"Don't be gone too long," reminded her mother. "You know father has +promised us tickets for the theatre to-night. We shall have an early +dinner." + +"All right, I'll remember, Captain." With a brisk touching of her hand +to her hat brim in salute Marjorie vanished through the door, to +reappear a moment later at the living-room window, flash a merry smile +at her mother, about face and march down the walk in true military +style. + +Long before when Marjorie was a tiny girl she had shown an unusual +preference for soldiers. She had owned enough wooden soldiers to make a +regiment and was never at a loss to invent war games in which they +figured. Sometimes, when she tired of her stiff, silent armies, which +could only move as she willed, she inveigled her father or mother into +being the hero, the enemy, the traitor or whatever her active +imagination chose to suggest. Her parents, amused at her boyish love of +military things, encouraged her in her play and entered into it with as +much spirit as the child herself. Her father, who had once been an +officer in the National Guard, taught her the manual of arms and she had +learned it with a will. + +Marjorie's military enthusiasm had been at its height when she met Mary +Raymond, who soon became equally fascinated with the stirring play. In +time other interests crowded their lives. The hard-worked armies were +laid peacefully on their wooden backs to enjoy a long, undisturbed rest, +while Marjorie and Mary became soldiers instead, addressing Mr. Dean as +"General," Mrs. Dean as "Captain," and bestowing upon themselves the +rank of ordinary enlisted soldiers who must earn their promotion by +loyal and faithful service. + +Mr. Dean had been rather chary of promotions, frequently reminding his +little detachment that it is a far cry from the ranks of a private to +that of a commissioned officer. So when their parting came, Mary and +Marjorie had just received their commissions as second lieutenants, +their awards of faithful service in the grammar school. + +Lieutenant Marjorie smiled, then sighed, as she started on her walk. The +salute she had just given brought a flood of memories of Mary. She felt +she would not mind exploring this strange, new, high school territory if +Mary were with her. She was sure no girl in Sanford could understand her +as Mary had. On two different afternoons she had stood across the street +from the school at the time of dismissal. She had eagerly watched the +great oak doors open wide and the long lines of girls file out, waking +the still October air with their merry voices. She had been particularly +attracted toward one tall, lithe, graceful girl whose golden hair and +brown eyes made her unusually lovely. At first sight of her, lonely, +imaginative Marjorie had named her "The Picture Girl," and had decided +that she was a darling. She had noticed that the pretty girl was always +the center of a group and she had also noted that one small, +black-haired girl with an elfish face, who wore the most exquisite +clothes invariably walked at the tall girl's side. There was a +pink-cheeked girl, too, with laughing blue eyes and dimples, and a +fair-haired, serious-faced girl, who reminded Marjorie of Alice Duval. +They usually formed part of the group about the tall girl and her dark +companion, and there was also a very short, stout girl who puffed along +anxiously in the rear of the group as though never quite able to catch +up. + +Marjorie had already imagined much concerning this particular knot of +girls, and her desire to see them again before entering school was +responsible for her walk down Lincoln avenue that sunny fall afternoon. +She would do her errands first, she decided, then, returning by the way +of the school, pass there just at the time that the afternoon session +was dismissed. She went about her far-from-arduous commissions in +leisurely fashion, now and then glancing at her chatelaine watch to make +sure of the time. Three o'clock saw the daily procession of girls down +the high school steps, and released from classes for the day. She did +not intend to miss them. + +It was twenty minutes to three when Marjorie finished a remarkable +concoction of nuts, chocolate syrup and ice cream, a kind of glorified +nut sundae, rejoicing in the name of "Sargent Nectar," and left the +smart little confectioner's shop. As she neared the school building her +eyes suddenly became riveted upon a slim, blue-clad figure that +hesitated for on instant at the top of the high steps then ran lightly +down and came hurrying toward where she stood. + +"The advance guard," declared Marjorie half aloud. Then, as her eyes +sought the approaching girl: "Why, she looks like Mary! And she's been +crying! I'm going to speak to her." She took an impulsive step forward +as the stranger came abreast of her and began: + +"Won't you----" + +Marjorie's speech ended abruptly. The weeping girl cast one startled +glance toward her from a pair of wet blue eyes, lunged by her without +speaking and, breaking into a run, turned the corner and disappeared +from view. Marjorie surveyed the back of the rapidly vanishing yellow +head with rueful surprise. Then she gave a short laugh. + +"I should have known better," she reflected. "Of course, she'd hardly +care to tell her personal affairs to the first one who asks her. But she +made me think of Mary. Oh, dear, I'm so homesick. Not even my new suit +and hat can make me forget that. I wouldn't have mother know it for the +world. I believe she is a wee bit homesick, too." + +Marjorie paused for an instant at her accustomed place on the opposite +side of the street, undecided whether to loiter there and once more +watch her future companions pass out of school or to go on about her +business. Suddenly the school doors swung wide and the pupils began +flocking out. The little stranger yielded to the temptation to linger +long enough to watch the five girls pass in whom she had become +interested. They were among the last to emerge and, the moment they +reached the steps, their voices rose in a confused babble, each one +determined to make herself heard above the others. + +"I knew she wouldn't do it," shrilled the stout girl, as they neared +Marjorie. "She's too stingy for words. That's the third time she's +refused to go into things with the rest of us." + +"Be still," reminded the Picture Girl; "she might have very good +reasons----" + +"Good reasons," scornfully mimicked the little dark girl, her black eyes +glittering angrily. "It was only because the plan was mine. She hates +me, and you all know why. I don't think you ought to stand up for her, +Muriel. You know how deceitful she is and what unkind things she said +about me." + +"I'm not standing up for her," contradicted Muriel, but her tones +lacked force. "I only felt a little bit sorry for her. She looked ready +to cry all the afternoon. I think she went home early to avoid meeting +us." + +"That proves she is a coward," was the triumphant retort. "Remember----" +With a sudden swift movement she rose on tiptoe and, drawing the Picture +Girl's head to the level of her mouth, whispered something to her. The +fair-haired girl looked annoyed, the fat girl openly sulky and the +dimpled girl disapproving. Exchanging significant glances, they walked +on ahead of the other two. + +Without the slightest intention of being an eavesdropper, Marjorie had +heard every word of the loud-spoken conversation. Her eyes were fixed in +fascination upon the dark, sharp-featured face so close to the fair, +beautiful one. She suddenly recalled a picture she had once seen called +"The Evil Genius," in which a dark, mocking face peered over the +shoulder of a young man who sat at a table as though in deep thought. +This girl's vivid face bore a slight resemblance to that of the Evil +Genius, and it was not until the end of Marjorie's junior year in +Sanford that this sinister impression faded and disappeared forever. + +When the little company had passed on down the street, Marjorie turned +and followed them from a distance. For several blocks her way lay in the +same direction, but as she turned into her own street she swept a last +glance toward the five girls. She wondered whom they had been discussing +so freely. She was vaguely disappointed in the Picture Girl, who seemed +to her independent mind too easily influenced by the Evil Genius. +Marjorie had already begun to think of the small, dark girl as that. She +was glad not to be the girl they had discussed. Then, her thought +changing, a vision of two wet blue eyes and a tear-stained face set in +fluffy yellow curls came to her, and Marjorie knew that she had seen the +object of their discussion. A wave of sympathy for the offender swept +over her. "I don't believe she could do anything deceitful or horrid," +she reflected stoutly. "Her eyes are as true and as blue as Mary's. I'm +going to like her and be her friend, if she'll let me, for she certainly +seems to need one. I did so want to be friends with the Picture Girl, +but I can't help wishing she had been just a little bit braver." + +While Marjorie strolled thoughtfully home, deep in her own cogitations, +the five girls, having joined forces again, were discussing her. + +"Did you see that pretty girl standing across from the school as we came +out?" asked Susan Atwell, the girl with the dimples. + +"Yes," returned Irma Linton. "I noticed her there the other day, too. I +wonder who she can be." + +"I don't know," said Muriel Harding. "She is awfully sweet though, and +dresses beautifully. She----" + +"I know all about her," interrupted Geraldine Macy. "Her father is the +new manager for Preston & Haines. They only moved here from the city +last week. Her name is Dean. That is, her last name. I don't know her +other name." + +"I am surprised that you don't know that," was the sarcastic comment of +Mignon La Salle, the little dark girl. + +"You needn't be," flung back the stout girl. "There are lots of things I +don't know that I'd like to know. For instance----" + +"Don't be cross, Jerry," interrupted Mignon, hastily. "I was only +teasing you." She cast a peculiar glance at the ruffled Jerry from under +her heavy lashes which the young woman failed to catch. "Tell us some +more about this new girl. I really didn't pay hardly any attention to +her to-day." + +"There isn't anything more to tell that I know of," muttered Jerry, +sulkily, her desire to distribute news quite gone. "Wait until Monday +and see. I know she's going to enter Sanford High and that she's a +freshman." + +"Then as freshmen it's our solemn duty to be nice to her and make her +feel at home," stated Muriel, seriously. + +Mignon La Salle shrugged her thin shoulders. "Perhaps," she said, +without enthusiasm. "I shall wait until I see her before I decide that." + +Meanwhile, Marjorie had reached home, and, seated before the library +table, was writing for dear life on the letter she had begun to Mary. So +far she had had nothing to tell her chum regarding the young women who +were to be her classmates. To be sure, what she had seen and heard that +afternoon had amounted to nothing, but the girl who looked like Mary had +set her to longing all over again to be able, just for one afternoon, to +sit side by side on the front steps with her childhood's friend and talk +things over. + +"You can't imagine, Mary," she wrote, "how sorry I felt when I saw that +poor girl crying with your eyes. They were just like yours. I forgot +everything except that she looked like you, and asked her what the +trouble was. Of course, she didn't answer me, but actually ran down the +street. I should have known better, but I felt so terribly sympathetic. +'Terribly' is the only word that expresses it. Right after she had gone +the others began to come out of school, and at last the five girls I +told you about came out. They were all talking at once, but I heard the +horrid, sharp-faced, dark girl say that someone was stingy and deceitful +and a lot of other unpleasant things. I thought the Picture Girl was +going to stand up for the person, but that mean little Evil Genius +wouldn't let her. Then all at once it came to me that it was this Mary +girl they were talking about. It was really this one dark girl who said +most of the mean things. The others just listened to her. At any rate, +I'm going to find out who the Mary girl is and try to be a friend to her +just because she looks like you. Don't imagine I could ever like her +better than you, because you know I couldn't. But it's a true soldier's +duty to stand by his comrades on the firing line, you know, and I am +going to be this girl's freshman comrade, and, if she's one-half as nice +as you, I'll be ready to help her fight her battles. + +"Monday is the great day. I dread it, and yet I am looking forward to +it. I like the outside of the school, but will I like the inside? Mother +is going to the principal's office with me. I hope I sha'n't have to try +a lot of tiresome examinations. I have forgotten everything I ever knew, +and the weather has been too pleasant to study. This is such a pretty +town, with plenty of nice walks. If only you were here it would be quite +perfect. I do hope you can come and visit me at Easter. Must stop now, +as I hear mother calling me. We are going to walk down to meet father. +With my dearest love. Write soon. + + "Yours always, + + "Marjorie." + +Marjorie folded, addressed and stamped her letter, then catching her +hat from the hallrack ran out the front door to overtake her mother who +had walked on ahead. + +"I finished my letter to Mary," she held it up for inspection, "and I've +something to report, Captain." + +"I am ready to hear you," smiled her mother, as they walked on arm in +arm. + +For the second time Marjorie related her little adventure, ending with +her resolve to learn to know and befriend, if necessary, the girl who +looked like Mary. Nor did she have the slightest premonition of how much +this readily-avowed championing of a stranger was to cost her. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SANFORD'S LATEST FRESHMAN + + +"Will you tell me the way to the principal's office, please?" + +A clear voice broke in upon the conversation of two girls who had paused +before the broad stairway leading to the second floor of the Sanford +High School for a last word before separating for their morning +recitations. + +At the sound of the soft, interrupting voice, which contained a touch of +perplexity in its tones, both girls turned quickly to regard the owner. +They saw an attractive little figure, wearing a dainty blue cloth gown, +which was set off by hand-embroidered cuffs and an open rolling collar +of sheerest white. From under a smart blue hat escaped a wealth of soft, +brown curls, while two brown eyes looked into theirs with an expression +of appeal that brought forth instant reply. + +"Miss Archer's office is the last room on the east side of the +second-floor corridor. I am going there now and shall be glad to show +you the way," was the quick response of the taller of the two girls, +accompanied by a cheery smile that warmed Marjorie Dean's heart and made +her feel the least bit less of a stranger in this strange land which she +was about to explore. + +"Thank you," she returned gratefully, trying to smile in an equally +friendly manner. + +Marjorie's first day of school had begun far from propitiously. She had +not reckoned on making her initial appearance in Sanford High School +alone. It had been planned that her mother should accompany her, but +when Monday morning came, her beloved captain had awakened with a +racking headache, which meant nothing less than lying in bed for a long, +pain-filled day in a darkened room. + +Torn between sympathy for her mother and her own disappointment, +Marjorie had experienced a desire to go to her captain's room and cry +her eyes out, but being fashioned of sturdier stuff, she made a +desperate effort to brace up and be a good soldier. This was just +another of those miserable "vicissitudes" that no one could foresee. She +must face it without grumbling. Her father had already telephoned for a +physician when she entered her mother's room, and Marjorie put on her +sweetest smile as she kissed her mother and assured her that she didn't +in the least mind going to school alone. + +As she followed the young woman up the stairs and down the long corridor +Marjorie felt her heart beat a little faster. Her low spirits of the +early morning began to rise. How good it seemed actually to be in school +again! And what a beautiful school it was! Even Franklin would appear +dingy beside it. She gazed appreciatively at the high ceiling and the +shining oak wainscotings of the wide corridor through which she was +passing. When her guide, who was tall, thin and plain of face, opened +the last door on the right and ushered her into a beautiful sunshiny +office which seemed more like a living-room than a place wherein +business was transacted, Marjorie uttered an involuntary, "Oh, how +lovely!" + +"Yes, isn't it though," returned the tall girl. "This is Miss Archer's +own idea, and, so far, it's proving a brilliant success. That is, we all +think so. Is Miss Archer in her private office?" she asked the young +woman who had risen from her desk near the door and came forward to +receive them. + +Marjorie would have liked to ask her new acquaintance what she meant, +but at that moment a door at the farther end of the room opened and a +stately, black-haired woman, with just a suspicion of gray at her +temples, emerged. She turned a pair of grave, deep-set eyes upon the +tall girl and said, pleasantly: "Well, Ellen, what can I do for you this +morning?" + +"Oh, Miss Archer!" exclaimed the tall girl, eagerly, with an impulsive +step forward, "you haven't forbidden basketball this year, have you? +Stella and I couldn't believe our ears when we heard it this morning!" +It was evident that the impetuous Ellen was on the best possible terms +with her principal. + +"I don't remember having issued an order to that effect," smiled Miss +Archer. "Where did you hear that bit of news?" + +Ellen Seymour's plain face flushed, then paled. "It was just a rumor," +she replied with reluctance. "I'd rather not mention names. Still, when +I heard it, I could not rest until I had asked you. The sophomores hope +to do something wonderful this year. We couldn't bear to believe for a +minute that there would be no basketball. We had planned to have a +tryout some day this week, after school. I'm so glad," she added +fervently. "Thank you, Miss Archer. Oh, pardon me," she turned to +Marjorie, "this is Miss Archer, our principal. Miss Archer, this young +lady wishes to see you. I met her in the corridor downstairs and +volunteered my services as guide." + +With a courteous nod to Marjorie, the tall girl left the room and the +principal turned her attention toward the prospective freshman. + +At the calm, kindly inquiry of the gray eyes Marjorie's feeling of +shyness vanished, and she said in her most soldierly manner, as though +speaking to her mother: "Miss Archer, my name is Marjorie Dean, and I +wish to enter the freshman class of Sanford High School. We moved to +Sanford from the city of B----. We have been here just a week. I was a +freshman in Franklin High School at B----." + +Miss Archer took the young girl's hand in hers. Her rather stern face +was lighted with a welcoming smile. Marjorie's direct speech and frank, +honest eyes had pleased the older woman. + +"I am glad to know that we are to have a new pupil," she said cordially. +"The freshman class is smaller than usual this year. So many girls leave +school when their grammar school course is finished. I wish we could +persuade these mothers and fathers to let their daughters have at least +a year of high school. It would help them so much in whatever kind of +work they elected to do later." + +"That is what mother says," returned Marjorie, quickly. "My mother +intended to come with me to-day, but was unable to do so." She did not +go into details. Young as she was, Marjorie had a horror of discussing +her personal affairs with a stranger. "She will call upon you later." + +"I shall be pleased to meet your mother," Miss Archer made courteous +answer. "The first and most important matter to be considered this +morning is your class standing. Let me see. B---- is in the same state as +the town of Sanford. I believe the system of credits is the same in all +the high schools throughout this state, as the examinations come from +the state board at the capital. What studies had you begun at B----?" + +"English composition, algebra, physiology, American history and French," +recited Marjorie, dutifully. + +Miss Archer raised her eyebrows. "You are ambitious. We usually allow +our pupils to carry only four subjects." + +"But these are quite easy subjects," pleaded Marjorie; "that is, all +except algebra. I am not especially clever in mathematics. I am obliged +to study very hard to make good recitations. Still, I should like to +continue with the subjects I have begun. Won't you try me until the end +of the first term?" she added, a coaxing note in her voice. + +"I will at least try you for a week or two. Then if I find that you are +not overtaxing your strength you may go on with them." + +"Thank you." Marjorie's relieved tone caused the principal to smile +again. It was not usual for a pupil to show concern over the prospect of +losing a subject. Many of the students rebelled at having to carry four +subjects. + +"Have you your grammar school certificate with you?" asked Miss Archer, +the smile giving way to a businesslike expression. + +Marjorie handed the principal the large envelope she had been carrying. +Miss Archer drew forth a square of thick white paper, ornamented with +the red seal by which the state board of school commissioners had +signified their approval of Marjorie Dean and her work in the grammar +school. + +The older woman read it carefully. "Yes, this is, as I thought the same +form of certificate. From this moment on you are a freshman in Sanford +High School, Miss Dean. I trust that you will be happy here. Sanford has +the reputation of being one of the finest schools in the state. I am +going to assign you to a seat in the study hall at once. Miss Merton is +in charge there. She will give you a printed form of our curriculum of +study. School opens at nine o'clock in the morning. The morning session +lasts until twelve o'clock. We have an hour and a quarter for luncheon, +and our last recitation for the day is over at half past three o'clock. +We have devotional exercises in the chapel on Monday and Friday +mornings, and the course in gymnastics is optional. There are, of +course, many other things regarding the regulations of the school which +you will gradually come to know." + +"Miss Arnold," the thin-faced, sharp-eyed young woman, who had been +covertly appraising Marjorie during her talk with Miss Archer, came +languidly forward. "This is Miss Dean." The two girls bowed rather +distantly. Marjorie had conceived an instant and violent dislike for +this lynx-eyed stranger. "Take Miss Dean to the locker room, then to +Miss Merton. Say to Miss Merton that Miss Dean is a freshman, and that I +wish her assigned to a desk in the freshman section." + +With a last glance of pleasant approval, which Marjorie's pretty face, +dainty attire and frank, yet modest bearing had evoked, the principal +retired to her inner office, and Marjorie obediently followed her guide, +who, without speaking, set off down the corridor at almost unnecessary +speed. "This way," she directed curtly as they reached the main +corridor. They passed down the corridor, descended a second stairway and +brought up directly in front of long rows of lockers. Within five +minutes Marjorie's hat had been put away, and she had received a locker +key. This done, her companion hurried her upstairs and down the wide +corridor through which they had first come. + +Then she suddenly opened a door, and Marjorie found herself in an +enormous square room, which contained row upon row of shining oak desks, +occupied by what seemed to her hundreds of pupils. In reality there were +not more than two hundred and forty persons in the room, but in the eyes +of the little stranger everything was quadrupled. How different it was +from Franklin! So this was the study hall, one of the things on which +the school prided itself. In front of the rows of desks was one large +desk on a small raised platform, reminding Marjorie of an island in the +midst of a sea. At the desk sat a small, gray-haired woman, who peered +suspiciously over her glasses at Marjorie as she was lifelessly +introduced by Miss Arnold. + +"I don't like _her_ at all," was the young girl's inward comment as she +walked behind the stiff, uncompromising, black-clothed back to a desk +almost in the middle of the last row of seats on the east side. But +Marjorie experienced a little shiver of delight as she seated herself, +for directly in front of her, and gazing at her with reassuring, smiling +eyes, was the Picture Girl. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH THE PICTURE GIRL + + +"Welcome to Sanford," whispered the girl, "and to the freshman class. I +was sure when I saw you the other day you couldn't be anything other +than a freshman." + +Marjorie flushed, then smiled faintly. "I didn't think any of the girls +would remember me," she confessed. + +"Oh, I remember you perfectly. You were across the street from school on +three different days, weren't you?" + +Marjorie nodded. "I just had to come down and get acquainted with the +outside of the school. I was awfully curious about it." + +"Miss Harding," a cold voice at their elbows caused both girls to start. +So intent had they been on their conversation that they had not noticed +Miss Merton's approach, "you may answer any questions Miss Dean wishes +to ask regarding our course of study here as set forth in our +curriculum." She laid a closely printed sheet of paper before Marjorie. +"This does not mean, however, the personal conversation in which, I am +sorry to say, you appeared to be engrossed when I approached. Remember, +Miss Dean, that personal conversation will neither be excused nor +tolerated in the study hall. I trust I shall not have to remind you of +this again." + +Marjorie watched with unseeing eyes the angular form of the teacher as +she retreated to her platform. If Miss Merton had dealt her a blow on +her upturned face, it could have hurt no more severely than had this +unlooked-for reprimand. She was filled with a choking sense of shame +that threatened to end in a burst of angry sobs. The deep blush that had +risen to her face receded, leaving her very white. Those students +sitting in her immediate vicinity had, of course, heard Miss Merton. She +glanced quickly about to encounter two pairs of eyes. One pair was blue +and, it seemed to the embarrassed newcomer, sympathetic. Their owner was +the "Mary" girl, who sat two seats behind her in the next aisle. The +other pair was cruelly mocking, and they belonged to the girl that +Marjorie had mentally styled the Evil Genius. Something in their +taunting depths stirred an hitherto unawakened chord in gentle Marjorie +Dean. She returned the insolent gaze with one so full of steady strength +and defiance that the girl's eyes dropped before it and she devoted +herself assiduously to the open book which she held in her hand. + +"Don't mind Miss Merton," whispered Muriel, comfortingly. "She is the +worst crank I ever saw. No one likes her. I don't believe even Miss +Archer does. She's been here for ages, so the Board of Education thinks +that Sanford High can't run without her, I guess." + +"I'm so mortified and ashamed," murmured Marjorie. "On my first day, +too." + +"Don't think about it," soothed Muriel. "What studies are you going to +take? I hope you will recite in some of my classes. Wait a moment. I'll +come back there and sit with you; then we'll make less noise. Miss +Merton told me to help you, you know," she reminded, with a soft +chuckle. + +The fair head and the dark one bent earnestly over the printed sheet. +Marjorie whispered her list of subjects to her new friend, who jotted +them down on the margin of the program. + +"How about 9.15 English Comp?" she asked. "That's my section." + +Marjorie nodded her approval. + +"Then you can recite algebra with me at 10.05, and there's a first-year +French class at 11.10. That brings three subjects in the morning. Now, +let me see about your history. If you can make your history and +physiology come the first two periods in the afternoon, you will be +through by three o'clock and can have that last half hour for study or +gym, or whatever you like. I am carrying only four subjects, so I have +nothing but physical geography in the afternoon. I am through reciting +every day by 2 o'clock, so I learn most of my lessons in school and +hardly ever take my books home. If I were you, I'd drop one +subject--American History, for instance. You can study it later. The +freshman class is planning a lot of good times for this winter, and, of +course, you want to be in them, too, don't you?" + +"I should say so," beamed Marjorie. "Still," her face sobering, "I think +I won't drop history. It's easy, and I love it." + +"Well, I don't," emphasized Muriel. "By the way, do you play +basketball?" + +"I played left guard on our team last year, and I had just been chosen +for center on the freshman team, at Franklin High, when I left there," +was the whispered reply. + +"That's encouraging," declared Muriel. "We haven't chosen our team yet. +We are to have a tryout at four o'clock on Friday afternoon in the +gymnasium. You can go to the meeting with me, although you will have met +most of the freshman class before Friday. Oh, yes, did Miss Archer tell +you that we report in the study hall at half-past eight o'clock on +Monday and Friday mornings? We have chapel exercises, and woe be unto +you if you are late. It's an unforgivable offense in Miss Merton's eyes +to walk into chapel after the service has begun. If you are late, you +take particular pains to linger around the corridor until the line +comes out of chapel, then you slide into your section and march into the +study hall as boldly as though you'd never been late in your life," +ended Muriel with a giggle, which she promptly smothered. + +"But what if Miss Merton sees one?" + +Muriel made a little resigned gesture. "Try it some day and see. There's +the 9.15 bell. Come along. If we hurry we'll have a minute with the +girls before class begins. All of my chums recite English this first +hour. You needn't stop at Miss Merton's desk. It'll be all right." + +Marjorie walked down the aisle behind Muriel, looking rather worried. +Then she touched Muriel's arm. "I think I'd rather stop and speak to +Miss Merton," she said with soft decision. + +"All right," the response came indifferently as Muriel, a bored look on +her youthful face, walked on ahead. + +Marjorie walked bravely up to the teacher. "Miss Merton, I have arranged +my studies and recitation hours. Miss Harding is going to show me the +way to the English composition class." + +Miss Merton stared coldly at the girl's vivid, colorless face, framed in +its soft brown curls. Her own youth had been prim and narrow, and she +felt that she almost hated this girl whose expressive features gave +promise of remarkable personality and abundant joy of living. + +"Very well." The disagreeable note of dismissal in the teacher's voice +angered Marjorie. + +"I'll never again speak to her unless it's positively necessary," she +resolved resentfully. "I wish I'd taken Miss Harding's advice." + +"Well, did she snap your head off?" inquired Muriel as Marjorie joined +her. + +"No," was the brief answer. + +"It's a wonder. There goes the third bell. It's on to English comp for +us. I won't have time to introduce you to the girls. We'll have to wait +until noon. Miss Flint teaches English. She's a dear, and everyone likes +her." + +Muriel's voice dropped on her last speech, for they were now entering +the classroom. At the first flat-topped desk in one corner of the room +sat a small, fair woman with a sweet, sunshiny face that quite won +Marjorie to her. + +"Miss Flint, this is Miss Dean," began Muriel, as they stopped before +the desk. "She is a freshman and has just been registered in the study +hall by Miss Merton." + +A long, earnest glance passed between teacher and pupil, then Marjorie +felt her hand taken between two small, warm palms. "I am sure Miss Dean +and I are going to be friends," said a sweet, reassuring voice that +amply made up for Miss Merton's stiffness. "Are you a stranger in +Sanford, my dear? I am sure I have never seen you before." + +"We have lived here a week," smiled Marjorie. "We moved here from +B----." + +"How interesting. Were you a student of Franklin High School? I have a +dear friend who teaches English there." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Marjorie, her eyes sparkling, "do you mean Miss +Fielding?" + +"Yes," returned Miss Flint. "We were best friends during our college +days, too. Hampton College is our alma mater." + +"That is where I hope to go when I finish high school. Miss Fielding has +told me so many nice things about Hampton," was Marjorie's eager reply. +Then she added impetuously, "I'm going to like Sanford, too. I'm quite +sure of it." + +"That is the right spirit in which to begin your work here," was the +instant response. "I will assign you to that last seat in the third row. +We do not change seats. Each girl is given her own place for the year." + +Marjorie thanked Miss Flint, and made her way to the seat indicated. The +sound of footsteps in the corridor had ceased. A tall girl in the front +row of desks slipped from her seat and closed the door. Miss Flint rose, +faced her class, and the recitation began. + +After the class was dismissed Miss Flint detained Marjorie for a moment +to ask a few questions regarding her text and note books. Muriel waited +in the corridor. Her face wore an expression of extreme satisfaction. +It looked as though the new freshman might be a distinct addition to the +critical little company of girls who had set themselves as rulers and +arbiters of the freshman class. She was pretty, wore lovely clothes, +lived in a big house in a select neighborhood, had played center on a +city basketball team, and was the friend of Miss Flint's friend. To be +sure, Mignon La Salle might raise some objection to the newcomer. Mignon +was so unreasonably jealous. But for all her money, Mignon must not be +allowed always to have her own way. Muriel was sure the rest of the +girls would be quite in favor of adding Marjorie Dean to their number. +They needed one more girl to complete their sextette. To Marjorie should +fall the honor. + +"I'll introduce her to the girls this noon, and let them look her over. +Then I'll have a talk with them to-night and see what they think," +planned Muriel as she went back to the study hall at Marjorie's side. + +There was a hurried exchange of books, then Marjorie was rushed off to +her algebra recitation. Here she found herself at least two weeks ahead +of the others, and was able to solve a problem at the blackboard that +had puzzled several members of the class, thereby winning a reputation +for herself as a mathematician to which it afterward proved anything but +easy to live up to. + +While in both her English and algebra classes Marjorie had searched the +room with alert eyes for the girl who looked like Mary. She felt vaguely +disappointed. She had hoped to come into closer contact with her. She +liked Muriel, she decided, but she did not altogether understand her +half-cordial, half-joking manner. She was rather glad that she was to go +to her French class alone. She had told Muriel not to bother. She could +find the classroom by herself. + +As she clicked down the short, left-hand, third floor corridor, she saw +just ahead of her a little blue-clad figure passing through the very +doorway for which she was making. An instant and she too had entered the +room. She stared about her, then walked to a seat directly opposite to +the one now occupied by the girl that looked like Mary. For a brief +moment the girl eyed Marjorie indifferently, then something in the +scrutiny of the other girl evidently annoyed her. She drew her straight +dark brows together in a displeased frown, and deliberately turned her +face away. + +By this time perhaps a dozen girls had entered, and, as the clang of the +third bell echoed through the school, an alert little man with a thin, +sensitive face and timid brown eyes, bustled into the room and carefully +closed the door. Hardly had he taken his hand from the knob when the +door was flung open, this time to admit a sharp-featured girl with +bright, dark eyes and a cruel, thin-lipped mouth. Smiling maliciously, +she swung the door shut with an echoing bang. The meek little professor +looked reproachfully at the offender, who did not even appear to see +him. + +"The Evil Genius," recognized Marjorie. Her eyes strayed furtively +toward the Mary girl, who had not paid the slightest attention to this +late arrival. "What a hateful person that black-eyed girl is," ran on +Marjorie's thoughts. "I know it was she who made that nice girl cry the +other day. I wish she wasn't quite so distant. The nice girl, I mean. +Oh, dear. I forgot to go up to the professor's desk and register. That's +his fault. He came in late. He'll see me in a minute and ask who I am." + +To her extreme surprise, the little man paid no particular attention to +her, but, opening his grammar, began the giving out of the next day's +lesson. This he explained volubly and with many gestures. Marjorie's +lips curved into a half smile as she compared this rather noisy +instructor with Professor Rousseau, of Franklin. Later, when he called +upon his pupils to recite, however, he was a different being. His +politely sarcastic arraignment of those who floundered through the +lessons, accompanied by certain ominous marks he placed after their +names in a fat black book that lay on his desk, plainly showed that, +despite his mild appearance, he was a force yet to be reckoned with. + +"I hope he doesn't notice me until class is over," fidgeted Marjorie. +"It surely must be time for that bell to ring." She began nervously to +count those who were due to recite before her turn came. It would be so +embarrassing to do her explaining before this group of strange girls, +particularly before the Evil Genius. Ah, she had begun to read! And how +beautifully she read French! The critical professor was listening to the +smooth flow of words that tripped from her tongue with approbation +written on every feature. "She must have studied French before," +speculated Marjorie, as the professor directed the next girl to go on +with the exercise; "or else she is French. I believe she is. Oh, dear, +only two more girls." + +Clang! sounded the bell. + +"Thank goodness," breathed the relieved freshman. + +There was a general closing of books. "To-morrow I shall geev you a +wreetten test," warned Professor Fontaine. Then the second bell rang, +and the class filed out of the room. + +"Eet ees not strange that I haf overlooked you, Mademoiselle," explained +Professor Fontaine five minutes later, after listening to Marjorie's +apology for not presenting herself to him before class. "The freshmen +like to make so many alterations in their programs. They haf soch good +excuses for changeeng classes, but, sometimes, too, they do not tell +me. Eet maks exasperation." He waved his hands comprehensively. "I am +pleased," he added, with true French courtesy, "to haf another pupil. +Ees eet that you like the French, Mademoiselle Dean?" + +"It is a beautiful language, Professor Fontaine," Marjorie assured him. +"I have only begun learning it, but I like it so much." + +"C'est vrai," murmured the delighted professor. "La Francais est une +belle langue. If, then, you like it, you weel study your lessons, n'est +pas?" + +"I'll try very hard to make good recitations. I will bring my books +to-morrow. We used the same grammar at Franklin High School." + +Marjorie hastened back to the study hall to find it empty. The clock on +the north wall pointed significant hands to ten minutes past twelve. The +Picture Girl had said that she wished Marjorie to meet her friends, but +she was not waiting. It was disappointing, but her own fault, thought +the lonely freshman as she left the study hall and went slowly +downstairs to the locker room. She gave an impatient sigh as she pinned +on her hat. Exploring new territory wasn't half so interesting as she +could wish. Then a light footstep sounded at her side. A dignified +little voice said, stiffly, "Will you please allow me to get my hat?" + +Marjorie whirled about in amazement. Could she believe her eyes? The +voice belonged to the Mary girl; they were to share the same locker. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE PLEDGE + + +"Oh, I am so glad we are to have a locker together!" exclaimed Marjorie, +impulsively. "I've been very anxious to know you. I really owe you an +apology. I spoke to you in the street the other day. I don't know what +you thought of me, but you look so much like my dearest chum in +B---- that I called to you before I realized what I was doing." + +The other girl regarded Marjorie with the suspicious, uneasy eyes of a +cornered animal. Then, without answering, she reached for her hat and +was about to go silently on her way, when something in Marjorie's +gracious words seemed to touch her and she said, grudgingly, "I remember +you." + +"That's nice," beamed Marjorie. "I was afraid you wouldn't. Let me tell +you about my chum." She launched forth in an enthusiastic description of +Mary Raymond and of their long friendship. "I wrote Mary about having +seen a girl that looked like her. She will be very curious to see you. +She's coming to visit me some time during the year. So I hope you and I +will be friends. But I haven't even told you who I am. My name is +Marjorie Dean. Won't you please tell me yours?" She offered her hand +winningly, but the strange, self-contained young girl ignored it. + +"My name is Constance Stevens." Her voice was coldly reluctant, carrying +with it an unmistakable rebuff. + +Marjorie drew back, puzzled and hurt. She was not used to having her +friendly overtures rejected. The blue-eyed girl saw the shrinking +movement, and, stirred by some hitherto unknown impulse, stretched forth +her hand. "Please forgive me for being so rude," she said contritely. +"It is awfully sweet in you to tell me about your chum and to say that +you wish to be my friend. You are the first girl, who has been so nice +with me since I came to Sanford. How I hate them!" Her expressive face +darkened and her blue eyes became filled with brooding, sullen anger. + +"Are you going home to luncheon now?" asked Marjorie, with a view toward +keeping away from disagreeable subjects. + +The other girl nodded, then, pinning on her hat, the two left the +building. Marjorie wished to ask questions, but she did not know how to +begin with this strange, moody girl. There were so many things to say. +"Do you play basketball?" she asked, almost timidly, when they had +traversed three blocks in silence. + +Constance shook her head. "I don't even know the game, let alone trying +to play it. Do you play?" + +"Yes. I have played every position on the team. I was chosen for center +of the freshman team at Franklin High just before I came here. One of +the freshmen has asked me to go to the tryout on Friday." + +The Mary girl looked wistfully at Marjorie. "I'm going to tell you +something," she announced with finality. "Truly, it's for your own good. +You mustn't try to be friends with me. If you do, you'll be sorry. We, +my father and I, are nobodies in this town. Father's a broken-down +musician who teaches the violin for a living. I've a little lame +brother, and we take care of a poor old musician, who, people say, is +crazy. He isn't, though. He's merely childish. + +"People call us Bohemians and gypsies and even vagabonds. They don't +understand that our greatest crime is just being poor. The girls in the +freshman class make fun of me and call me a tramp and a beggar behind my +back. One girl did try to be the least bit pleasant with me, but she +soon stopped. We've been in Sanford only two months, but it seems like a +hundred years. At first I was glad to think I was going to high school. +How I hate it now! But they sha'n't drive me away. I'll get my +education in spite of everything." Her lips drew together with resolute +purpose. + +"So, you see," her voice grew gentle, "you mustn't waste your time upon +me. The girls won't like you if you do, and you don't know how dreadful +it is to be left out of everything. Of course, you can speak to me, +but----" She paused and looked eloquent meaning at Marjorie. Her late +aloofness had quite vanished. Her small face was now soft and friendly, +making the resemblance to happy-go-lucky Mary Raymond more apparent. + +Marjorie laughed. Those who knew her best would have understood that her +laughter meant defiance. "I don't choose my friends because they are +rich or because others like them. I choose them because I want them +myself," she declared with a proud lift of her head. "I knew that +someone had been horrid to you the first day I ever saw you. I heard +several girls talking of you afterward. At least, I think they were +talking of you. I said to myself then that they had misjudged you. So I +went home and wrote my letter to Mary. I told mother all about you, too, +and that I was going to be your friend, if you would let me. I want you +to come and see me and meet mother and father. As for the girls in the +freshman class, I'd like to be friends with them, too, but I couldn't do +anything so contemptible and unfair as to dislike a girl just because +they thought they did. Now, you know what I think about it. Are we +going to share our locker and our troubles and our pleasures?" + +The tears flashed across Constance Stevens' eyes. Her hand slid into +Marjorie's, and thus began a friendship between the two freshmen that +was to defy time and change. + +They separated on the next corner and, throwing dignity to the winds, +Marjorie raced up the long walk and into the house to see if her captain +was better. + +"I came to report, Captain," she said gently as she tiptoed up to her +mother's bed. "How are you, dear?" + +"Better, Lieutenant," returned her mother, kissing the pretty, flushed +face. "Now for the report." + +"You are sure I won't make your head ache with my chatter?" + +"No, dear; it is ever so much better now." + +Marjorie went faithfully through with the events of the morning. "I had +to stand by my colors, Captain. I wouldn't be fit to be a soldier if I +didn't know how to stand fast. Just as though it makes any difference +whether a girl is rich or poor if she's a dear and one likes her. How +can some girls be so silly? They wouldn't be if they had Mary's and my +military training. When in doubt ask your captain." + +She laughed gaily, then her merry glance changed to one of dismay. "Good +gracious! It's fifteen minutes to one. I'll have to eat my luncheon in +a hurry." With a hasty kiss Marjorie flitted from the room and down the +stairs to the dining-room. + +After luncheon she lingered for a brief moment with her mother, then set +off for the afternoon session of school. But she could not help +wondering as she walked just how it would seem to be in the freshman +class but not of it. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WARNING + + +The afternoon session of school passed uneventfully for Marjorie. She +had returned too late from luncheon to hold more than a few words of +conversation with the Picture Girl. In spite of the watchful espionage +of Miss Merton, whose eyes seemed riveted to her side of the room, +Muriel managed to convey to Marjorie the news that the girls were dying +to meet her and were so sorry they had missed her at noon. + +"We waited for you more than ten minutes," Muriel whispered guardedly. +"Mignon saw you stop at Professor Fontaine's desk. We knew what that +meant. It always takes him forever to explain anything. Do you remember +a black-haired, black-eyed girl in the French class this morning? She +wore the sweetest brown crepe-de-chine dress. Well, that's Mignon La +Salle. Her father is the richest man in Sanford. Mignon could go away to +school if she liked, but she doesn't care about it. Tell you more +later." + +Muriel faced front with a sudden jerk that could mean but one thing. +Marjorie cast a fleeting glance at Miss Merton. The teacher was frowning +angrily, as though about to deliver a rebuke. Luckily for the two girls, +the first recitation bell rang and they stood not upon the order of +their going, but went with alacrity. Once outside the study-hall door +they were safe. + +"I don't know what ails Miss Merton," complained Muriel. "She has never +said a word to me before. That's twice to-day she has shown her claws." + +"She doesn't like me," said Marjorie, calmly, "and I don't like her. I +think she is the rudest teacher I ever knew. It was I, not you that she +meant that scolding for this morning." + +"Nonsense!" scoffed Muriel. "She likes you as well as she likes the rest +of us. I don't believe she is awfully, terribly, fearfully fond of +girls. When she was young she must have been one of those stiff, prim +goody-goodies; the distressingly snippy sort that made all her friends +so tired." Muriel laughed softly. + +Marjorie smiled at Muriel's unflattering description of Miss Merton's +youth, then her face sobered. In her heart she knew that Miss Merton +disliked her, and the knowledge was not pleasant. She made an earnest +resolve to overcome the teacher's prejudice. She would make Miss Merton +like her. + +Muriel went with her as far as the door of the history room, which was +in charge of Miss Atkins, a stout, middle-aged woman, who beamed amiably +upon Marjorie, entered her name in the class register, motioned her to a +front seat and promptly appeared to forget her existence. But though +Miss Atkins exhibited small personal interest in her new pupil, such was +not the case with regard to the subject which she taught. The lesson +dealt with the coming of the Virginia colonists, their settlement in +Jamestown and the final burning of the town. Miss Atkins' vivid +description of the colonists' determined struggles to gain a foothold in +the New World was well worth listening to. The reading of extracts from +special reference books pertaining to that gallant expedition into the +treacherous forests of an unknown, untried country made the lesson seem +doubly interesting. When the recitation was over Marjorie went back to +the study hall congratulating herself on the fact that she had not +dropped history, and reflecting that no one would ever have suspected +Miss Atkins of being so fascinating. + +As she groped in her desk for her textbook on physiology, she looked +about her for some sign of Constance Stevens. She recollected that she +had not seen her in her seat when the afternoon session began. The +moment her recitation in physiology was over she hastened to the locker +room. No, her new friend's hat was not there. She had not returned to +school after luncheon. Marjorie reached for her own hat, vaguely +wondering what had happened to keep Constance away from school. + +She stood meditatively poking her hatpins in and out of her hat, when +the sound of footsteps on the stairs came to her ears. School was over +for the day. She put on her hat in a hurry, took a swift peep at herself +as she passed the one large mirror that hung at the end of the +freshmen's lockers, and ran up the stairs. She would not disappoint +Muriel's friends again. + +This time she was first on the scene, standing on the identical spot +where she had stood the day Constance rushed weeping past her. Why +didn't her class come out? Surely she had heard their footsteps on the +stairs. But it was fully five minutes before the stream of girls began +to issue from the big doors. Then Muriel appeared, surrounded by her +friends, and in another instant the girl with the dimples, the +fair-haired girl, the stout girl and the Evil Genius were, with varying +degrees of friendliness, telling Marjorie Dean that they were glad to +meet her. + +Susan Atwell said so frankly with a delightful show of dimples. Irma +Linton looked the acme of gentle friendliness. Geraldine Macy's face +wore an expression of open admiration. Mignon La Salle's greeting, +however, was distinctly reserved. To be sure, she smiled; but Muriel, +who had been furtively watching her, knew that the French girl was not +pleased with the idea of admitting another girl to their fellowship. + +"The rest of the girls like her," thought Muriel. "Mignon will find +she'll have to give in this time." Purposely, to make sure she was +right, she said boldly: "Miss Dean, will you go to the basketball tryout +with us on Friday afternoon?" + +"Yes, do," urged Geraldine Macy, eagerly. + +"We'd love to have you," came from Susan Atwell. "We understand that you +are a star player." + +"Of course you must," smiled Irma Linton. + +The French girl alone hesitated. Her eyes roved speculatively from one +face to another, then she said suavely, "Come by all means, Miss Dean. +It will be quite interesting." + +"Thank you. I shall be pleased to go with you." Marjorie ignored +Mignon's slight hesitation, although she had noted it. "I wonder if you +are all as fond of basketball as I," she went on quickly. "It's a +splendid game, isn't it?" + +Her new acquaintances answered with emphasis that it was certainly a +great game, and, the ice now broken, they began to ply their new +acquaintance with questions. How did she like Sanford? Did it seem +strange to her after a big city high school? What subjects had she +selected? Had she met any other girls besides themselves? + +Marjorie answered them readily enough. She was glad to be one of a +crowd of girls again. + +"Have you met any other girls?" asked Geraldine Macy, abruptly. + +"I met a Miss Seymour before I had even gone as far as Miss Archer's +office. She is a delightful girl, isn't she?" + +No one of the five girls made answer. The little freshman regarded them +perplexedly. + +"Mm!" ejaculated Muriel Harding. "You wouldn't think her quite so nice +if you knew as much about her as we do. Wait until you see her play +basketball. She plays center on the sophomore team, and she makes some +very peculiar plays. She's always creating trouble, too. She and some of +her sophomore friends seem to have a particular grudge against Mignon. +They are forever criticising her playing. They have even gone so far as +to say that we don't play fairly; that we are tricky. The idea!" Muriel +looked highly offended at the mere idea of any such thing. + +Marjorie listened without comment. Muriel's ready tirade against the +pleasant-faced sophomore who had willingly offered her services that +morning made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. Then Miss Seymour's +straightforward speech to Miss Archer came back to her. The sophomore +had been generous to her enemies, if they were enemies, in that she had +refused to mention any names. Marjorie wondered if Muriel or Mignon +would be equally generous in the same circumstances. She resolved to say +nothing of what she had been privileged to hear. It was not hers to +tell. + +Suddenly she divined, rather than saw, Mignon's elfish eyes fixed upon +her. "You met another girl, at noon, did you not, Miss Dean?" asked the +French girl, with an almost sarcastic inflection. + +"Yes; Miss Stevens," was the composed answer. "We share the same locker. +She is a nice girl, too, and I like her very much, so, please, don't say +anything against her," she ended, in half-smiling warning. + +Mignon La Salle's face grew dark. She recognized the challenging note in +the new girl's tone. Muriel, too, frowned. Susan Atwell sidled up to +Mignon, Irma Linton looked distressed and Geraldine Macy calmly curious +as to what would come next. It came in the way of a small tempest, for +the French girl lost her temper over Marjorie's retort. + +She stamped her foot in childish rage, saying vehemently: "She is a +nobody, that Stevens person, and her family are vagabonds. You will make +a great mistake if you choose her for your friend." Then, her rage +receding as suddenly as it had come, she shrugged her shoulders +deprecatingly. "Pardonnez moi." She bowed to Marjorie. "I spoke too +strongly. It is not for me to choose Miss Dean's friends." Slipping her +arm through Muriel's, she drew her ahead of the others. Susan Atwell +took a hurried step forward and caught her other arm, leaving Marjorie +to walk between Irma and Geraldine. + +"Don't mind her," said Jerry, in a low voice. "She has it in for that +Miss Stevens. She, the Stevens girl, did something, no one knows what, +to make Mignon angry with her. Mignon says Miss Stevens talked about her +and Muriel and Susan believed it, but Irma and I are not so silly." + +Two blocks further on Marjorie bade good-bye to the five girls. She said +it without enthusiasm. Their carping, quarrelsome attitude had taken all +the pleasure from knowing them. She made mental exception in favor of +Irma and Jerry. The gentleness of the one and the sturdy, outspoken +manner of the other had impressed her favorably. But she was sorely +disappointed in Muriel. + +Should she tell her mother of the disagreeable ending of her first day? +She decided not to do so. She would carry nothing save pleasant tales to +her captain to-day. And so that night, when she entered the living-room +and found her mother, in a becoming negligee, occupying the wide leather +couch by the window, she saluted, like a dutiful soldier, and included +in her report only the pleasant happenings of her first, +never-to-be-forgotten day in Sanford High School. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +STANDING BY HER COLORS + + +When Marjorie took her seat in the study hall the next morning, Muriel's +greeting was as affable as it had been before the disagreement of the +previous afternoon. She even went so far as to whisper, "Don't take +Mignon too seriously. She is really dreadfully hurt over the unkind +things Miss Stevens has said of her." + +Marjorie listened in polite silence to the Picture Girl's rather lame +apology in behalf of her friend. She could think of nothing to say. +Muriel had turned about in her seat, her eyes fixed expectantly upon the +other girl. But just then came an unexpected interruption. + +"Miss Dean," shrilled Miss Merton's high, querulous voice, "who gave you +permission to leave school before the regular hour of dismissal +yesterday afternoon?" + +"I did not----" began the astonished girl. + +"Young woman, do you mean to contradict me?" thundered Miss Merton. + +Marjorie had now risen to her feet. Her pretty face had turned very +white, her brown eyes gleamed like two angry flames. "I had no intention +of contradicting you, Miss Merton." Her low, steady tones were full of +repressed indignation. "What I had begun to say was that I did not know +I was expected to return to the study hall after my last class. In the +high school which I attended in B---- we went from our last class to our +locker rooms. It is, of course, my fault. I should have inquired about +it beforehand." The freshman quietly resumed her seat. + +Every pair of eyes in the room was turned upon Marjorie. + +Miss Merton, however, had no intention of letting her off so easily. +"The rules and regulations of another high school do not, in the least, +interest me, Miss Dean," she said, with biting sarcasm. "It is my +business to see that the rules of _Sanford_ High School are enforced, +and I propose to do it. You have been a pupil in this school for only +one day, yet I have been obliged to reprimand you on two different +occasions. If you annoy me further I shall consider myself fully +justified in sending you to Miss Archer." + +The ringing of the first recitation bell put an end to the little scene. +Marjorie rose from her seat and marched from the study hall, her head +held high. If Miss Merton expected her to break down and cry she would +find herself sadly mistaken. Muriel overtook her in the corridor. "My, +but Miss Merton hates you!" she commented cheerfully, as though enjoying +her classmate's discomfiture. + +Marjorie made no reply. Her proud spirit was too deeply crushed for +words. She went through her recitation in English that morning like one +in a dream. Several times during her French hour she gazed appealingly +at Constance, but the Mary girl kept her fair head turned resolutely +away. She did not appear at her locker either at noon or after school +was over, although Marjorie lingered, in the hope that she would come. + +So successfully did she manage to steer clear of Marjorie, who was too +proud to make advances in the face of Constance's marked avoidance, +that, when Friday came and the afternoon session was over, Marjorie was +escorted to the gymnasium by the Picture Girl and her friends, who, even +to Mignon, believed that the newcomer had been wise and taken their +brusque advice. + +At least half of the freshman class had elected to try for a place on +the team. Miss Randall, the instructor in gymnastics, and several +seniors had been chosen to pick the team, and when the six girls arrived +on the scene the testing had begun. Mignon La Salle was the first of +their group to play. Her almost marvelous agility, her quick, catlike +springs and her fleetness of foot called forth unstinted praise from +Marjorie. Muriel, too, played a skilful game; so did Susan Atwell. When +Marjorie was called upon to play left guard on a team composed of the +last lot of aspirants for basketball honors, she advanced to her +position rather nervously. Muriel, Mignon, Susan Atwell and two +freshmen, whom she did not know, were to oppose her. She wondered if she +could play fast enough to keep up with her clever opponents. Then, as +she caught the French girl's elfish eyes fixed upon her, mocking +incredulity in their depths, she rallied her doubting spirit and +resolved to outplay even Mignon. + +Fifteen minutes later Marjorie Dean had been chosen to play left guard +on a team of which Mignon was center, Muriel, right guard, Susan Atwell, +right forward, and a freshman named Harriet Delaney, left forward. +Muriel had also been made captain, and several girls were chosen as +substitutes. + +"Hurrah for the new team!" cried Muriel Harding. "Let's call ourselves +the Invincibles. You certainly can play basketball, Miss Dean. How lucky +in you to come to Sanford just when we need you. By the way, 'Miss Dean' +is too formal. Please let us call you Marjorie. You can call us by our +first names. What's the use of so much formality among team-mates?" + +Being merely a very human young girl, Marjorie could not help feeling a +little bit pleased with herself. She was glad she had played so well. +She felt that she had really begun to like her new associates very much. +Even Mignon must have her good points; and how wonderfully well she +played basketball! Perhaps Constance Stevens had been just a little bit +at fault. Certainly she had acted very queerly after that first day when +they had pledged their friendship. Had she, Marjorie, been wise to avow +unswerving loyalty to a stranger, and all because she looked like Mary +Raymond? Marjorie's disquieting reflections were interrupted by +something the French girl was saying. + +"It was too funny for anything, wasn't it, Muriel?" Mignon laughed with +gleeful malice. + +"Yes," nodded Muriel. "We gave the sophomores a bad scare." + +"What did you do?" asked Irma Linton, curiously. + +Seeing that she had the attention of her audience, the French girl +began. + +"You remember the practice game we played against the sophomores last +week? According to my way of thinking, the sophomores played a very +rough game. I complained to Miss Seymour, their captain. She laughed at +me," Mignon scowled at the remembrance, "so I decided to teach her a +lesson." + +"I told Muriel about it, and between us we made up a dialogue. It was +all about the sophomores' unfair playing, and how surprised they would +be when they found themselves forbidden to play basketball. Then we +managed to walk out of school behind two girls that always tell +everything they know, and recited our dialogue. The next morning Muriel +saw one of the girls talking to Miss Seymour for all she was worth, so +we know that she faithfully repeated everything she heard. Miss Seymour +wouldn't dare go to Miss Archer with it for fear Miss Archer would ask +too many questions. You know Miss Archer said last year when Inez +Chester made such a fuss about her sprained wrist that if ever again one +team reported another for rough playing she would disband the accused +team and have Miss Randall select a new one. So I imagine we gave our +friends the sophs something to think about." + +"But who told you the sophomores would be forbidden to play?" demanded +candid Jerry. + +"No one told us, silly," retorted Muriel, her color rising. "We simply +said they would be surprised when they found themselves forbidden to +play. 'When' may mean next week or next month, or next year or century, +or any other time. We were only talking for their general edification." + +"Then nobody actually said a word about it?" persisted Jerry. "You just +made up all that stuff?" + +"It didn't do any hurt," began Muriel. "We thought----" + +"Don't be such a prig, Jerry," put in Mignon, impatiently. "It isn't +half so wicked to play a joke on those stupid sophomores as it is to ask +one's mother for money for a fountain pen, and then use the money for +candy and ice cream." + +There was a chorus of giggles from the girls, in which Jerry did not +join. She was eyeing Mignon steadily. "See here, Mignon," she said with +offended dignity. "I just want you to know that I told my mother about +that money that very same night. I may have my faults, but I certainly +don't tell things that aren't true." Jerry punctuated this pertinent +speech with emphatic nods of her head, and, having said her say, walked +on a little ahead of her friends, the picture of belligerence. + +"Now, you've made Jerry angry, Mignon," laughed Susan Atwell. + +Mignon merely lifted her thin shoulders. "I can't please every one. If I +did, I should never please myself." + +"I don't know what ails Jerry all of a sudden," commented Muriel to +Marjorie. "She isn't usually so--so funny." + +Again Marjorie kept her own counsel. She, alone, knew that the object of +the rumor which Muriel and Mignon had started had failed. Ellen Seymour +had gone frankly to headquarters with it, and Miss Archer had asked no +questions. Marjorie wondered what these girls would say if they knew +the truth. She did not like to criticize them, but were they truly +honorable? For a moment she wished she had refused to play on the team +with them. Muriel and Mignon, in particular, seemed so careless of other +people's feelings. + +Her sympathies were with Jerry, and quickening her pace she slipped her +arm through that of the fat girl, saying, "Don't you think to-morrow's +algebra lesson is hard?" + +Jerry viewed her companion's smiling face rather sulkily. Then +succumbing to the other's charm, she said in a mollified tone: "Of +course it's hard. They're all hard. I know I shall never pass in +algebra." + +"Oh, yes, you will," was Marjorie's cheerful assurance. "It's my hardest +study, too; but I'm going to pass my final examination in it. I've +simply made up my mind that I must do it." + +"Then I'll make up my mind to pass, too," announced Jerry, inspired by +Marjorie's determined tones. "And, say, it would be splendid if we could +do our lessons together sometimes. My mother likes me to bring my school +friends home." + +"So does mine," returned Marjorie, cordially. "She says home is the +place for me to entertain my schoolmates. I hope you will come to see me +soon. It's your turn first, you know. Oh, please pardon me a moment, I +must speak to this girl!" The cause of this sudden exclamation was a +young woman in a well-worn blue suit who was coming across the street +directly ahead of them. + +"Oh, Constance!" hailed Marjorie, "I have been looking for you. Stop a +minute!" Marjorie stood waiting for her friend with eager face and +outstretched hand. By this time the four other girls had come abreast of +the trio and had passed them, Irma Linton being the only one of them who +bowed to Constance. Jerry stood beside Marjorie for an instant, then +walked on and overtook her chums. + +"Please don't stop," begged Constance, her face expressing the liveliest +worry. "Really, you mustn't try to be friends with me. I wish to take +back my part of our compact. You've been chosen to play on the team, and +those girls seem to like you. I can't stand in your way, and my +friendship won't be worth anything to you, so just let's forget all we +said the other day." + +Marjorie stared hard at the other girl, the pathetic droop of whose lips +looked for all the world like Mary's when things went wrong. "You don't +mean that, and I won't give you up," she said with fine stubbornness. "I +haven't time to talk about it now. I must catch up with those girls. +Wait for me at our locker to-morrow noon, please, _please_." + +With a hasty squeeze of Constance's hand, Marjorie raced on up the +street to overtake her companions. They were so busily engaged in +discussing her, however, that they did not hear her approach, and +consequently did not lower their voices. + +"I will not speak to her; I will not play with her on the team!" she +heard Mignon La Salle sputter angrily. + +"We certainly don't care to bother with her if she's going to take up +with all sorts of low people." This loftily from Muriel, who was afraid +to cross the French girl. + +"My mother told me never to speak to any of those crazy Stevens +persons," added Susan Atwell, with a toss of her curly head. "I don't +care so very much for this Dean girl, either." + +"Oh, you make me tired, the whole lot of you," cried Jerry, with angry +contempt. "Marjorie Dean is nicer than all of you put together, and if +she likes that little white-faced Stevens girl, then the girl is all +right, even if her family were ragpickers. I'm ashamed of myself for +being so silly as to listen to any of Mignon's complaints against her. +You can do as you like, but if it's a case of being your friend or +Marjorie's, then I guess I'd rather be hers." + +"Thank you, Geraldine." Marjorie's quiet voice caused the party to turn, +then exchange sheepish glances. "I don't wish you to quarrel over me," +she went on. "I should like to be friends with all of you, but none of +you can choose my friends for me any more than I can choose yours for +you." + +"You can't chum with us and be the friend of that Miss Stevens," +muttered Mignon. "She is my enemy. Do you understand?" + +"I am sorry to hear that," returned Marjorie, keeping her temper with +difficulty, "but she is not mine. I like her. I shall stand up for her +and be her friend as long as we go to Sanford High School. I am sorry to +seem disagreeable, but I shouldn't feel the least bit true to myself if +I were afraid to say what I think. This is my street. Good-bye." + +Marjorie walked proudly away from the group. An instant and she heard +the patter of running feet behind her. + +"You can't get rid of us so easily," panted Geraldine Macy. + +"I think you are right, Marjorie," said Irma Linton, quietly, putting +out her hand. "I should like to be your friend." + +And the dividing of the sextette of girls was the dividing of the +freshman class of Sanford High School. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A BITTER MOMENT + + +Marjorie went soberly up the steps of her home that afternoon. Her +pleasure in making the team had been short-lived. She wondered if it +would not be better to write her resignation. How could she bear to play +on a team when three of the members had decided to drop her +acquaintance? Still, they had not chosen her to play on the team; why, +then, should she resign? She decided to consult her captain on the +subject; then changed her mind. She would not trouble her mother with +such petty grievances. This prejudice against Constance Stevens had +originated wholly with Mignon La Salle. Perhaps the French girl would +soon forget it, and it would die a natural death. Marjorie was not +mortally hurt over the turn of the afternoon's affairs. She had not been +so deeply impressed with the importance of Mignon and her friends that +she failed to see their snobbish tendencies. She made mental exception +of Jerry and Irma. She was secretly glad that they had declared for her. +She liked Jerry's blunt independence and Irma's gentle, lovable +personality. With the optimism of sixteen, she declined to worry over +what had happened, and her report to her captain at the end of that +troubled afternoon included only the pleasant events of the day. + +When she went to school the next Monday morning she discovered that it +did hurt, just a trifle, to be deliberately cut by the Picture Girl, +and, instead of being greeted with Susan Atwell's dimpled smile, to +receive an icy stare from that young woman, as, later in the morning, +they passed each other in the corridor. + +In some mysterious manner the story of the disagreement had been noised +about the freshman class, with the result that Marjorie's acquaintance +was eagerly sought by a number of freshmen whom she knew merely by +sight, and that several girls, who had made it a point to smile and nod +to her, now passed her, frigid and unsmiling. + +As for the members of the little group Marjorie had watched so earnestly +before she had been enrolled as a freshman at Sanford, they were now +divided indeed. As the week progressed the "Terrible Trio," as Jerry had +satirically named Mignon, Muriel and Susan, endeavored to make plain to +whoever would listen to them that there was but one side to the story, +namely, their side. Emulating Marjorie's example, Jerry and Irma had +taken particular pains to be friendly with Constance Stevens. After an +eloquent dissertation on friendship, delivered by Marjorie at their +locker on the Monday morning following her disagreement with the other +girls, Constance had shed a few happy tears and admitted that she had +rather be "best friends" with Marjorie than anyone else in the world. + +The hardest part of it all for Marjorie was her basketball practice. It +was dreadful to be on speaking terms with only one girl on the team, +Harriet Delaney, and she was not overly cordial. Marjorie tried to +remember that Miss Randall had appointed her to her position, that the +right to play was hers; but the unfriendly players made her nervous, and +she lost her usual snap and daring. The second week's practice came, and +she resolved to play up to her usual form, but, try as she might, she +fell far short of the promise she had shown at the tryout. She also +noted uneasily that, no matter how early she reported for practice, the +team seemed always to be in the gymnasium before her and that one of the +substitutes invariably held her position. + +The freshmen had challenged the sophomores to play against them on the +first Saturday afternoon in November. It was now the latter part of +October and both teams were utilizing as much of their spare time as +possible in preparing for the fray. + +"Are you going to practice this afternoon?" whispered Geraldine Macy to +Marjorie as they left the algebra class on Monday morning. + +Marjorie nodded. + +"Oh, dear," grumbled Jerry under her breath. "I wanted to talk to you +about the Hallowe'en party." + +"What Hallowe'en party?" asked Marjorie, opening her eyes. + +"Haven't you your invitation?" It was Jerry's turn to look surprised. + +"I don't even know what you're talking about." + +Their entrance into the study hall put an end to the conversation. It +was renewed at noon, however, when Jerry, Irma, Marjorie and Constance +trooped out of the school building together, a seemingly contented +quartet. + +"Just imagine, girls," announced Jerry, excitedly. "Marjorie doesn't +know a thing about the Hallowe'en party. She hasn't her invitation +either. I think that's awfully queer." + +"I haven't mine, but I know all about it," put in Constance Stevens, +quietly. + +"Who has charge of the invitations?" asked Marjorie. + +"Miss Arnold. You'd better see her about yours to-day. Of course you +both want to go." + +"But what is it and where is it held?" questioned Marjorie. + +"It's a big dance. Weston High School, that's the boys' school, gives a +party to Sanford High on every Hallowe'en night. It's a town +institution and as unchangeable as any law the Medes and Persians ever +thought of making," informed Jerry. + +"Oh, how splendid!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I should like to know some nice +Sanford boys, and I love to dance!" + +"Then you ought to meet my brother Hal," declared Jerry, solemnly, "for +he's the nicest, handsomest, best boy I know." + +"Wait until you see the Crane," laughed Irma Linton. "He's the tallest +boy in high school. He's six feet two inches now. They say he hasn't +stopped growing, either, and he is awfully thin. That's why the boys +call him the 'Crane.' He doesn't mind it a bit. His real name is Sherman +Norwood, but no one ever calls him that except the teachers." + +During the rest of the walk home the coming dance was the sole subject +under discussion. Yes, the girls wore evening gowns, if they had them. +Lots of girls wore their best summer dresses. The leading caterer of +Sanford always had charge of the refreshments and the boys paid the +bills. There was a real orchestra, too. Of course all the teachers were +there, but the pokey ones went home early and the jolly ones, like Miss +Flint and Miss Atkins, stayed until the last dance. + +There were countless other questions to ask, but the luncheon hour was +too short to admit of any lingering on the corner. + +"I wish we had more time to talk," sighed Marjorie, reluctantly, as she +came to her street. "I'd love to hear more about the dance." + +"We'll tell you all there is to tell after school," promised Jerry. "Oh, +no, we can't either. You'll have to go to that old basketball practice. +What a nuisance it is. And to think you have to play on the team with +Mignon, Muriel and Susan, after the way they've treated you. Why don't +you resign?" + +"I don't believe I'll play next term," said Marjorie, slowly, "but I +feel as though I ought to stay on the team for the rest of this term. +Our game with the sophomores is set for two weeks from to-morrow; then, +I believe we are to play against two teams from nearby towns. It +wouldn't be fair to leave the team now, after having practiced with it." + +"I don't believe I'd bother my head much about that part of it," sniffed +Jerry, "I'd just quit." + +"No, you wouldn't, Geraldine Macy," laughed Irma. "You might grumble, +but you wouldn't be so hateful." + +"You don't know how hateful I can be," warned Jerry. "Some other girls +are likely to find out, though." + +"Good-bye. I must not stop here another second," declared Marjorie. + +"Good-bye!" floated after her as she walked rapidly toward home. + +"How goes it, Lieutenant?" asked her father, who, with her mother, was +already seated at the table as she entered the dining-room. + +"Pretty well, thank you, General," she replied, touching her hand to her +curly head. + +"I haven't heard you say a word about school for at least a week, my +dear," commented her mother. "Has the novelty of Sanford High worn off +so soon?" + +"No, indeed, Captain," returned Marjorie, earnestly. "I'm finding out +new things every day." She did not add that some of the "new things" had +not been agreeable, nor did she volunteer any further information +concerning her school. This touch of reticence on the part of her +usually talkative daughter caused her mother to look at her searchingly +and wonder if Marjorie had something on her mind which in due season +would be brought to light. The subject of the dance returning to the +young girl's thoughts, she began at once to talk of it, and her +enthusiastic description of the coming affair served to allay her +mother's vague impression that Marjorie was not quite happy, and she +entered into the important discussion of what her daughter should wear +with that unselfish interest belonging only to a mother. + +When Marjorie returned to school that afternoon she felt happier than +she had been since her advent into Sanford High School. The thought of +the coming dance brought with it a delightful thrill of anticipation. +She had always had such good times at the school dances given by her boy +and her girl chums of B----. She hoped she would enjoy this Hallowe'en +frolic. She wondered if the "Terrible Trio" would be there. She smiled +over Jerry's appropriate appellation, then frowned at herself for +countenancing it. Good soldiers didn't indulge in personalities. + +That afternoon she found it hard, however, to concentrate her +thoughts on her studies, and when Miss Atkins asked her on what day the +Pilgrim Fathers landed in America, she absent-mindedly replied +"Hallowe'en," to the great joy of her class. During her physiology hour +she managed to keep strictly to the subject; but she was impatient for +the afternoon to pass so that she could go to Miss Arnold for her +invitation. + +Her eyes sparkled, however, when, on returning to the study hall, she +saw lying on her desk a square white envelope addressed to her. + +"Oh, here it is," she thought delightedly. "I'm so glad. I wonder if +Constance has hers." + +She tore open the end of the envelope with eager fingers and drew out a +folded sheet of note paper. But the light died out of her face as she +read: + +"My dear Miss Dean: + +"For some time the members of the freshman team have been dissatisfied +with your playing, and have repeatedly urged me to allow Miss Thornton +to play in your position on the team. Not wishing to seem unfair, Miss +Randall and I watched your work at practice Wednesday afternoon and +agreed that the requested change would be best. As manager of the +freshmen team, their welfare must ever be my first consideration. I +therefore feel no hesitation in asking you for your resignation from the +team. + + "Yours sincerely, + + "MARCIA ARNOLD." + +A sigh of humiliation that was half a sob rose to Marjorie's lips. Her +chin quivered ominously. Suddenly a dreadful thought flashed across her +brain. Suppose Mignon and the others were watching her to see how she +received the bad news. Marjorie's desire to cry left her. She leaned +back in her seat and assumed an air of indifference far removed from her +real state of mind. Then she calmly refolded the letter and placed it in +its envelope with the impassivity of a young sphinx. + +Later that afternoon, as Mignon La Salle strolled out of school between +her two satellites, Susan and Muriel, she was heard to declare with +disappointed peevishness that that priggish Miss Dean was either too +stupid to resent or too thick-skinned to feel a plain out-and-out snub. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A BLUE GOWN AND A SOLEMN RESOLVE + + +The next day in school was a particularly trying one for poor Marjorie. +It was decidedly hard for the sore-hearted little freshman to believe +that Miss Arnold's motive in asking her to resign from the team had been +purely disinterested. She was reasonably sure that she had Mignon to +blame for the humiliation. Jerry Macy had told her of Miss Arnold's +respect for Mignon's father's money, and that Miss Archer's thin-lipped, +austere-looking secretary was one of the French girl's most devoted +followers. + +The wave of dislike which had swept over Marjorie upon first beholding +Marcia Arnold had, as the days passed, intensified rather than lessened. +Jerry, too, could not endure the secretary. "I never could bear her," +she had confided to Marjorie. "I'm glad she's a junior. I'll have two +years of comfort after she's gone. I suppose she deserves a lot of +credit for keeping up in her studies and earning money as a secretary at +the same time, but I'd rather have a nice wriggly snake, or a cheerful +crocodile for a friend if it comes to a choice." + +Marjorie was equally certain that Miss Arnold did not like her. She had +had occasion to ask the secretary several questions and the latter's +manner of answering had been curt, almost to rudeness. The desired +resignation was yet to be written. Marjorie had purposely delayed +writing it until the last hour of the afternoon session. She wished to +think before writing. It took her the greater part of the hour to +compose it, although, when it was finally copied on a sheet of note +paper she had brought to school for that purpose, it covered little more +than one side of the sheet. + +While she was addressing it for mailing, she suddenly remembered that +she had not yet asked Miss Arnold for her Hallowe'en invitation. Should +she hand the secretary her resignation instead of mailing it? She +decided that the more dignified course would be to mail it. As to the +invitation for the dance, she was entitled to it; therefore she was not +afraid to demand it. She wondered if Constance had received hers, and, +when her new friend returned from class, Marjorie managed to catch her +eye and question her by means of a sign language known only to +schoolgirls. A vigorous shake of Constance's fair head brought forth +more signs, which, when school was dismissed, resulted in a determined +march upon Miss Archer's office by the two friends, reinforced by Jerry +and Irma, who had managed to join Marjorie and Constance in the +corridor. + +"That's just why we waited," announced Jerry, wagging her head +emphatically when Marjorie explained her mission. "We wondered if she'd +given them to you. You let me do the talking. She won't have a word to +say when I'm through." + +"Hush, Jerry!" cautioned Irma. "She'll hear you." + +They were now entering Miss Archer's living-room office. Marcia Arnold, +who was seated before her desk, intent on the book she held in her hand, +raised her eyes and regarded the quartette with a displeased frown. Then +she addressed them in peremptory tones. + +"Please make less noise, girls. Your voices can be plainly heard in Miss +Archer's office and she is too busy now to be disturbed." This last with +a view to discouraging any attempt on their part to see the principal. + +"We didn't come to see Miss Archer," was Geraldine Macy's calm retort. +"We came to see you about Miss Dean's and Miss Stevens' invitations for +the dance. They haven't received them." + +"I know nothing whatever about them," snapped Miss Arnold, picking up +her book as a sign of dismissal. + +"You ought to know. The invitations were given to you by the boys' +committee," was Jerry's pertinent reminder. "You sent them the list of +names, didn't you? Perhaps you accidentally left out these two names." + +This was a malicious afterthought on Jerry's part, but it had a potent +effect on Marcia Arnold. A tide of red rose to her sallow face. For a +second her eyes wavered from the four pairs searchingly upon her. Then +she answered with elaborate carelessness: "It is just possible that +these two names have been omitted. I will go over my list and see." + +"Yes, do," advised Jerry, laconically. Then she slyly added: "It seems +funny, doesn't it, that when 'D' and 'S' are so far apart on the +alphabetical list, they should both happen to be overlooked? If the +girls don't receive their invitations by to-morrow night I'll speak to +my brother about it. He's the president of the junior class, you know, +and he'll take it up with the committee. Come on, girls." + +The three young women obediently following her, Jerry marched from the +room with the air of a conqueror. True to her prediction, Marcia Arnold +had found nothing to say to the stout girl's parting shot. + +"There really wasn't much use in our going. I'm afraid we weren't very +brave. We shouldn't have stood like wooden images and let you fight our +battles, Jerry. It was awfully dear in you, but I do hope Miss Arnold +won't think Constance and I are babies," demurred Marjorie. + +"What do you care what she thinks as long as she hunts up your +invitations?" asked Jerry, with superb contempt. "What she thinks will +never hurt either of you." + +The belated invitations were delivered to the two freshmen by Miss +Arnold herself the next day, greatly to Jerry's satisfaction. + +"I saw her give them to you, girls," she whispered to Marjorie on the +way to the English class. "She looked mad as a hatter, too. She thought +she'd hold back your invitations until the last minute; then maybe you +would get mad and not go to the dance." + +"But why should she wish to keep us from going?" asked Marjorie, +wonderingly. + +"Ask Mignon," was Jerry's enigmatical answer. "Very likely she knows +more about it than anyone else." + +Marjorie found no chance for conversation with Constance until they met +in French class. Even then she had only time to say, "Be sure to wait +for me this noon," before Professor Fontaine called his class to order +and attacked the advance lesson with his usual Latin ardor. + +Constance was first at their locker. She had already put on her own hat +and coat and was holding Marjorie's for her, when her friend arrived. + +"What are you going to wear, Constance?" asked Marjorie, as she put on +her coat and hat. + +"I'm not going," was the brief answer. + +"Not going!" Marjorie stared hard at her friend. Was Constance hurt +because she had not received her invitation? Then she went on, eagerly +apologetic: "It wasn't the Weston boys' fault that we didn't get our +invitations when the others received theirs. They didn't intend to leave +us out, even though they only knew our names." + +"It's not that." Constance's voice trembled a little. "I--I--well, I +haven't a dress fit to wear!" Her pale cheeks grew pink with shame as +she burst forth with this confession of poverty. "This blue suit and +three house dresses are all the clothes I have in the world. Don't say +you feel sorry for me. I shall hate you if you do. I sha'n't always be +poor. Some day," her eyes grew dreamy, "I'll have all sorts of lovely +clothes. When I am a----" She stopped abruptly, then said in her usual +half-sullen tones, "I can't go, so don't ask me." + +Marjorie looked curiously at this strange girl. The longer she knew +Constance the better she liked her, but she did not in the least +understand her. Suddenly a bright idea popped into her head. "I'm so +sorry you can't go to the dance," she commented, then promptly dropped +the subject. When she left Constance, however, she remarked innocently: +"Don't forget, you are coming home with me to-night. Don't say you can't. +You promised, you know." + +"I will come," promised Constance, brightening. "Good-bye." + +The moment Marjorie reached home she made a dash for her room and going +to her closet, emerged a moment afterward with an immense white +pasteboard box in her arms. Stopping only long enough to drop her wraps +on her bed she ran downstairs and burst into the dining-room with: "I +have found her, Mother. I've found the girl this was made for." + +"What is all this commotion about, Lieutenant?" asked her father, +teasingly. "Are we about to be attacked by the enemy? Salute your +superior officers and then state your case. Discipline must be preserved +at all costs in the army. Is it a requisition for new uniforms? You +soldiers are dreadfully hard on your clothes. Or is the post about to +move and is that a packing case?" + +Marjorie made a most unsoldierlike rush for him and, throwing her arms +about his neck, kissed his cheek. "You are a great big tease, and I +choose to salute you this way." Then she kissed her mother, saying: +"I've the loveliest plan, Captain. I'm sure that this dress will fit +Constance. She says she won't go to the school dance because she has no +pretty gown to wear. May I give her this darling blue one?" She opened +the box and drew forth a dainty frock of pale blue chiffon over silk. +The chiffon was caught up here and there with tiny clusters of +pinky-white rosebuds. The round neck was just low enough to show to +advantage a white girlish throat, while the soft, fluffy sleeves reached +barely to the elbows. It was a particularly beautiful and appropriate +frock for a young girl. + +"You see, General," explained Marjorie, "Aunt Mary sent this to me when +I graduated from grammar school. She hadn't seen me for two years and +didn't know I had grown so fast. She bought it ready made in one of the +New York stores. It was too short and too tight for me and to make it +over meant simply to spoil it. It was so sweet in her to send it that +when I wrote my thank you to her I couldn't bear to tell her that it +didn't fit, so I kept it just to look at. I didn't really need it, for, +thanks to you and mother, I have plenty of others. Don't you think I +ought to make someone else happy when I have the chance? It is right to +share one's spoils with a comrade, isn't it?" + +Her father looked lovingly at the pretty, earnest face of his daughter +as she stood holding up the filmy gown, her eyes bright with unselfish +purpose. "I am very glad my little girl is so thoughtful of others," he +said. "Whatever your captain says is law. How about it, Captain?" His +wife and he exchanged glances. + +"You may give your friend the dress if you like, dear," consented Mrs. +Dean, "if you think she will accept it." + +"That's just the point, Captain," returned Marjorie. "You know you said +I could bring Constance home for dinner to-night, and she is coming. +Perhaps we can think of some nice way to give it to her while she is +here." + +Marjorie carefully replaced the gown in its box and ran upstairs with +it. She returned with her hat and coat on her arm, and hanging them on +the hall rack hastened to eat her luncheon. + +All afternoon she puzzled as to how she might best offer Constance the +gown. When the four girls strolled homeward together after school she +had still not thought of a way. Jerry and Irma held forth, at length, +with true schoolgirl eloquence, upon the subject of their gowns. +Constance listened gravely without comment. Her small, impassive face +showed no sign of her hopeless longing for the pretty things she had +never possessed. + +Once inside the Dean's pleasant home, a flash of appreciation routed her +impassivity as Marjorie conducted her into the comfortable living-room +where Mrs. Dean sat reading, and her face softened under the spell of +the older woman's gentle greeting. + +"I am pleased to know you, Constance," said Mrs. Dean, offering her +hand. "I have been expecting you for some time. Now that I have seen you +I will say that you do look very much like Marjorie's friend Mary." She +did not add that this girl's face lacked the good-natured, happy +expression that so perfectly matched Mary Raymond's sunny curls. Yet she +noted that the blue eyes met hers openly and frankly, and that there was +an undeniable air of sincerity and truth about Constance which caused +one instinctively to trust her. + +To the formerly friendless girl who had never before been invited to the +home of a Sanford girl, the evening passed like a dream. Under the +genial atmosphere of the Dean household, her reserve melted and before +dinner was over she had forgotten all about herself and was laughing +merrily with Marjorie over Mr. Dean's nonsense. After dinner Mrs. Dean +played on the piano and Constance, who knew how to dance was initiated +into the mysteries of several new steps which were favorites of the +Franklin girls, and later the two girls spent a happy hour in Marjorie's +room with her books, of which she had a large collection. + +"Oh, dear," sighed Constance, as she glanced at the clock on the +chiffonier. "It is ten o'clock. I must go." + +"Wait a few minutes," requested Marjorie. "I have something to show you, +but I must see mother for a minute first. Please excuse me. I'll be back +directly." + +"Mother," Marjorie hurried into the living-room. "Have you thought of a +way? Constance is going home, and it's now or never." + +"Suppose you give it to her by yourself," suggested her mother. "I am +afraid my presence will embarrass her and then she will surely refuse." + +Marjorie stood eyeing her mother uncertainly. Then she laughed. "I know +the easiest way in the world," she declared, and was gone. + +When she entered the room Constance was kneeling interestedly before the +book-shelves. "You have the 'Jungle Books,' haven't you? Don't you love +them?" + +"Yes," laughed Marjorie. "Mary and I read them together. I always called +myself 'Bagheera' the black panther, and she always called herself +'Mogli, the man-cub.' We used to write notes to each other sometimes in +the language of the jungle." + +"How funny," smiled Constance. Her gaze intent upon the books, she did +not notice that Marjorie had stepped to her closet, returning to her bed +with a cloud of pink over her arm. Next she opened a big box and laid a +cloud of blue beside the one of pink. "Constance, come here a minute," +she said. + +Constance sprang up obediently. Her glance fell upon the bed and she +gave a little startled, admiring "Oh!" + +Marjorie linked her arm in that of her friend and drew her up to the +bed. "This gown," she pointed to the pink one, "is mine, and this one," +she withdrew her arm, and lifting the blue cloud held it out to +Constance, "is yours." + +The Mary girl drew back sharply. "I don't know what you mean," she +muttered. "Please don't make fun of me." + +"I'm not making fun of you. It's your very own, and after I tell you all +about it you'll see just why it happens to be yours." + +Seated on the edge of the bed beside Marjorie, the wonderful blue gown +on her lap, the girl who had never owned a party dress before heard the +story of how it happened to be hers. At first she steadily refused its +acceptance, but in the end wily Marjorie persuaded her to "just try it +on," and when she saw herself, for the first time in her +poverty-stricken young life, wearing a real evening gown that glimpsed +her unusually white neck and arms she wavered. So intent was she upon +examining her reflection that she did not notice Marjorie had slipped +from the room, returning with a pair of blue silk stockings and satin +slippers to match. "These go with it," she announced. + +"Oh--I--can't," faltered Constance, making a move toward unhooking the +frock. + +"Of course you can." Marjorie deposited the stockings and slippers on +the foot of her bed and going over to Constance put both arms around +her. "You are going to have this dress because mother and I want you to. +I can't possibly wear it myself, and it's a shame to lay it away in the +closet until it is all out of style. Please, please take it. You simply +must, for I won't go to the dance unless you do, and you know how +dreadfully I should hate to miss it. I mean what I say, too." + +"I'll take it," said Constance, slowly. + +Suddenly she slipped from Marjorie's encircling arm and leaned against +the chiffonier, covering her face with her hands. + +"Constance!" Marjorie cried out in surprise. "You mustn't cry." + +"I--can't--help--it." The words came brokenly. "Ever since I was little +I've dreamed about a blue dress like this. You--are--too--good--to--me. +Nobody--was--ever--good to me before." + +It was a quarter to eleven o'clock before Constance, her tears dried, +her face beaming with a new expression of happiness, left the Deans' +house, accompanied by Mr. Dean, who had come in shortly before ten +o'clock and insisted on seeing her safely home. + +Later, as she prepared for bed in her bare little room she could not +help wondering why Marjorie had desired her for a best friend, and had +clung to her in spite of the displeasure of certain other girls. She +wondered, too, if there were any way in which she might show Marjorie +her affection and gratitude, and she made a solemn resolve that if that +time came she would prove herself worthy of Marjorie Dean's friendship. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE HALLOWE'EN DANCE + + +Saturday dawned as inauspiciously as any other day in the week, but to +the high school boys and girls of the little city of Sanford it was a +day set apart. Aside from commencement, the great event of their high +school year was about to take place. + +As early as eight o'clock that morning the decorating committee of +Weston High School was up and laboring manfully at the task of turning +Weston's big gymnasium into a veritable bower of beauty, which should, +in due season, draw forth plenty of admiring "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" from +their gentle guests. For three days the committee had been borrowing, +with lavish promises of safe return, as many cushions, draperies, +chairs, divans and various other articles calculated to fitly adorn the +ballroom, as their families and friends confidingly allowed them to +carry off. + +Their progress along this line had been painstakingly watched by +numerous pairs of sharp, young eyes, and the report had gone forth among +the girls that this particular Hallowe'en party was going to be "the +nicest dance the boys had ever given." + +To Marjorie Dean, however, the event promised more than the usual +interest. It was to be her first opportunity of entering into the social +life of the boys and girls of Sanford. In B---- she had numbered many +stanch friends among the young men of Lafayette High School, but she had +lived in Sanford for, what seemed to her, a very long time and had not +met a single Weston boy. Jerry had promised to introduce Marjorie to her +brother and to the tall, fair-haired youth known as the Crane, but so +far the young people had not been thrown together. Marjorie had no +silly, sentimental ideas in her curly brown head about boys. From early +childhood she had been allowed to play with them. She was fond of their +games and had always evinced far more interest in marbles, tops and even +baseball than she had in dolls. Still, at sixteen, she was not a hoyden +nor a tomboy, but a merry, light-hearted girl with a strong, healthy +body and a feeling of comradeship toward boys in general which was to +carry her far in her later life. + +At the time she had given Constance the blue gown she had also gained +her friend's rather reluctant consent to come to dinner at the Deans' on +the great night and dress with her for the dance. Marjorie attributed +Constance's hesitation to shyness. Always reticent regarding her home +life, Constance, aside from her one outburst relating to her family +on the day when she had advised Marjorie against her friendship, had +said little or nothing further of her home. So Marjorie did not know +that it was not a matter of shyness, but rather a question of who would +keep house and get the supper while she was out enjoying herself, that +caused Constance to demur before accepting the invitation. Then she +remembered that Hallowe'en came on Saturday and decided that she could +manage after all. + +The momentous Saturday dawned clear and cold, with just the suspicion of +a fall tang to the air. It was a busy day for the Weston boys, and when +at four o'clock the last garland of green had been twined about the +gymnasium posts and the gallery railing, while the last flag had been +painstakingly hung at the proper angle, the dozen or more of young men +who formed the decorating committee viewed their work with boyish pride. + +"It looks bully," shouted an enthusiastic freshman, with a sweep of his +arm which was intended to include the whole room. "If the girls aren't +suited with this, they won't be invited over here again in a hurry." + +"Hear him rave!" sadly commented a sophomore. "It takes a freshman to +fall all over himself." + +"That's because we are young and have more enthusiasm," retorted the +freshman, his freckled face alive with an impish grin. + + "Desist from your squabbles + And join in the waltz," + +caroled an extremely tall, thin youth, pirouetting on his toes, and +waving a long trail of ground pine about his head in true premiere +danseuse fashion. + +There was a shout of laughter from the boys at this burst of +terpsichorean art. The tall youth pranced and whirled the length of the +gymnasium and back, ending his performance with a swift, high kick and a +bow that bade fair to dislocate his spine. + +"Did I hear someone laugh?" he asked severely, drawing down his face +with such an indescribably funny expression that the laughter broke +forth afresh. "It is evident that you don't appreciate my rare ability +as a dancer." + +"You mean as a grasshopper," jeered the freckle-faced youth. + +"Exactly. No, I don't either. How dare you insult me?" He made a lengthy +lunge toward the freshman, who promptly dodged behind a tall, +good-looking young man who had at that moment joined the group. + +The lunging youth brought up short with, "Hello, Hal, I thought you had +gone." + +"So I had. Got halfway home and found I'd left my pocketknife here. +Maybe I didn't hotfoot it back though. Hope the girls will like the +looks of things." He cast approving eyes about the transformed +gymnasium. "Jerry's been raving to me ever since school began about her +new friend, Marjorie Dean. Have you met her? I understand she is coming +to-night." + +"Not I, I can't tell one of those girls from another," grumbled the +Crane. "You know just how much I like girls. I don't mind helping get +ready for this business, but I'd rather take a licking than come back +here to-night. You'll see me vanishing around the corner and out of here +at the very first chance. Girls are an awful nuisance anyway." + +"Nothing like true chivalry," murmured the freckle-faced freshman. An +instant later he was sprinting down the gymnasium as fast as his short +legs could carry him, the Crane in hot pursuit. + +"Cut it out, fellows," laughed Harold Macy. "You'll upset something or +other, and then, look out." + +"If we do it will be the Crane's fault," came plaintively from the +freckle-faced freshman, as he dodged his pursuer with an agility born of +long practice. "I don't see why he wants to chase me. I merely made a +simple remark." + +"Now that you've owned up to its being simple I'll let you off this +time," declared the Crane, magnanimously, "but see that it doesn't +happen again." + +"I will," was the glib promise. "I'm sorry I said you were a +grasshopper. You look more like a giraffe." + +Then he made a hurried exit through a nearby side door, leaving the +Crane to vow dire vengeance the next time he ventured within reach. + +A little further loitering and the group of boys broke up, and, leaving +the gymnasium, went home to get ready for the evening's fun and be back +in good season to help receive their guests. + +There were two guests, however, who dressed for the party with entirely +different emotions. To Constance it was the most wonderful night of her +life. She stole frequent, half-startled glances at her blue satin-shod +feet and even pinched a fold of her chiffon gown between her fingers to +feel if it were real. Mrs. Dean had arranged the girl's fair curling +hair in precisely the same fashion that Mary Raymond wore hers, and when +she had been hooked into the precious gown, with its exquisite little +sprays of rosebuds, she thought she knew just how poor, lowly Cinderella +felt when the fairy godmother touched her with her wand. While she was +being dressed she said little, yet Marjorie and her mother knew by the +happy light that crowded the wistful look quite out of her expressive +eyes that their guest was too deeply appreciative for words. + +Marjorie, who looked radiantly pretty in her frock of pink silk with its +overdress of delicate pink net, welcomed the dance with all the +enthusiasm of one who was heartily glad to get in touch with the social +side of her school life. She had forgotten for the moment that certain +girls in the freshman class had turned against her; that she was no +longer a member of the freshman basketball team. She remembered only +that it seemed ages since she had attended a party and she hoped +fervently that someone would ask her to dance. + +Jerry and Irma had arranged to call for Marjorie and Constance, as the +quartette were to use the Macys' limousine. When the automobile stopped +before the house, Jerry insisted on getting out and running into the +house to see her friends' gowns. Irma followed her, a smile of +good-natured tolerance on her placid face. + +"Jerry couldn't wait to see your dresses," she said, then exclaimed in +wonder: "How lovely you look, Constance, and what a perfectly sweet +gown!" + +Constance colored to the tips of her small ears. Jerry, too, began +voicing loud approval, and when, after having stood in line and been +inspected by Mrs. Dean, the four girls piled into the limousine, +Constance was overcome with the peculiar sensation of experiencing too +much happiness. She felt that it could not possibly last. + +The gymnasium was fairly well filled when they entered and by half past +eight o'clock the majority of the guests had arrived. Hardly had they +deposited their scarfs in the dressing-room and administered last +judicious pats to straying fluffy locks of hair when Jerry, who had +disappeared the moment they reached the dressing-room, came hurrying +back with the information that Hal was waiting outside to do the honors. +"You'd better hurry out and console the Crane, Irma," she added slyly. +"He looks about ten feet tall in his evening clothes and perfectly +miserable." + +Following in Jerry's wake Marjorie stepped into the gaily decorated room +and the next instant was shaking hands with handsome Hal Macy, the most +popular fellow in Weston High. As the brown eyes met the frank manly +gaze of the gray, there passed between the two young people a vivid +flash of liking and comradeship that was later to develop into a stanch +and beautiful friendship. + +"I am so glad to know you," said Marjorie, earnestly. "I am very fond of +your sister." + +"I am sure we shall be friends," declared Hal Macy. Involuntarily he put +out his hand. Marjorie's hand met it, and thus began the friendship +between Marjorie Dean and Hal Macy. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ON THE FIRING LINE + + +Introductions followed thick and fast. More than one pair of boyish eyes +had been centered approvingly on the girls that "Macy" was "rushing," +and he was soon besieged with gentle reminders not to be stingy, but to +give someone else a chance. + +When the enlivening strains of a popular dance began, Hal Macy pointed +significantly to his name on Marjorie's card. She nodded happily then +glanced quickly about to see if Constance had a partner. Surely enough, +she was just about to dance off with a rather tall, slender lad, whose +dark, sensitive face, heavy-browed, black-lashed eyes of intense blue +and straight-lipped, sensitive mouth caused her to say impulsively, "Oh, +who is that nice-looking boy dancing with Constance?" + +Hal glanced after the two graceful, gliding figures. "That's Lawrence +Armitage. He's one of the best fellows in school and my chum. You ought +to hear him play on the violin. He's going to Europe to study when he +finishes high school." + +"How interesting," commented Marjorie as they joined the dancers. Then, +as Mignon La Salle, wearing an elaborate apricot satin frock, flashed by +them on the arm of a rather stout boy, with a disagreeable face, +Marjorie suddenly remembered the existence of Mignon, Muriel and Susan. +Her eyes began an eager search for the Picture Girl. Muriel was sure to +look pretty in evening dress. Mignon's frock made her look older, she +decided. She soon spied Muriel, whose gown of white lace was vastly +becoming. So was Susan Atwell's dress of old rose and silver. She +wondered a trifle wickedly if they had not been surprised to see +Constance blossom out in such brave attire. Then she put the thought +aside as unworthy and determined to remember only the good time she was +having. + +After each dance the four friends managed to meet and compare notes +before they were off again with their next partners, and as the party +progressed it became noticeable that there were no wallflowers in that +particular group. + +"What do you think of that Stevens girl to-night, Mignon?" inquired +Susan Atwell as she and the French girl stood together for a moment +between dances. + +Mignon's elfish eyes gleamed angrily. "I think such beggars as she ought +never to be allowed to come to our parties. Goodness knows where she +borrowed that dress. Perhaps she didn't borrow it." She raised her +shoulders significantly. "If Laurie Armitage knew what a low, +disreputable family she has, I don't think he'd waste his time with +her." + +"Did Laurie ask you to dance to-night?" asked Susan inquisitively. + +But with a muttered, "I want to speak to Marcia," Mignon flounced off +without answering Susan's question, and the latter confided to Muriel +afterward that Mignon was mad as anything because Laurie hadn't noticed +her, but was trailing about after Miss Nobody Stevens. + +Completely unaware that she was adding to the French girl's list of +grievances, Constance had danced to her heart's content, quite positive +in her own mind that she had never met a more delightful boy than +Lawrence Armitage, and that never before had she so greatly enjoyed +herself. And now the wonderful party was almost over. She examined her +card to see with whom she had the next dance. Then her glance straying +down, she noticed that a bit of the tiny plaiting at the bottom of her +chiffon skirt had become loose and was hanging. Fearful of a fall, she +hurried toward the dressing-room. She would have the maid take a stitch +or two in it. + +But the maid was not in the room. + +A solitary figure in an apricot gown stood before the mirror, lingered +for a moment after Constance entered, then glided noiselessly out. +Evincing no sign of having seen Mignon, Constance began a diligent +hunt for a needle and thread. Failing to find them, she fastened the +loose bit of plaiting with a pin and hurried out into the gymnasium. Her +next dance was with Lawrence Armitage. She must not miss it. + +To her surprise Mignon re-entered the dressing-room as she left it. +Constance quickly made her way toward the corner which her friends had +selected as their headquarters. + +"I tore the plaiting of my dress," she said ruefully to Marjorie. "I +couldn't find the maid or a needle, so I had to pin it. I'm awfully +sorry. I don't know how it happened." + +"That's nothing," returned Marjorie, cheerfully. "I have a great long +tear in my sleeve. Someone caught hold of it in Paul Jones, and away it +went. Don't look so guilty over a little thing like that." + +"You don't----" began Constance, but she never finished. + +A tense little figure clad in apricot satin confronted her, crying out +in tones too plainly audible to those standing near, "Where is my +bracelet? What have you done with it?" + +Constance stared at her accuser in stupefied amazement. Her friends, +too, were for the moment speechless. + +"Answer me!" commanded Mignon. "I left it on the table in the +dressing-room. You were the only one in there at the time. When I +remembered and came back for it you were just leaving, but the bracelet +was gone. No one else except you could have taken it." + +Still Constance continued to stare in horror at the French girl. She +tried to speak, but the words would not come. Attracted by Mignon's +shrill tones, the dancers began to gather about the two girls. It was +Marjorie who came to her friend's defense. + +Even as a wee girl Marjorie Dean had possessed a temper. It was not an +ordinary temper. It was not easily aroused, but when once awakened it +shook her small body with intense fury and the object of her rage was +likely to remember her outburst forever after. Knowing it to be her +greatest fault, she had striven diligently to conquer it and it burst +forth only at rare intervals. To-night, however, the French girl's +heartless denunciation of Constance during a moment of happiness was too +monstrous to be borne. In a voice shaking with indignation she turned to +those surrounding her and said, "Will you please go on dancing? I have +something to say to Miss La Salle." + +They scattered as if by magic, leaving Marjorie facing Mignon, her arm +about Constance, her face a white mask, her eyes flaming with scorn. +Then she began in low, even tones: + +"I forbid you to say another word either to or about my friend Constance +Stevens. She has not taken your bracelet. She knows nothing about it. I +will answer for her as I would for myself. You have accused her of this +because you wish to disgrace her in the eyes of her friends and +schoolmates. I am not at all sure that you have lost it, but I am very +sure that Miss Stevens hasn't seen it. And now I hope I shall never be +called upon to speak to you again, for you are the cruelest, most +contemptible girl I have ever known; but, if I hear anything further of +this, I will take you to Miss Archer, to the Board of Education, if +necessary, and make you retract every word. Come on, Constance." + +With her arm still encircling the now weeping girl, Marjorie made her +way to the dressing-room. Jerry followed her within the next five +minutes. + +"The car's here," she announced briefly. "Hal and Laurie and the Crane +are going home with us." + +"Don't you cry, Constance," she soothed, patting the curly, golden head. +"Mignon made a goose of herself to-night. The boys are all disgusted, +and everyone knows she was making a fuss over nothing. You did exactly +right, too, Marjorie, when you sent us all about our business. I'm sorry +it happened, but you remember what I tell you, Mignon has hurt herself a +great deal more than she has hurt you." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A PITCHED BATTLE + + +After the echoes of the dance had died away, basketball received a new +impetus that brought it to the fore with a bound. With the renewed +interest in the coming game was also noised about the report that "Miss +Dean wasn't on the team any longer," and in some unknown fashion the +news that she had been "asked" to resign had also gone the round of the +study hall. The upper class girls were not particularly interested +either in Marjorie or her affairs. She had not lived in Sanford long +enough to become well-known to them, and as a rule the juniors and +seniors left the bringing up of the freshmen to their sophomore sisters. +The sophomores were too much absorbed in the progress of their own team +to trouble themselves greatly over what was happening in the freshman +organization. If Muriel or Mignon had resigned, then there would have +been good cause for predicting an easy victory, for both girls were +considered formidable opponents; but Marjorie was new material, untried +and unproven. + +It was in the freshman class, however, that comment ran rife. Since the +night of the Weston dance the class had been almost equally divided. A +little less than half the girls had either openly or by friendly smiles +and nods declared in favor of Marjorie and her friends. The remaining +members of the class, with a few neutral exceptions, were apparently +devoted to the French girl and Muriel. Among their adherents they also +counted Miss Merton, who took no pains to conceal her open dislike for +Marjorie, and Marcia Arnold, who even went so far as to try to explain +the situation to Miss Archer and was sternly reminded that the principal +would take no part in the private differences of her girls unless they +had something to do with breaking the rules of the school. + +The days immediately preceding the game were not cheerful ones for +Marjorie. She was still unhappy over her unjust dismissal from the team, +and she wondered if it had been much talked of among her classmates. At +home she had announced offhandedly her resignation from the team and +her mother had asked no questions. + +Mignon was greatly disturbed and displeased with the advent of Marjorie +Dean into Sanford High School. Young as she was, she was very shrewd, +and she at once foresaw in Marjorie's pretty face and attractive +personality a rival power. To be sure, Marjorie's father was not so rich +as her own, but it could not be denied that the Deans lived in a big +house on Maple avenue, that Marjorie wore "perfectly lovely" clothes and +had plenty of pocket money. In the beginning she had decided that it +would be better to make friends with her, but Marjorie's sturdy defense +of Constance and utter disregard for Mignon's significant warning had +shown her plainly that she could not influence the other girl to do what +she considered an unworthy act. Therefore, she had secretly determined +to make matters as disagreeable as lay within her power for the two +girls during her freshman year. Still she was obliged to admit to +herself that her next move would have to be planned and carried out with +more discretion. + +And now it was the Friday before the much-heralded basketball game which +was to be played between the sophomores and the freshmen, and the merits +and shortcomings of the respective organizations were being eagerly +discussed throughout the school. The game was to be called at half-past +two o'clock on Saturday afternoon, and from all accounts there was to be +no lack of spectators. + +"I wouldn't for anything miss that game to-morrow!" exclaimed Jerry +Macy, as she and Constance and Marjorie came down the steps of the +school together. "I hope the freshmen get the worst whitewashing that +any team in this school has ever had, too," she added, with a deliberate +air of spite. + +"You mustn't say that, Jerry," returned Marjorie, a faint color rising +to her cheeks. "You must not let my grievances affect your loyalty to +your class." + +"Do you mean to say that you want that horrid Mignon La Salle and her +crowd to win the game, and then go around crowing that it was all +because they put you out of the team? You needn't look so as though you +didn't believe me. You mark my word, if they win you'll find out that +they'll do just as I say. Freshman or no freshman, I'd rather see that +nice Ellen Seymour's team win any day." + +"So would I," echoed Constance, her face darkening with the remembrance +of her own wrongs at Mignon's hands. + +Marjorie was silent for a moment. She knew that Jerry's outburst rose +from pure devotion to her friends, and she could not blame Constance for +her hostile spirit. Still, was it right to allow personal grudges to +warp one's loyalty to one's class? If the record of their class read +badly at the end of their freshman year, whose fault would it be? She +had fought it all out with herself on the day she wrote her resignation, +and had wisely determined, then, not to allow it to spoil her year. + +"I know how you girls feel about this," she said slowly. "I felt the +same way until after I had written my resignation. While I was writing I +kept hoping that the team would lose and be sorry they had put someone +else in my place. Then it just came to me all of a sudden that a good +soldier wouldn't be a traitor to his country even if he were reduced in +rank or had something happen unpleasant to him in his camp." + +She stopped and looked embarrassed. She had forgotten that the girls +could not possibly know what she meant. She had never told any one in +Sanford High School about the pretty soldier play which she and Mary had +carried on for so long. It was one of the little intimate details of her +life which she preferred to keep to herself. Should she explain? Jerry's +impatient retort made it unnecessary. + +"The only traitor I know anything about is Mignon," she flung back, +failing to grasp the significance of Marjorie's comparison. + +Constance, however, had flashed a curious glance at her friend, saying +nothing. When Geraldine had nodded good-bye at her street, and the two +were alone, she asked: "What did you mean by comparing yourself to a +soldier, Marjorie?" + +Marjorie smiled. + +"I think I'd better tell you all about it. I've never told anyone else." + +"What a splendid game," mused Constance, half to herself, when Marjorie +had finished. "Do you--would you--could I be a soldier, too, Marjorie? +It would help me. You don't know. There are so many things." + +The wistful appeal touched Marjorie. + +"Of course you can," she assured. "You'd better come to my house to +luncheon to-morrow. You can join the army then and go to the game with +me." + +"I'm not going to the game." The look of expectancy died out of +Constance's face. + +"You can't be a soldier if you balk at the first disagreeable thing that +comes along," reminded Marjorie, slipping her arm through that of her +friend. Constance walked a few steps in stolid silence. She could not +make up her mind to watch the playing of the girls whom she felt she +hated, even to please Marjorie. It was not until they were about to +separate that Marjorie said quietly. "Shall I tell mother you are +coming?" and Constance forced herself to reply shortly, "I'll come." + +By half past one Saturday afternoon every seat in the large gallery +surrounding the gymnasium was filled, and by a quarter to two every +square foot of standing room was occupied by an enthusiastic audience +largely composed of boys and girls of the two high schools. Marjorie's +mother had after some little coaxing consented to come to the game with +her daughter as her guest. She sat with Constance and Marjorie in the +first row of the gallery, while beside her sat none other than Miss +Archer, whom they had encountered on their way to the high school and +who had invited them to take seats in the front row with her. She had +already met Mrs. Dean at the church which both women attended and had +conceived an instant liking for the pretty, gracious woman who looked +little older than her daughter. + +"Wasn't it nice of Miss Archer to ask us to sit here?" whispered +Marjorie in her friend's ear. "We have mother to thank for it. She is so +dear that no one can help liking her." Marjorie looked adoring +admiration at her mother's clear-cut profile. "Do you suppose anyone +will mistake us for faculty?" + +Both girls giggled softly at such an improbability. + +"I never went to a basketball game before," confessed Constance after a +time. "What are those girls over there in the red paper hats and big red +bows going to do?" + +"Oh, that's the sophomore class. They lead their class in the songs. The +green and purple girls are the freshman chorus." + +"I didn't even know our class colors were green and purple." + +"You didn't! Why, that's the reason you and I wore violets to the dance. +Almost every freshman had them." + +"Oh, look!" Constance's eyes were fixed upon a tiny purple figure that +had just emerged from a side door in the gymnasium and was walking +slowly across the big floor. Immediately afterward a door opened on the +opposite side and a diminutive scarlet-clad boy flashed forth. + +"They are the mascots," explained Marjorie, her gaze on the two children +who advanced to the center of the room and gravely shook hands. Then the +boy in red announced in a high, clear treble: "Ladies and gentlemen, the +noble sophomores!" + +The door swung wide and a band of lithe blue figures, bearing a huge +letter "S" done in scarlet on the fronts of their blouses, pattered into +the gymnasium, amid loud applause. + +"The valiant freshmen!" piped the purple-clad youngster. + +There was a rush of black-clad girls, with resplendent violet "F's" +ornamenting their breasts, another volley of cheers from the audience, +then a shrill blast from the referee's whistle rent the air, the teams +dropped into their places, the umpire, time-keeper and scorer took +their stations, and a tense silence settled over the audience. + +The referee balanced the ball. Ellen Seymour and Mignon La Salle +gathered themselves for the toss. Up it went. The two players leaped for +it. The referee's whistle sounded again. The struggle for basketball +honors began. + +A jubilant shout swelled from the throats of the watching freshmen and +their fans. Mignon had caught the ball. She sent it speeding toward +Helen Thornton, who fumbled it, and losing her head, threw it away +from, instead of to the basket. An audible sigh of disapproval came from +the freshman contingent as they beheld the ball pass into the hands of +the sophomores, who scored shortly afterward. + +Now that the ball was in their hands the sophomores proceeded to show +their friends and opponents a few things about playing. They had the +advantage and they kept it. Try as the freshmen might, they could not +score. The first unlucky error on the part of Helen Thornton had seemed +to turn the tide against them. Toward the close of the first half they +managed to score, but all too soon the whistle blew, with the score 8 to +2 in favor of the sophomores. + +Their fans went wild with delight and their chorus sang or rather +shouted gleefully their pet song, beginning, + + "Hail the sophomores, gallant band! + See how bold they take their stand!" + +to the tune of "Hail Columbia," coming out noisily on the concluding +lines, + + "Firm and steadfast shall they be, + Marching on to victory; + As a band of players, they + Shall be conquerors to-day." + +The freshmen answered with their song, "The Freshmen's Brave Banner," +but they did not sing as spiritedly as they had before the beginning of +the game. + +"I wonder what Jerry and Irma think," commented Marjorie. Their two +chums had been detailed to sing in the freshman chorus, which accounted +for their absence from the Dean party. + +"Jerry looks awfully cross," returned Constance, scanning the opposite +side of the gallery where Jerry was singing lustily, her straight, heavy +brows drawn together in a savage scowl. + +"There goes the whistle!" Marjorie leaned eagerly forward to see the +freshman team come in from the side room which they were using. Her +alert eyes noted that Muriel looked sulky, Mignon stormy, Susan Atwell +belligerent, Harriet Delaney offended, and that Helen Thornton, the +substitute who had replaced her, had been crying. + +Marjorie felt a thrill of pity for the unfortunate substitute. It looked +as though she had spent an unhappy quarter of an hour in the little side +room. + +The teams changed sides and hastened to their places. Again Mignon and +Ellen faced each other. Then the whistle shrilled and the second half of +the game was on. + +From the beginning of the second half it looked as though the freshmen +might retrieve their early losses. They worked with might and main and +made no false moves. Slowly their score climbed to six. So far the +sophomores had gained nothing. Then Ellen Seymour made a spectacular +throw to the basket and brought her team up two points. With the +realization that they were facing defeat the freshmen rallied and made a +desperate effort to hold their own, bringing their count up to eight. + +Two more points were gained and the score was tied, but the time was +growing short. Helen Thornton had the ball and was plainly trying to +elude the tantalizing sophomore who barred her way. She made a clumsy +feint of throwing the ball. It slipped from her fingers and rolled along +the floor. There was a mad scramble for it. Mignon and Ellen Seymour +leaped forward simultaneously. + +The crowd in the gallery was aroused to the height of excitement. +Marjorie, breathless, leaned far over the gallery rail. She knew every +detail of the dear old game. She saw Mignon's and Ellen's heads close +together as they sprang; then she saw Mignon give a sly, vicious side +lunge which threw Ellen almost off her feet. In the instant it took +Ellen to recover herself the French girl had seized the ball and was off +with it. Eluding her pursuers, she balanced herself on her toes, and +threw her prize toward the freshman basket. But it never reached there. +A long blue figure shot straight up into the air. Elizabeth Corey, a +girl whose sensational plays had made her a lion during her freshman +year, had intercepted the flying ball. She sent it spinning through the +air toward the sophomore nearest their basket, whose willing hands +received it and threw it home. + +Mignon's trickery had availed her little. The sophomores had won. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +WHAT HAPPENED ON BLUE MONDAY + + +For the next ten minutes the air was rent with the lusty voices of the +sophomore chorus and the joyous cheers of their fans. No echoing song +arose from freshman lips. The vanquished team had already betaken +themselves to their quarters, but the sophomore players were holding an +impromptu reception on the ground they had so hotly contested. + +Marjorie and Constance watched them eagerly. + +"Go downstairs, girls, and join the hero worshipers," smiled Miss +Archer. "We will excuse you, won't we, Mrs. Dean?" + +"Yes; after the fervent manner in which they hung over the railing it +would be cruel to keep them with us," smiled Mrs. Dean. + +"Let's find Jerry and Irma," said Marjorie, as they paused in the open +doorway of the gymnasium. + +Hardly had she spoken, when Jerry's unmistakable tones rose behind her. +The stout girl was talking excitedly, a rising note of indignation in +her voice. + +"I tell you I saw her push against Ellen Seymour," she declared. "You +must have seen her, too, Irma." + +"I thought so," admitted Irma, "but I wasn't sure." + +"Well, I was. Oh, girls, we were just going upstairs to find you! Now +that you're here, let's go into the gym, and join the celebration. I +don't know how you feel about it, but I'm glad the sophomores won," +Jerry ended, with an emphatic wag of her head. + +"Listen, Jerry," said Marjorie, earnestly, "you were talking so loudly +when you were behind us that I couldn't help hearing you. Did it seem to +you as though Mignon deliberately pushed against Ellen Seymour?" + +"I know she did," reiterated Jerry. "I watched her, for she is always +unfair and tricky. Anyone who has ever played on a team could tell. I'm +surprised that you----" She stopped abruptly. "I believe you saw her, +too. Confess, you did see her; now, didn't you?" + +Marjorie nodded. + +"Now's your chance to get even with her. Let's go to Miss Archer and +tell her," proposed the stout girl. "She'll send for Ellen Seymour and +then, good-bye freshman basketball for a while. But what do you care? +You aren't on the team any more. It would serve them right at that." + +"Oh, no," Marjorie looked her horror at the bare idea of tale-bearing. + +"Just as you say," shrugged Jerry. They were still standing just inside +the door watching the sophomore team receiving congratulations, when +they beheld a familiar figure in a black gymnasium suit pause squarely +in front of Ellen Seymour. They saw Ellen start angrily, then a confused +murmur of voices arose and the circle of fans and players closed in +about the two girls. + +"What's happened?" demanded Jerry. "Come on, girls." She hurried toward +the crowd, the three girls at her heels. Even as they joined the throng +they heard Mignon declare in a tone freighted with malice! "You +purposely pushed against me when we ran for the ball in our last play +and nearly threw me off my feet. You know that deliberate pushing, +striking or any kind of roughness is forbidden, and you could be +disqualified as a player. I do not know where the referee's eyes were, I +am sure, but I do know that you are not fit to be on a team, and I can +prove it by the other players of my team. I shall certainly complain to +Miss Archer about it the first thing Monday morning." + +"All right, I'll meet you in Miss Archer's office the first thing after +chapel," answered Ellen, coolly, ignoring everything save the French +girl's final threat. "Come along, girls." She beckoned to the other +members of her team, who had listened in blank amazement to the bold +accusation. With her head held high, a careless smile on her fine face, +Ellen marched through the crowd, which made way for her, and across the +gymnasium to the sophomores' room, accompanied by her team. + +"Isn't that a shame?" burst out Jerry. "Ellen will have an awful time to +prove herself innocent. She never touched Mignon. It was Mignon who +pushed her away. I saw her with my own eyes, and so did you, Marjorie. +Say," she looked blankly at Marjorie, "do you suppose it's our duty to +go to Miss Archer and tell her what we saw?" + +"I--don't--know." The words came doubtfully. "Perhaps it will all blow +over. I hate to carry tales. Suppose we wait until Monday and see? +Mignon may change her mind. Even if she doesn't, Miss Archer may not +listen to her. But, if she should, then we'll have to do it, Jerry. It +wouldn't be fair to Ellen to keep still about it; I heard Miss Archer +tell mother Monday that she would not tolerate the least bit of +roughness in the girls' games. She knew of several schools where girls +had been tripped or knocked down and seriously hurt. She said that if +any reports of rough playing were brought to her she would 'deal +severely with the offender.' Those were her very words." + +"All right; we'll wait," agreed Jerry. "I'm not crazy about reporting +even Mignon. Ellen can take care of herself, I guess." + +So the matter was apparently settled for the time, and the four girls +strolled home discussing the various features of the game. + +"How did you like the game, Captain?" she asked, saluting, as an hour +later she entered the living-room, where her mother sat reading. + +"Very well, indeed," replied her mother, laying down her magazine. +"Neither Miss Archer nor I understand all the fine points of the game, +but we managed to keep track of most of the plays. By the way, Marjorie, +when you go to school on Monday morning, I wish you to take this +magazine to Miss Archer. It contains an article which I have marked for +her. It is quite in line with a discussion we had this afternoon." + +"I'll remember," promised Marjorie, and when Monday morning came she +kept her word, starting for school with the magazine under her arm. + +"I'll run up to Miss Archer's office with it after chapel," she decided. + +When the morning service was over, Marjorie returned to the study hall, +and obtained Miss Merton's grudging permission to execute her +commission. + +"I wish to see Miss Archer," she said shortly, as Marcia Arnold looked +up from her writing just long enough to cast a half insolent glance of +inquiry in her direction. + +"You can't see her. She's busy." + +The color flew to Marjorie's cheeks at the bold refusal. Her first +impulse was to turn and walk away. She could see Miss Archer later. Then +her natural independence asserted itself, and she determined to stand +her ground at least long enough to discover whether or not Miss Archer +were really too busy to be seen. + +"Then I'll wait here until she is at liberty." + +Marcia frowned and seemed on the verge of further unpleasantness when +the sound of a buzzer from the inner office sent her hurrying toward it. +As she opened the door, Marjorie caught a fleeting glimpse of two +persons; one was Miss Archer, her face set and stern, the other Mignon +La Salle, her black eyes blazing with satisfaction. + +"Oh!" gasped Marjorie, remembering Mignon's threat, "she is reporting +poor Ellen." + +The door swung open again and the secretary glided past her and out into +the corridor with the peculiar sliding gait that had caused Jerry to +liken her to a "nice, wriggly snake." + +"She is going to bring Ellen here," guessed Marjorie. + +Sure enough, within five minutes Marcia returned, followed by Ellen +Seymour, whose pale, defiant face meant battle. Again the door of the +inner office closed with a portending click. Marcia Arnold did not +return to the outer office. + +Marjorie waited apprehensively, wondering if Ellen were holding her +own. Then to her utter amazement, the secretary appeared with a sulky, +"Miss Archer wants you," and returned to her desk. + +"Good morning, Miss Dean," was the principal's grave salutation. "I did +not know until I asked Miss Arnold to go for you that you were in the +outer office." + +"I have been waiting to give you the magazine that mother promised you. +She asked me to say to you that she had marked the article she wished +you to read." + +"Please thank your mother for me," returned Miss Archer, her face +relaxing, "and thank you for bringing it. To return to why I sent for +you, you understand the game of basketball, do you not?" + +"Yes," answered Marjorie, simply. + +"You have played on a team?" inquired the principal. + +"Yes." + +"Did I not see you at practice with the freshmen shortly before the +game?" + +Marjorie colored hotly. "I made the team, but afterward was asked to +resign because I did not play well enough." + +"Who asked you to resign?" + +"The note was signed by the manager of the team." + +"And is that the reason you stopped playing?" broke in Ellen Seymour, +with impulsive disregard for her surroundings. "I might have known it." + +Then she whirled upon Mignon in a burst of indignation as scathing as it +was unexpected. + +"How contemptible you are! I haven't the least doubt that you are to +blame for Miss Dean's leaving the team. You knew her to be a skilful +player and you were afraid she would outplay you. You know, too, that +when we jumped for the ball Saturday you purposely pushed me away from +it, almost throwing me down. It didn't do you the least bit of good, and +because you are spiteful you have set out to disgrace me and put a stain +on the sophomores' victory." + +"How dare you? You are not telling the truth! Prove your charge against +me, if you can," challenged Mignon, with blazing eyes. + +"It will be easier to prove than yours against me," flung back Ellen. + +"Girls, this is disgraceful! Not another word." Miss Archer's tone of +stern command had an immediate effect on the belligerents. + +"Please pardon me, Miss Archer." There was real contrition in Ellen's +voice. "I didn't mean to be so rude. I lost control of my temper." + +Mignon, however, made no apology. Her elfish eyes turned from Marjorie +to Ellen with an expression of concentrated hate. + +"Now, girls," began Miss Archer, firmly, "we are going to settle this +difficulty here in my office before anyone of you goes back to her +classes. That is the reason I have sent for Miss Dean. When Miss La +Salle entered her complaint against you, Miss Seymour, I decided that +you should have a chance to speak in your own behalf. No sooner were you +brought face to face than one accused the other of treachery. From the +front row of the gallery, where I sat on the afternoon of the game, I +could see every move of the players, but my eyes were not sufficiently +trained to detect the roughness of which you accuse each other. Then I +remembered that Miss Dean sat next to me and that she was a seasoned +player. So I sent for her to ask her in your presence if she saw the +alleged roughness on the part of either of you." + +There was a half-smothered exclamation of dismay from Marjorie. Ellen +was regarding her in mute appeal. Mignon's lips curled back in a sneer. +It was dreadful to remain under a cloud. + +"I am waiting for you to speak, Miss Dean." + +Marjorie drew a long breath. "Miss Seymour spoke the truth. I saw Miss +La Salle purposely push Miss Seymour away from the ball. Someone else +saw her, too--someone who sat on the other side of the gallery." Her +tones carried unmistakable truth with them. + +"It isn't true! It isn't true!" Mignon's voice rose to an enraged +shriek. "She only says so because she wants to pay me for making her +resign from the team." + +"What did I tell you?" asked Ellen Seymour, triumphantly. "She admits +that she was responsible for that resignation." + +"That will do," commanded Miss Archer, raising her hand. + +Ellen subsided meekly. + +Realizing that she had said too much, Mignon quieted as suddenly as she +had burst forth. + +"Miss Dean, are you perfectly sure of what you say?" questioned Miss +Archer. + +"I am quite sure," was the steady answer. + +A seemingly endless silence followed Marjorie's reply. The principal +surveyed the trio searchingly. + +"What girls comprise the freshman team?" At last she put the question +coldly to Mignon. + +The French girl sulkily named them. Miss Archer made note of their +names. The principal then pressed the buzzer that summoned her +secretary. + +"Send these young women to me at once," she directed, handing Marcia the +slip of paper. + +Turning to the three girls before her she said, "Miss Seymour, you may +go back to the study hall. Unless you hear from me further you are +exonerated from blame. I shall not need you either, Miss Dean. I am +sorry that I was obliged to involve you in this affair, but I am glad +that you were not afraid to tell the truth." + +Marjorie turned to follow Ellen Seymour from the room, when the door +opened and the freshman basketball team filed in. For a brief instant +the principal's attention was fixed upon the entering girls, and in that +instant Mignon found time to mutter in Marjorie's ear, "I'll never +forgive you for this and you'll be sorry. Just wait and see if you're +not." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MARJORIE'S WONDERFUL DISCOVERY + + +What transpired in Miss Archer's private office on that memorable +morning when the freshman team visited her in a body was a subject that +agitated high school circles for at least a week afterward. Other than +the team no one could furnish any authentic information as to what had +actually been said and done, but the amazing report that "Miss Archer +had disbanded the freshman basketball team" was on every one's tongue. +Whether or not another team would be selected no one knew. That would +depend wholly upon Miss Archer's decision. That the members of the team +had offended seriously there could be no doubt. As for the ex-members +themselves, they were absolutely mute on the subject. Among themselves, +however, they had a great deal to say, and, one and all, held Marjorie +Dean responsible for their downfall. + +When Miss Archer had commanded their presence in her office that +eventful morning it was not in connection with the conflicting +statements of Ellen Seymour and Mignon La Salle. Satisfied that Mignon +was the real offender, she had read that young woman a lesson on +untruthfulness and treachery in the presence of the team that left her +white with mortification, her stormy black eyes alone betraying her +rage. + +Then Miss Archer proceeded to the other business at hand, which was an +inquiry into their reason for requesting Marjorie Dean's resignation +from the team. One by one, the four girls, with the exception of Helen +Thornton, were questioned separately and acknowledged, in shamefaced +fashion, that Marjorie was a really good player. + +"Then why," Miss Archer had asked sharply, "did you ask her to resign?" +There had been no answer to this pertinent question, and then had +followed their principal's rebuke, sharp and stinging. + +"It is not often that I feel impelled to interfere in your games," she +had said. "Not long since I refused to listen to something Miss Arnold +tried to tell me; but, when several heartless girls deliberately combine +to humiliate and discomfit a companion under the flimsy pretext of 'the +good of the team' it is time to call a halt. Four girls were prime +movers in this contemptible plan. One girl was an accessory, and +therefore equally guilty. In justice to the traditions of Sanford High +School the girl who has suffered at your hands, and in defense of my own +self-respect, these offenders must be punished. So I am going to +disband your team and forbid any one of you to play basketball again +until I am satisfied that you know something of the first principles of +honor and fair play. However, I shall not forbid basketball to the +freshmen. The innocent shall not suffer with the guilty. A new team will +be chosen which I trust will be a credit rather than a detriment to our +high school. You are dismissed." + +Five girls, whose faces were an open indication of their chagrin, had +left the principal's office in a far more chastened frame of mind than +when they had entered it. Miss Archer's arraignment had been a most +unpleasant surprise, and in discussing it among themselves afterward, +Helen Thornton had caused Mignon to pour forth a torrent of biting words +by saying sulkily, that if Mignon had let Ellen Seymour alone everything +would have been all right. + +"Do you mean to say that you believe those miserable girls?" Mignon had +cried out. + +And Helen had answered with marked sarcasm, "No; I believe what I saw +with my own eyes, and I wish I'd never heard of your old team. I'm +ashamed to think I ever listened to you," and had walked away from the +group with a sore and penitent heart, never to return to their circle +again. + +All this was, of course, kept strictly secret by the other four +ex-members, who joined hands and vowed solemnly that they would weather +the gale together. The disbanding of the team by Miss Archer and Ellen +Seymour's vindication, could not be hushed up, however, and, despite +their protests that Miss Archer was unfair, and that the statements of +certain other girls were wholly unreliable, they lost ground with their +classmates. + +Marjorie, too, had been made to feel the weight of their displeasure, +for they took pains to circulate the report that it was she who had told +tales to the principal, and thus brought them to grief. Several of the +sophomores, including Ellen Seymour, heatedly denied the rumor, and a +number of freshmen also took up the cudgels in her behalf. Jerry, Irma +and Constance stood firmly by her, and, although the poor little +lieutenant was far more hurt over the allegation than she would show, +she kept a brave face to the front and tried to ignore the ill-natured +thrusts launched chiefly by Muriel and Mignon. + +But in the midst of this uncomfortable season Marjorie made a wonderful +discovery. It was quite by chance that she made it, and it concerned +Constance Stevens. Although the Mary girl had apparently grown very fond +of Marjorie and had almost entirely dropped her strange cloak of +reserve, she had never invited the girl who had so graciously befriended +her to her home. + +From the words of vehement protest which Constance had spoken on that +day when Marjorie had followed her and protested that they become +friends, she had partly understood the other girl's position in regard +to her family, and had tactfully avoided the subject ever afterward. She +had talked the matter over with her captain, and they had decided to +respect Constance's reticence and keep religiously away from anything +bordering on the discussion of her family. + +It was on a crisp November afternoon, several days before Thanksgiving, +that Marjorie made her discovery. As she walked into the living-room, +her books on her arm, her cheeks pink from the sharp, frosty air, her +mother hung up the telephone with: "Marjorie, do you think Constance +would like to go with us to the theatre to-night? Your father has just +telephoned me that he has four tickets." + +"She'd love it. I know she would. I'll hurry straight down to her house +and ask her." Marjorie dropped her books on the table with a joyful +thump. + +"Very well; but I wish you would wait until I finish my letter, then you +can post it on your way there." + +"Did Nora bake chocolate cake to-day?" asked Marjorie irrelevantly. + +"Yes." + +There was a rush of light feet from the room. Three minutes later +Marjorie returned, a huge piece of chocolate layer cake in her hand. + +"It's the best ever," she declared between bites. + +By the time the cake was eaten the letter was ready. + +"Hurry, dear," her mother called after her; "we shall have an early +dinner." + +It did not recur to Marjorie until within sight of the house where +Constance lived that she was an uninvited guest. What a queer-looking +little house it was! Long ago it had been painted a pale gray with white +trimmings, but now it was a dingy, hopeless color that defied +description. A child's dilapidated tricycle stood on the rickety porch, +which was approached by a flight of three unstable-looking steps. + +Her mind centered upon her errand, Marjorie paid small attention to her +surroundings. She bounded up the steps, searching with alert eyes for a +bell. Finding none she doubled her fist to knock, but paused suddenly +with upraised arm. From within the house came the vibrant notes of a +violin mingled with the soft accompaniment of a piano. + +"Schubert's 'Serenade,'" breathed Marjorie, delightedly, lowering her +arm. "I simply must listen." + +Suddenly a voice took up the plaintive strain. It was so high and sweet +and clear that the listener caught her breath in sheer amazement. + +She stood spellbound, while the wonderful voice sang on and on to the +last note of the exquisite "Serenade" that seemed to end in a long-drawn +sigh. + +Marjorie knocked lightly, but no one responded. + +The singer had begun again. This time it was Nevin's "Oh That We Two +Were Maying." + +She listened again; then, to her surprise, the door was gently opened. +Before her stood the tiny figure of a boy whose great black eyes looked +curiously into hers. Laying his finger upon his lips, he gravely +motioned with his other hand for her to enter. Then as he limped away +from the door Marjorie saw he was a cripple. + +Marjorie stepped noiselessly into the room, her eyes on the piano. A man +was seated before it. She could not see his face, but she noted that he +had an enormous shock of snow-white hair. At one side of him stood +another old man, his thin cheek resting lovingly against his violin, his +whole soul intent upon the flood of melody he was bringing forth, while +on the other side of the pianist, her quiet face fairly transfigured +stood Constance, pouring out her very heart in song. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE PEOPLE OF THE LITTLE GRAY HOUSE + + +Intent upon their music, neither the singer nor the two men were +immediately aware of the presence of another person in the room. + + "Oh, that we two were lying + Under the churchyard sod," + +sang Constance, voicing the pent-up longing of Kingsley's tenderly +regretful words and Nevin's wistful setting, while the violin sang a +subdued, pensive obligato. + +Marjorie stood very still, her gaze fastened upon Constance. The quaint +little boy stared at Marjorie with an equally intent interest. Thus, as +Constance began the last line the earnest, compelling regard of the +brown eyes caused her own to be turned toward Marjorie. + +"Oh!" she ejaculated in faltering surprise. "Where--where did you come +from? What made you come here?" + +There was mingled amazement, consternation and embarrassment in the +question. The white-haired pianist swung round on his stool, and the old +man with the violin raised his head and regarded the unexpected visitor +out of two mildly inquiring blue eyes. + +"I'm sorry," began Marjorie, her cheeks hot with the shame of being +unwelcome. "I suppose I ought not to have come, but----" + +Constance sprang to her side and catching her hands said contritely, +"Forgive me, dear, and please don't feel hurt. I--you see--I never +invite anyone here--because--well, just because we are so poor. I +thought you wouldn't care to come and so----" + +"I've always wanted to come," interrupted Marjorie, eagerly. "I don't +think you are poor. I think you are rich to have this wonderful music. I +never dreamed you could sing, Constance. What made you keep it a +secret?" + +"No one ever liked me well enough to care to know it until you came," +returned Constance simply. "I meant to tell you, but I kept on putting +it off." + +While the conversation went on between the two girls the one old man was +going over a pile of ragged-edged music on the piano, while the other +was industriously engaged with a troublesome E string. + +"Father, Uncle John!" called Constance, gently, "come here. I want you +to meet my friend Marjorie Dean." + +Both musicians left their self-appointed tasks and came forward. + +Marjorie gave her soft little hand to each in turn, and they bowed over +it with almost old-style courtesy. She looked curiously at Constance's +father. His daughter did not in any way resemble him. His was the face +of a dreamer, rather thin, with clean-cut features and dark eyes that +seemed to see past one and into another world of his own creation. In +spite of his white hair he was not old. Not more than forty-five, or, +perhaps fifty, Marjorie decided. The other man was much older, sixty at +least. He was very thin, and his gentle face wore a pathetically vacant +expression that brought back to Marjorie the rush of bitter words +Constance had poured forth on the day when she had declined to be +friends. "We take care of an old man who people say is crazy, and folks +call us Bohemians and gypsies and even vagabonds." + +"I came here to see if Constance could go to the theatre with us +to-night," explained Marjorie, rather shyly. "No, thank you, I won't sit +down. I promised mother I'd hurry home." + +"It is very kind in you to ask my daughter to share your pleasure," said +Constance's father, his somber face lighting with a smile that reminded +Marjorie of the sun suddenly bursting from behind a cloud. "I should +like to have her go." + +"Have her go," repeated the thin old man, bowing and beaming. + +"Is there a band at the theatre?" piped a small, solemn voice. + +Marjorie smiled down into the earnest, upraised face of the little boy. + +"Oh, yes, there is a big, big band at the theatre." + +"Then take me, too," returned the child calmly. + +"No, no," reproved Constance gently, "Charlie can't go to-night." + +A grieved look crept into the big black eyes. Without further words the +quaint little boy limped over to the old man, whom Constance had +addressed as Uncle John, and hid behind him. + +Forgetting formality, tender-hearted Marjorie sprang after him. She +knelt beside him and gathered him into her arms. He made no resistance, +merely regarded her with wistful curiosity. + +"Listen, dear little man," she said, "you and Constance and I will go to +the place where the big band plays some Saturday afternoon, and we'll +sit on the front seat where you can see every single thing they do. +Won't that be nice?" + +The boy nodded and slipped his tiny hand in hers. "I'm going to play in +the band when I grow up," he confided. "Connie can go to-night if she +promises to tell me all about it afterward." + +"You dear little soul," bubbled Marjorie, stroking his thick hair that +fell carelessly over his forehead and almost into his bright eyes. + +"I'll tell you all about everything, Charlie," promised Constance. + +"That means you will go," cried Marjorie, joyfully, rising from the +floor, the child's hand still in hers. + +"Yes, I will," returned Constance hesitatingly, "only--I--haven't +anything pretty to wear." + +"Pretty to wear," repeated Uncle John faithfully. + +"Never mind that," reassured Marjorie. "Just wear a fresh white blouse +with your blue suit. I'm sure that will look nice." + +"Will look nice," agreed Uncle John so promptly, that Marjorie started +slightly, then, noting that Constance seemed embarrassed, she nodded +genially at the old man, who smiled back like a pleased child. + +Remembering her mother's injunction, Marjorie took hasty leave of the +Stevens family and set off for home at a brisk pace. Her thoughts were +as active as her feet. She had seen enough in the last fifteen minutes +to furnish ample food for reflection, and she now believed she +understood her friend's strange reserve, which at times rose like a wall +between them. What strange and yet what utterly delightful people the +Stevens were! They really did remind one a little of gypsies. And what a +queer room she had been ushered into by the odd little boy named +Charlie! She smiled to herself as she contrasted her mother's homelike, +yet orderly living-room with the room she had just left, which evidently +did duty as a hall, living-room, music-room and also a playroom for +little Charlie. There were hats and coats and musical instruments, pile +upon pile of well-thumbed music, and numerous dilapidated playthings +that bore the marks of too ardent treasuring, all scattered about in +reckless confusion. No wonder Constance had fought shy of +acquaintanceships which were sure to ripen into schoolgirl visits. Poor +Constance! How dreadful it must be to have to keep house, cook the meals +and try to go to school! The Stevenses seemed to be very poor in +everything except music. She wondered how they lived. Perhaps the two +men played in orchestras. Still she had never heard anything about them +in school, where news circulated so quickly. + +"I'm going to ask Constance to tell me all about it," she decided, as +she skipped up the front steps. "Perhaps I can help her in some way." + +Constance rang the Deans' bell at exactly half past seven o'clock. Her +blue eyes were sparkling with joyous light, and her usually grave mouth +broke into little curves of happiness. It was to be a red-letter night +for her. + +The play was a clean, wholesome drama of American home life in which the +leading part was taken by a young girl, who appeared to be scarcely +older than Marjorie and Constance. The latter sat like one entranced +during the first act, and Marjorie spoke to her twice before she heard. + +"Constance," she breathed, "won't you please, please tell me all about +it?" + +"About what?" counter-questioned the other girl, reddening. + +"About your father and your wonderful voice, and, oh, all there is to +tell." + +"Marjorie," the Mary girl's tones were strained and wistful, "do you +really think it is wonderful?" + +"You will be a great singer some day," returned Marjorie, simply. + +"Oh, do you believe that?" Constance clasped her hands in ecstasy. "I +wish to be--I hope to be. If I could only go away to New York city and +study! Before we came here we lived in Buffalo. Father played in an +orchestra there. He had a friend who taught singing and I studied with +him for a year. Then he died suddenly of pneumonia and right after that +father fell on an icy pavement and broke his leg. By the time it was +well again another man had his place in the orchestra. He had a few +pupils, and long before his leg was well he used to sit in a big chair +and teach them. The money that they paid him for lessons was all we had +to live on." + +The rising of the curtain on the second act cut short the narrative. +With "I'll tell you the rest later," Constance turned eager eyes toward +the stage. + +"Isn't it a beautiful play?" she sighed, when the act ended. + +"Lovely," agreed Marjorie; "now tell me the rest." + +"Oh, there isn't much more to tell. It was the last of March when father +got hurt, but it was the middle of May before he was quite well again. +Then summer came and most of his pupils went away and we grew poorer and +poorer. Just when we were the poorest the editor of a new musical +magazine wrote him and asked him to write some articles. A friend of +father's in New York told the editor about father and gave him our +address. We decided to move to a smaller city, where we could live more +cheaply, and some of the musicians that father knew gave him a benefit +concert. The money from that helped us to move to Sanford, and father +has been writing articles off and on for the magazine ever since then. +It's better for all of us to be here. Uncle John isn't quite like other +people. When he was a young man he studied to be a virtuoso on the +violin. He overworked and had brain fever just before he was to give his +first recital. After he got well he never played the same again. He had +spent all the money his father left him on his musical education, so he +had to find work wherever he could. He played the violin in different +orchestras, but he was so absent-minded that he couldn't be trusted. +Sometimes he would go on playing after all the rest of the orchestra had +finished, and then he began to repeat things after people. + +"When father first met him they were playing in the same theatre +orchestra. One night a great tragedian was playing 'Hamlet,' and poor +Uncle John grew so interested that he said things after him as loud as +he could. The actor was dreadfully angry, and so was the leader of the +orchestra. He made the poor old man leave the theatre. After that he +played in other orchestras a little, but he couldn't be depended upon, +so no one wanted to hire him. + +"Father did all he could to help him, but he grew queerer and queerer. +Then he disappeared, and father didn't see him for a long while. One +cold winter night he found him wandering about the streets, so he +brought him to his room and he has been with father ever since. That was +years ago, before father was married. He isn't really my uncle. I just +call him that. The musicians used to call him 'Crazy Johnny.' His name +is John Roland." + +Although Constance had averred that there wasn't "much to tell," the +third act interrupted her recital, and it was during the interval before +the beginning of the last act that Marjorie heard the story of the +fourth member of the Stevenses' household, little lame Charlie. + +"Charlie has been with us a little over four years," returned Constance, +in answer to Marjorie's interested questions. "He is seven years old, +but you would hardly believe it. His mother died when he was a tiny +baby, and his father was a dreadful drunkard. He was a musician, too, a +clarionet player. He let Charlie fall downstairs when he was only two +years old and hurt his hip. That's why he's lame. His father used to go +away and be gone for days and leave the poor baby with his neighbors. +Father found out about it and took Charlie away from him, and we've had +him with us ever since." + +"It was splendid in your father to be so good to the poor old man and +Charlie," said Marjorie, warmly. + +"Father is the best man in the world," returned Constance, with fond +pride. "He is such a wonderful musician, too. He can play on the violin +as well as the piano, and he teaches both. If only he could get plenty +of work here in Sanford. He has a few pupils, and with the articles he +writes we manage to live, but the magazine is a small one and does not +pay much for them. He has tried ever so many times to get into the +theatre orchestra, but there seems to be no chance for him. I think +we'll go somewhere else to live before long. Perhaps to a big city +again. I'd love to stay here and go through high school with you, but I +am afraid I can't. I'm almost eighteen and I ought to work." + +"Oh, you mustn't think of leaving Sanford!" exclaimed Marjorie, in +sudden dismay. "What would I do without you? Perhaps things will be +brighter after a while. I am sure they will. Why couldn't your +father----" + +But the last act was on, and she did not finish what had promised to be +a suggestion. Nevertheless, a plan had taken shape in her busy mind, +which she determined to discuss with her father and mother. + +As if to further her design they found Mr. Stevens waiting outside the +theatre for his daughter and Marjorie lost no time in presenting him to +her father and mother. He greeted the Deans gravely, thanking them for +their kindness to his daughter, with a fine courtesy that made a marked +impression on them, and after he had gone his way, a happy, smiling +Constance beside him, Marjorie slipped her arms in those of her father +and mother, and walking between them told Constance's story all over +again. + +"I think it is positively noble in Mr. Stevens to take care of that old +man and little Charlie, when they have no claim upon him," she finished. + +"He has a remarkably fine, sensitive face," said Mrs. Dean. "I suppose +like nearly all persons of great musical gifts, he lacks the commercial +ability to manage his affairs successfully." + +"Don't you believe that if the people of Sanford only knew how +beautifully Mr. Stevens and the other man played together they might +hire them for afternoon teas and little parties and such things?" asked +Marjorie, with an earnestness that made her father say teasingly, "Are +you going to enlist in his cause as his business manager?" + +"You mustn't tease me, General," she reproved. "I'm in dead earnest. I +was just thinking to-night that Mr. Stevens ought to have an orchestra +of his own. You know mother promised me a party on my birthday, and +that's not until January tenth. Why can't I have it the night before +Thanksgiving? That will be next Wednesday. Mr. Stevens and Mr. Roland +can play for us to dance. A violin and piano will be plenty of music. If +everybody likes my orchestra, then someone will be sure to want to hire +it for some of the holiday parties. Don't you think that a nice plan?" + +"Very," laughed her father. "I see you have an eye to business, +Lieutenant." + +"You can have your party next week, if you like, dear," agreed Mrs. +Dean, who made it a point always to encourage her daughter's generous +impulses. + +"Then I'll send my invitations to-morrow," exulted Marjorie. "Hurrah for +the Stevens orchestra! Long may it wave!" She gave a joyous skip that +caused her father to exclaim "Steady!" and her mother to protest against +further jolting. + +"Beg your pardon, both of you," apologized the frisky lieutenant, giving +the arms to which she clung an affectionate squeeze, "but I simply had +to rejoice a little. Won't Constance be glad? I could never care quite +so much for Constance as I do for Mary, but I like her next best. She's +a dear and we're going to be friends as long as we live." + +But clouds have an uncomfortable habit of darkening the clearest skies +and even sworn friendships are not always timeproof. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +MARJORIE MEETS WITH A LOSS + + +By eight o'clock the following night twenty-eight invitations to +Marjorie Dean's Thanksgiving party were on their way. No one of the +invitations ran the risk of being declined. Marjorie had invited only +those boys and girls of her acquaintance who were quite likely to come +and when the momentous evening arrived they put in twenty-eight joyful +appearances and enjoyed the Deans' hospitality to the full. + +But to Constance, who wore her beautiful blue gown and went to the party +under the protection of her father, whose somber eyes gleamed with a +strange new happiness, and old John Roland, whose usually vacant +expression had changed to one of inordinate pride, it was, indeed, a +night to be remembered by the three. Charlie was to remain at home in +the care of a kindly neighbor. + +The long living-room had been stripped of everything save the piano, and +the polished hardwood floor was ideal to dance on. Uncle John had +received careful instructions beforehand from both Mr. Stevens and +Constance as to his behavior, and with a sudden flash of reason in his +faded eyes had gravely promised to "be good." + +He had kept his word, too, and from his station beside the piano he had +played like one inspired from the moment his violin sang the first magic +strains of the "Blue Danube" until it crooned softly the "Home, Sweet +Home" waltz. + +The dancers were wholly appreciative of the orchestra, as their coaxing +applause for more music after every number testified, and before the +evening was over several boys and girls had asked Marjorie if "those +dandy musicians" would play for anyone who wanted them. + +"Mother's giving a tea next week, and I'm going to tell her about these +men," the Crane had informed Marjorie. + +"Hal and I are going to give a party before long, and we'll have them, +too," Jerry had promised. Lawrence Armitage, who had managed to be found +near Constance the greater part of the evening, insisted on being +introduced to her father, and during supper, which was served at small +tables in the dining-room, he had sat at the same table with the two +players and Constance, and kept up an animated and interested discussion +on music with Mr. Stevens. + +But the crowning moment of the evening had been when, after supper, the +guests had gathered in the living-room to do stunts, and Constance had +sung Tosti's "Good-bye" and "Thy Blue Eyes," her exquisite voice coming +as a bewildering surprise to the assembled young people. How they had +crowded around her afterward! How glad Marjorie had been at the success +of her plan, and how Mr. Stevens' eyes had shone to hear his daughter +praised by her classmates! + +In less than a week afterward Constance rose from obscurity to +semi-popularity. The story of her singing was noised about through +school until it reached even the ears of the girls who had despised her +for her poverty. Muriel and Susan had looked absolute amazement when a +talkative freshman told the news as she received it from a girl who had +attended the party. Mignon, however, was secretly furious at the, to +her, unbelievable report that "that beggarly Stevens girl could actually +sing." She had never forgiven Constance for refusing to dishonorably +assist her in an algebra test, and after her unsuccessful attempt to +fasten the disappearance of her bracelet upon Constance she had disliked +her with that fierce hatred which the transgressor so often feels for +the one he or she has wronged. + +Next to Constance in Mignon's black book came Marjorie, who had caused +her to lose her proud position of center on the team, and in Miss Merton +and Marcia Arnold she had two staunch adherents. Just why Miss Merton +disliked Marjorie was hard to say. Perhaps she took violent exception to +the girl's gay, gracious manner and love of life, the early years of +which she was living so abundantly. At any rate, she never lost an +opportunity to harass or annoy the pretty freshman, and it was only by +keeping up an eternal vigilance that Marjorie managed to escape +constant, nagging reproof. + +Last of all, Marcia Arnold had a grievance against Marjorie. She was no +longer manager of the freshman team. A disagreeable ten minutes with +Miss Archer after the freshman team had been disbanded, on that dreadful +day, had been sufficient to deprive her of her office, and arouse her +resentment against Marjorie to a fever pitch. + +There were still a number of girls in the freshman class who clung to +Muriel and Mignon, but they were in the minority. At least two-thirds of +19-- had made friendly overtures not only to Marjorie, but to Constance +as well, and as the short December days slipped by, Marjorie began to +experience a contentment and peace in her school that she had not felt +since leaving dear old Franklin High. + +"Everything's going beautifully, Captain," she declared gaily to her +mother in answer to the latter's question, as she flashed into the +living-room one sunny winter afternoon, with dancing eyes and pink +cheeks. "It couldn't be better. I like almost every one in school; +Constance's father has more playing than he can do; you bought me that +darling collar and cuff set yesterday; I've a long letter from Mary; +I've studied all my lessons for to-day, and--oh, yes, we're going to +have creamed chicken and lemon meringue pie for dinner. Isn't that +enough to make me happy for one day at least?" + +"What a jumble of happiness!" laughed her mother. + +"Isn't it, though? And now Christmas is almost here. That's another +perfectly gigantic happiness," was Marjorie's extravagant comment. "I +love Christmas! That reminds me, Mother, you said you would help me play +Santa Claus to little Charlie. I don't believe he has ever spent a +really jolly Christmas. Of course, Mr. Stevens and Constance will give +him things, but he needs a whole lot more presents besides. He climbed +into my lap and told me all about what he wanted when I was over there +yesterday. I promised to speak to Santa Claus about it. Charlie isn't +going to hang up his stocking. He's going to leave a funny little wagon +that he drags around for Santa Claus. He told me very solemnly that he +knew Santa Claus couldn't fill it, for Connie had said that he never had +enough presents to go around, but she was sure he would have a few left +when he reached Charlie. + +"So Constance and I are going to decorate the wagon with evergreen and +hang strings of popcorn on it and fill it full of presents after he +goes to bed. He has promised to go very early Christmas eve. Mr. Roland +has a little violin he is going to give him, and Mr. Stevens has a +cunning chair for him. He has never had a chair of his own. Constance +has some picture books and toys, and I'm going to buy some, too. I saved +some money from my allowance this month on purpose for this." + +Marjorie's face glowed with generous enthusiasm as she talked. + +"I am going shopping day after to-morrow," said Mrs. Dean, "and as long +as it is Saturday, you had better go with me." + +"Oh, splendid!" cried Marjorie, dancing up and down on her tiptoes. +"Things are getting interestinger and interestinger." + +"Regardless of English," slyly supplemented her mother, as Marjorie +danced out of the room to answer the postman's ring. + +"Here are two letters for you, Captain, but not even a postcard for me. +I'd love to have a letter from Mary, but I haven't answered her last one +yet. I'll write to her to-morrow and send her present, too, with special +orders not to open it until Christmas." + +The next morning Marjorie hurried off to school early, in hopes of +seeing Constance before the morning session began. Her friend entered +the study hall just as the first bell rang, however, and Marjorie had +only time for a word or two in the corridor as they filed off to their +respective classes. + +"I'll see her in French class," thought Marjorie. "I'll ask Professor +Fontaine to let me sit with her." But when she reached the French room +and the class gathered, Constance was not among them, nor did she enter +the room later. Wondering what had happened, Marjorie reluctantly turned +her attention to the advance lesson. + +"We weel read this leetle poem togethaire," directed Professor Fontaine, +amiably, "but first I shall read eet to you. Eet is called 'Le +Papillon,' which means the 'botterfly.'" + +Unconsciously, Marjorie's hand strayed to the open neck of her blouse. +Then she dropped her hand in dismay. Her butterfly, her pretty talisman, +where was it? She remembered wearing it to school that morning, or +thought she remembered. Oh, yes, she now recalled that she had pinned it +to her coat lapel. It had always shone so bravely against the soft blue +broadcloth. She longed to rush downstairs to her locker before reporting +in the study hall for dismissal, but remembering how sourly Miss Merton +had looked at her only that morning, she decided to possess her soul in +patience until the session was dismissed. + +Once out of the study hall she dashed downstairs at full speed and +hastily opened her locker. As she seized her coat she noted vaguely that +Constance's hat and coat were missing, but her mind was centered on +her pin. Then an exclamation of grief and dismay escaped her. The lapel +was bare of ornament. Her butterfly was gone! + +"I wonder if I really did leave it at home?" was her distracted thought, +as she climbed the basement stairs with a heavy heart, after having +thoroughly examined the locker. But a close search of her room that noon +revealed no trace of the missing pin. Hot tears gathered in her eyes, +but she brushed them away, muttering: "I won't cry. It isn't lost. It +can't be. Oh, my pretty talisman!" She choked back a sob. "I sha'n't +tell mother unless it is really hopeless. It won't do any good and +she'll feel sorry because I do. It's my own fault. I should have seen +that my butterfly was securely fastened." + +On the way home from the school that afternoon Marjorie reported the +loss of her pin to Irma, Jerry and Constance, who had returned for the +afternoon session. + +"What a shame!" sympathized Jerry. "It was such a beauty." + +"I'm so sorry you lost it," condoled Irma. + +"So am I," echoed Constance. "I don't remember it. I'm not very +observing about jewelry, but I'm dreadfully sorry just the same." + +"It was----" began Marjorie, but a joyful whistle far up the street and +the faint ring of running feet put a sudden end to her description. +Lawrence Armitage, Hal Macy and the Crane had espied the girls from +afar and come with winged feet to join them. Their evident pleasure in +the girls' society, coupled with the indescribably funny antics of the +Crane, who had apparently appointed himself an amusement committee of +one, drove away Marjorie's distress over her loss for the time being, +and it was not until later that she remembered that she had not +described the butterfly pin to Constance. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +PLAYING SANTA CLAUS TO CHARLIE + + +The next morning Marjorie wrote a description of her pin. It was placed +at the end of the basement corridor above a small bulletin board, where +those who passed might read. She wondered if the loss of her talisman +would bring her bad luck. Before the day was over she gloomily decided +that it had, for during the last hour Miss Merton accused her of +whispering to the girl across the aisle, when she merely leaned forward +in her seat to pick up her handkerchief. Smarting with the teacher's +injustice, Marjorie politely but steadily contradicted the accusation, +and two minutes later found herself on the way to Miss Archer's office, +Miss Merton walking grimly beside her. + +Miss Archer had been through a particularly trying day, and was +irritable, while Miss Merton was consumed with spiteful rage at +Marjorie's "impertinence," and did not hesitate to put her side of the +story forward in a most unpleasant fashion. The principal turned coldly +to Marjory with, "Apologize to Miss Merton at once, Miss Dean, for +disturbing her," and Marjorie said, with uplifted chin and resentful +eyes, "I am sorry you thought I whispered, Miss Merton, for I did not +open my lips." Something in the proud carriage of the girl's head caused +Miss Archer to divine the truth of the firm statement, and she said, +more gently, "Very well, you are excused, Miss Dean; but I do not wish +to hear again that you have failed in courtesy to your teachers. This is +not the first time I have received such reports of you." + +With a steady, reproachful look at Miss Merton, whose shifting eyes +refused to meet hers, Marjorie walked from the room, ready to burst into +tears, and when the all but interminable afternoon was ended, hurried +home to the shelter of her faithful captain's arms and poured forth her +grief and wrongs. + +But the notice of the lost pin posted on the bulletin board brought +forth no trace of the vanished butterfly. Marjorie made a valiant effort +to thrust aside her heavy sense of loss and allow the spirit of +Christmas to enter her heart. She had promised Constance her help in +arranging Santa Claus' visit to Charlie, and, when on Christmas eve, at +a little after seven o'clock she set out for the Stevens' weighed down +by numerous festively-wrapped, be-ribboned packages, she was filled with +that quiet exaltation that attends the performance of a good deed and +happier than she had been for several days. + +"Shh!" Constance met her at the door, a warning finger on her lips. + +"Hasn't he gone to sleep yet?" asked Marjorie, sliding into the house in +mouse-like fashion. + +"Yes, but I thought he never would," returned Constance, with a relieved +sigh. "What do you think? Father is playing at the theatre to-night for +the first time. The pianist is ill. The leader of the orchestra was here +this afternoon to see if father would take his place. We can never be +grateful enough to you, Marjorie, for having father and Uncle John play +at your party." + +"Let's talk about Charlie's little wagon," proposed Marjorie, quickly. +"Nora popped and strung a lot of corn for me. It's in this bag. Do tell +me where I can put the rest of this armful of things." + +Constance made a place on one end of an old velvet couch for them. + +"This is yours." Marjorie flourished a wide, flat package tied with +long, graceful loops of narrow pale blue ribbon. "I tied it with blue +because that's your color. Don't you dare peep at it until to-morrow +morning. These two little packages are for your father and Mr. Roland, +and all the rest is for Charlie." + +"He will be the happiest boy in Sanford," said Constance, her own face +radiant. "He never dreamed of a Christmas like this." + +"Can we begin now?" asked Marjorie. "I'm so impatient to see how this +wagon will look when we get it fixed." + +"Wait a minute." Constance disappeared through the door leading into the +kitchen, returning with one arm piled high with evergreens, the other +wound around a small balsam tree. + +"Lawrence Armitage brought me this yesterday," she explained. "A party +of boys went to the woods to cut down Christmas trees. He brought me +this cunning little tree and all this ground pine and holly. Wasn't it +nice in him?" + +"Perfectly dear," agreed Marjorie. "I wonder if there is enough popcorn +for the tree, too. I have a lot of little ornaments and candles at home. +It won't take long to go there and back." She reached for her hat and +coat as she spoke and in spite of Constance's protests was soon speeding +home after the required decorations. + +"I made good time, didn't I?" she observed, as half an hour later she +burst into the Stevens' living-room without knocking. + +Then the work of making one small boy's Christmas merry was begun in +earnest. An hour later the sturdy baby balsam stood loaded with its crop +of strange fruit, and the faithful, rickety wagon, whose imperfections +were quite hidden beneath trails of thick, fragrant ground pine and +sprays of flame-berried holly, looked as though it had received a +visitation from the fairies. A diminutive black leather violin case, +encircled with a wreath of ground pine and tied with a huge red bow, +leaned against one wheel of the magic vehicle, and the cunning chair +with its absurd little arms and leather cushion was also twined with +green. + +"It's too lovely for words," breathed Constance, her admiring gaze +fastened upon the once dingy corner now bright with the flowers of love +and generosity, which had bloomed in all shapes and sizes of packages to +gladden one youngster's heart. + +"I wish I could be here when first he sees it," commented Marjorie. +"I'll be fast asleep then, for he told me that Mr. Roland promised to +call him very early." + +"He proposed staying up all night, but I was not enthusiastic over that +plan," laughed Constance. + +"I must go," decided Marjorie. "The hands of that clock fairly fly +around the dial. I'm sure I just came and yet they point to a quarter to +eleven." She reached reluctantly for her hat and her wraps. + +"How can I ever thank you, Marjorie," began Constance, but Marjorie put +a soft hand over her friend's lips. + +"Please don't," she implored. "I've loved to do it." She held out both +hands to Constance. "I wish you the merriest sort of a merry Christmas." + +"I hope you will have a perfectly wonderful day," was the earnest +response. "You'll come over to-morrow and see how happy you've made +Charlie and all of us, won't you?" + +"I'll come," promised Marjorie. "You couldn't keep me away." + +She reached home just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of her father +disappearing up the stairs with a huge box in his arms, while her mother +hastily dropped some thing into the drawer of the library table. + +"There, I caught both of you," she cried in triumph. "Confess you were +hiding things from me, weren't you?" + +"I'll answer your questions to-morrow," beamed her father. + +"I forgive you both as long as the things are for me," was her calm +declaration. + +"What is she talking about?" solemnly asked Mr. Dean, with an air of +complete mystification. + +"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" exclaimed Marjorie, +making a rush for him. + +"Help, help!" he called feebly. "The battalion has been ambushed and the +general captured." + +"And held prisoner," added Marjorie, severely. "Unless he informs the +second lieutenant what is in a certain big, white box with which he +escaped upstairs, he shall be court-martialed." + +"Put off the court-martial until to-morrow and perhaps I'll tell," +compromised the captured general, throwing his free arm across his +lieutenant's shoulder in a most unmilitary manner. + +"All right, I'll let you go on parole," returned his daughter. "I'm too +sleepy to do guard duty to-night. How I wish you might have seen +Charlie's little wagon when we finished it! We had a tree, too." + +Forgetting that she was sleepy, Marjorie poured forth the story of her +evening's work to her sympathetic listeners and it was ten minutes to +twelve before she said good-night and went yawning to bed. + +Eight o'clock Christmas morning found her awake and stirring. Wrapped in +her bathrobe, she pattered downstairs to the living-room, her arms full +of bundles, but her father and mother were already there before her, and +their packages greatly outnumbered hers. After the kisses and greetings +of the day had been given her father handed the big white box into her +outstretched arms. "Shall I tell you----" he began. + +"Don't you dare! I'm going to see for myself. Oh-h-h!" She had the lid +off, and was clasping to her breast a mass of soft brown fur. "Oh, +General, you dear thing! You sha'n't ever go to prison again." She +smothered her father in the coat and a rapturous embrace, causing him to +protest mildly. Her mother's gift of a bracelet watch also evoked +another burst of reckless enthusiasm. + +What a happy hour it was, to be sure, and how beautifully all her +friends had remembered her! Marjorie could hardly bear to leave her +presents long enough to eat breakfast, and when after breakfast she left +home for her Christmas call on the Stevens, she felt as though she must +sing "Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men," at the top of her voice as +she walked. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE UNLUCKY TALISMAN + + +There was a rapturous shriek of joy from Charlie as Constance opened the +door for Marjorie and their hands and lips met in Christmas greeting. +Marjorie stooped to embrace the excited little figure. "Santa Claus did +come to see Charlie, didn't he?" she exclaimed, in pretended surprise. +"And what did he bring?" + +For answer the child limped to his Christmas corner. "Oh, a fiddle," he +said reverently, clasping the little violin to his heart. "Now I shall +play in the band soon. Johnny said so." He thrust the violin under his +sharp little chin, the thin fingers of his left hand reaching across the +fingerboard, his left wrist curving into position. + +"Why, he holds it like a real violinist!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Can he +play?" + +Charlie answered her question by dragging his triumphant bow across the +helpless strings, drawing forth a wailing discord of tortured sound. + +"He thinks he can," giggled Constance. "I suppose those awful sounds +are the sweetest music to his ears. Luckily, we don't mind them. I hope +you don't. I hate to stop him, he is so delighted with himself." + +"I don't mind in the least," assured Marjorie. "I wouldn't spoil his +pleasure for anything in the world." + +Charlie had no intention of giving a concert that morning, however; he +had too many other things to distract his mind. + +Marjorie sat on the floor beside the Christmas tree, her feet tucked +under her, and listened with becoming gravity and attention while he +told her about Santa Claus' visit, and one by one brought forth his +precious presents for her to see. + +"He must have had enough presents to go around this year or he wouldn't +have left me so many," asserted the child with happy positiveness. +"Connie's going to write him a letter and say thank you for me. If I +don't say 'thank you' when someone gives me something, then I can never +play in the band. Johnny and father always say it. I'm sorry I didn't +write to Santa Claus before Christmas and ask him for a new leg. I can't +go fast on this one. It's been wearing out ever since I was a baby and +it keeps on getting shorter." + +"Santa Claus can't give you a new leg, Charlie boy," answered Marjorie, +her bright face clouding momentarily, "but perhaps some day we can find +a good, kind man who will make this poor little leg over like a new +one." + +"When you find him, you'll be sure to tell him all about me, won't you, +Marjorie?" he asked eagerly. + +"As sure as anything," nodded Marjory, brushing his heavy black hair out +of his eyes and kissing him gently. + +"Will you walk down to the drugstore with me, Marjorie?" put in +Constance, abruptly. + +Marjorie glanced up to meet her friend's troubled gaze. In an instant +she was on her feet. + +"It's a good thing I didn't take off my hat and coat. I'm ready to go, +you see." + +"Charlie can watch for us at the window," suggested Constance, hugging +the child. "We won't be long." + +Once outside the house there was an eloquent silence. "It's dreadful, +isn't it?" There was a catch in Constance's voice when finally she +spoke. + +"Can't he be cured?" queried Marjorie, softly. + +"Yes; so a specialist said, if only we had the money." + +"He is such a quaint child, and he really and truly believes in Santa +Claus," mused Marjorie, aloud. "Most children of his age don't." + +"He's different," was the quick reply. "He has been brought up away from +other children and in a world of his own. He believes in fairies, too, +good ones and bad ones. But he loves music better than anything else in +the world, and his highest ambition in life is to play in the band. If +only I had the money to make him well! I'd love to see him strong and +sturdy like other children." + +"You mustn't talk about such sad things to-day, but just be happy," +counseled Marjorie, slipping her arm through that of her friend. +"Charlie is cheerful and jolly in spite of his poor lame leg. Perhaps +the New Year will bring you something glorious." + +"You are so comforting, Marjorie," sighed Constance. "I'll throw all my +cares to the winds and keep sunny all day if I can." + +"I must go now." They entered the little gray house again, just in time +to hear remonstrative squeaks from the E string of the diminutive +violin, blended with disheartened moans from the A and growls of protest +from the G string. + +"How did you like that?" inquired Charlie, calmly. + +"It was very noisy," criticised Constance. + +"It was a very hard passage to play," explained the embryo musician, +soberly. + +"It seems to have been," laughed Marjorie. + +"That is what Johnny says when he doesn't pay attention and makes a +mistake on the fiddle," confided Charlie. + +Constance's sad look vanished at this naive assertion. "He imitates +father and Uncle John in everything," she explained. "He will have +played his way through all the music in the house before to-morrow +night--most of it upside down, too." + +"I'd love to stay longer, but I promised to stop at Macy's and we have +our dinner at one o'clock. I wish you could come, too, but I know you'd +rather be at home. Thank you again for the hemstitched handkerchiefs. I +don't see how you found the time to make them." + +"Thank you for the lovely hand-embroidered blouse and all Charlie's +things," reminded Constance. "I hope we'll spend many, many more +Christmases together." + +"So do I," echoed Marjorie, as she kissed Charlie and held out her hand +to her friend. + +Her call on the Macys lasted the better part of an hour, for Jerry was +the recipient of a host of gifts, and insisted upon displaying them, +while Hal refused to pose gracefully in the background and absorbed as +much of Marjorie's attention as she would give him, secretly wondering +if she would be pleased with the box of American Beauty roses he had +ordered the florist to deliver at the Deans' residence at noon that day. + +What a blissful Christmas it was! From the moment of Marjorie's +awakening that morning until the day was done it was one long succession +of joyous surprises. And, oh, glorious thought! there were ten blessed +days of vacation stretching before her. + +"I'll see if Constance will go to the matinee Saturday," she planned +drowsily that night as she prepared for sleep. "We will take Charlie. I +promised him long ago that I would. I'll run over there to-morrow. Too +bad I didn't think of it to-day." + +But "to-morrow" brought its own deeds to be done, and so did the +following two days, and it was Friday afternoon before Marjorie found +time for her visit to the little gray house. + +Ever since Christmas it had snowed at intervals and the snow-plow men +had been kept busy clearing the streets. It was just the kind of weather +to wear one's fur coat, and Marjorie gave a little shiver of delight as +she slipped into her Christmas treasure. And how warm it was! The +searching east wind that was abroad that day held no discomfort for her. + +As she stepped briskly along over the hard-packed walk, hedged in by +high-piled snow, she thought rather soberly of her own good fortune and +wondered why so many beautiful things had been given to her while to +Constance life had grudged all but the barest necessities. With a rush +of generous impulse she resolved to do all in her power to smooth the +troubled way of her friend. + +When within sight of the house Marjorie's eyes were fastened upon the +living-room windows for some sign of Charlie, who would sit contentedly +at one of them by the hour watching the passersby. Catching sight of +his pale little face pressed to the window pane she waved her hand gaily +to him. He disappeared from the window and an instant later stood in the +open door, shouting gleefully, "Oh, Connie, here's Marjorie! Here's +Marjorie!" + +Marjorie bent and embraced the gleeful little boy. "How is Charlie +to-day?" she asked. + +"Pretty well," nodded the child. "I wish I had asked for that leg, +though. Mine hurts to-day." + +"You poor baby!" consoled Marjorie, tenderly. "But where is Connie, +dear?" + +"She's upstairs. I'll call her." + +He limped across the room to the stair door, which was situated at one +side of the living-room, and opened it. "Connie," he called, "Marjorie's +come to see us." + +There was a sound of quick footsteps on the stairs and Constance +appeared. "I didn't know you were here," she apologized. + +"Where were you on Thursday?" began Marjorie, laughingly. "You promised +to come over. Don't you remember?" + +"Yes," returned Constance, briefly. Then with a swift return of the old, +chilling reserve, which of late she had seemed to lose, "It was +impossible for me to come." + +Marjorie scrutinized her friend's face. The look of impassivity had come +back to it. "What is the matter, Constance?" she questioned anxiously. +"Has anything happened?" + +An expression of intense pain leaped into Constance's blue eyes. "I've +something to tell you, Marjorie. It's dreadful. I----" With a muffled +sob she threw herself, face down, upon the old velvet couch, her slender +shoulders shaking with passionate grief. + +"Why, Constance!" Marjorie regarded the sobbing girl in sympathetic +amazement. + +Charlie went over to the couch and patted Constance's fair head. "Don't +cry, Connie," he pleaded. Then, limping to a dilapidated writing desk in +the corner, which Marjorie never remembered to have seen open before, he +took from one of the lower pigeonholes a small, glittering object. + +"This is what makes Connie cry." He opened his hand and disclosed a +little object on his outstretched palm. "Shall I throw the old thing +into the fire, Connie?" + +With a sharp ejaculation of dismay, Constance sprang from the couch. One +swift glance toward the desk, then she caught Charlie's tiny hand in +hers. "Give it to Connie, this minute," she commanded sternly. For the +instant Marjorie was forgotten. + +Charlie's lips quivered with grieved surprise. Relinquishing his hold on +the object he wailed resentfully, "It is a horrid old thing. It made you +cry, and me, too." + +"Charlie, dear," soothed Constance. Then she glanced up to meet the +horrified stare of two accusing brown eyes. "Why--Marjorie!" she +exclaimed. + +"Where--where--did you get that pin?" Marjorie's soft voice sounded +harsh and unnatural. + +"That's what I started to tell you," faltered Constance. "Oh, it's so +dreadful I can't bear to speak of it. Yet I must tell you. I--the +pin----" she broke down and throwing herself on the lounge again began +to cry disconsolately. + +An appalling silence fell upon the shabby, music-littered room, broken +only by Constance's sobs. Marjorie stood rooted to the spot. Could it be +true that Constance, the girl she had fought for, the girl for whose +sake she had braved class ostracism, had deliberately stolen her pin? +Yet she must believe the evidence of her own eyes which had told her +that in Charlie's hand lay her cherished pin, her lost, much-mourned-for +butterfly! + +If Constance had deliberately taken the pin, then she was a thief. If +she had found it, but purposely failed to return it, she was still a +thief. Marjorie opened her lips to pour forth a torrent of reproaches, +but the words would not come. She had a wild desire to pry open the hand +which held her precious butterfly and seize it, but her hands remained +limply at her sides. It was her pin, her very own, yet she could not +touch it unless Constance chose to hand it to her. + +But Constance made no such proffer. Still clutching the precious +butterfly she continued to weep unrestrainedly. + +Marjorie waited patiently. + +Having failed hopelessly as a comforter, Charlie had hobbled to his +corner, where his Christmas tree still stood, and, with that blessed +forgetfulness of sorrow which childhood alone knows, had dragged forth +his violin and begun a dismal screeching and scraping, a nerve-racking +obligato to his foster sister's sobs. + +Five endless minutes passed, but Constance made no sign. + +"I'm--I'm going now," choked Marjorie. Hot tears lay thick on her +eyelashes. She stumbled blindly toward the door, her face averted from +the girl who had so misused and abused her friendship. "Good-bye, +Constance." + +Something in the reproachful ring of that "Good-bye," startled Constance +out of her grief. She had been too greatly overcome with her own trouble +to note the effect of her tears and broken words upon Marjorie. Surely +Marjorie was not angry with her for crying. + +"Wait a minute, Marjorie," she called. "Please don't be angry. I won't +cry any more. I want to tell you about the pin. It was----" + +But only the sound of a closing door answered her. Marjorie was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE CROWNING INJURY + + +Marjorie never remembered just how she reached home that afternoon. She +followed the familial streets mechanically, her brain tortured with but +one burning thought--Constance was a thief. Over and over the dreadful +sentence repeated itself in her mind. "How could she?" was her +half-sobbed whisper, as she slipped quietly into the house, and, without +glancing toward the living-room, went softly upstairs to her room. She +wanted to be alone. Not even her beloved captain could ease the hurt +dealt her by the girl she had loved and trusted. Her mother must never +know that Constance was unworthy. No one should know, but she could +never, never be friends with Constance again. + +With the tears running down her cheeks Marjorie took off the new fur +coat she had worn so proudly that afternoon and dropped it upon the +first convenient chair. Her hat followed it; then throwing herself +across the bed, she gave way to uncontrolled weeping. Until that moment +she had not realized how greatly she had loved this girl who had Mary's +eyes of true blue, but who was so sadly lacking in Mary's fine sense of +honor. + +Until the afternoon light waned and the shadows began to creep upon her +she lay mourning, and inconsolable. Her generous heart had been sorely +wounded and she could not easily thrust aside her dreadful sense of +loss; neither could she understand why Constance had partly acknowledged +that she took the butterfly pin, but had not offered to return it. + +"I couldn't ask her for it," she sighed to herself, as, at last, she +rose, switched on the electric light, and viewed her tear-swollen face +in the mirror, "not when she had kept it all this time. She knew how +dreadfully I felt over losing it, and she certainly saw the notice in +the hall." A flash of resentment tinged her grief. + +"I can't forgive her. I'll never forgive her. I----" Marjorie's lips +began to quiver ominously. "I won't cry any more," she asserted stoutly. +"My face is a sight now. Mother will ask me what the trouble is, and I +don't want a soul to know. Of course, we can't go to the matinee +to-morrow. We can't ever go anywhere together again." Once more the +tears threatened to fall. She shut her eyes and forced them back, then +went dejectedly down the hall to the bathroom to lave her flushed face +and aching eyes. + +By the time dinner was ready Marjorie showed no traces of her grief. +She was unusually quiet at dinner, however, and her mother inquired +anxiously if she were ill. + +"Did you wear your new coat this afternoon?" her father asked soberly. + +"Yes, General. I went to see Constance." Marjorie tried to speak +naturally. + +"Ah, that accounts for it," he declared, putting on a professional air. +"Too much magnificence has struck in. You have, no doubt, a +well-developed case of pride and vanity." + +"I haven't a single shred of either," protested Marjorie, laughing a +little at her father's tone, which was an exact imitation of their +former family physician. "That sounded just like good old Doctor Bates." + +"Are you and Constance going to take Charlie to the matinee to-morrow, +dear?" asked her mother. + +"No, Mother," returned Marjorie. Then as though determined to evade +further questioning, she asked: "May I go shopping with you?" + +"I wish you would. You can select the material for your new dress and +the lace for that blouse I am making for you. It is so pretty. My new +fashion book came to-day. I have picked out several styles of gowns for +you." + +"What did you pick out for me?" inquired Mr. Dean, ingenuously. + +"You can't have any new clothes. Too much magnificence would strike in. +You would have, no doubt, a well-developed case of pride and vanity," +retorted Marjorie, wickedly. + +"Report at the guard house at once, for disrespectful conduct to your +superior officer," ordered Mr. Dean with great severity. + +"Not to-night, thank you," bowed the disobedient lieutenant, as all +three rose from the table, "I'm going upstairs to my room to write a +letter." + +Once in her room Marjorie went to her desk and opened it with a +reluctance born of the knowledge of a painful task to be performed. +Seating herself, she reached for her pen and nibbled the end soberly as +she racked her brain for the best way to begin a note to Constance. +Finally she decided and wrote: + +"Dear Constance: + +"I cannot come over to your house to-morrow or ever again. I know what +you wanted to tell me. It is too dreadful to think of. You should have +told me before. I will never let anyone know, so you need not worry. You +have hurt me terribly, and I can't forgive you yet, but I hope I shall +some day. I don't like to mention things, but for your own sake won't +you try to do what is right about the pin? I shall always speak to you +in school, for I don't wish the girls to know we have separated. + + "Yours sorrowfully, + + "MARJORIE." + +When she had finished, the all-too-ready tears had again flooded her +eyes and dropped unrestrained upon the green blotting pad on her desk. +After a little she slowly wiped her eyes, and, without reading what she +had written, folded the letter, addressed and stamped it. Slipping into +her coat, she wound a silken scarf about her head and went downstairs. + +"I'm going out to the mailbox, Mother," she called, as she passed the +living-room door. + +"Very well," returned Mrs. Dean, abstractedly. She was deep in her book +and did not glance up, for which Marjorie was thankful. If her mother +noticed her reddened eyelids, explanations would necessarily follow. + +The next day dragged interminably. Even the usual pleasure of going +shopping with her captain could not mitigate the pain of yesterday's +shocking discovery. To Marjorie the bare idea of theft was abhorrent. +When, at the Hallowe'en dance, Mignon had accused Constance of taking +her bracelet, Marjorie's wrath at the insult to her friend had been +righteous and sweeping. + +That night, as she sat opposite her mother in the living-room trying to +read one of the books she had received for Christmas the incident of the +missing bracelet and Mignon's accusation suddenly loomed up in her mind +like an unwelcome specter. Suppose Mignon had been right, after all. +Jerry had openly asserted that she did not believe Mignon had really +lost her bracelet, and in her anger Marjorie had secretly agreed with +the stout girl. Suppose Constance had taken it. What if she were one of +those persons one reads of in books whom continued poverty had made +dishonest, or perhaps she was a kleptomaniac? The last idea, though +unpleasant to contemplate, was not so repugnant to her as the first; but +she did not believe it to be true. Constance's partial confession, +coupled with her ready tears, was positive proof that she had been +conscious of her act of theft. There was only one other theory left; she +had found the pin and succumbed to the temptation of keeping it. Yet +Constance had always averred that she did not care for jewelry, and +would not wear it if she possessed it. + +Marjorie went over these suppositions again and again, but each time her +theories ended with the bitter fact that, in spite of her tears, +Constance had kept her ill-gotten bauble. + +The vacation which had promised so much, and which she had happily +supposed would be all too short, seemed endless. During the long days +that followed she received no word from the girl in the little gray +house. If Constance had received her letter, she made no sign, and this +served to add to Marjorie's belief in her unworthiness. + +Jerry Macy's New Year's party proved a welcome relief from the hateful +experience through which she had passed. Although invited, Constance +was not among the merry gathering of young people, and Jerry loudly +lamented the fact. Mr. Stevens and Uncle John Roland, who furnished the +music for the dancing, greeted Marjorie with affectionate regard. It was +evident that they knew nothing of what had transpired. Constance was +ill, her father reported, but hoped to be able to return to school on +Tuesday. He thanked Marjorie for her remembrance of him and Charlie, and +Uncle John forgot himself and repeated everything after him with +grateful nods and smiles. + +During the evening Marjorie frequently found herself near the two +musicians, and Lawrence Armitage, secretly disappointed because of +Constance's absence, also did considerable loitering in their immediate +vicinity. If the troubled little lieutenant had had nothing on her mind, +she would have spent a most delightful evening, for the Macy's enormous +living-room had been transformed into a veritable ballroom, where the +guests might dance without bumping elbows at every turn, while Hal and +Jerry were the most hospitable entertainers. + +If Constance's father and foster uncle had not been present, she might +have forgotten her woes, but whenever she glanced at either, the +sorrowful face of the Mary girl rose before her. To make matters worse, +Jerry proposed to her that they call upon Constance the next day, and +Marjorie was obliged to refuse lamely without giving any apparent +reason. It was in the nature of a relief to her when the party broke up. +In spite of the gratifying knowledge that the girls had pronounced her +new white silk frock the prettiest gown of all, and that Hal Macy had +been her devoted cavalier, Marjorie Dean went to bed that night in a +most unhappy mood. + +The Monday before she returned to school she began a long letter to +Mary. She and Mary had sworn that, though miles divided them, they would +tell each other their secrets. Resolved to keep her word, she had +written her heart out to her chum, then had read the letter and torn it +into little pieces. Having written only pleasant things of her new +friend to Mary, she could not bear to take away her good name with a few +strokes of her pen. + +"If only Constance were true and honorable like Mary," she sighed as she +closed her desk, and selecting a book she wandered disconsolately +downstairs to the living-room to read; but her thoughts continually +reverted to her own grievance. "If she gives back my pin, I'll forgive +her," was her final conclusion as at last she laid her book aside with +an impatient sigh, and sitting down on a little stool near the fire, +stared gloomily into its ruddy depths; "but I never, never, never can +feel the same toward her again." + +Marjorie went to school on Tuesday morning vaguely hoping that +Constance would see things in a finer light and act accordingly. +Unselfish in most respects, the poor little soldier had forgotten +everything save the fact that she was the injured one. To her it seemed +as though the other girl's crushing weight of half-acknowledged guilt +ought to make her a willing suppliant for pardon. During the early part +of the morning session she waited, half expecting to receive a contrite +plea for grace from the Mary girl. + +When her French hour came, she hurried into the classroom, thinking that +she might see Constance before the class gathered; but Professor +Fontaine had closed the door and remarked genially, "_Bon jour, +mesdemoiselles. Comment vous portez vous, aujourd'hui_. I trost that you +have not forgotten your French during your 'oliday," when it opened +quietly to admit Constance. + +Marjorie regarded her gravely, noting that she looked pale and tired. +Suddenly her eyes opened in wide, unbelieving amazement. With a +half-smothered exclamation that caused half the class to turn and look +at her, including Mignon, whose alert eyes traveled knowingly between +the two girls, she tore her gaze from the disturbing sight, and, putting +one hand over her eyes, leaned her head on her arm. For fastened at the +open neck of Constance's blouse was her butterfly pin. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +MIGNON PLANS MISCHIEF + + +To Marjorie, torn between resentment of Constance's bold display of the +stolen pin and shame for her utter absence of honor, the French lesson +was a confused jumble. She heard but dimly the rise and fall of +Professor Fontaine's voice as he conducted the lesson, and when he +called upon her to recite she stared at him dazedly and finally managed +to stammer that she was not prepared. + +"Ah, Mademoiselle Dean, I am of a certainty moch surprised that you +cannot translate thees paragraph," the little man declared +reproachfully. "I weel begeen eet for you, and you shall do the rest, +_N'est pas?_" + +Marjorie stumbled through the paragraph with hot cheeks and a strong +desire to throw her book into the air and rush from the recitation. When +class was over she seized her books and left the room without looking in +Constance's direction. + +The eyes of the latter followed her with an expression of perplexed, +questioning sorrow that, had Marjorie noted and interpreted as such, +might have caused her to doubt what seemed plain, thresh the matter out +frankly with Constance, and thus save them both many weeks of +misunderstanding and heartache. + +At the close of the morning session Marjorie lingered until she was sure +that Constance had taken her wraps from the locker and departed. The +thought of her beloved pin ornamenting the other girl's blouse was too +bitter to be tamely borne. Fierce resentment crowded out her gentler +feelings, and she could not trust herself to come in contact with her +faithless classmate and remain silent. + +On the steps of the school she met Jerry and Irma, who had posted +themselves to wait for her. + +"I thought you had decided to stay in there all day," grumbled Jerry. + +"It's only five minutes past twelve," protested Marjorie. + +"I thought it was at least half-past," retorted Jerry. "Say, Marjorie, +didn't you say that you'd lost your butterfly pin?" + +"Yes," replied Marjorie, shortly, bracing herself for what she felt +would follow. She was not the only one who had seen the pin in +Constance's possession. + +"Did Constance Stevens find it?" quizzed Jerry. + +"Yes." + +"Oh, then that's all right. I saw her wearing it this morning; and I'm +not the only one who saw her, either. Mignon had her eye on it in French +class, and I wouldn't be surprised to hear of some hateful remark she +had made about it. You know, she still insists that Constance took her +bracelet. She might be mean enough to say that Constance found your pin +and didn't give it back to you." + +Marjorie stared at Jerry in amazement. Without knowing it, the stout +girl had exactly stated the truth about the pin. + +"You needn't stare at me like that," went on Jerry. "Of course, we know +that Constance wouldn't be so silly as to try to keep a pin belonging to +someone else that everyone recognized; but lots of girls would believe +it. I suppose you let Constance wear it because you two are so chummy; +but you'd better get it back and wear it yourself. Then Mignon can't say +a word." + +"I'll think about it," was Marjorie's evasive answer, but once she had +said good-bye to the two girls she began to deliberate within herself as +to what she had best do. Here was an exigency against which she had +failed to provide. She had resolved never to betray Constance to the +girls, but now Constance had, by openly wearing the pin, betrayed +herself. Either she would be obliged to go to Constance and demand her +own or allow her to wear the bit of jewelry and create the impression +that she had sanctioned the wearing of it. + +When she returned to school that afternoon she had half determined to +see Constance and put the situation fairly to her, but rather to her +relief Constance did not appear at the afternoon session, nor was she in +school the next day. When Friday came and she was still absent, Marjorie +was divided between her pride and a desire to go to the little gray +house and settle matters. On Saturday she was still halting between two +opinions, and it was four o'clock Saturday afternoon before she put on +her wraps with the air of one who has made up her mind and started for +the Stevens'. + +As she approached the house she looked toward the particular window +where Charlie was so fond of stationing himself to peer out on the dingy +little street, but there was no sign of the boy's white, eager face. To +her vivid imagination the very house itself wore a sad, cheerless aspect +that filled her with a vague apprehension of some impending +unpleasantness. + +She knocked briskly at the door, then waited a little. There was no +response. She knocked again, harder and longer, but still silence +unbroken by any footfall, reigned within. After pounding upon the door +at intervals for at least ten minutes, she turned and walked dejectedly +away from the house of denial, speculating as to what could possibly +have become of the Stevens'. + +At the corner she almost ran against Mr. Stevens, who, with his soft +black felt hat pulled low over his forehead, was hurrying along, his +violin case under his arm. + +"Oh, Mr. Stevens," cried Marjorie, "where is Constance? I have just come +from your house, and there is no one at home." + +Mr. Stevens looked mildly surprised. "I thought you knew," he answered. +"Didn't Constance tell you she was going away? She and Charlie went to +New York City yesterday. They are to meet Constance's aunt there. It was +very unexpected. She received a letter from her aunt on Tuesday. I was +sure she had told you." Mr. Stevens' fine face took on an expression of +perplexity. + +"I did not know it," responded Marjorie, soberly. "When will she +return?" + +"I am not quite sure. I shall not know definitely until I hear from +her," was the discouraging reply. + +"I'm sorry I didn't see her," was all Marjorie could find words for, as +she turned to go. "Good-bye, Mr. Stevens." + +"Good-bye, Miss Marjorie." The musician bared his head, his thick, white +hair ruffling in the wind. "You will hear from Constance, no doubt." + +"No doubt I won't," breathed Marjorie, as she walked on. "What would he +say, I wonder, if he knew? He'll never know from me, neither will anyone +else. I hope those girls will forget all about seeing Constance wear the +pin." + +But the affair of the pin was destined not to sink into oblivion, for +the next morning Marjorie found on her desk the following note: + +"Miss Dean: + +"Do you think you are doing right in shielding a thief? It looks as +though a certain person either stole or found and kept a certain article +belonging to you and yet you allow her to wear it before your very eyes +without protest. If you do not immediately insist on the return of your +property and denounce the thief, we will put the matter before Miss +Archer, as this is not the first offense. This is the decision of +several indignant students who insist that the girls of the freshman +class shall be above reproach." + +Marjorie's eyes flashed her contempt of the anonymous missive. She +folded it quietly, then, reaching into her desk, drew forth a sheet of +note paper and wrote: + +"Miss La Salle: + +"Although the note I found on my desk is not signed, I am sure that you +wrote it. I do not think you have the slightest right to dictate to me +in a personal matter. Miss Stevens and I are perfectly capable of +settling our own affairs without the help of any member of the freshman +class. + + "Marjorie Dean." + +Mignon's pale face flushed crimson as she read the note which Marjorie +lost no time in sending to her via the student route, which was merely +the passing of it from desk to desk until it reached its destination. +With a scornful lifting of her shoulders she flung the note on her desk, +then snatching it up, tore it into tiny pieces. + +When school was dismissed she lingered and twenty minutes afterward +emerged from Miss Archer's office in company with Marcia Arnold, an +expression of triumph in her black eyes. + +When she reached home that afternoon she took from the drawer of her +dressing-table something small and shining and examined it carefully. +"It looks the same, but is it?" she muttered. "Where did the other come +from? I don't understand it in the least. Just the same, Marjorie Dean +thinks Miss Smarty Stevens took her pin. She was thunderstruck when she +saw that Stevens girl wearing it this morning. She's too much afraid of +not telling the truth to deny it in her letter. There's something gone +wrong with their friendship, too. I'm sure of it from the way they have +been acting. I don't know what it's all about, but I do know that this," +she touched the small, shining object, "shall never help them solve +their problem." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +PLANNING FOR THE MASQUERADE + + +On the morning following Mignon's visit to Miss Archer's office, +Marjorie was unpleasantly startled to hear Miss Merton call out +stridently just after opening exercises, "Miss Dean, report to Miss +Archer, at once." + +A battery of curious eyes was turned in speculation upon Marjorie as she +walked the length of the study hall, outwardly composed, but inwardly +resentful at Miss Merton's tone, which, to her sensitive ears, bordered +on insult. + +"Good morning, Miss Archer; Miss Merton said you wished to see me," +began Marjorie, quietly, as she entered the outer office where Miss +Archer stood, reading a letter which her secretary had just handed to +her for inspection. + +"Yes," returned the principal, briefly; "come with me." She led the way +to her inner office and, motioning to Marjorie to precede her, stepped +inside and closed the door. + +"Sit here, Miss Dean," she directed, indicating a chair at one side of +her desk. Then, seating herself, she turned to the young girl, and said, +with kind gravity: "I sent for you this morning because I wish to speak +frankly to you of one of your classmates. I shall expect you to be +absolutely frank, too. Very grave complaints have been brought to me by +Miss La Salle concerning Constance Stevens. She insists that Miss +Stevens is guilty of the theft of her bracelet, which disappeared on the +night of the dance given by the young men of Weston High School. As I +left the gymnasium some time before the party was over, I knew nothing +of this, and no word of it was brought to me afterward. + +"Miss La Salle also states that Miss Stevens has been wearing a gold +pin, in the form of a butterfly, which belongs to you and which you +advertised as lost. She declares that she is positive that Miss Stevens +found the pin and made no effort to return it to you, and that you are +shielding her from the effects of her own wrongdoing by allowing her to +continue to wear it. This latter seems to be a rather far-fetched +accusation, but Miss La Salle is so insistent in the matter that I was +going to settle that part of it, at least, by asking you where and when +you found your pin and whether you gave Miss Stevens permission to wear +it. + +"This may seem to you, my dear, like direct interference in your +personal affairs, but it is necessary that this matter be cleared up at +once. Miss Stevens cannot afford to allow such detrimental reports to +be circulated about her through the school." + +Miss Archer looked expectantly at Marjorie, who was strangely silent, +two signals of distress in her brown eyes. + +"I cannot answer your questions, Miss Archer," she answered at last, her +clear tones a trifle unsteady. + +The principal regarded her with amazed displeasure. Accustomed to having +the deciding voice in all matters pertaining to her position as head of +the school, she could not endure being crossed, particularly by a pupil. + +"I must insist upon an answer, Miss Dean. Your silence is unfair, not +only to Miss Stevens, but to the school. If Miss Stevens is innocent of +any wrongdoing, now is the time to clear her name of suspicion. If she +is guilty, by telling the true circumstances concerning your pin, you +are doing the school justice. A person who deliberately appropriates +that which does not belong to him or to her is a menace to the community +in which he or she lives, and should be removed from it. Our school is +our community. It must be kept free from those who are a detriment to +it," concluded Miss Archer, her mouth settling into lines of obstinate +firmness. + +The distress in Marjorie's face deepened. "I am sorry, Miss Archer, but +I can tell you nothing. Please don't think me stubborn and obstinate. I +can't help it. I--I have nothing to say." + +"I have explained to you the necessity for perfect frankness on your +part, and you have refused to comply with my demand," reproved the +principal. "I am deeply disappointed in you, Miss Dean. I looked for +better things from you. The affair will have to stand as it is until +Miss Stevens returns. I am sorry that you will not assist me in clearing +it up." She made a gesture of dismissal. "That is all, I believe, this +morning. You may return to the study hall." + +Without a word Marjorie rose and left the room, her eyes full of tears, +her proud spirit hurt to the quick. The icy reproach in the principal's +words was, indeed, hard to bear, and all for a girl who had proved +herself unworthy of friendship. Yet she could not help feeling a swift +pang of pity for Constance. How dreadful it would be for her when she +returned to Sanford and to school! + +But Constance seemed in no hurry to return. Midyear, with its burden of +examinations, its feverish hopes and fears, came and went. Then followed +a three days' vacation, and the new term began with a great readjusting +of programs and classes. Marjorie passed her state examinations in +American history and physiology, and decided upon physical geography and +English history in their places, as both were term studies. She entered +upon her second term's work with little enthusiasm, however. The +disagreeable, almost tragic events following the holidays had left a +shadow on her freshman days, that had promised so much. + +February came, smiled deceitfully, froze vindictively, threatened a +little, then thawed and froze again, as his next-door neighbor, March, +whisked resentfully down upon him, hurried him out of the running for a +whole year, and blustered about it for two weeks afterward. The swiftly +passing days, however, brought no word or sign concerning the absent +Constance, and, try as she might, Marjorie could not forget her. + +Mignon La Salle, though greatly disappointed over the failure of her +plan to humiliate the musician's daughter, was craftily biding her time, +resolved to strike the moment Constance returned to school. + +"Mignon certainly intends to make things interesting for Constance," +declared Jerry to Marjorie, as the French girl switched haughtily by +them one mild afternoon in late March on the way home from school. + +"Why do you say that?" asked Marjorie, quickly. "Have you heard anything +new?" + +"Nothing startling," replied Jerry. "You know Irma and Susan Atwell used +to be best friends until they began chumming with Mignon and Muriel. +Well, Susan is awfully angry with Mignon for something she said about +her, so she has dropped her, and Muriel, too. She went over to Irma's +house the other night and cried and said she was sorry she'd been so +silly. She wanted to be friends with Irma again." + +"What did Irma say?" asked Marjorie, breathlessly. + +"Oh, she made up with her, then and there," informed Jerry with fine +disgust. "I'd have kept her waiting a while. She deserved it. She told +Irma she hoped I'd forgive her, but I didn't make any rash promises." + +"What a hard-hearted person you are," smiled Marjorie. "But, tell me, +Jerry, what did you hear about Constance?" + +"Oh, yes. That's what I started out to tell you. Mignon told Susan last +week that she was only waiting for Constance to come back to school to +take her to Miss Archer and accuse her of stealing her bracelet." + +"How dreadful!" deplored Marjorie. "Perhaps Constance won't come back." + +"Yes, she will. She wrote a note to Miss Archer when she went away +saying that she had to go to New York City on business, but would return +to school as soon as possible. Marcia Arnold saw the note, and told +Mignon. Mignon told Susan before they had their fuss. Susan told Irma, +and she told me. Almost an endless chain, but not quite," finished Jerry +with a cheerful grin. + +"I should say so," returned Marjorie, in an abstracted tone. Her +thoughts were on the absent girl. She wondered why Constance had gone to +New York so suddenly and taken little Charlie with her. She wished she +had asked Mr. Stevens more about it. + +"See here, Marjorie," Jerry's blunt tones interrupted her musing. +"What's the trouble between you and Constance? I know something is the +matter, but I'd like most awfully well to know what it is." + +"I can't answer your question, Jerry," said Marjorie in a low tone. +"Would you care if I--if we didn't talk about Constance?" + +"Not a bit," rejoined the stout girl good-naturedly. "Never tell +anything you don't want to tell. We'll change the subject. Let's talk +about the Sanford High dance. What character do you intend to +represent?" + +"Is Sanford High going to give a party?" Marjorie voiced her surprise. + +"Of course. The Sanford High girls give one every spring, and the Weston +boys give their dance in the fall." + +"When is it to be?" + +"Not until after Easter, and this year it's going to be a lot of fun. We +are to have a fairy-tale masquerade." + +"I never heard of any such thing before." + +"Neither did I," went on Jerry, "that is, until yesterday. The +committee just decided upon it. You see, the girls always give a fancy +dress party, but not always a masquerade. This year a freshman who was +on the committee proposed that it would be a good stunt to make everyone +dress as a character in some old fairy tale. The rest of the committee +liked the idea, so you had better get busy and hunt up your costume." + +"But how did you happen to know so much about it?" + +"Well," Jerry looked impressive. "I was on the committee and I happened +to be the freshman who proposed it." + +"You clever girl!" exclaimed Marjorie, admiringly. "I think that is a +splendid idea. I wonder what I could go as?" + +"Snow White," suggested Jerry, eyeing her critically. "I can get seven +of the Weston boys to do the Seven Little Dwarfs and follow you around." + +"But Snow White had 'a skin like snow, cheeks as red as blood and hair +as black as ebony,'" quoted Marjorie. "I don't answer to that +description." + +"You are pretty, and so was she, and that's all you need to care," +returned Jerry, calmly. "Besides, the Seven Dwarfs will be great. Will +you do it?" + +"All right," acquiesced Marjorie. "What are you going as?" + +"One of the 'Fat Friars,'" giggled Jerry. "Don't you remember, 'Four +Fat Friars Fanning a Fainting Fly'? I'm going to ask three more stout +girls to join me. We'll wear long, gray frocks, get bald-headed wigs and +carry palmleaf fans. I don't know anyone who would be willing to go as +the 'Fainting Fly,' so we'll have to do without him, I guess." + +"You funny girl!" laughed Marjorie. "But how will everyone know who is +who after the unmasking? There will be so many queens and princesses and +kings and courtiers." + +"We thought of that and we are going to put up a notice for everyone to +carry cards. Some of the characters will be easy to guess without +cards." + +"I must tell mother about it as soon as I go home and ask her to help me +plan Snow White's costume. When will we receive our invitations?" + +"We only send printed invitations to the boys. Every girl in high school +is invited, of course. The invitations will be sent to the boys next +week, and the Sanford girls will be notified at once, so as to give them +plenty of time to plan their costumes." + +"I wish it were to be next week," murmured Marjorie, after she had left +Jerry and turned into her own street. "Everything has been gloomy and +horrid for so long. I'd love to have a good time again, just to see how +it seemed." + +She reflected rather sadly that the disagreeable happenings of her +freshman year had outweighed her good times. She had entered Sanford +High School with the resolve to like every girl there, and with the hope +that the girls would like her, but in some way everything had gone +wrong. Perhaps she had been to blame. She had been warned in the +beginning not to champion Constance Stevens. Yet the very girls who had +warned her could never have been her intimate friends. Her ideals and +theirs, if they had ideals, were too widely separated. No; she had been +right in standing up for Constance. The fault lay with the latter. It +was she who had betrayed friendship. + +Determined to go no further into this most painful of subjects, Marjorie +resolutely centered her thoughts upon the coming party. The moment she +reached home she ran upstairs to her room. Sitting down on the floor +before her bookcase, she drew out a thick red volume of Grimms' Fairy +Tales and read the story of Snow White. To her joy she discovered that +the colored frontispiece was a picture of Snow White begging admittance +at the home of the Seven Little Dwarfs. + +"I'll ask mother to make me a high-waisted white gown like this one, +with pale blue trimmings and a big blue sash," she planned. "I'll wear +my pale blue slippers, the ones that have no heels, and white silk +stockings. Thank goodness, my hair is curly. I'll let it hang loose on +my shoulders. Of course, it isn't as black as ebony; but then, I can't +help that." With the book still in her hand she ran down the stairs, +two at a time, to tell her mother. + +What mother is not interested in her daughter's school fun and parties? +Mrs. Dean entered at once into the planning of the costume and suggested +that Snow White's cards be made in the shape of little apples, one half +colored red, the other half green, and her name written diagonally +across the surface of the apple. + +Marjorie hailed the idea with delight. "May I buy the water-color paper +for the apples to-morrow, Captain?" + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Dean. "You ought to begin them at once. What is +Constance going to wear? She hasn't been here for a long time. Poor +child, I suppose her family keep her busy. Why not ask her to dinner +some night this week, Marjorie?" + +Marjorie flushed hotly. Her mother, who was busily engaged with an +intricate bit of embroidery, did not notice the added color in her +daughter's face. + +"Constance is in New York visiting her aunt," returned Marjorie. "She +has been there for a long time. Charlie is with her. I don't know when +they will be home." + +Something in her daughter's tone caused Mrs. Dean to glance quickly up +from her work. Marjorie was staring out of the window with unseeing +eyes. + +"Constance has hurt Marjorie's feelings by not writing to her," was +Mrs. Dean's thought. Aloud she said: "Did you know before Constance went +to New York that she intended going?" + +"No; she didn't tell me." + +Marjorie volunteered no further information, and Mrs. Dean refrained +from asking questions. She thought she understood her daughter's +reticence. Marjorie naturally felt that Constance was neglectful and a +little ungrateful, but would not say so. + +"I wish I could tell mother all about it," ruminated Marjorie, as she +went slowly upstairs to replace the Grimms'. "I can't bear to do it. I +suppose I shall some day, but it seems too dreadful to say, 'Mother, +Constance is a thief. She stole my butterfly pin. That's why she doesn't +come here any more.' It's like a disagreeable dream, and I wish I could +wake up some day to find that it's all been a dreadful mistake." + +But light is sure to follow darkness, and the loyal little lieutenant's +awakening was nearer at hand than she could foresee. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE AWAKENING + + +It was wilful, changeable April's last night, and, being in a tender +reminiscent mood, she dispensed her balmiest airs for the benefit of the +distinguished company who filled to overflowing the gymnasium of Sanford +High School, prepared to dance her last hours away. For the heroes and +heroines of fairy-tale renown had apparently left the books that had +held them captive for so long, and, jubilant in their unaccustomed +freedom, promenaded the floor of the gymnasium in twos, threes or in +whole companies. + +Simple Simon, whose tall, lank figure bore a startling resemblance to +that of the Crane, paraded the floor, calm and unafraid, with none less +personage than the terrible Blue Beard. Hansel and Gretel immediately +formed a warm attachment for Jack and Jill, and the quartet wandered +confidently about together. Little Miss Muffet, in spite of her reputed +daintiness, clung to the arm of Bearskin, who, despite the fact that his +furry coat was that of a buffalo instead of a bear, was a unique success +in his line. One suspected, too that the Brave Little Tailor, whose +waistcoat bore the modest inscription, "Seven at One Blow," and who +tripped over his long sword at regular two-minute intervals, had an +impish, freckled countenance. The straight, lithe figure of the youth +with the Magic Fiddle reminded one of Lawrence Armitage, while his +constant companion, Aladdin, a sultan of unequaled magnificence, had a +peculiar swing to his gait that reminded sharp-eyed observers of Hal +Macy. The Four Fat Friars loomed large and gray, and fanned imaginary +flies with commendable energy, while Snow White, accompanied by her +faithful dwarfs, made a radiantly beautiful figure and was greeted with +ejaculations of admiration wherever she chose to walk. + +There were kings and courtiers, queens and goose girls. There were +jesters and princesses, old witches and fairies. Mother Goose was there. +So were Jack Horner, Bo-peep, Little Boy Blue and many more of her +nursery children, not to mention two fearsome giants, at least ten feet +high, whose voluminous cloaks concealed figures which appeared far too +tall to be true. Rapunzel trailed about on the arm of her prince, her +beautiful hair, which looked suspiciously like nice new rope, confined +in a braid at least three inches wide and hanging gracefully to her +feet. Cinderella came to the party in her old kitchen dress, accompanied +by her fairy godmother, and Beauty was attended by a strange being clad +in a huge fur robe and a papier-mache tiger's head, which was +immediately recognized as the formidable Beast. + +The gallery of the gymnasium was crowded with the friends and families +of the maskers who were admitted by tickets, a limited number of which +had been issued. When the first notes of the grand march sounded there +was a great craning of necks and a loud buzz of expectation as the gaily +dressed company formed into line, and while the brilliant procession +circled the gymnasium a lively guessing went on as to who was who in +Fairyland. + +Mother Goose led the march with the Brave Little Tailor, who frisked +along in high glee and executed weird and wonderful steps for the +edification of his aged partner and the rest of the company in general. + +"Isn't it great, though," commented Aladdin to his partner, who was none +other than Snow White. "I know who you are. I'm sure I do. If I guess +correctly will you tell me?" + +Snow White nodded her curly head. + +"All right, here goes. You are Marjorie Dean." + +"I'm so glad you guessed right the first time," declared Snow White in a +muffled voice from behind her mask. "I've been perfectly crazy to talk +to someone. It's a gorgeous party, isn't it, Hal?" + +"The nicest one the Sanford girls have ever given the boys," returned +Hal Macy, warmly. "You'll give me the next dance, won't you, Marjorie?" + +"Of course," acquiesced Marjorie. "I think the grand march is going to +end in a minute." + +She danced the first dance with Hal. After that the Youth with the Magic +Fiddle claimed her, and when he asked in a tone of deep concern, "When +do you think Constance will be home, Marjorie?" she had no difficulty in +recognizing Lawrence Armitage. + +"I don't know, Laurie," she said rather confusedly. "I--I haven't heard +from her." + +"She wrote me one letter," declared Laurie, gloomily. "I answered it, +but she hasn't written me a line since." + +"Then you know----" began Marjorie. She did not finish. + +"Know what?" asked Laurie, impatiently. + +"Nothing," was the answer. + +"That's just it!" exclaimed the boy. "I know exactly nothing about +Constance. I thought you'd be sure to know something." + +Just then the dance came to an end. Jack and the Beanstalk, clad in +doublet and hose, and decorated with long green tendrils of that +fruitful vine, his famous hatchet slung over his shoulder by a stout +leather thong, claimed her for the next dance, and she had no time to +exchange further words with Laurie. + +The moment of unmasking was to follow the ninth dance. The eighth was +just about to begin. Marjorie caught sight of a huge lumbering figure +in princely garments heading in her direction, and turning fled toward +the dressing-room. She was quite sure of the prince's identity, which +was that of a youth whom she particularly disliked. Just as she reached +the sheltering door a familiar voice called out a low, cautious, +"Marjorie." Turning, she saw a stout, gray-robed friar hurrying toward +her. + +"I've hunted all over for you," declared the friar, in Jerry's +unmistakable tones. "Come into the dressing-room. Someone is waiting to +see you there." + +"Waiting to see me!" exclaimed Marjorie, in surprise. + +"That's what I said. Come along." Jerry caught her arm and pulled her +gently into the dressing-room. At one end of the room stood the dingy +figure of Cinderella, deep in conversation with her fairy godmother. + +At the sound of the opening door Cinderella wheeled and, with a +quavering little cry of "Marjorie!" ran forward to meet the newcomers. + +Marjorie stopped short and stared unbelievingly at the shabbily clothed +figure, but Cinderella had now torn off her mask and was fumbling with +trembling eagerness in the pocket of her apron. + +"Here it is, Marjorie, dear! I never dreamed you had one like it. No +wonder you felt dreadfully that day. Look at it." She thrust a small +glittering object into Marjorie's limp hand. + +Marjorie regarded the object with a look of growing amazement, which +suddenly changed to one of alarm. "It isn't mine!" she gasped. "It's +exactly like it except for one thing. Mine has no pearls here." She +touched the tips of the golden butterfly's wings. "Oh, Constance, can +you ever forgive me?" The pretty butterfly pin slipped from her lax +fingers and Marjorie burst into tears. + +"Don't cry, Marjorie," said Jerry, with unusual gentleness. "You didn't +know. It was just one of those miserable misunderstandings. Constance +wants to tell you about the pin." + +"But how--where----" quavered Marjorie. + +"Oh, I had an idea that there was some kind of a misunderstanding, so I +wrote Constance and asked her to come home as soon as she could," +explained Jerry. "Her father gave me her address. She was coming home +next week, anyhow, but I wrote her again and asked her to get here in +time for the dance. The minute I saw that butterfly pin I asked her +straight out and out where she got it. She told me, and then I knew that +the thing for me to do was to bring you two together. She only came home +last night, so we had to plan a costume in a hurry. You haven't said a +word about her fairy godmother, either. Take off your mask, dear fairy +godmother." + +"Irma!" cried Marjorie, as she glimpsed a laughing face. "Oh, it's too +wonderful!" She wound two penitent arms around Constance and kissed her. + +"I guess that will settle Mignon," commented Jerry, in triumph. "It is a +shame, but I suppose your butterfly pin is really lost. Constance will +tell you the history of hers." + +"I wish the bracelet problem could be solved, too," sighed Constance. +"Jerry tells me that Mignon is going to accuse me of taking it when I go +back to school. How can she be so cruel? I don't remember seeing it in +the dressing-room on the night of the Weston dance." + +"But I do!" called out a positive voice that caused them all to face the +intruder in astonishment. + +A slim, pale-faced girl, dressed as a shepherdess, emerged from behind a +curtain which hung in a little alcove at one end of the dressing-room. + +"Please excuse me for listening," apologized the girl. "I was standing +here looking out of the window when you girls came in and began to talk. +Before I could make up my mind what it was all about I heard Miss +Stevens talking about Miss La Salle's bracelet and the Weston dance. Did +Miss La Salle accuse you of taking her bracelet that night?" she asked, +her eyes upon Constance. + +"Yes," began Constance, "she----" + +"Miss La Salle is the real thief," interrupted the girl, dryly. "I saw +her take off her bracelet and lay it on the dressing table. I saw her +come and take it away after Miss Stevens left the room. I had to catch +the last train home that night. You know, I don't live in Sanford, and I +was sitting over in one corner of the dressing-room behind a chair +putting on my shoes. Neither Miss Stevens nor Miss La Salle saw me. I +wondered what Miss La Salle meant by doing as she did, but I never +understood until this minute. I'm glad I happened to be there that night +and I'm glad I happen to be here now. If there is likely to be any +trouble, just send for me. I'm Edna Halstead, of the junior class." + +The four girls had received this rapidly repeated information with +varying degrees of amazement. It was Marjorie who first sprang forward +and offered her hand to Edna Halstead. "It is the last word we needed to +clear Constance," she asserted, joyously. "Will you go to Miss Archer +with us on Monday?" + +"I should be glad to do so. I never could endure that La Salle girl," +was the frank response. + +"We'll go together," planned Jerry. "Every one of you meet me in Miss +Archer's living-room office on Monday morning before school begins." + +"I must go home now," demurred Constance. "I don't wish anyone to know +that I've been here." + +"Not even Laurie?" asked Marjorie, slyly. "He spoke of you to-night." + +Constance smiled. "You may tell him after the 'Home, Sweet Home' waltz." + +"There goes the music for the ninth dance," informed Jerry, who had +stepped to the door. + +"Oh, gracious, I promised this dance to Hal! I can't go. I simply must +hear about the pin, Connie." + +"I'll tell you just one thing about it," stipulated Constance, "but the +rest must wait until to-morrow, for Hal is too nice a boy to leave +without a partner." + +"Then tell me that one thing," begged Marjorie. + +"My aunt sent me the pin," was the quick answer. "Now kiss me good-night +and hurry along to Hal." + +And Marjorie kissed her and went with happiness singing joyfully in her +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE EXPLANATION + + +Owing to the fervent manner in which each succeeding dance was encored, +it was after midnight before the fairy-tale masquerade came to an end +and the lords and ladies of fairy lore became everyday boys and girls +again; and went home congratulating themselves on the blessed fact that +to-morrow was Saturday and that they could make up lost sleep the next +morning. + +Marjorie Dean, however, was not among the late sleepers. She was up and +about the house at her usual hour, for the day held promise of unusual +interest. First of all, Constance was coming to see her at ten o'clock. +Then too, it was May day, a gloriously sunshiny May day, without the +faintest trace of cloud in the deep blue sky. As a third pleasant +anticipation, her class had planned a Mayday picnic at a point about +two miles up the river. It had been an unusually early spring, and the +wild flowers had blossomed in such profusion in the neighboring woods +about the town and along the river that the picnic had been planned +with a view to spending the day in gathering as many of them as +possible. + +The expedition having been organized by the officers of the class there +was no question of who should be invited or who should be left out. The +class was exhorted to turn out in a body, and with the exception of a +few girls who had made plans for that Saturday prior to their knowledge +of the picnic, the freshmen of 19-- had promised to attend. + +"Oh, dear, I wish ten o'clock were here!" sighed Marjorie as she +straightened the last object on her dressing table and viewed with +satisfaction the immaculate order to which she had reduced her room. +Keeping her room clean and dainty was almost a sacred obligation with +Marjorie. Her mother had spared neither time nor expense to make it a +marvel of pink-and-white beauty. The furniture was of white maple, the +thick, soft rug had a cream background scattered with small pink roses. +The window curtains were cunning ruffled affairs of fine white dotted +Swiss, while the window draperies were in pink-and-white French +cretonne. An attractive willow stand, which stood beside the bed, the +two pretty willow rockers piled high with pink and white cushions and +the creamy wallpaper with its graceful border of pink roses made the +room a perpetual joy to its appreciative owner. Marjorie always +referred to it as her "house" and when at home spent a great deal of her +time there. + +But this morning the May sunshine poured rapturously in at her open +windows, touched her brown hair with mischievous golden fingers that +left gleaming imprints on her curls, and mutely coaxed her to come out +and play. + +"I can't stand it indoors another minute," she breathed impatiently. +"It's almost ten. I'll walk down to the corner. Perhaps I'll see +Constance coming." + +As she was about to leave the window she caught a glimpse of a slender +blue figure far down the street. With a cry of, "Oh, there she is!" +Marjorie raced out of her room, down the stairs and across the lawn to +the gate. + +"You dear thing!" she called, her hands extended. + +The next instant the two girls were embracing with a degree of affection +known only to those who, after blind misunderstanding, once more see the +light. + +Tears of contrition stood in Marjorie's eyes as she led Constance into +the house and upstairs to her room. "Can you ever forgive me?" she +faltered, pushing Constance gently into a chair and drawing her own +opposite that of her friend. + +"There is nothing to forgive," returned Constance, unsteadily. "You +didn't know. If only I had made you stay that day until we came to an +understanding! When you said 'Good-bye' in that queer tone, I called to +you to wait, for it seemed to me you were angry; but you had gone. Then +your note came. I didn't know how you could possibly have learned about +the pin, for I hadn't told a soul besides father and Uncle John. It +occurred to me that perhaps you had seen Uncle John and he had told you. +When I read what you said about not seeing me again I thought just one +thing, that, knowing my story, you didn't care to be friends with me any +more." + +"What do you mean, Constance?" Marjorie's query was full of compelling +insistence. "I don't know any story about you." + +"I know that you don't, dear; but I thought you knew. When Uncle John +came in that afternoon I asked him if he had seen you in the last two +days, and he said 'no,' and then 'yes.' I asked him if he had told you +about what had happened to me, and he declared that he couldn't +remember. I was sure that he had told you, because he often says that +when he is afraid father or I won't approve of something he has done. +That is the reason I didn't come to see you. Then I went to New York in +a hurry without dreaming of what your letter really meant. Jerry wrote +me two days before I had planned to come home. So I changed my plans and +started for Sanford the same day her letter reached me. Charlie was so +much better that I wasn't needed." + +"Charlie?" repeated Marjorie, in bewildered interrogation. + +"Yes," nodded Constance. "Haven't you seen father since I left? Didn't +he tell you?" + +"Only once. I--he--I didn't let him know about us. It was right after +you went away. He said you had taken Charlie with you. I met him in the +street and stopped only a minute. I had come from your house that day +but there was no one at home. I couldn't bear to let things go on as +they had. + +"Now," declared Marjorie, drawing a long breath, "begin at the beginning +and tell me every single thing." + +"I will," assured Constance, emphatically. "Let me see. It began the day +after Christmas. A letter came from New York in the morning mail +addressed to father. I gave it to him, and after he read it he sat so +still and looked so white that I thought he was going to faint. Then he +made me come and sit down beside him and told me that the letter was +from my mother's sister in New York and that she was rich and wanted me +to come and live with her. + +"I said that I would never desert my own father no matter how poor he +was, and then he told me that he was only my foster father, just as he +was Charlie's. That my own father had been his best friend when they +were boys. Later on, my father became a worthless, drunken wretch and my +mother had to do sewing to take care of herself and me. My mother's +family never forgave her for marrying my father and would not help her. +She was not strong and could not stand it to be so poor and work so +hard. She died when I was a year old, and just a month afterward my +father died with pneumonia. No one wanted me, so I was put in an orphan +asylum, but Father Stevens, who had been trying to find my father, heard +where I was and took me to live with him. He wrote to my aunt first, but +she said she didn't want me. That is the first part of my story." + +"It sounds like a story in a book," said Marjorie, softly. "Go on, +Connie." + +"This letter that father received was from my aunt," continued +Constance. "She had been trying to find us for more than two years. +Finally, she saw father's name signed to an article in the musical +magazine, so she wrote a letter and asked the publishers to forward it. +She said in the letter that she was now an old woman who had found that +blood was thicker than water, and that she wanted her sister's daughter, +who must now be a young woman, to come and live with her. With the +letter came a jeweler's box, and in the box was the butterfly pin. She +sent it to me as a Christmas gift. + +"I cried and said I would not go, but father said it was the opportunity +of my life time and that I must. He said that he had no legal right to +me and that he loved me too dearly to stand in my way. It almost broke +my heart. How I hated that butterfly and my aunt, too. When you came to +see me that unlucky day I was feeling the worst. That very night I wrote +my aunt a long letter. I told her just how I felt, how much I loved +father and Charlie and poor old Uncle John and that I could never, never +give them up. Father didn't know I wrote the letter. He thought I was +becoming resigned to going away. I went back to school and wore the pin, +as my aunt had asked me to do in a little note enclosed in father's +letter. + +"Then her letter came and it was so much nicer than the other that I +cried out of pure happiness. She asked me to bring Charlie to New York. +She knew a famous specialist who she thought might help, if not cure +him. She asked me to make her a visit and said she would never wish me +to come to live with her except of my own free will. + +"We went to New York as you know, and, Marjorie"--Constance made an +impressive pause--"Charlie is going to be entirely well in a little +while. The specialist operated on his hip and the operation was +successful. He will be able to walk before very long. When he knew I was +coming home he said, 'Tell Marjorie that I don't need to ask Santa Claus +for a new leg next year, because the good, kind man she told me about +fixed mine.'" + +"Dear little Charlie," murmured Marjorie. "I'm so glad." + +A pleasant silence fell upon the two young girls. So much had happened +that for a brief moment each was busy with her own thoughts. + +"Are you coming back to school to finish the year, Constance?" asked +Marjorie, at last. + +"Yes. I am going to try to make up for lost time. I'll take in June the +examinations I should have tried in January. I hope to be a Sanford +sophomore, Marjorie. Aunt Edith is coming to visit us this summer. She +is going to bring Charlie home." + +Constance remained with Marjorie until almost noon. + +"I wish you'd stay to luncheon," coaxed the little lieutenant. + +"I can't. I'm sorry. I promised father I'd be home at noon." + +"Then I wish you were going to the picnic this afternoon." + +Constance shook her head, looking wistful, nevertheless. + +"I'd rather not. Mignon will be there. It is better to be out of sight +and out of mind until after Monday." + +"Everything is turning out beautifully," sighed Marjorie. "There's only +one thing more that I could possibly wish for." + +"What is that?" asked Constance quickly. + +"My lost butterfly." + +"Perhaps it will fly back home when you least expect it," consoled +Constance. + +"Lost pins don't fly," retorted Marjorie. "If they did my butterfly +would have come back to me long ago." + +But, even then, though she could not know it, her cherished butterfly +was poising its golden wings for the homeward flight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MARJORIE DEAN TO THE RESCUE + + +By one o'clock that afternoon 19-- had assembled at the big elm tree on +the river road which had been chosen as a meeting place. The flower +hunters had planned to follow the road for a mile to a point where a +boat house, which had a small teashop connected with it, was situated. +Owing to the continued spring weather the proprietor had opened the +place earlier than usual and it was decided that the picnickers should +make this their headquarters, returning there for tea when they grew +tired of roaming the neighboring woods. + +Marjorie Dean had not hailed the prospect of 19--'s picnic with +enthusiasm. She did not welcome the idea of coming into close contact +with the little knot of freshmen that were loyal to Mignon La Salle's +interests. However, it would be a pleasure to walk in the fresh spring +woods and gather flowers, so she started for the rendezvous that +afternoon determined to have the best kind of a time possible under the +circumstances. + +She had promised to call for Jerry, but the latter, accompanied by +Irma, met her halfway between the two houses. + +"I thought you were never coming," grumbled the stout girl, in her +characteristic fashion. + +"I've heard those words before," giggled Marjorie. "Haven't you, Irma?" + +"Something very similar," laughed Irma. + +Jerry grinned broadly. + +"Shouldn't be surprised if you had," she admitted. "It's the first May I +ever remember that it hasn't rained. I hope the weather doesn't change +its mind and pour before we get home." + +"Don't speak of it," cautioned Irma, superstitiously. "You'll bring rain +down upon us if you do. May is a weepy month, you know." + +"Weeps or no weeps, I suppose we'll have the pleasure of seeing our dear +friends, Mignon and Muriel, to-day. I could weep for that," growled +Jerry, resentfully. + +Arrived at the elm tree, the girls found the majority of their +classmates already there. To Marjorie's secret disgust, Marcia Arnold +was among the number of upper-class girls chosen to chaperon the +picnickers. + +"Mignon's work," confided Jerry, as she caught sight of Marcia. "I hope +she falls into the river and gets a good wetting," she added, with +cheerful malice. + +"Jerry!" expostulated Irma in horror. "You mustn't say such awful +things." + +"I didn't say I hoped she'd get drowned," flung back Jerry. "I'd just +like to see her get a good ducking." + +It was impossible not to laugh at Jerry, who, encouraged by their +laughter, made various other uncomplimentary remarks about the offending +junior. + +The picnic party set out for the boathouse with merry shouts and echoing +laughter. The quiet air rang with the melody of school songs welling +from care-free young throats as the crowd of rollicking girls tramped +along the river road. + +Spring had not been niggardly with her flower wealth, and gracious, +smiling May trailed her pink-and-white skirts over carpets of living +green, starred with hepaticas and spring beauties, while, from under +clusters of green-brown leaves, the trailing arbutus lifted its shy, +delicate face to peep out, the loveliest messenger of spring. + +The girls pounced upon the fragrant clumps of blossoms and began an +enthusiastic filling of baskets. Held captive by the lure of the waking +woods, the time slipped by unnoticed, and it was after four o'clock +before the majority of the flower-hunters turned their steps toward the +boathouse. + +Mignon La Salle, Muriel Harding, Marcia Arnold and half a dozen girls +who were worshipful admirers of the French girl, soon found flower +gathering decidedly monotonous. + +"Let's hurry out of these stupid woods," proposed Mignon. "My feet are +damp and I'm sure I saw a snake a minute ago." + +"Let's go canoeing," proposed Muriel Harding, as they came in sight of +the boathouse. + +"The very thing," exulted Mignon. "Let me see; there are nine of us. +That will be three in a canoe. I'll hire the canoes and tell the man to +send the bill to my father." + +With quick, catlike springs, she ran lightly down the bank, across the +road and disappeared into the boathouse. Ten minutes later three canoes +floated on the surface of the river, swollen almost to the banks by +April's frequent tearful outbursts. Mignon stood on the shore and gave +voluble orders as the girls cautiously took seats in the bobbing craft. + +"Get in, Marcia," she commanded, pointing to the third canoe. + +Marcia obeyed with nervous expressions of fear. + +An hour later, from a little slope just inside the woods, Marjorie and +her friends, who had reluctantly directed their steps toward the +boathouse, glimpsed the returning canoeing party through the trees. The +canoers had lifted their voices in song, and Marcia Arnold, forgetful of +her fears, was singing as gaily as the rest. + +"It's dangerous to go canoeing now," commented Jerry, judicially. "The +river's too high." + +"Can you swim?" asked Irma, irrelevantly of Marjorie. + +"Yes," nodded Marjorie. "I won a prize at the seashore last year +for----" + +A sharp, terror-freighted scream rang out. The eyes of the trio were +instantly fastened upon the river, where floated an overturned canoe +with two girls struggling near it in the water. They saw the one girl +strike out for shore, and, unheeding her companions' wild cries, swim +steadily toward the river bank. + +"Oh!" gasped Marjorie. Then she darted down the slope, scattering the +flowers from her basket as she ran. At the river's edge she threw aside +her sweater and, sitting down on the ground, tore off her shoes. Poising +herself on the bank, she cut the water in a clean, sharp dive and, an +instant later, came up not far from Marcia Arnold, who was making +desperate efforts to keep afloat. + +A few skilful strokes and she had reached the now sinking secretary's +side. Slipping her left hand under Marcia's chin, she managed to keep +her head above water and support her with her left arm while she struck +out strongly for shore with her right. The water was very cold, but the +distance was short, and Marjorie felt herself equal to her task. + +To the panic-stricken girls on shore it seemed hours, instead of not +more than ten minutes, before Marjorie reached the bank with her burden. +Willing hands grasped Marcia, who, with unusual presence of mind for one +threatened by drowning, had tried to lighten Marjorie's brave effort to +rescue her. Once on dry land she dropped back unconscious, while +Marjorie clambered ashore, little disturbed by her wetting. + +It was Jerry, however, who now rose to the occasion. + +"Marjorie Dean," she ordered, "go into that tea shop this minute. I'm +going to my house to get you some dry clothes. I'll be back in a little +while." + +Marjorie allowed herself to be led into the back room of the little +shop, where Marcia was already being divested of her wet clothing. +Fifteen minutes afterward the two girls sat garbed in voluminous +wrappers, belonging to the boat tender's wife, sipping hot tea. Marjorie +smiled and talked gaily with her admiring classmates, but Marcia sat +white and silent. + +Suddenly a girl entered the room and pushed her way through the crowd of +girls to Marcia's side. It was Muriel Harding. + +"How do you feel, Marcia?" she asked tremulously. + +"I'm all right now," quavered Marcia. + +Muriel turned impulsively to Marjorie, and bending down, kissed her +cheek. "You are a brave, brave girl, Marjorie Dean, and I hope some day +I'll be worthy of your friendship." Then she turned and fairly ran from +the room. + +Before Marjorie could recover from her surprise, Jerry's loud, cheerful +tones were heard outside. + +"Here's a whole wardrobe," she proclaimed, setting down two suitcases +with a flourish. "I came back in our car, and as soon as you girls are +dressed, I'll take you home, and as many more as the car will hold," she +added genially. + +It was a triumphant little procession that marched to the spot where the +Macy's huge car stood ready. As Marjorie put her foot on the step a +girl's voice called out, "Three cheers for Marjorie Dean!" and the car +glided off in the midst of a noisy but heartfelt ovation. + +They were well down the road when Marjorie felt a timid hand upon hers. +Marcia Arnold's eyes looked penitently into her own. "Will you forgive +me, Marjorie?" she said, almost in a whisper. "I've been so hateful." + +"Don't ever think of it again," comforted Marjorie, patting the other +girl's hand. + +"I must think of it," returned Marcia, earnestly. "I--I can't talk about +it now, but may I come to see you to-morrow afternoon? I have something +to tell you." + +"Come by all means," invited Marjorie. "I must say good-bye now. Here we +are at my house. I hope mother won't be too much alarmed when I tell +her. I'll have to explain Jerry's clothes. They are not quite a perfect +fit, as you can see." + +Marcia held the young girl's hand between her own. "I'll come to see you +at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon. Maybe I can show you then how +deeply I feel what you did for me to-day." + +"I wonder what she is so mysterious over," thought Marjorie, as she ran +up the steps. "I never dreamed that she and I would be friends. And +Muriel, too. How perfectly dear she was. But"--Marjorie stopped short in +the middle of the veranda--"what do you suppose became of Mignon?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +LETTING BYGONES BE BYGONES + + +Marjorie touched the button of the electric bell for admittance, but her +finger had scarcely left it when the door was opened by her mother, who +regarded her daughter with mingled amazement and alarm. + +"Why, Marjorie!" she cried. "What has happened to you?" + +"Don't be frightened, Mother. I know I look awfully funny!" Marjorie +stepped into the hall, with a superb disregard for her strange +appearance, assumed with a view to calming Mrs. Dean's fears. + +"I--a canoe tipped over and I helped one of the girls out of the river +and got wet. My clothes are down at the boathouse drying. Jerry went +home and brought back some of hers for me. That's why I look so +different. She didn't come here for fear of scaring you." + +"You have been in the river!" gasped her mother in horror, "and it's +unusually high just now." + +"But it didn't hurt me a bit," averred Marjorie, cheerfully. "I can +swim, and someone had to help Marcia. Come upstairs with me while I get +into my own clothes and I'll tell you all about it." + +They had reached her room and Mrs. Dean was eyeing her lively little +lieutenant doubtfully. "Are you sure you feel well, Marjorie?" she asked +anxiously. + +"Perfectly splendid, Captain," was the extravagant assurance, as +Marjorie gently backed her mother into a chair. "I'm going to get out of +Jerry's clothes and into my own and then we'll have a nice comfy old +talk." + +Slipping into a one-piece frock of blue linen, Marjorie brushed her +dampened brown curls thoroughly dry and let them fall over her +shoulders. Placing a sofa pillow on the floor close to her mother, she +settled herself cozily at her mother's side and leaned against her knee, +looking far more like a little girl than a young woman of seventeen. + +It was a very long talk, for there was much to be said, and it lasted +until the sun dropped low in the west and the early twilight shadows +fell. + +A sudden loud ring of the doorbell sent Marjorie scurrying to the door. +She opened it to find a messenger boy, bearing a long, white box with +the name of Sanford's principal florist upon it. + +"For Miss Marjorie Dean," said the boy, handing her the box. + +"Oh!" ejaculated the surprised lieutenant, almost dropping the box in +her astonishment. Carrying it to the living-room table, she lifted the +lid and exclaimed again over its fragrant contents. Exquisite, +long-stemmed pink roses had been someone's tribute to Marjorie, and a +card tucked in among their perfumed petals proclaimed that someone to be +Harold Macy. At the bottom of the card was inscribed in Hal's boyish +hand, "To my friend, Marjorie Dean, a real heroine." + +Marjorie had scarcely recovered from this pleasant shock when her father +appeared upon the scene and gathered her into his arms with an anxious, +"How's my brave little lieutenant?" + +"Why, General, who told you?" cried Marjorie. "I never dreamed you'd +hear of it." + +"It came to me through Mr. Arnold, who has the next office to mine," +said Mr. Dean. "Mrs. Arnold telephoned him as soon as her daughter +reached home. She was afraid he might hear an incorrect report of it +from some other source." + +"We never thought of that. We should have telephoned you. But it's my +fault. I kept mother up in my room and talked so long to her that she +forgot it," avowed Marjorie, apologetically. + +"It's too late for apologies," Mr. Dean assumed an air of deep injury. +Then he laughed and drew from his coat pocket a small package. "Here's +an appreciation of bravery," he declared. "To the brave belongs the +golden circlet of courage. We might also call it your commission to +first lieutenancy. I think you've won your promotion." + +Marjorie's second surprise was a gold bracelet, delicately chased, for +which she had sighed more than once. + +Sunday dawned as radiantly as had the preceding day. Marjorie went to +church in a peculiarly exalted mood, and came home feeling at peace with +the world. After dinner she took a book and went out into a little +vine-covered pagoda built at one end of the lawn, which was fitted with +rustic seats and a small table. Here it was that she and her captain had +planned to spend many of the long summer afternoons reading and sewing, +and it was here that Marcia found her. + +"I have something for you, Marjorie," she said in a low voice. Then she +opened a little silver mesh bag and drawing forth a small, glittering +object handed it to the other girl. + +Marjorie's eyes opened wide. With a gurgle of joy she caught the little +object and fingered it lovingly. "My very own butterfly! Where in the +world did you find it, Marcia?" + +"I didn't find it," returned Marcia, huskily. + +"Then who did?" + +"Mignon. She found it the day after you lost it. I don't like to tell +you these things, but I believe it is right that you should know. She +kept it merely to hurt you. She knew you were fond of it. Muriel told +her all about your receiving it as a farewell gift from your friends. +I--I--am to blame, too. I knew she had it. She intended to give it back +after a while. Then she saw Miss Stevens with one like it and noticed +the queer way you looked at her pin in French class that day. She is +very shrewd and observing. She suspected that you girls had quarreled, +and so she put two and two together. She actually hates Miss Stevens, +and told me she would never give the pin back if she could make Miss +Stevens any trouble by keeping it. + +"Then she went to Miss Archer and told her about her bracelet and the +pin, too." Marcia paused, looking miserable. + +"Miss Archer sent for me and questioned me about my pin," said Marjorie, +gravely. "She is vexed with me still because I wouldn't say anything. +You see I had misjudged Constance. I thought she had found it and kept +it. It is only lately that I learned what a dreadful mistake I made. I +think I ought to let you know, Marcia, that Constance is in Sanford. She +is coming back to school on Monday and going straight to Miss Archer's +office to prove her innocence. Constance was Cinderella at the dance +Friday night. Jerry made her come to the party on purpose to bring us +together. Constance's butterfly pin was a present from her aunt. We know +the truth about Mignon's bracelet, too. Did you know that Mignon never +lost it, Marcia? She only pretended that she had." + +The secretary shook her head in emphatic denial. "I'm not guilty of +that, at least. I hope I'll never do anything underhanded or +dishonorable again. It's dreadful to think that Miss Archer will have to +know what a despicable girl I've been, but that's part of my punishment. +I suppose she won't have me for her secretary any more." + +Marcia's face wore an expression of complete resignation. She had been a +party to a dishonorable act, and her reaping promised to be bitter +indeed. + +"It means a whole lot to you to be secretary, doesn't it, Marcia?" asked +Marjorie, slowly. + +"Yes. This is my third year. I've been saving the money to go to +college. Father couldn't afford to pay all my expenses. I----" Marcia +broke down and covered her face with her hands. + +Marjorie regarded the secretary with a puzzled frown. She was apparently +turning over some problem in her mind. + +"Marcia, how did you obtain my butterfly from Mignon?" + +Marcia's hands dropped slowly from her face. "I went to her house this +morning and made her give it to me. She tried to make me promise that I +would say she found it only a day or two ago. I didn't promise. I'm glad +I can say that." + +"Would you go with me to her home?" asked Marjorie, abruptly. "I have +thought of a way to settle the whole affair without Miss Archer knowing +about either of you." + +"Oh, if it could only be settled among ourselves!" cried Marcia, +clasping her hands. "I'll go with you. She is at home this afternoon, +too. I came from her house here." + +"Wait just a moment, then, until I run indoors for my hat." + +Marjorie walked briskly across the lawn to the house. She was back in a +twinkling, a pretty white flower-trimmed hat on her head, carrying a +white fluffy parasol that matched her dainty lingerie gown. + +"How beautiful Mignon's home is!" she exclaimed softly, as they entered +the beautiful grounds of the La Salle estate and walked up the broad +driveway bordered with maples. "There's Mignon on the veranda. She is +alone. I am glad of that." + +"What are you going to say to her?" asked Marcia, her curiosity getting +the better of her dejection, for Mignon had risen with a muttered +exclamation, and was coming toward them with the quick, catlike +movements that so characterized her. + +"What do you mean, Marcia Arnold," she began fiercely, "by----" + +"Miss Arnold is not responsible for our call this afternoon, Miss La +Salle," broke in Marjorie, coolly. "I asked her to come here with me." + +Mignon glared at the other girl in speechless anger. Her roving black +eyes suddenly spied the butterfly pinned in the lace folds of Marjorie's +frock. + +"Oh, I see," she sneered. "You think I'm going to tell you all about +your trumpery butterfly pin. You are mistaken, I shall tell you +nothing." + +"I believe I am in possession of all the facts concerning my butterfly," +returned Marjorie, dryly, "and also those relating to your supposedly +lost bracelet." + +"'Supposedly lost?'" repeated Mignon, arching her eyebrows. "Have you +found it? If you have, give it to me at once." + +"There is only one person who can do that," said Marjorie, gravely, "and +that person is you." + +The betraying color flew to the French girl's cheeks. "What do you +mean?" she asked, but her voice shook. + +"Why do you ask me that?" retorted Marjorie, with sudden impatience. +"You know that on the night of the Weston dance you pretended you had +lost your bracelet in order to throw suspicion on Miss Stevens. Someone +saw you lay your bracelet on the dressing table. The same person saw you +leave the room, return a few minutes afterward and pick it up from the +table. How could you be so cruel and dishonorable?" + +"It isn't true," stormed Mignon. "Constance Stevens is a thief. A +thief, do you hear? And when she comes back to Sanford the school shall +know it." + +"No, Constance Stevens is not a thief. You are the real thief," said +Marjorie with quiet condemnation. "Knowing the butterfly pin to be mine, +you kept it for many weeks. However, I did not come here to quarrel with +you. I came to help Marcia and to save you from the effects of your own +wrongdoing. Constance Stevens is in Sanford. She is going to Miss Archer +to-morrow to prove her innocence. I am going with her. The girl who +knows the truth about your bracelet will be there, too. You knew long +ago that Constance's butterfly pin was her very own." + +"Of course I knew it," sneered Mignon. There was a look of consternation +in her eyes, however. + +"Then that is another point against you. You do not deserve to be let +off so easily, but for Marcia's sake, I am going to say that if you will +go with Constance and me to Miss Archer to-morrow morning and withdraw +your charges against Constance, stating that you have your bracelet, we +will never mention the subject again. Meet me in Miss Archer's outer +office at twenty minutes past eight." She did not even turn to look at +the discomfited Mignon as she issued her command. + +"Marjorie," said Marcia, hesitatingly, as they walked in silence down +the poplar-shaded street. "Shall I--had I--do you wish me to go with +you to Miss Archer?" + +Marjorie cast a quick, searching glance at the thoroughly repentant +junior. "What for?" she smiled, ignoring all that had been. They had now +come to where their ways parted. Marjorie held out her hand. "We are +going to be friends forever and always, aren't we, Marcia?" + +Marcia clasped the extended hand with fervor. "'Forever and always,'" +she repeated. And through all their high school days that followed she +kept her word. + +Three unusually silent young women met in Miss Archer's living-room +office the next morning and awaited their opportunity to see the +principal. + +"Miss Archer will see you," Marcia Arnold informed them after a wait of +perhaps five minutes, and the trio filed into the inner office. + +"Good morning, girls," greeted Miss Archer, viewing them searchingly. +"Miss Stevens, I am glad that you have returned, but I am sorry to say +that during your absence I have heard a number of unpleasant rumors +concerning you." + +Constance flushed, then her color receded, leaving her very white. + +Before the principal could continue, Marjorie's earnest tones rang out. + +"Miss Archer, Miss Stevens and I had a misunderstanding. When you asked +me about it I could not tell you. It has since been cleared away. My +butterfly pin has been found, but it was not the one Miss Stevens wore. +See, here are the two pins. Mine has no pearls at the tips of the wings." +She extended her open palm to the principal. In it lay two butterfly +pins, precisely alike save for the pearl-tipped wings of the one. + +Miss Archer looked long at the pins. Then she lifted them to meet the +blue and the brown eyes whose gaze was fastened earnestly upon her. What +she saw seemed to satisfy her. She held out her hand to Marjorie and +Constance in turn. + +"They are very alike," was her sole comment, as Marjorie returned +Constance's pin. Then Miss Archer turned to Mignon. + +"I am sorry I accused Miss Stevens of taking my bracelet," murmured +Mignon, sulkily. "I have it in my possession. Here it is." She thrust +out an unwilling wrist, on which was the bracelet. + +"I am glad that you have exonerated Miss Stevens from all suspicion." +Miss Archer's quiet face expressed little of what was going on in her +mind. "I am also thankful that an apparently serious matter has been so +easily settled." She did not offer her hand to Mignon, who left the +office without answering. + +A moment later, Marjorie and Constance were in the outer office standing +at Marcia Arnold's desk. "It's all settled, Marcia, with no names +mentioned," she said reassuringly. "Good-bye, we'll see you later. +We'll have to hurry or we'll be late for the opening exercises." + +In the corridor outside the study hall, Marcia and Constance paused by +common consent and faced each other. + +"Connie, dear," Marjorie said softly. "There's only a little more than a +month of our freshman year left. It isn't very much time, but I believe +we won't have to try very hard to make up in happiness for what we've +lost." + +"I am so happy this morning, and so grateful to you, Marjorie, for all +you've done for me, and most of all for your friendship," was +Constance's earnest answer. "I hope you will never have cause to +question my loyalty and that next year we'll be sophomore chums, tried +and true." + +"We'll simply have to be," laughed Marjorie, with joyous certainty, "for +I don't see how we can very well get along without each other." + + +THE END + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +THE GIRL SCOUTS SERIES + +By Edith Lavell + +A new copyright series of Girl Scouts stories by an author of wide +experience in Scouts' craft, as Director of Girl Scouts of Philadelphia. + +Clothbound, with Attractive Color Designs. Price, 65 Cents Each. + +THE GIRL SCOUTS AT MISS ALLEN'S SCHOOL +THE GIRL SCOUTS AT CAMP +THE GIRL SCOUTS' GOOD TURN +THE GIRL SCOUTS' CANOE TRIP +THE GIRL SCOUTS' RIVALS +THE GIRL SCOUTS ON THE RANCH +THE GIRL SCOUTS' VACATION ADVENTURES +THE GIRL SCOUTS' MOTOR TRIP + +For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the +Publishers. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY 114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +MARJORIE DEAN COLLEGE SERIES + +By Pauline Lester + +Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean High School Series. + +Those who have read the Marjorie Dean High School Series will be eager +to read this new series, as Marjorie Dean continues to be the heroine in +these stories. + +All Cloth Bound. Copyright Titles. Price, 65 Cents Each. + +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE FRESHMAN +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SOPHOMORE +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE JUNIOR +MARJORIE DEAN, COLLEGE SENIOR + +For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the +Publishers. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY 114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL SERIES + +By Pauline Lester + +Author of the Famous Marjorie Dean College Series. + +These are clean, wholesome stories that will be of great interest to all +girls of high school age. + +All Cloth Bound. Copyright Titles. Price, 65 Cents Each. + +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR +MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR + +For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the +Publishers. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY 114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS SERIES + +By Hildegard G. Frey + +A Series of Outdoor Stories for Girls 12 to 16 Years. + +All Cloth Bound. Copyright Titles. Price, 65 Cents Each. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE MAINE WOODS; + or, The Winnebagos go Camping. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT SCHOOL; + or, The Wohelo Weavers. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT ONOWAY HOUSE; + or, The Magic Garden. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS GO MOTORING; + or, Along the Road That Leads the Way. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS' LARKS AND PRANKS; + or, The House of the Open Door. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON ELLEN'S ISLE; + or, The Trail of the Seven Cedars. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ON THE OPEN ROAD; + or, Glorify Work. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS DO THEIR BIT; + or, Over the Top with the Winnebagos. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS SOLVE A MYSTERY; + or, The Christmas Adventure at Carver House. + +THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT CAMP KEEWAYDIN; + or, Down Paddles. + +For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the +Publishers. + +A. L. BURT COMPANY 114-120 EAST 23rd STREET NEW YORK + + + + * * * * * * + + + +Transcriber's Notes + +1. Punctuation and hyphenation have been brought into conformity + with current standards. +2. Obvious typographical errors corrected. +3. Modifications to text: + p. 62 came to she ears -> came to her ears + p. 132 "Yes," answered the Marjorie -> Yes, answered Marjorie + p. 144 voicing the pent-up long -> voicing the pent-up longing + p. 197 lace took on an expression -> face took on an expression + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN*** + + +******* This file should be named 23644.txt or 23644.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/6/4/23644 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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