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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/27985-8.txt b/27985-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f88761 --- /dev/null +++ b/27985-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7594 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Marjorie Dean, 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 Sophomore + +Author: Pauline Lester + +Release Date: February 4, 2009 [EBook #27985] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: MARY KNELT ON THE DRIVEWAY AND GATHERED CHARLIE INTO HER +ARMS. _Marjorie Dean High School Sophomore._] + + + + + MARJORIE DEAN + High School Sophomore + + By PAULINE LESTER + + AUTHOR OF + + "Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman" + "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 SOPHOMORE + +CHAPTER I + +WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE + + +"Come on in, Connie. The water's fine!" invited Marjorie Dean, beckoning +with one round, dripping arm to the girl on the sands, while with the +other she kept herself lazily afloat. + +The sun of a perfect August morning poured down upon the white beach, +dotted here and there with ambitious bathers, who had grasped Time +firmly by his venerated forelock, and fared forth with the proverbial +early bird for a morning dip in a deceitfully dimpled and smiling sea. + +It was not yet nine o'clock, but, fearful of losing a minute of her +precious seaside vacation, Marjorie Dean had come down to her favorite +playground for her usual early morning swim. + +"I know it's fine," laughed Constance Stevens, "but this nice white sand +is even finer." + +"You'll never learn to swim if you just sit on the beach and dream," +reminded Marjorie. "I feel that it's my stern duty to see that your +education as a water paddler is not neglected. So here goes!" + +With a few skilful strokes she brought up in shallow water. There was a +quick rush of lithe feet, the sound of sweet, high laughter, then a +little, good-natured gurgle of protest from the golden-haired, blue-eyed +girl curled up on the sand as she found herself being dragged into the +water by a pair of sturdy young arms. + +"Now--sink or swim, survive or perish!" panted Marjorie, as the lapping +shallows broke over the yielding figure of her friend. "You'll simply +have to be a water baby, Connie, dear. It's as important as being a +sophomore in Sanford High, and you know just how important that is! Now, +watch me and do likewise." + +Her day dream thus rudely interrupted, Constance Stevens laughingly +resigned herself to Marjorie's energetic commands, and, now thoroughly +awake to the important business at hand, tried her best to follow her +friend's instructions. A fifteen minutes' lesson in the art of learning +to float followed, and at the end of that time, by common consent, the +two girls waded ashore and flung themselves on the warm sand. + +"I'll never learn to swim. I feel it in my bones," asserted Constance, +as she lazily rose, wrung the water from her bathing suit and seated +herself on the white beach beside Marjorie, who lay stretched at full +length, her head propped upon her elbows, her alert gaze upon the few +bathers who were disporting themselves in the water. + +"Then your bones are false prophets," declared Marjorie calmly. "You +know how to float already, and that's half the battle. We'll rest a +little and talk some more, and then we'll try it again. Next time I'll +teach you an easy stroke. Isn't it funny, Connie, we never seem to get +'talked out.' We've been here together five whole weeks and yet there +always seems to be something new to say. You are really a most +entertaining person." + +"That's precisely my opinion of you." Constance's blue eyes twinkled. + +The two girls laughed joyously. Two wet hands stretched forth and met in +a loving little squeeze. + +"It's been wonderful to be here with you, Marjorie. Last year at this +time I never dreamed that anything so wonderful could possibly happen to +me." The golden-haired girl's voice was not quite steady. + +"And I've loved being here with you. What a lot of things can happen in +a year," mused Marjorie. "Why, at this time last year I never even knew +that there was a town called Sanford on the map, and when I found out +there was really such a place, and that I was going to live there +instead of staying in B---- and going to Franklin High, I felt perfectly +_awful_ about it." + +It had, indeed, been a most unhappy period for sunny, lovable Marjorie +Dean when the call of her father's business had made it necessary for +him to remove his family from the beautiful city of B----, where +Marjorie had been born and lived sixteen untroubled years of life, to +the smaller northern city of Sanford, where she didn't know a soul. + +All that happened to Marjorie Dean from the first day in her new home +has been faithfully recorded in "MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN." +In that narrative was set forth her trials, which had been many, and her +triumphs, which had been proportionately greater, as a freshman in +Sanford High School. How she had become acquainted with Constance +Stevens and how, after never-to-be-forgotten days of storm and sunshine, +the friendship between the two young girls had flowered into perfect +understanding, formed a story of more than ordinary interest. + +Now, after several happy weeks at the seashore, where the Deans had +rented a cottage and were spending their usual summer outing with +Constance as their guest, the two friends were enjoying the last perfect +days of mid-summer before returning to Sanford, where, in September, +Constance and Marjorie were to enter the delightful realm of the +sophomore, to which they had won admission the previous June. + +There had been only one shadow to mar Marjorie's bliss. She had hoped +that her childhood friend and companion, Mary Raymond, might be with +them at the seashore, but, owing to the ill-health of Mary's mother, the +Raymonds had been obliged to summer in the mountains, where Mary was +needed at her mother's side. That Constance and Mary should meet and +become friends had ever been Marjorie's most ardent desire. It was +Constance's remarkable resemblance to Mary that had drawn her toward the +girl in the very beginning. + +"It's all been so perfectly beautiful, Connie." Marjorie gave a little +sigh of sheer happiness. "I've only one regret." + +"I know--you mean your chum, Mary," supplemented Constance, with quick +sympathy. + +Marjorie nodded. + +"It seems strange I haven't heard from her. She hasn't written me for +over two weeks. I hope her mother isn't worse." + +"No news is good news," comforted Constance. + +"Perhaps there will be a letter for me from her when we get back to the +cottage. Suppose there should be! Wouldn't that be glorious?" + +"Perhaps we'd better go up now and see," suggested Constance. "It must +be time for the postman." + +"We're not going until after you've had fifteen more minutes' +instruction in the noble art of swimming, you rascal," laughed +Marjorie. "See how self-sacrificing I am! You don't appreciate +my noble efforts in your direction." + +"Of course I appreciate them, Marjorie Dean." Constance's habitually +wistful expression broke up in a radiant smile that set her blue eyes +dancing. "But I must confess, this minute, that I can live and be happy +if I never learn to swim." + +"That settles it. In you go again." + +Marjorie sprang energetically to her feet, and began dragging her +protesting friend down the beach to the water. Another fifteen +minutes' instruction followed, punctuated by much laughter on the +part of the two girls. + +"There! I'll let you off for to-day," conceded Marjorie, at last. "Now, +come on. I have a hunch that there _is_ a letter for me. I haven't had +any letters for two whole days." + +It was only a few rods from the bathing beach to the "Sea Gull," the +cottage in which the Deans were living. As they neared it, a +gray-uniformed figure was seen hurrying down the walk. + +"It's the postman! What did I tell you?" Marjorie broke into a run, +Constance following close at her heels. + +The two girls brought up flushed and laughing at the pretty, +vine-covered veranda, where Mrs. Dean sat, in the act of opening a +letter. Half a dozen other postmarked envelopes lay in her lap. + +"Oh, Captain," Marjorie touched a hand to her bathing cap, "how many of +them are for me?" + +"All of them except this, Lieutenant," smiled her mother, holding up the +letter she had been reading. "But why all this haste? I hardly expected +you back so soon. Five minutes before luncheon is your usual time for +reappearing," she slyly reminded. + +"Oh, I had an unmistakable hunch that there was a letter here for me +from Mary, so I let Connie off easy on her lesson. I'll make up for it +to-morrow." + +By this time Marjorie held in her hand the half-dozen envelopes, each +bearing its own special message from the various friends who held more +or less important places in her regard, and was rapidly going over them. + +"Here's one from Jerry and one from Hal." The pink in her cheeks +deepened at sight of the familiar boyish hand. "One from Marcia Arnold, +another from Muriel Harding. Here's a tiresome advertisement." She threw +the fifth envelope disdainfully on the wicker table at her side. +"And--yes, here it is, in Mary's very own handwriting!" + +Laying the other letters on the table with a carefulness that bespoke +their value, Marjorie hastily tore open the envelope that contained news +of her friend and drawing out a single closely written sheet of paper +said apologetically, "You won't mind if I read this now, will you, +Connie and Mother?" + +"Go ahead," urged Constance. "We couldn't be so hard-hearted as to +object." + +Mrs. Dean smiled her assent. Marjorie's thoughtfulness of others was +always a secret source of joy to her. + +Marjorie read down the page, then uttered a little squeal of delight. +"Mother!" she exclaimed joyously, "just listen to this: + + "DEAREST MARJORIE: + + "You will wonder, perhaps, what has happened to me. I know I + have owed you a letter for over two weeks, but I have been so + busy taking care of mother that I haven't had very much time to + write. Of course, we have a nurse, but, still, there are so many + little things to be done for her, which she likes to have me do. + She is much better, but our doctor says she must go to a famous + health resort in the West for the winter. She will start for + Colorado in about two weeks, and now comes the part of my + letter which I hope you will like to read. I am going to make + you a visit. Father and I are coming to see you on a very + mysterious mission. I won't tell you anything more about it + until I see you. Part of it is sad and part of it glad, and it + all depends upon three persons whether it will ever happen. + There! That ought to keep you guessing. + + "You wrote me that you would be at home in Sanford by the last + of next week. Please writs me at once and let me know just + exactly when you expect to reach there. We shall not try to come + to the seashore, as father prefers to wait until you are back in + Sanford again. With much love to you and your mother, + + "Yours Mysteriously, + "MARY." + +Marjorie finished the last word with a jubilant wave of the letter. + +"What do you think of that, Captain? What do you suppose this mysterious +mission can be?" Marjorie's face was alight with affectionate curiosity. + +"I am not good at guessing," Mrs. Dean smiled tolerantly. The ways of +schoolgirls were usually shrouded with a profound mystery, which +disappeared into nothingness when confronted with reality. + +"It must be something extraordinary. She says it's part sad and part +glad. I hope it's mostly glad. I know _I'm_ glad that I'm going to see +her. Why, it's almost a year since we said good-bye to each other! Oh, +Connie," she turned rapturously to Constance, "you two girls, my dearest +friends, who look alike, will actually meet at last! You'll love Mary. +You can't help yourself, and she'll love you. She can't do anything +else." + +"I hope she will like me," said Constance a trifle soberly. "I know I +shall like her, because she is your friend, Marjorie." + +"You'll like her for yourself, Connie," predicted Marjorie loyally, and +secure in the belief that neither of these two girls, whose friendship +she held above rubies, could fail her, Marjorie Dean dreamed of a +kingdom of fellowship into which the three were fated to enter only +after scaling the steep and difficult walls of misunderstanding. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SHADOW + + +"Listen, Connie! Do you hear that train whistling? I'm sure it's Mary's +train." + +Marjorie Dean peered anxiously up the track in the direction of the +sound. In the distance her alert eyes spied the smoke of the approaching +train before it rounded the bend and appeared in full view, and her +heart beat high with the thought that the longer-for moment had come at +last. + +Since her return to Sanford, five days before, Marjorie had been in a +quiver of affectionate impatience. How slowly the days dragged! She +read and re-read Mary's latest letter, stating that she and her father +would arrive at Sanford on Wednesday on the 4.30 train and her +impatience grew. It was not alone that she desired to see Mary. There +was the "mysterious mission" to be considered. What girl does not love a +mystery? And Marjorie was no exception. At that moment, however, as she +waited for her childhood's friend, all thought of the mystery was swept +aside in the longing to see Mary again. + +As the train rumbled into the station and after many groans and shudders +stopped with a last protesting creak of wheels, Marjorie's anxious gaze +traveled up and down its length. Suddenly, at the far end, she spied a +tall, familiar figure descending the car steps. Close behind him +followed a slender girl in blue. With a cluck of joy and a "There she +is!" Marjorie fairly raced up the station platform. Constance followed, +but proceeded more slowly. To Marjorie belonged the right to the first +rapturous moments with her chum. In her girlish soul lurked no trace of +jealousy. She understood that with Marjorie, Mary must always be first, +and she was filled with an unselfish happiness for the pleasure of the +girl who had braved all things for her and would forever mean all that +was best and highest to her. + +"Mary!" Marjorie exclaimed, her clear voice trembling with emotion. + +"Oh, Marjorie, it's been ages," quavered Mary Raymond. Then the two +became locked in a tempestuous embrace. + +"Here, here, where do I come in?" asked an injured voice, as the two +young women continued to croon over each other, all else forgotten. + +Marjorie gently disengaged herself from Mary's detaining arms and turned +to give her hand to Mr. Raymond. + +"I'm so glad to see you," she said fervently. "Mother is waiting in our +car, just the other side of the station. But first, let me introduce my +friend, Constance Stevens. Why, where is she? I thought she was right +behind me. Oh, here she comes. Hurry up, Connie!" + +Constance approached rather shyly. In spite of the fact that the old +days of poverty and heartache lay behind her like a bad dream, she was +still curiously reserved and diffident in the presence of strangers. The +decision of her aunt, Miss Susan Allison, to take up her abode in +Sanford in order that Constance might finish her high school course with +Marjorie had brought many changes into the life of the once friendless +girl. Miss Allison had purchased a handsome property on the outskirts of +Sanford, and, after much persuasion, had, with one exception, induced +the occupants of the little gray house to share it with her. Soon +afterward Mr. Stevens, Constance's foster-father, whose name she still +bore and refused to change, had accepted a position as first violin in a +symphony orchestra and had gone to fulfill his destiny in the world of +music which he loved. Uncle John Roland and little Charlie, once puny +and crippled, but now strong and rosy, had, with Constance, come into +the lonely old woman's household at a time when she most needed them, +and, in her contrition for the lost years of happiness which she had so +stubbornly thrust aside, she was in a fair way to spoil her little flock +by too much petting. + +The fact that from a mere nobody Constance Stevens had become the social +equal of Sanford's most exclusive contingent did not impress the girl in +the least. Naturally humble and self-effacing, she had no ambition to +shine socially. Her one aim was to become a great singer, and it was +understood between herself and her aunt that when she was graduated from +high school she was to enter a conservatory of music and study voice +culture under the best masters. + +It seemed to Constance that she now had everything in the world that she +could possibly hope for or desire, but of the great good which had come +to her in one short year she felt that above all she prized the +friendship of Marjorie Dean and in whatever lay Marjorie's happiness, +there must hers lie also. + +This was her thought as she now stepped forward to meet Mary Raymond. +She was prepared to give this girl who was Marjorie's dearest friend a +loyalty and devotion, second only to that which she accorded Marjorie +herself. + +"At last my dearest wish has come true!" exclaimed Marjorie when +Constance had been presented to Mr. Raymond and she and Mary had clasped +hands. "I've been so anxious for you two to know each other. Now that +you're here together I can see that resemblance I've told you of. +Connie, you look like Mary and Mary looks like you. You might easily +pass for sisters." + +Constance smiled with shy sweetness at Mary and Mary returned the smile, +but in her blue eyes there flashed a sudden, half-startled expression, +which neither Constance nor Marjorie noted. Then she said in a tone +intended to be cordial, but which somehow lacked heart, "I'm awfully +glad to know you, Miss Stevens. Marjorie has written me often of you." + +"And she has talked to me over and over again of you," returned +Constance warmly. + +"Now that you know each other, you can postpone getting chummy until +later," laughed Marjorie. "Mother will wonder what has happened to us. +She'll think you didn't come on that train if we don't put in an +appearance." + +Possessing herself of Mary's traveling bag she led the way with Mary +through the station and out to the opposite side where Mrs. Dean awaited +them. Constance followed with Mr. Raymond. In her heart she experienced +an odd disappointment. Was it her imagination, or did Mary's cordiality +seem a trifle forced? Perhaps it would have been better if she had not +accompanied Marjorie to the station to meet Mary. Perhaps Mary was a +trifle hurt that her chum had not come alone. She decided that she would +not ride to Marjorie's home with the party, although she had been +invited to dine with them that night. She could not bear to think of +intruding. She managed to answer Mr. Raymond's courteous remarks, but +her thoughts were not centered upon what he was saying. Without warning, +her old-time diffidence settled down upon her like an enveloping cloak, +and her one object was to slip away as quickly and as unobtrusively as +possible. + +"I think I had better not go home with you, Marjorie," she said in a low +voice. They had reached the waiting automobile and Mary and Mrs. Dean +were exchanging affectionate greetings. + +"Oh, why not, Connie?" Marjorie's happy face clouded. "You know we'd +love to have you, wouldn't we, Mary?" + +"Of course." Mary again smiled at Constance, but again her smile lacked +warmth. + +Constance shook her head almost obstinately. + +"I think I had better not come," she repeated, and in her speech there +was a shadowy return of the old baffling reserve that had so greatly +disturbed Marjorie in the early stages of their friendship. + +"But you promised to take dinner with us to-night," remarked Marjorie. + +"I--I have changed my mind. It will be best for me to go home, I think. +I'll come over to-morrow." + +Mrs. Dean added her persuasions, but Constance was firm, and, after +bidding a courteous farewell to the Deans' guests, she hurried away, +more agitated than she cared to admit. + +"Why, what ails Constance, Marjorie?" asked Mrs. Dean in surprise. + +"Nothing--that is, I don't know." Marjorie looked after her friend's +rapidly disappearing figure, a puzzled expression in her brown eyes. + +Mary Raymond viewed Marjorie with a faint frown. It was rather provoking +in Marjorie to express so much concern over this Constance Stevens. +After their long separation she felt that her chum's every thought ought +to be for her alone. And in that instant a certain fabled green-eyed +monster, that Mary had never believed could exist for her, suddenly +sprang into life and whispered to her that, perhaps, after all, she was +not first in Marjorie Dean's heart. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SOWING THE SEED OF DISCORD + + +"Before you talk of another single thing, Mary Raymond, please tell me +what you mean by a 'mysterious mission' that is 'part sad and part +glad,'" exclaimed Marjorie. + +Mr. Raymond was occupying the front seat of the automobile, beside Mrs. +Dean, who drove the car, a birthday present from her husband, and the +two girls had the tonneau of the automobile to themselves. They had +scarcely deposited Mary's luggage on the floor of the car and settled +themselves for the short ride to the Deans' home when Marjorie had made +her eager inquiry into the nature of the "mysterious mission" that had +so aroused her curiosity. + +"Well," began Mary, brightening, "father and I _have_ come to see you on +a mission, but the only mystery about it is that you don't as yet know +why we've come. I thought 'mysterious mission' looked rather well on +paper so I set it down." + +"But you're going to tell me about it this instant, you wicked, +tantalizing girl," insisted Marjorie with pretended sternness. + +"I thought perhaps you might be able to guess certain things from my +letter," continued Mary. "You see, I wrote you that mother would have to +go to Colorado for the winter and----" + +"You are going with her," supplemented Marjorie. + +"No, that's a wild guess. I'm not going west with her. Father says I +must stay in the East and go through my sophomore year in high school." + +"But you can't stay at home by yourself, Mary. Just think how dreadful +that would be for you, with your father away most of the time," reminded +Marjorie. + +Mary's father was a traveling salesman for a large furniture +manufactory, and spent the greater part of his time on the road. + +"That's just the point," responded Mary. "I know I can't stay at home +alone. Mother's illness and what is to become of me when father goes on +the road again is the sad part of it, but the glad part is--oh, +Marjorie, can't you guess now?" Mary caught Marjorie's hand in hers. +"We've come all the way to Sanford to see if," her voice rose high with +excitement, "there isn't a little corner in the Dean barracks that a +certain lieutenant can call her own for this year and----" + +"Mary!" It was Marjorie's turn to become excited. "Do you really mean +that you wish to come to live with me and enter Sanford High? That we'll +be sophomores together?" + +Mary clung to Marjorie's hand and nodded. For a moment she was too near +to tears for speech. But they were tears of happiness. Marjorie really +desired her for a best friend after all. Her sudden jealousy of +Constance Stevens vanished. + +"I should say that was a _glad_ part of your mission," laughed Marjorie +happily. "I don't know what I've ever done to deserve such good fortune. +Mother will be glad, too. She loves you almost as much as she loves me." + +"Oh, Mother," Marjorie leaned impulsively forward, "Mary's coming to +live with me this year while her mother is in Colorado. You'll have two +lieutenants instead of one to look after. We are going to win sophomore +honors together and be promoted to be captains next June!" + +"There," declared Mr. Raymond with comical resignment, "now you have let +the cat out of the bag with a vengeance, Mary Raymond. All this time I +had been planning to ask Mrs. Dean, in my most ingratiating manner, if +she thought she might possibly make room for a certain very frisky +member of my family for a while. I had intended to proceed carefully and +diplomatically so that she wouldn't be too much shocked at such a +prospect, but now----" + +"It's all settled, isn't it, Mother?" interrupted Marjorie. "You are +just as anxious as I for Mary to come and live with us, aren't you?" + +"Shall I stop the car in the middle of the street and assure you of my +willingness to increase my regiment?" laughed Mrs. Dean. + +"No, no," protested Marjorie. "Let's hurry home as fast as we can and +talk it over. We're only two squares from our house now. Besides, I've +planned everything already. Mary can have the spare bedroom next to my +house." Marjorie always referred to her room as her "house." "There's +only the bath between and we'll use that together, and have a regular +house of our own. Oh, Mary, won't it be perfectly splendid?" + +Regardless of what passersby might think, Mary and Marjorie embraced +with an enthusiasm that threatened to land them both in the tonneau of +the rapidly moving car, while their elders smiled at this reckless +display of affection. + +The automobile had hardly come to a full stop on the broad driveway, +that wound through the wide stretch of lawn that was one of the chief +beauties of the Deans' pretty home, when Marjorie swung open the door +and skipped nimbly out of the car with, "Welcome home, Mary!" + +Mary was only an instant behind Marjorie in leaving the car, and the two +hugged each other afresh out of pure joy of living. + +"Take Mary up to her room at once, dear," directed Mrs. Dean. "I'm sure +she must be tired and hungry after her long ride in the train. We will +have an early dinner to-night. I expect Mr. Dean home at almost any +moment," she continued, turning to Mr. Raymond. + +"Come on, Mary." Marjorie had lifted Mary's bag from the automobile. Now +she stretched forth an inviting hand to Mary, and piloted her across the +lawn and up the short stretch of stone walk to the front door. The door +opened and a trim, rosy-cheeked maid appeared as by magic. She reached +for Mary's bag, but Marjorie waved her gently aside. + +"I'll do the honors, Delia. You can look after mother and Mr. Raymond. +We are very self-sufficient persons who don't need anything except a +chance to go upstairs and talk ourselves hoarse." + +A wide smile irradiated the maid's goodnatured face, as she stepped +aside to allow Marjorie and Mary to enter the hall. + +"What a darling house!" Mary's glance traveled about the pretty Dutch +hall to the large, comfortable living room beyond. "You have oceans of +room here, haven't you?" + +Marjorie nodded. "Yes; when first we came here I felt lost. It was +actually lonesome. It took me a whole week to grow accustomed to looking +out without seeing rows of brick houses across the street and on each +side of me. Don't you remember, I wrote you all about it? You see, I +didn't enter high school until we'd been here almost two weeks, and in +all that time I never met a single girl. I felt like a shipwrecked +sailor on a great, big, lonely, old island. Shall we go upstairs now? +I'm so anxious to have you see my 'house.' It's a house within a house, +you know. Mother had it all done up in pink and white for me, and I +spent hours in it. Your house is blue. I made general and captain let +me have one of the spare bedrooms done in blue, so that when you came to +visit me you'd feel at home. And now it's going to be your very own for +a whole year! It's too good to be true." + +Releasing Mary's hand, Marjorie led the way up the stairs to the second +floor and down the short hall to her "house." Mary cried out in +admiration at her friend's dainty room. She walked about, exclaiming +over its perfect details after the manner of girls, then three minutes +later the two somehow found themselves seated side by side on Marjorie's +pretty white bed, their arms about each other's waists, and fairly +launched into one of the good, old-time confabs they were wont to +indulge in when the top step of the Deans' veranda in B---- had been +their favorite trysting place. + +Half an hour later Mrs. Dean entered the room to find them still talking +at an alarming rate, the rest of their world apparently forgotten. + +"I might have known it," she smiled. "Why, you haven't even taken off +your hats, and dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Marjorie, you are a +most neglectful hostess." + +"Oh, we don't mind having dinner with our hats on," returned Marjorie +cheerfully. Then, rising, she took off her broad-brimmed Panama, and +began gently pulling the pins from Mary's hat. "Make it fifteen minutes, +instead of ten, Captain, and we'll be as spick and span as you please." + +"Discipline seems to be very lax in these barracks," commented Mrs. +Dean. "I am afraid I ought to call upon General to help me enforce my +orders. Under the circumstances I'll be lenient, though, and stretch the +time to fifteen minutes. There, I hear General downstairs now!" + +She disappeared from the doorway and immediately a great scurrying about +began, punctuated with much talk and laughter. To Marjorie it seemed as +though she had not been so happy for ages. It was wonderful to know that +her beloved Mary was actually with her once more, and still more +wonderful that she would continue to be with her indefinitely. + +At dinner she beamed joyously across the table at the little blue-eyed +girl, while their elders discussed and settled her destiny for the +coming year. Mr. and Mrs. Dean met Mr. Raymond's request in behalf of +his daughter with the whole-heartedness that so characterized them. In +fact, they were highly in favor of receiving Mary as a member of their +little household. + +"Two soldiers are better than one," asserted Mr. Dean humorously. "I +believe in preparedness. 'In times of peace prepare for war,' you know. +With such a valiant army under my command I could do wonders if attacked +by the enemy." + +After dinner they all repaired to the living room, where the discussion +of the all-important subject was continued, and when at eleven o'clock +two sleepy, but blissfully happy, lieutenants climbed the stairs to bed, +Mary Raymond lacked nothing except actual adoption papers, signed and +sealed, to admit her into the Deans' hospitable fold. + +Yet there was one tiny drawback to Mary's joy. Try as she might she +could not forget Constance Stevens and Marjorie's too evident fondness +for her. From Marjorie's early letters she had formed the conclusion +that Constance was merely a poor nobody, whom her chum, with her usual +spirit of generosity had tried to befriend. Marjorie's later letters had +contained little pertaining to Constance. Mary had not known of the long +period of estrangement between Constance and Marjorie that had so nearly +wrecked their budding friendship, and of the many changes that time had +wrought in the life of the girl who looked like her. She had, therefore, +been quite unprepared to meet the dainty, well-dressed young woman whom +Marjorie appeared to hold in such strong affection. She reflected that +night, a trifle resentfully, after Marjorie had kissed her good-night +and left her, that it was very strange in Marjorie not to have put her +in possession of the real facts of the case. Still, it was really not +her affair. If Marjorie chose to become chummy with Constance without +even writing a word of it to her, there was nothing to do except to be +silent over the whole affair. Perhaps Marjorie would tell her all about +it later. Certainly she would ask no questions. And then and there, +little, blue-eyed Mary Raymond made her first mistake, and sowed a tiny +seed of discord in her jealous heart that was fated later to bear bitter +fruit. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +INTRODUCING MARY TO THE GIRLS + + +"We've come for a last inspection, Captain. How do we look?" + +Marjorie Dean danced into her mother's room, her brown eyes sparkling +with anticipation, her charming face all smiles. Mary Raymond followed +her excited chum. + +"Halt! Company, attention!" commanded Mrs. Dean, as she turned from her +dressing table to pass an opinion upon the waiting brigade of two. Her +brown eyes rested approvingly upon the trim figures drawn up in their +most soldierly attitude before her. Marjorie's frock of pink linen, with +its wide lace collar and cuffs, exactly suited her dark eyes and hair, +while Mary's gown of pale blue of the same material served to accentuate +the fairness of her skin and the gold of her curls. + +"Shall we do, Captain? Are we absolutely spick and span?" Marjorie +turned slowly about, then made a laughing dive at her mother and +enveloped her in a devastating embrace. + +"Now see the havoc you've wrought," complained Mrs. Dean. "I shall have +to do my hair over again. Never mind. I'll forgive you, and, being +magnanimous, will state that I am very proud of the appearance of my +army." + +"You're a gallant officer and a dear, all in one." Marjorie caught her +mother's hand in hers. "Now, we must be on our way. We are going to +school early because Mary will have to see Miss Archer. Besides, I'm +anxious for her to meet Jerry Macy and some of the other girls. If only +she had come to Sanford sooner, I'd have loved to give a party for her. +Then she'd know every one of my friends. Oh, well, there is plenty of +time for that. Good-bye, Captain. We'll be back before long. There is +never very much to do in school on the first day." + +Dropping a gay little kiss on her mother's smooth cheek, Marjorie left +the room, followed by Mary, who stopped just long enough to kiss Mrs. +Dean good-bye. + +Three weeks had slipped by since Mr. Raymond and Mary had come to +Sanford upon the so-called mysterious mission that had made Mary Raymond +a member of the Dean household. They had returned to the city of +B---- the following day. From there Mr. Raymond had gone directly to the +mountains, for his wife, who, in spite of her ill-health, had insisted +on returning to her home to oversee the making of Mary's gowns and the +choosing of her wardrobe in general. Two days before coming to Sanford, +Mary had seen her mother off on her journey to Colorado in quest of +health. She had put on a brave face and smiled when she wished to cry, +and it was alone the thought that she was going to live with Marjorie +during her mother's absence that kept her from breaking down at the last +sad moment of farewell. + +It was a sober-faced, sad-eyed Mary that Marjorie had met at the train, +but, under the irresistible sunniness of Marjorie's nature, Mary had +soon emerged from her cloud, and now the prospect of entering Sanford +High School filled her with lively anticipation. + +As Marjorie and Mary emerged from the house and swung down the stone +walk in perfect step, they beheld a stout, and to Marjorie, a decidedly +familiar figure turning in at the gate. In the same instant a joyous +"Hello" rent the air, and the stout girl cantered up the walk at a +surprising rate of speed. There was a delighted gurgle from Marjorie, +that ended in a fervent embrace of the two young women. + +"Oh, Jerry, I'm so glad to see you! I was afraid you wouldn't be back in +Sanford before school opened. I saw Irma day before yesterday and she +said she hadn't heard a word from you for over a week." + +"We didn't get here until last night at ten o'clock Maybe I'm not glad +to see _you_." Jerry beamed affectionately upon Marjorie. + +"This is my friend, Mary Raymond, Jerry," introduced Marjorie. "She is +going to live with us this winter and be a sophomore at dear old Sanford +High. There will be six of us instead of five now." + +"I'm glad to know you." Jerry smiled and stretched forth a plump hand in +greeting. "I've heard a lot about you." + +"I've heard Marjorie speak of you, too. I'm ever so pleased to meet +you." Mary exhibited a friendliness toward Jerry Macy that had been +quite lacking in her greeting of Constance Stevens. + +As the three stood for a moment at the gate Jerry's eyes suddenly grew +very round. + +"Why, Marjorie, your friend looks like Connie, doesn't she?" + +"Of course she does," replied Marjorie happily. "Don't you remember I +told you long ago that that was why I felt so drawn toward Connie in the +first place?" + +"Yes, I remember it now. Isn't it funny that your two dearest friends +should look alike? Have you met Constance, Mary? I'm going to call you +Mary. I never call a girl 'Miss' unless I can't bear her. I'm sure I'm +going to like you. Not only because you're Marjorie's chum, but for +yourself, you know. If you turn out to be even one half as nice as +Constance Stevens, I'll adore you. Connie is a dear and no mistake +about it." + +The shadow of a frown touched Mary's forehead. Why must she be compelled +to hear continually of Constance Stevens? And why should this Jerry Macy +place her and Constance on the same plane in Marjorie's affection? She +did not propose to share her place in her chum's heart with anyone. Of +course, this girl could not possibly know just how much she and Marjorie +had always been to each other. Later on they would understand. They +would soon see that Marjorie preferred her above all others. + +Comforted by this reflection the shadow passed from Mary's face and the +trio started down the street for school, chatting and laughing as only +carefree schoolgirls can. + +Once inside the school building, Jerry said good-bye to them and turned +down the corridor toward the study hall. Marjorie smiled with tender +reminiscence as she and Mary climbed the familiar broad stairway to the +second floor. She was thinking of another Monday morning that belonged +to the past, when a timid stranger had climbed those same stairs and +diffidently inquired the way to the principal's office. How far away +that day seemed, and how much had happened within those same walls since +that fateful morning. + +"I'll never forget my first morning here," she said to Mary, as they +walked down the corridor toward their destination--the last room on the +east side. "Captain had a headache and couldn't come with me. I had to +march into Miss Archer's office all by myself. I felt like a forlorn +stranger in a strange, unfriendly land. Then I met such a nice girl, +Ellen Seymour, a friend of mine now, and she took me to the office and +introduced me to Miss Archer." + +Before Mary had time to reply they had entered the cheerful living-room +office that had so greatly impressed Marjorie on her first introduction +to Sanford High. A tall, dark girl, seated at a desk at one end of the +room, glanced up at the sound of the opening door. She hurried forward +with a little exclamation of delighted surprise. "Why, Marjorie!" she +exclaimed. "I was just thinking of you. I was wondering if you'd be in +for the first day. I had made up my mind to run down to the study hall a +little later and see." She now had Marjorie's hands in an affectionate +clasp. + +"I've been wondering about you, too," nodded Marjorie. "You are another +stray who didn't come back until the last minute." + +"I'm a working girl, you know," reminded Marcia. "Doctor Bernard was +dreadfully disappointed because I wouldn't give up high school and keep +on being his secretary. But I couldn't do that." + +"Of course you couldn't," agreed Marjorie, "especially now that you are +a senior." + +Mary Raymond had drawn back a little while Marjorie and Marcia Arnold, +Miss Archer's once disagreeable secretary, but now a changed girl +through the influence of Marjorie, exchanged greetings. Marjorie turned +and drew her chum forward, introducing her to Marcia, who bowed and +extended her hand in friendly fashion. + +"Is Miss Archer busy, Marcia?" asked Marjorie, after she had explained +that Mary was to become a pupil of Sanford High School. + +"Wait a moment, I'll see." Marcia went into the inner office, returning +almost instantly with, "Go right in. She is anxious to see you, +Marjorie." + +Miss Archer's affectionate welcome of Marjorie Dean brought a blush of +sheer pleasure to the girl's cheeks. Her heart thrilled with joy at the +thought that there was now no veil of misunderstanding between her and +her beloved principal. + +"And so this is Mary Raymond." Miss Archer took the newcomer's hand in +both her own. "We are glad to welcome you into our school, my dear. Your +principal at Franklin High School has already written me of you. How +long have you been in Sanford?" + +Mary answered rather shyly, explaining her situation, while Marjorie +looked on with affectionate eyes. She was anxious that Miss Archer +should learn to know and love Mary. + +"I will put you in Marjorie's hands," declared Miss Archer, after a few +moments' pleasant conversation. "She will take you to the study hall and +see that you are made to feel at home. We wish our girls to look upon +their school as their second home, considering they spend so much of +their time here. Please tell your mother, Marjorie," she added, as the +two girls turned to leave the room, "that I shall try to call on her +this week." + +"How do you like Miss Archer? Isn't she splendid?" were the quick +questions Marjorie put, as they retraced their steps down the long +corridor. + +"I know I'm going to love her," returned Mary fervently. "I hope I'll be +happy here, Marjorie." There was a wistful note in her voice that caused +Marjorie to glance sharply at her friend. Mary's charming face was set +in unusually sober lines. + +"Poor Mary," was her reflection. "She's thinking of her mother." But +Mary Raymond's thoughts were far from the subject of her mother. +Instead, they were fixed upon what Jerry Macy had said that morning +about Constance Stevens. Miss Archer had asked about Constance, too. She +had spoken of her as though she and Marjorie were best friends. What had +she meant when she said, "Well, Marjorie, you and Constance deserve fair +sophomore weather after last year's storms." The flame of jealousy, +which Mary had sought to stifle after her first meeting with Constance, +was kindled afresh. + +"What did Miss Archer mean when she spoke of you and Miss Stevens--and +last year's storms?" she asked abruptly. + +"Oh, I can't explain now. It's too long a story. Here we are at the +study hall." Her mind occupied with school, Marjorie had not caught the +strained note in Mary's voice. + +"She doesn't wish me to know," was Mary's jealous thought. "She is +keeping secrets from me. All right. Let her keep them. Only I know one +thing, and that is--I'll _never_, _never_, _never_ be friends with +Constance Stevens, not even to please Marjorie!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN UNCALLED-FOR REBUFF + + +The great study hall which Marjorie and Mary entered had little of the +atmosphere supposed to pervade a hall of learning. A loud buzz of +conversation greeted their ears. It came from the groups of girls +collected in various parts of the hall, who were making the most of +their opportunities to talk until called to order. Marjorie gave one +swift glance toward the lonely desk on the platform. It had always +reminded her of an island in the midst of a great sea. She breathed a +little sigh of relief. Her pet aversion, Miss Merton, was not occupying +the chair behind it. This, no doubt, accounted for the general air of +relaxation that pervaded the room. Her alert eyes searched the room for +Constance Stevens. She was not present. She gave another sigh, this time +it was one of disappointment. She had seen Constance only twice since +Mary's arrival. On one occasion she had taken dinner at the Deans' home. +The three girls had spent, what seemed to Marjorie, an unusually +pleasant evening. Constance, feeling dimly that Mary did not quite +approve of her, had dropped her usually reticent manner and exerted +herself to please. So well had she succeeded that Mary had rather +unwillingly succumbed to her charm and grown fairly cordial. + +Totally unconscious of the shadow which had darkened the pleasure of +Constance's first meeting with Mary, and equally ignorant of Mary's +secret resentment of her new friend, Marjorie had retired that night +inwardly rejoicing in both girls and planning all sorts of good times +that they three might have together. + +Several days later Constance had entertained them at luncheon at "Gray +Gables," the beautiful, old-fashioned house Miss Allison had purchased, +on the outskirts of Sanford. Mary had been secretly impressed with its +luxury and had instantly made friends with little Charlie. The quaint +child had gravely informed her that she looked like Connie and +immediately taken her into his confidence regarding his aspirations +toward some day playing in "a big band." He had also obligingly favored +her with a solo of marvelous shrieks and squawks on his much tortured +"fiddle." Mary loved children, and this, perhaps, went far toward +stilling the jealousy, which, so far, only faintly stirring, bade fair +to one day burst forth into bitter words. + +"I'll see you in school on Monday," Marjorie had called over her +shoulder, as she and Mary had taken their departure from Constance's +home that afternoon. But now Monday had come and there was no sign of +the girl Marjorie held so dear in the study hall. + +"Connie had better hurry. It's five minutes to nine. She'll be late." +Marjorie's gaze traveled anxiously toward the door. An unmistakable +frown puckered Mary's brows, but Marjorie did not see it. + +"Oh, Marjorie Dean, here you are at last. We've been waiting for you." +Susan Atwell left a group of girls with which she had been hob-nobbing +and hurried down the aisle. "Come over here, you dear thing. We've been +looking our eyes out for you." She stopped short and stared hard at +Mary. "Why, I thought----" she began. + +"You thought it was Connie, didn't you?" laughed Marjorie. She +introduced Mary to Susan. + +"The girls over there thought you were Constance Stevens, too," smiled +Susan, showing her dimples. "You see, Marjorie and Connie are +inseparable, so, of course, we naturally mistook you for her. I never +saw two girls look so much alike. If we have a fancy dress party this +year you two can surely go as the Siamese Twins. Wouldn't that be +great?" + +Mary smiled perfunctorily. She had her own views in the matter, and +they did not in the least coincide with Susan's. + +A moment later they were hemmed in by an enthusiastic bevy of girls, +each one trying to make herself heard above the others. Marjorie was +besieged on all sides with eager inquiries. The girls had discovered, as +she neared them, that her companion was not Constance Stevens. Marjorie, +at once, did the honors and Mary found herself nodding in quick +succession to half a dozen girls. + +"You fooled us all for a minute, Miss Raymond," cried Muriel Harding. + +"She didn't fool me," announced Jerry Macy, who had joined them just in +time to hear Muriel's remark. "I knew she was coming, but I kept still +because I wanted to see you girls stare." + +"Look around the room, Marjorie," observed Irma Linton in a guarded +tone. "Do you miss anyone? Not Constance. I wonder where she is?" + +"I don't know." Marjorie's eyes took in the big room, then again sought +the door. "She said she would meet me here this morning. Let me see. Do +I miss anyone? Do you mean a girl in our class, Irma?" + +Irma nodded. + +Marjorie cast another quick look about her. "Why, no. Oh, now I know. +You mean Mignon." + +Again Irma nodded. Under cover of a burst of laughter from the others +she murmured, "Mignon won't be with us this year. You will observe, if +you look hard, that I'm not weeping over our loss." + +Marjorie was silent for a moment. The past rode before her like a +panorama, as the thought of the elfish-faced French girl and of how +deeply she had caused both herself and Constance Stevens to suffer. Her +pretty face hardened a trifle as she said, in a low voice, "I'm not +sorry, either, Irma. But why won't she be in high school this year? Has +she moved away from Sanford? I haven't seen her since we came home from +the beach." + +"She has gone away to boarding school," answered Irma. "Between you and +me, I think she was ashamed to come back here this year. Susan told me +that her father wanted her to stay in high school and go to college, but +she teased and teased to go away to school, so finally he said she +might. She left here over two weeks ago. One of the girls received a +letter from her last week. In it she said she was so glad she didn't +have to go to a common high school and that the girls in her school were +not milk-and-water babies, but had a great deal of spirit and daring." + +Marjorie's lip curled unconsciously. "I'd rather be a 'milk-and-water +baby' than as cruel and heartless as she. I'll never forgive her for the +way she treated Connie. Let's not talk of her, Irma. It makes me feel +cross and horrid, and, of all days, I'd like to be happy to-day. There's +so much to be happy over, and I'm so glad to see all of you. Life would +be a desert waste without high school, wouldn't it?" + +Marjorie's soft hand found Irma's. She was very fond of this quiet, +fair-haired girl, who, with Jerry Macy, had stood by her so resolutely +through dark days. + +"Here she comes--our dear teacher. Look out, girls, or you'll be ushered +out of Sanford High before you've had a chance to look at the bulletin +board," warned Muriel Harding's high-pitched voice. Her sarcastic +remarks carried farther than she had intended they should, as a sudden +hush had fallen upon the study hall. Miss Merton, Marjorie's pet +aversion, had stalked into the great room. She cast a malignant glance, +not at Muriel, but straight at Marjorie Dean. + +"Oh," gasped Muriel and Marjorie in united consternation. + +"That's the time you did it, Muriel," muttered Jerry Macy. "I always +told you that you ought to be an orator or an oratress or something. +Your voice carries a good deal farther than it ought to. Only Miss +Merton didn't think it was you who made those smart remarks. She thought +it was Marjorie. Now she'll have a new grievance to nurse this year." + +"I'm awfully sorry." Muriel was the picture of contrition. "I didn't +intend she should hear me--but to blame you for it! That's dreadful. +I'll go straight and tell her that I said it." + +Muriel made a quick movement as though to carry out her intention. +Marjorie caught her by the arm. "You'll do nothing of the sort, Muriel +Harding. My sophomore shoulders are broad enough to beat it. Perhaps she +didn't really hear what you said. She can't dislike me any more for that +than she did before she thought I said it." + +"Young ladies, I am waiting for you to come to order. Will you kindly +cease talking and take seats?" Miss Merton's raucous voice broke +harshly upon the abashed group of girls. They scuttled into the +nearest seats at hand like a bevy of startled partridges. + +"What a horrid woman," was Mary Raymond's thought, as she slipped into a +seat in front of Marjorie, and stared resentfully at the rigid figure, +so devoid of womanly beauty, in its severe brown linen dress, unrelieved +by even a touch of white at the neck. + +With a final glare at Marjorie, the teacher proceeded at once to the +business at hand. Within the next few minutes she had arranged the girls +of the freshman class in the section of the study hall they were to +occupy during the coming year. Marjorie awaited the turn of the +sophomores to be assigned to a seat with inward trepidation. She had had +no opportunity to introduce Mary to Miss Merton. What should she do? She +half rose from the seat, then sat down undecidedly. + +Miss Merton had arranged the freshmen to her satisfaction. Now she was +calling for the sophomores to rise. Perhaps she would not notice Mary. +If she did not, then Mary could pass with the sophomores to their +section. As soon as the session was dismissed, she would introduce her +to Miss Merton. + +But Miss Merton was lynx-eyed. "That girl there in the blue dress," she +blared forth. "You were not in the freshman class last year." + +Mary turned in her seat and shot a glance of appeal to Marjorie. The +girl rose bravely in friend's behalf. + +"Miss Merton," she said in her clear, young voice, "I brought Miss +Raymond here with me. She----" + +"You are not supposed to bring visitors to school, Miss Dean," was the +teacher's sarcastic reminder. + +Marjorie's eyes kindled with wrath. Then, mastering her anger, she made +courteous reply. "She is not a visitor. She expects to enter the +sophomore class." + +"Come down to this front seat, young woman," ordered Miss Merton, +ignoring Marjorie's explanation. "I'll attend to you later." + +Mary sat still, surveying Miss Merton out of two belligerent blue eyes. + +"Do as she says, Mary," whispered Marjorie. + +Mary obeyed. Walking down the aisle with maddening deliberation, she +seated herself on the bench indicated. + +"No talking," rasped Miss Merton, as a faint murmur went up from the +girls in the sophomore section. + +Once the classes had been assigned to their places for the year there +was little more to be done. Nettled by her recent resentment against +Marjorie, Miss Merton took occasion to deliver a sharp lecture on good +conduct in general, making several pointed remarks, which caused +Marjorie to color hotly. More than one pair of young eyes glared their +resentment of this harsh teacher who had never lost an opportunity in +the past school year of censuring their favorite. + +The moment the short session was over the girls of her particular set +gravitated toward Marjorie. + +"Well, of all the old cranks!" scolded Geraldine Macy. + +"She's the most hateful teacher in the world," was Muriel Harding's +tribute. + +"I wouldn't pay any attention to her, Marjorie. I'd go straight to Miss +Archer," advised Susan Atwell. "Just see her now! She looks as though +she'd actually snap at your friend." + +Miss Merton was engaged in interviewing the still belligerent Mary, who +stood listening to her, a sulky droop to her pretty mouth. + +"Oh, I must go and help Mary out. Wait for me outside, girls." + +"Do you need any help?" inquired Jerry. "I never was afraid of Miss +Merton, if you'll remember." + +"Oh, no." Marjorie hurried toward her friend, and stood quietly at +Mary's side. + +"Well, Miss Dean, what is it?" Miss Merton eyed Marjorie with her most +disagreeable expression. + +"I came to tell you, Miss Merton," began Marjorie in her direct fashion, +"that Miss Raymond saw Miss Archer this morning before we came to the +study hall. She sent us----" + +"That will do, Miss Dean," interrupted Miss Merton. "I hope Miss Raymond +is capable of attending to her affairs without your assistance. I should +greatly prefer that you go on about your own business and leave this +matter to me. I believe I have been a teacher in Sanford High School +long enough to be trusted to manage my own work." + +A bitter retort rose to Marjorie's lips. She forced it back and with a +dignified bow to Miss Merton and, "I will wait for you in the corridor, +Mary," walked from the room, her head held high, her eyes burning with +resentful tears. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MARY'S DISTURBING DISCOVERY + + +Once outside the study hall Marjorie Dean's proud manner left her. Her +recent joy in returning to high school gave place to a feeling of deep +dejection. Everything had certainly gone wrong. She had had so many +pleasant little thrills of anticipation that she had quite forgotten +Miss Merton and the teacher's unreasoning dislike for her, which she had +never taken pains to conceal. Muriel's injudicious remarks had made a +bad matter worse. Marjorie knew that from now on she would have to be +doubly on her guard. It was evident that Miss Merton intended to take +her to task whenever the slightest opportunity presented itself. +Marjorie even had her suspicions that Miss Merton had known that it was +Muriel instead of herself who had uttered those distinctly unflattering +words. + +"I'll have to be very careful not to offend Miss Merton," she ruminated +gloomily, as she stood waiting for Mary, her eyes fastened on the big +study-hall door. Then her thoughts switched from Miss Merton to +Constance Stevens. Why hadn't Connie come to school? Surely she could +not be ill. Perhaps Charlie was sick. + +The opening of the study-hall door interrupted her worried reflections. +Mary emerged from the hall, looking like a young thundercloud. She +closed the door after her with a resounding bang, which conveyed more +than words. + +"Of all the hateful old tyrants!" she exclaimed, as she hurried toward +Marjorie. "I despise her. How dared she treat you so?" + +"Oh, never mind," soothed Marjorie. "Let us forget her. Tell me, are you +or are you not a sophomore? Or must we go to Miss Archer to straighten +things?" + +"I'm a sophomore all right enough," said Mary grimly. "I told her what +Miss Archer said, and after that she treated me more civilly. Such a +teacher is a disgrace to a school. Why is she so bitter against you, +Marjorie?" + +Marjorie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. She has always acted +like that toward me. It's just a natural dislike, I suppose. Sometimes, +after a teacher has taught school a great many years, she takes sudden +likes and dislikes. I've been in her black books since my very first day +in Sanford High." + +"Poor old Lieutenant." Mary patted Marjorie's hand with sympathetic +affection. + +"Oh, it doesn't matter. I don't really care much. There are so many nice +teachers here who _do_ like me that I'm not going to worry over Miss +Merton. Come along." She linked her arm in Mary's. "The girls will be +waiting for us outside. We are all going down to Sargent's for ice +cream. Then we'll go home and report to Captain. After luncheon, I think +we had better walk over to Gray Gables. I am afraid Connie or, perhaps, +little Charlie is sick. You know Connie promised us, when we were there +on Friday, that she'd see us at school." + +Mary's face clouded. "I--I think I won't go to Gray Gables with you. I +must write to mother. Besides, you and Constance may wish to be by +yourselves." + +Marjorie's brown eyes opened wide. "Why should we?" she asked. "You know +you are always first with me. I haven't any secrets from you." + +Mary's face brightened. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her +conclusions. "I wish you would tell me all about yourself and +Constance," she said slowly. "You promised you would." + +"Well, I will," began Marjorie. Then she paused and flushed slightly. It +had suddenly come to her that perhaps Constance would not care to have +Mary know of the clouds of suspicion that had hung so heavily over her +freshman year. "I'd love to tell you about it now, Mary, but I think I +had better ask Constance first if she is willing for me to do so. You +see, it concerns her more than me. I am almost sure she wouldn't mind, +but I'd rather be perfectly fair and ask her first. You know Captain and +General have always said to us, 'Never break a confidence.'" + +A hurt look crept into Mary's face. "Oh, never mind," she managed to +say with a brave assumption of indifference. "I don't wish to know about +it if you don't care to tell me." + +"But I _do_ care to tell you, and I will if Connie says I may," assured +Marjorie earnestly. + +Mary had no time for further remark. They had reached the double +entrance doors to the building and were hailed by a crowd of girls at +the foot of the steps. + +"Oh, Connie," Marjorie Dean cried out delightedly. She had spied her +friend among them. + +Constance ran forward to meet Marjorie and Mary. "I couldn't come +before. I've been to the train. Father is here. He's going to be at home +for two days. And what do you think he wishes me to do?" + +"You are not going away with him?" asked Marjorie in sudden alarm. + +"No, indeed. I couldn't give up my sophomore year here, even for him. It +isn't anything so serious. He proposed that as long as he was here to +play for us, it would be a good idea to----" + +"Give a dance," ended Jerry Macy. "Hurrah for Mr. Stevens! Long may he +wave!" + +"Yes, you have guessed it, Jerry," laughed Constance. "I'm going to give +a party in honor of Mary. I was so excited over it that I left him to go +on to Gray Gables by himself, while I rushed over here as fast as I +could come. I wanted to catch you girls together so I could invite you +in a body. Jerry, do you suppose Hal would be willing to see Lawrie and +the Crane and some of our boys? It will have to be a strictly informal +hop, for I haven't time to send out invitations." + +"Of course he'll round up the crowd," assured Jerry slangily. "If he +doesn't, I will. I guess I won't go to Sargent's with you. What is mere +ice cream when compared to a dance? Besides, it's fattening--the ice +cream, I mean. I've lost five pounds this summer and I'm not going to +find them again at Sargent's if I can help it. So long, I'll see you all +to-night." + +Jerry bustled off on her errand, leaving her friends engaged in an eager +discussion of the coming festivity. A little later they trooped down the +street to their favorite rendezvous, where most of their pocket money +found a resting place. + +"We won't have a single bit of appetite for luncheon," commented +Marjorie to Mary, when, an hour later, they set out for home. + +"I suppose not," assented Mary indifferently. Her thoughts were far from +the subject of luncheon. Her jealousy of Constance Stevens was +thoroughly aroused and flaming. She wished Marjorie had never seen nor +heard of this hateful girl. And to think that Constance had announced +that she was going to give a party in honor of _her_, the very person +she had robbed of her best friend! It was insufferable. What could she +do? If she refused to go, Marjorie and all those girls would wonder. She +could give no reasonable excuse for declining to go at this late day. +She told herself she would rather die than have Marjorie know how deeply +she had hurt her. Oh, well, she was not the first martyr to the cause +of friendship. She would try to bear it. Perhaps, some day, Marjorie, +too, would know the bitterness of being supplanted. + +It was an unusually quiet Mary who slipped into her place at luncheon +that day. + +"What is the matter, dear?" asked Mrs. Dean, noting the girl's silence. +"Don't you feel well?" + +"Oh, I am all right," she made reply, torturing her sober little face +into a smile. + +"Mary had troubles of her own this morning, Captain," explained +Marjorie. Then she launched forth into an account of the morning's +happenings. + +Mrs. Dean looked her indignation as her daughter's recital progressed. +She had met Miss Merton and disliked her on sight. + +"I have no wish to interfere in your school life, Marjorie," she said +with a touch of sternness, when Marjorie had finished, "but I will not +hear of either of you being imposed upon. If Miss Merton continues her +unjust treatment I shall insist that you tell me of it. I shall take +measures to have it stopped." + +"Captain won't stand having her army abused," laughed Marjorie. + +"At least you must admit that I'm a conscientious officer," was her +mother's reply. "To change the subject, would you like to go shopping +with me this afternoon?" + +"Oh, yes," chorused the two. Even Mary forgot her grievances for the +moment. As little girls they had always hailed the idea of shopping with +their beloved captain. + +The shopping tour took up the greater part of the afternoon, and it was +after five o'clock when the two started for home. + +"No lingering at the dinner table to-night for this army," declared +Marjorie, finishing her dessert in a hurry. "It's almost seven, Mary. +We'll have to hurry upstairs to dress for the dance." + +"You didn't apply to me for a leave of absence," reminded Mr. Dean. "You +know the penalty for deserting." + +"We've forgotten it, General. You can tell us what it is to-morrow," +retorted Marjorie. "Come on, Mary. Salute your officers and away we go." + +In the excitement of dressing for the dance Mary almost forgot that she +was about to enter the house of the girl she now believed she disliked. +Marjorie's praise of her pretty white chiffon evening frock almost +restored her to good humor. Marjorie herself was radiant in a gown of +apricot Georgette crepe and filmy lace. + +Mrs. Dean had elected to drive them to their destination in the +automobile, and when they alighted from the machine at the gate +to Gray Gables, waving her a gay good night, Mary felt almost glad +that she had come and that the dance was to be given in her honor. + +"I've been watching for you." A slender figure in pale blue ran down the +steps to meet them. Out of pure sentiment Constance Stevens had chosen +to wear the blue chiffon dress--Marjorie's gracious gift to her. She had +taken the utmost care of it, and it looked almost as fresh as on the +night she had first worn it. + +Mary Raymond stared at her in amazement Could it be--yes, it was the +very gown that Marjorie's aunt had given her a year ago as a +commencement present. Had not Marjorie declared over and over again that +she would never part with it? And now she had deliberately given it to +Constance. This proved beyond a doubt where Marjorie's true affection +lay. Mary was obsessed with a wild desire to turn and run down the drive +and away from this hateful girl. This was, indeed, the last straw. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE PROMISE + + +Mary Raymond wondered, as she walked up the steps of Gray Gables, +between Constance and Marjorie, and into the brightly lighted reception +hall, how she could manage to endure the long evening ahead of her. She +was seized with an insane desire to break from Marjorie's light hold on +her arm and rush out of the house of this girl who had stolen her +dearest possession, Marjorie's friendship. How well she remembered the +day on which Marjorie had received the blue dress which Constance was +wearing so unconcernedly. It had come by express in a huge white +pasteboard box, while she and Marjorie were seated on the Deans' step +engaged in one of their long confabs. How excited they had been over it! +How they had exclaimed as Marjorie drew the blue wonder from its +pasteboard nest. Then a great trying-on had followed. She recalled with +jealous clearness how great Marjorie's disappointment had been when she +found it too small for her. Then Marjorie had said as she lovingly +patted its soft folds, "Never mind, I'll keep it always, just to look +at. It was awfully dear in Aunt Louise to send it to me and I wouldn't +let her know for worlds that it doesn't fit me." And now, after all she +had said, she had lightly given it away--and to Constance Stevens. + +Mary forced herself to smile and reply to the friendly greeting of Miss +Allison, who stood in the big, old-fashioned hall helping to receive her +niece's guests. A moment more and she was surrounded by Geraldine Macy, +Irma Linton and Susan Atwell, who had come forth in a body from the +long, palm-decorated parlor off the hall to welcome her, accompanied by +a singularly handsome youth, a very tall, merry-faced young man and a +black-haired, blue-eyed lad, with clean cut, sensitive features. + +She was presented in turn to Harold Macy, Sherman Norwood, known as the +Crane to his intimate associates, and Lawrence Armitage. + +"So, _you_ are Marjorie's friend, Mary Raymond, of whom she has spoken +to me so often," smiled Hal Macy. "We are very glad to welcome you to +Sanford, Miss Raymond." + +"Thank you," Mary returned, almost forgetting her first bitter moment. +Hal Macy's direct hand-clasp and frank, bright smile of welcome stamped +him with sincerity and truth. She liked equally well Lawrence +Armitage's deferential greeting and she found the Crane's wide, boyish +grin irresistible as he bowed low over her small hand. Yes, the Sanford +boys were certainly nice. She was not so sure that she liked the girls. +They made too much of Marjorie, and Marjorie had proved herself disloyal +to her sworn comrade and playmate of years. + +Once inside the drawing-room, which had been transformed into an +impromptu ball-room by taking up the rugs and moving the piano to one +end of it, introductions followed in rapid succession. + +"Mary, you must meet my foster father." Constance slipped her arm +through Mary's and conducted her to the piano where stood a man with an +immense shock of snow-white hair, sorting high piles of music arranged +on top. "Father." + +The man at the piano wheeled at the sound of the soft voice. His stern, +almost sad face broke into a radiant smile that completely transformed +it. + +"This is Mary Raymond. Mary, my father, Mr. Stevens," introduced +Constance. "And this is my uncle, Mr. Roland." + +Both men bowed and took Mary's hand in turn, expressing their pleasure +at meeting her. Old John Roland's faded blue eyes contained a puzzled +look. "You are very familiar," he said. "Where have I seen you before?" + +"Look sharply, Uncle John," laughed Marjorie, who had joined them. "You +have never seen Mary before. She is like someone you know." + +"'Someone you know,'" repeated the old man faithfully. He would never +outgrow his quaint habit of repetition, although he had improved +immensely in other ways since the change in Constance's fortune had +released him from the clutch of poverty. + +Mary eyed him curiously. Then her gaze rested on Mr. Stevens. What +peculiar persons they were. And Marjorie had never written her of them. +They must have a strange history. She made up her mind that she would +never ask her fickle chum about them. She would find out whatever she +wished to know from others. Now that she was a pupil of Sanford High she +would soon become acquainted with girls of her class other than those +she had already met. Perhaps she might learn to like some one better +than---- Her sober reflections stopped there. She could not bring +herself to the point of breaking her long comradeship with the girl who +had failed her. + +Uncle John Roland was still staring at her and smilingly shaking his +gray head. "I don't know. I can't think, and yet----" + +Suddenly a jubilant little shout rent the air, causing the group about +the piano to smile. In the same instant Mary felt a small hand slip into +hers. "I knew you comed to see Charlie again. Charlie wouldn't go to bed +because Connie said you'd surely come. Charlie loves you a whole lot. +You look like Connie." + +"Look like Connie," muttered Uncle John. Then his faded eyes flashed +sudden intelligence. "I know. Of course she's like Connie. I guessed it, +didn't I?" He glanced triumphantly at Marjorie. + +"So you did, Uncle John," nodded Marjorie brightly. + +Mr. Stevens gazed searchingly at the young girl so like his foster +daughter. Mary felt her color rising under that penetrating gaze. It was +as though this dreamy-eyed man with the dark, sad face had read her very +soul. For a brief instant she sensed dimly the ignobleness of her +jealousy of his daughter. She felt that she would rather die than have +him know it. Perhaps, after all, she was in the wrong. She would try to +dismiss it and do her best to enter into the spirit of the merry-making. +An impatient tug at her hand caused her to remember Charlie's presence. + +"Talk to me," demanded the child. "Connie says I have to go to bed in a +minute, so hurry up." + +Mary stooped and wound her arms about the tiny, insistent youngster. She +clasped Charlie tightly to her and kissed his eager face. And that +embrace sealed the beginning of an affection between them, the very +purity of which was one day to lead her from the terrible Valley of +Doubt into the sunlight of belief. + +"Now you've done it," was Marjorie's merry accusation. "You've stolen my +cavalier. Oh, Charlie, I thought I was your very best girl." She made +reproachful eyes at Charlie, who, delighted at receiving so much +attention, sidled over to her with a ridiculous air of importance and +took her hand. + +"Everybody likes Charlie," he observed complacently. "Now he can stay up +all night and listen to the band." + +"You'd go to sleep and never hear the band at all," laughed Constance. +"No, Charlie must go to bed and sleep and sleep, or he will never grow +big enough and strong enough to play in the band." + +The half pout on Charlie's babyish mouth, born of Constance's dread +edict, died suddenly. Even the joys of staying up all night were not to +be compared with the glories of that far-off future. + +"All right, I'll go," he sighed. "But you and Marjorie must come again +soon in the daytime when I don't have to go to bed. I'll play a new +piece for you on my fiddle. Uncle John says it's a marv'lus +compysishun." + +A burst of laughter rose from the group around him at this calm +statement. After kissing everyone in his immediate vicinity, Charlie +made a quaint little bow and marched off beside Constance, well pleased +with himself. + +"Isn't he a perfect darling?" was Mary's involuntary tribute. + +"Yes, I adore Charlie," returned Marjorie. "I used to feel so dreadfully +for him when he was crippled. Isn't it splendid, Mr. Stevens, to see him +so well and lively?" She turned radiantly to the white-haired musician. +His face lighted again in that wonderful smile. He was about to answer +Marjorie, when Constance, who had seen Charlie to the door where he had +been taken in charge by a white-capped nurse, returned to them, saying: + +"What shall we have first, girls, a one step?" + +"Oh, yes, do!" exclaimed Jerry Macy, who had come up in time to hear +Constance's question, in company with a mischievous-eyed, +freckled-faced youth who rejoiced in the dignified cognomen of Daniel +Webster Seabrooke, but who was most appropriately nicknamed the Gadfly. + +"Mr. Seabrooke, Miss Raymond," introduced Jerry. + +The freckled-faced boy put on a preternaturally solemn expression and +begged the pleasure of the first dance with Mary. Mr. Stevens had +already handed the old violinist the music for the dance and placed his +own score in position upon the piano. The slow, fascinating strains of +the one step rang out and a great scurrying for partners began. + +Marjorie found herself dancing off with Hal Macy, while Lawrence +Armitage swung Constance into the rapidly growing circle of dancers. +Irma Linton and the Crane danced together, while Jerry Macy, who danced +extremely well for a stout girl, was claimed by Arthur Standish, one of +her brother's classmates. + +Once the hop had fairly begun, dance followed dance in rapid succession. +Much to Mary's secret satisfaction there were no gaps in her programme. +As it was, there were no wall flowers. An even number of boys and girls +had been invited and every one had put in an appearance. At eleven +o'clock a dainty repast, best calculated to suit the appetites of hungry +school girls and boys, was served at small tables on the side veranda, +which extended almost the length of the house. + +It was not until after supper, when the dancing was again at its +height, that Marjorie and Constance found time for a few words together. + +The two girls had slipped away to Constance's pretty blue and white +bedroom to repair a torn frill of Marjorie's gown. + +"Isn't it splendid that we can have a minute to ourselves?" laughed +Constance. "I'm glad you happened to need repairing. I hope Mary is +having a good time. As long as it's her party I'm anxious that she +should enjoy herself." + +"Of course she's having a good time. How could she help it?" returned +Marjorie staunchly. "All the boys have been perfectly lovely to her and +so have the girls. I knew everyone would like her. You and Mary and I +will have lots of fun going about together this winter." + +Constance smiled an answer to Marjorie's joyous prediction. Then her +pretty face sobered. "Marjorie," she said, then paused. + +Marjorie glanced up from the flounce she was setting to rights. +Something in Constance's tone commanded her attention. "What is it, +Connie?" + +"Have you ever said anything to Mary about you--and me--and things last +year?" + +"Why, no. I wouldn't think of doing so unless I asked you if I might. +I----" + +"Please don't, then," interrupted Constance. "I had rather she didn't +know. It is all past, and, as long as so few persons know about it, +don't you think it would be better to let it rest?" + +Marjorie bent her head over her work to conceal the sudden disturbing +flush that rose to her face. She had intended telling Constance that +very night of the remark that Miss Archer had made in Mary's presence +about their freshman year. She had felt dimly that, perhaps, Mary ought +to be put in possession of the story, although she had not the remotest +suspicion of the jealousy that was already warping her chum's thoughts. +Her one idea had been to answer all her questions as freely as she had +done in the past. She intended to put the matter to Constance in this +light. But now Constance had forestalled her and was asking her to be +silent on the very matters she wished to impart to Mary. + +"It isn't as though it is something which Mary ought to know," continued +Constance, quite unaware of Marjorie's inward agitation. "It wouldn't +make her happier to learn it and--and--she might not think so well of +me. I wish her to like me, Marjorie, just because she is your dearest +friend. Don't you think I am right about it? You wouldn't care to have +even the friend of your best friend know all the little intimate details +of your life. Now, would you?" Constance slipped to her knees beside +Marjorie, one arm across her shoulder, and regarded her with pleading +eyes. + +Marjorie stared thoughtfully into the earnest face of the girl at her +side. What should she say? If she told Constance that Mary had twice +asked questions regarding her affairs, Constance might think Mary unduly +curious. Perhaps, after all, silence was wisest. Mary might forget all +about it, and, in any case, she was far too sensible to feel hurt or +indignant because she, Marjorie, was not free to tell her of the +private affairs of another. + +"Promise me, Marjorie, that you won't say anything," urged Constance. +Her natural reticence made her dread taking even Mary into confidence +regarding herself. + +"I promise, Connie," said Marjorie with a half sigh. "There, I guess +that flounce will stay in place. I've sewed it over and over." + +The two girls returned to the dance floor arm in arm. Mary Raymond's +blue eyes were turned on them resentfully as they entered the room. They +had been having a talk together, and hadn't asked her to join them. Then +her face cleared. She thought she knew what that talk was about. +Marjorie had been asking Constance's permission to tell her everything. +She would hear the great secret on the way home, no doubt. Her spirits +rose at the prospect of the comfy chat they would have in the automobile +and for the rest of the evening she put aside all doubts and fears, and +danced as only sweet and seventeen can. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LATEST SOPHOMORE ARRIVAL + + +Though the evening of the dance had been deceitfully clear and balmy, +dark clouds banked the autumn sky before morning and the day broke in a +downpour of rain. It was a doubly dreary morning to poor little Mary +Raymond and over and over again Longfellow's plaintive lines, + + "Into each life some rain must fall, + Some days must be dark and dreary," + +repeated themselves in her brain. Yes, rain had indeed fallen into her +life. The bitter rain of false friendship. All the days must from now on +be dark and dreary. Last night she had danced the hours away, secure in +the thought that Marjorie would not fail her. And Marjorie had spoken no +word of explanation. During the drive home she had talked gaily of the +dance and of the boys and girls who had attended it. She had related +bright bits of freshman history concerning them, but on the subject of +Constance Stevens and her affairs she had been mute. Mary fancied she +had purposely avoided the subject. In this respect she was quite +correct. Marjorie, still a little disturbed over her promise to +Constance, had tried to direct Mary's mind to other matters. Deeply +hurt, rather than jealous, Mary had listened to Marjorie in silence. She +managed to make a few comments on the dance, and pleading that she was +too sleepy for a night-owl talk, had kissed Marjorie good night rather +coldly and hurried to her room. Stopping only to lock the door, she had +thrown herself on her bed in her pretty evening frock and given vent to +long, tearless sobs that left her wide awake and mourning, far into the +night. It was, therefore, not strange that lack of sleep, coupled with +her supposed dire wrongs, had caused her to awaken that morning in a +mood quite suited to the gloom of the day. + +A vigorous rattling of the door knob caused her to spring from her bed +with a half petulant exclamation. + +"Let me in, Mary," called Marjorie's fresh young voice from the hall. +"Whatever made you lock your door? I guess you were so sleepy you didn't +know what you were about." + +Mary turned the key and opened the door with a jerk. Marjorie pounced +upon her like a frolicsome puppy. Wrapping her arms around her chum, she +whirled her about and half the length of the room in a wild dance. + +"Let me alone, please." Mary pulled herself pettishly from Marjorie's +clinging arms. + +"Why, Lieutenant, what's the matter? You aren't sick, are you? If you +are, I'm sorry I was so rough. If you're just sleepy, then I'm not. You +needed waking up. It's a quarter to eight now and we'll have to hustle. +Captain let us sleep until the last minute. Now, which are you, sick or +sleepy?" + +"Both," returned Mary laconically. "I--that is--my head aches." + +"Poor darling. Was Marjorie a naughty girl to tease her when her was so +sick?" Marjorie sought to comfort her chum, but Mary eluded her +sympathetic caress and said almost crossly, "Don't baby me. I--I hate +being babied and you know it." + +Marjorie's arms dropped to her sides. "I didn't mean to tease you. I'm +sorry. I'll go down and ask Captain to give you something to cure your +headache." She turned abruptly and left the room, deeply puzzled and +slightly hurt. What on earth ailed Mary? + +The moment the door closed Mary pattered into the bathroom and banged +the door. She hurried through her bath and was partly dressed when +Marjorie returned with a little bottle of aspirin tablets. "One of +these will fix up your head," she declared cheerily. + +"I don't want it," muttered Mary. "My head is all right now." + +"That is what I would call a marvelous recovery," laughed Marjorie. "I +wish Captain's headaches would take wing so easily. You know what +dreadful sick headaches she sometimes has. She had one on the first day +I went to Sanford High, and I had to go alone." + +"I remember," nodded Mary carelessly. "That was one of the things you +_did_ write me." + +"I wrote you lots of things," retorted Marjorie lightly, failing to +catch the significance of Mary's words. "But now you are here, I don't +have to write them. I can _say_ them." + +"Then, why don't you?" was on Mary's tongue, but she did not say it. +Instead, she maintained a half sulky silence, as she walked to the +wardrobe and began fingering the gowns hung there. Selecting a blue +serge dress, made sailor fashion, she slipped into it and began +fastening it as she walked to the mirror. Marjorie stood watching her, +with a half frown. She did not understand this new mood of Mary's. The +Mary she had formerly known had been sunny and light-hearted. The girl +who stood before the mirror, grave and unsmiling, was a stranger. + +"I'm ready to go downstairs." Mary turned slowly from the mirror and +walked toward the door. Beneath her quiet exterior, a silent struggle +was going on. Should she speak her mind once and for all to Marjorie, or +should she go on enduring in silence? Perhaps it would be best to speak +and have things out. Then, at least, they would understand each other. +Then her pride whispered to her that it was Marjorie's and not her place +to speak. Marjorie must know something of her state of mind. At heart +she must be just the least bit ashamed of herself for shutting her out +of her personal affairs. Had they not sworn long ago to tell each other +their secrets. _She_ had always kept her word. It was Marjorie who had +failed to do so. No, she would not humble herself. Marjorie might keep +her secrets, for all _she_ cared. She was sorry that she had ever come +to Sanford. Now that she was here she would have to stay. If she wrote +her father to take her away, her mother would have to be told. Mary was +resolved that no matter what happened to her, her mother must be spared +all anxiety. She would try to bear it. Marjorie should never know how +deeply she was wounded. She would pretend that all was as it had been +before. + +Mrs. Dean looked up from her letters, as the two girls entered the +dining room. + +"Hurry, children," she admonished. "You haven't much time to spare. +These social affairs completely break up army discipline. Look out you +don't go to sleep at your post this morning." + +"Who's sleepy? Not I," boasted Marjorie. "I feel as though I'd slept for +hours and hours. Your army is ready for duty, Captain. Lieutenant Mary's +headache has been put to rout and everything is lovely." + +"Are you sure you feel quite well, dear?" questioned Mrs. Dean +anxiously. She noted that Mary was very pale and that her eyes looked +strained and tired. + +"I'm quite well now, thank you." The ghost of a smile flickered on her +pale face. + +"Did you enjoy the dance? It was nice in Connie to give it in your +honor. We are all very fond of her and of little Charlie." + +Mary's wan face brightened at the mention of the child's name. "Isn't he +dear?" she asked impulsively. + +"Mary has stolen Charlie from me," put in Marjorie. "He adores her +already. I don't blame him. So do I, and so does Connie, too. We three +are going to have splendid times together this winter." + +During the rest of the breakfast Marjorie regaled her mother with an +account of the dance. Mary said little or nothing, but amid her friend's +merry chatter her silence passed unnoticed. + +"Wear your raincoats," called Mrs. Dean after them, as, their breakfast +finished, they ran upstairs for their wraps. + +Fifteen minutes later they had joined the bobbing umbrella procession +that wended its way into the high school building. + +"You'll have to go to Miss Merton, Mary, and be assigned to a seat. She +didn't give you one yesterday, did she?" asked Marjorie. "You can put +your wraps in our locker. We are to have the same lockers we had last +year. Connie and I have a locker together. There is lots of room in it +for your things, too. I'll task Marcia Arnold to let you in with us. She +has charge of the lockers." + +Mary's first impulse was to decline this friendly offer. On second +thought she closed her lips tightly, resolved to make no protest. +Later--well, there was no telling what might happen. + +"Don't be afraid of Miss Merton," was Marjorie's whispered counsel, as +they crossed the threshold of the study hall. "She can't eat you." + +"I'm not afraid." Mary's lip curled a trifle scornfully. Marjorie +treated her as though she were a baby. + +"I have come to you for my seat," was her terse statement, as she paused +squarely before Miss Merton's desk. + +Miss Merton glanced up to meet the unflinching gaze of two purposely +cold blue eyes. Something in their direct gaze made her answer with +undue civility, "Very well. I will assign you to one. Come with me." + +She stalked down the aisle, Mary following, to the last seat in one of +the two sophomore rows, and paused before it. "This will be your seat +for the year," she said. + +"Thank you." Mary sat down and took account of her surroundings. Across +the aisle on one side, Susan Atwell's dimpled face flashed her a +welcome. On the other side sat a tall, severe junior who wore +eye-glasses. The seat in front of her was vacant. Marjorie sat far down +the same row. Mary could just see the top of her curly head. It still +lacked five minutes of opening time and the students were, for the most +part, conversing in low tones. Now and then an accidentally loud note +caused Miss Merton to raise her head from her writing and glare severely +at the offender. + +Susan Atwell leaned across the aisle and patted Mary's hand in friendly +fashion. "I'm so glad you are going to sit here," she said in an +undertone. "I was afraid Miss Merton would put some old slow-poke there +who wouldn't say 'boo' or pass notes or do anything to help the +sophomore cause along." + +"I'm glad she put me near you," returned Mary affably. She had made up +her mind to win friends. They would be indispensable to her now that all +was over between her and Marjorie. "I don't imagine that tall girl is +very sociable." + +"She's a dig and a prig," giggled Susan. "You'd get no recreation from +labor from that quarter." + +Mary echoed Susan's infectious giggle. "Who sits in front of me?" she +asked. + +"No one, yet. Who knows what manner of girl is in store for us? That's +the only vacant seat in the section. The first late arrival into our +midst will get it. I don't believe we'll have any more girls, though, +unless someone comes into school late as Marjorie came last year. It's +too bad. It makes an awkward stretch if one wants to pass a note. I +always am caught if I throw one. Last year I threw one and hit Miss +Merton in the back. She was standing quite a little way down the aisle. +I thought it was a splendid opportunity. I'd been waiting to send one to +Irma Linton, who sat two seats in front of me. The girl between us +wouldn't pass it. So I threw it, and it went further than I thought." +Susan's fascinating giggle burst forth anew. She rocked to and fro in +merriment at the recollection. + +Mary found herself laughing in concert. Just then the opening bell +clanged forth its harsh note of warning. The low buzz of voices in the +great study hall died into silence. Every pair of eyes faced front. Miss +Merton rose from her chair to conduct the opening exercises. A sudden +murmur that swept the hall caused her to say sternly, "Silence." Then, +noting that the eyes of her pupils were fixed in concerted gaze on the +study-hall door, she turned sharply. + +A black-haired, black-eyed girl, whose elfish face wore an expression of +mingled contempt and amusement, advanced into the room with a decided +air of one who wishes to create an impression. + +"Mignon!" gasped Susan. "Well, _what_ do you think of that?" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BLINDNESS OF JEALOUSY + + +At sight of the newcomer Miss Merton's severe face underwent a lightning +change. She stepped from the platform and hurried toward the dark-eyed +girl with outstretched hand. Her harsh voice sounded almost pleasant, as +she said, "Why, Mignon, I am delighted to see you!" + +Mignon La Salle tossed her head with an air of triumph as she took Miss +Merton's hand. In her, at least, she had a powerful ally. Lowering her +voice, the teacher asked her several questions. Mignon answered them in +equally guarded tones, accompanied by the frequent significant gestures +which are involuntary in those of foreign birth. + +A subdued buzzing arose from different parts of the study hall. +Apparently engrossed in her conversation with the girl who had been her +favorite pupil during her freshman year, Miss Merton paid no attention +to the sounds provoked by Mignon La Salle's unexpected arrival. As a +matter of fact, she was quite aware of them, but chose to ignore them +solely on Mignon's account. To rebuke the whisperers would tend toward +embarrassing the French girl. + +"There is just one vacant place in the sophomore section," she informed +Mignon. "I think I must have reserved it specially for you." She +contorted her face into what she believed to be an affable smile. + +Mignon answered it in kind, with an inimitable lifting of the eyebrows +and a significant shrug. + +"Look at her," muttered Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear. "Miss +Merton is taffying her up in great style. She always puts on +her cat-that-ate-the-canary expression when she's pleased. +And to think that we've got to stand for _her_ again this +year!" Jerry gave a positive snort of disgust. + +"Shh! They'll hear you, Jerry," warned Marjorie. + +"Don't care if they do. Wish they would," grumbled the disgruntled +Jerry. "I'll bet you ten to one she was sent home from boarding school." + +There was a general turning of heads and craning of necks as Miss Merton +conducted Mignon down the aisle to the vacant seat in front of Mary +Raymond. There was a brief exchange of low-toned words between the two, +then Mignon seated herself, while Miss Merton marched stolidly back to +her desk and without further delay began the interrupted morning +exercises. + +Mary Raymond viewed the black, curly head and silken-clad shoulders of +the newcomer with some curiosity. The subdued ripple of astonishment +that had passed over the roomful of girls told her that here was no +ordinary pupil. Mignon's expensive frock of dark green Georgette crepe, +elaborately trimmed, also pointed to affluence. Mary reasoned that she +must be known to the others. A stranger would not have created such a +buzz of comment. Then, she remembered Susan's amazed exclamation. She +turned to the latter and made a gesture of inquiry, Susan shook her +head. Her lips formed a silent, "After school," and Mary nodded +understandingly. + +"Young ladies, you will arrange your programme of recitations this +morning as speedily as possible," was Miss Merton's command the moment +opening exercises were over. "You will be given until ten o'clock to do +so. Then there will be twenty-minute classes for the rest of the +morning. Classes will occupy the usual period of time during the +afternoon. Try to arrange your studies so that you will not have to +waste valuable time in making changes. Please avoid asking unnecessary +questions. The bulletin board will tell you everything, if you take +pains to examine it carefully. Let there be no loud talking or personal +conversation." + +Miss Merton sat down with the air of one who has done her duty, and +glared severely at the rows of attentive young faces. She was not in +sympathy with these girls. Their youth was a distinct affront to her +narrow soul. + +The business of arranging the term's studies began in quiet, orderly +fashion. The majority of the pupils had long since decided upon their +courses of study. Their main duty now lay in making satisfactory +arrangements of their classes and the hours on which their various +recitations fell. + +Marjorie Dean studied the bulletin board with a serious face. She had +successfully carried five studies during her freshman year. She decided +that she would do so again, provided the fifth subject held interest +enough to warrant the extra effort it meant. Plane geometry, of course, +she would have to take. Then there was second year French. She and +Constance intended to go on with the language of which they were so +fond. Her General had insisted that she must begin Latin. She should +have begun it in her freshman year. That made three. Then there was +chemistry. Should she choose a fifth subject? Yes, there was English +Literature. It would not be hard work. She was sure she would love it. +Besides, she wished to be in Miss Flint's class. + +Once she had decided upon her subjects, she studied the board anew for a +proper arrangement of her recitation hours. For a wonder they fitted +into one another beautifully, leaving her that last coveted period in +the afternoon, free for study. She sat back at last with a faint breath +of satisfaction. She wondered how Mary was getting on and what she +intended to study. They had agreed beforehand on Chemistry. Only the day +before Mr. Dean had half-promised to fit out a tiny laboratory for them +in a small room at the rear of the house. + +Mary, however, was frowning darkly at the board. She wondered in which +section Marjorie intended to recite geometry. She had been so busy with +her own woes that gloomy morning that she had quite forgotten to plan +with Marjorie. Oh, well, she reflected, what difference did it make? +Marjorie wouldn't care whether they recited together or not. Very likely +she had already made plans with that odious Constance Stevens that would +leave her out. Marjorie had already said that she and Constance +intended to go on with French together. Then there were Cæsar's +Commentaries. She had finished first-year Latin. She would have to take +them next. Suddenly a naughty idea came into her perverse little brain. +Why not purposely leave Marjorie out of her calculations? Marjorie had +wished her to take chemistry. Very well. She would disappoint her by +choosing something else. Then if Mr. Dean fitted out a laboratory, his +daughter would have the pleasure of working in it all by herself. She +would show a certain person what it meant to cast aside a lifelong +friendship. Oh, yes, Marjorie was anxious for her to take English +literature. She would take rhetoric instead. She would go still further. +If when classes assembled she found herself in the same geometry section +with her chum she would make an excuse and change to another period of +recitation. The frown deepened on her smooth forehead as she jotted down +her subjects on the sheet of paper before her. + +Suddenly conscious of the intent regard of someone, she raised her head. +A pair of elfish black eyes were fixed upon her in curious intent. + +"Who are you?" asked Mignon La Salle with cool impudence. "You look like +that priggish Miss Stevens. I hope for your sake you are not a relative +of hers." + +"Most certainly I am not," retorted Mary, flushing angrily. It was too +provoking. Why must she be constantly reminded of her resemblance to one +she disliked so intensely? In her annoyance at the nature of the French +girl's remarks, she quite overlooked the impertinence of her address. + +A gleam of satisfaction flashed across Mignon's face. "Then there is +hope," she returned, holding up her forefinger in an impish imitation of +a world-wide advertisement. "Say it again. I can't believe the evidence +of my own ears." + +"I am not a relative of Miss Stevens," repeated Mary a trifle stiffly. +The French girl's mocking tones were distinctly unpleasant. "Why do you +ask?" + +"Because I wish to know," shrugged Mignon Then she added tactfully, +"Please don't think me rude. I am always too frank in expressing my +opinions. If I dislike anyone I can't smile deceitfully and pretend them +to be my dearest friend." + +Mary's sullen face cleared. Here at last was a girl who seemed to be +sincere. She unbent slightly and smiled. Mignon returned the smile in +her most amiable fashion. + +"Pardon me for a moment." Mignon turned in her seat and began fumbling +in a little leather bag that lay on her desk. + +Mary felt a quick, light touch on her arm. Susan Atwell began making +violent signs at her behind Mignon's back. She desisted as suddenly as +she began. The French girl had turned again toward Mary with the quick, +cat-like manner that so characterized all her movements. + +"Here is my card," she offered, placing a bit of engraved pasteboard on +Mary's desk. + +The latter picked it up and read, "Mignon Adrienne La Salle." + +"What a pretty name!" was her soft exclamation. + +"I'm glad you like it," beamed Mignon. "But you haven't told me yours." + +"I haven't any cards with me," apologized Mary. "My name is Mary +Raymond." + +"Have you lived long in Sanford?" inquired Mignon suavely. She had +already decided that a girl who was in sympathy with her on one point +might prove to be worth cultivating. + +"Only a short time. My mother is in Colorado for her health and I am +living in Marjorie Dean's home until Mother returns next summer." + +Mary's innocent words had an electrical effect on the French girl. Her +heavy brows drew together in a scowl and her dark face set in hard +lines. + +"Then that settles it," she said coldly. "You and I can _never_ be +friends." She switched about in her seat with an angry jerk. + +Mary leaned forward and touched her on the shoulder. "I don't +understand," she murmured. "Please tell me what you mean." + +The French girl swung halfway about. She regarded Mary with narrowed +eyes. Was it possible that Marjorie Dean had never mentioned her to her +friend? + +"Hasn't Miss Dean ever spoken to you of me?" she asked abruptly. + +Mary shook her head. "No, I am sure I never before heard of you. I don't +know many Sanford girls yet. I have met Miss Atwell and Miss Macy and a +few others who were at Miss Stevens' dance last night." + +"So, Miss Stevens is doing social stunts," sneered Mignon. "Quite a +change from last year, I should say. I used to be friends with Susan +Atwell and Jerry Macy, but this Stevens girl made mischief between us +and broke up our old crowd entirely. Your friend, Miss Dean, took sides +with them, too, and helped the thing along. She made a perfect idiot of +herself over Constance Stevens. Oh, well, never mind. I'm not going to +say another word about it. I'm sorry we can't be friends. I'm sure we'd +get along famously together. It is impossible, though. Miss Dean +wouldn't let you." + +Mary suddenly sat very erect. She had listened in amazement to Mignon's +recital. Could she believe her ears? Had her hitherto-beloved Marjorie +been guilty of trouble-making? And all for the sake of Constance +Stevens. Marjorie must indeed care a great deal for her. She had not +been mistaken, then, in her belief that she had been supplanted in her +chum's heart. And now Mignon was suggesting that Marjorie would not +allow her to be friends with the girl whom she had wronged. Mary did not +stop to consider that there are always two sides to a story. Swayed by +her resentment against Constance, she preferred to believe anything +which she might hear against her. + +"Please understand, once and for all, that Marjorie has nothing to say +about whoever I choose to have for a friend," she said with decision. "I +hope I am free to do as I please. I shall be very glad to know you +better, Miss La Salle, and I am sorry that you have been so badly +treated." + +The ringing of the first recitation-bell broke in upon the conversation. + +"Oh, gracious, I haven't looked at the bulletin board. Excuse me, Miss +Raymond. I'll see you later and we'll have a nice long talk. I'm sure I +shall be pleased to have _you_ for a friend." + +"Are you going to recite geometry in this first section?" asked Mary +eagerly. The students were already filing out of the great room. + +"Let me see." Mignon consulted the bulletin board. "Why, yes, I might as +well." + +"Oh, splendid!" glowed Mary. "Then you can show me the way to the +geometry classroom." + +"Delighted, I'm sure," returned Mignon. Her black eyes sparkled with +triumph. At last she had found a way to even her score with Marjorie +Dean. With almost uncanny shrewdness she had divined what Marjorie +herself had not discovered. This blue-eyed baby of a girl, for Mignon +mentally characterized her as such, was jealous of Marjorie's friendship +with the Stevens girl. Very well. She would take a hand and help matters +along. Of course there was a strong chance that it might all come to +nothing. Marjorie might take Mary in charge the moment school was over +and tell her a few things. Yet that was hardly possible. Much as she +hated the brown-eyed girl who had worsted her at every point, in her own +cowardly heart lurked a respect for Marjorie's high standard of honor. +So far Mary knew nothing against her. Perhaps she would never know. +Perhaps if Marjorie and Jerry and Irma tried to prejudice Mary against +her, the girl would rebel and send them about their business. She had +looked stupidly obstinate when she said, "I hope I am free to do as I +please." Mignon smiled maliciously as she walked down the long aisle +ahead of Mary. + +Marjorie had risen from her seat at the sound of the first bell. Now she +gazed anxiously up the aisle toward Mary's seat. She looked relieved as +she saw her chum approaching. She bowed coldly to Mignon as she passed. +"Oh, Mary," she said, "I was looking for you. If you are going to recite +geometry now, then please don't go. Wait and recite in my section. You +know, we said we'd recite it together." + +Mary's blue eyes glowed resentfully. "I've made up my programme," she +answered with cool defiance. "I can't change it now. Miss La Salle is +going to show me the way to the geometry classroom. I'll see you later." + +Without waiting for a reply she marched on, leaving Marjorie to stare +after her with troubled eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE VALLEY OF MISUNDERSTANDING + + +For a brief instant Marjorie continued to stare after the retreating +form of her chum, oblivious to the steady stream of girls passing by +her. Then, seized with a sudden idea, she slipped into her seat and +hastily consulted the bulletin board. The ringing of the third bell +found her hurrying from the aisle toward the door. That brief survey of +the schedule had resulted in an entire change of her programme. She had +decided to recite geometry in the morning section. It meant giving up +the cherished last hour in the afternoon which she had reserved for +study. She would have to recite Latin at that time. Well, that did not +matter so much. Reciting geometry in the same section with Mary was what +counted. She had experienced a curious feeling of alarm as she had +watched Mary and Mignon La Salle disappear through the big doorway side +by side. Mignon was the last person she had supposed Mary would meet. To +be sure, there was nothing particularly alarming in their meeting. As +yet they were comparative strangers to each other. She had noted that +Miss Merton had assigned the French girl to the seat in front of Mary. +It was, therefore, quite probable that Mary had inquired the way to the +geometry classroom and Mignon had volunteered to conduct her to it. + +Marjorie's sober face lightened a little as she hastened down the +corridor to the geometry room. Miss Nelson, the instructor in +mathematics, was on the point of closing the door as she hurriedly +approached. She smiled as she saw the pretty sophomore, and continued to +hold the door open until Marjorie had crossed the threshold. The latter +gave an eager glance about the room. The classrooms were provided with +rows of single desks similar to those in the study hall. Mary was +occupying one of them well toward the front of the room. Directly ahead +of her sat the French girl. On one of the back seats was Jerry Macy, +glaring in her most savage manner, her angry eyes fixed on the black, +curly head of the girl she despised. + +There was no vacant seat near Mary. Marjorie noted all these facts in +that one comprehensive glance. It also seemed to her that the French +girl's face wore an expression of mocking triumph. And was it her +imagination, or had Mary glanced up as she entered and then turned away +her eyes? What did it all mean? Marjorie took the nearest vacant seat at +hand, the prey of many emotions. Then, as Miss Nelson stepped forward to +address the class, she resolutely put away all personal matters and, +with the fine attention to the business of study which had endeared her +to her various teachers during her freshman year, she strove to center +her troubled mind on what Miss Nelson was saying. + +After a short preliminary talk on the importance of the study the class +was about to begin, Miss Nelson proceeded to the business of registering +her pupils and giving out the text books. Miss Nelson laid particular +stress on the thorough learning of all definitions pertaining to the +study in hand. "You must know these definitions so well that you could +say them backward if I requested it," she emphasized. "They will be of +greatest importance in your work to come." Then she heartlessly gave out +several pages of them for the advance lesson. The rest of the period she +spent in going over and explaining these same definitions in her usual +thorough manner, ending with the stern injunction that she expected a +letter-perfect recitation on the following morning. + +"Miss Nelson doesn't want much," grumbled Jerry Macy in Irma Linton's +ear, as they filed out of class at the ringing of the bell which ended +the period. Then, before Irma had time to reply, she continued: "_What_ +do you think of Mignon? Isn't it a shame she's back again? And did you +see her march in here with Mary Raymond? It's a pretty sure thing that +neither of them knows who is who in Sanford. I suppose Mary, poor +innocent, asked her the way to the classroom. Where was Marjorie all +that time, I wonder? I'll bet you a box of Huyler's that they won't walk +into geometry again to-morrow morning. Hurry up, there's Marjorie just +ahead of us with Mary now. The fair Mignon has vanished. I can see her +away ahead of them. I guess Marjorie didn't know who piloted Mary into +class. She came in last, you know." + +Irma laid a detaining hand on Jerry's arm. + +"Oh, wait until after school, Jerry," she counseled. This quiet, +unobtrusive girl was a keen observer. She had noted Marjorie's +half-troubled expression as she entered the room. The suspicion that +Marjorie knew and was not pleased had already come to her. + +"All right, I will. Wish school was out now. Those geometry definitions +make me tired. I'm worn out already and school hasn't fairly begun yet. +I hate mathematics. Wouldn't look at a geometry if I could graduate +without it." + +But while Jerry was anathematizing mathematics, Marjorie was saying +earnestly to Mary, whom she had joined at the door, "I am so sorry I +didn't come back to your seat in the study hall before the first bell +rang. I really ought to have asked permission to do so, but I was afraid +Miss Merton would say 'no.' She never loses a chance to be horrid to me. +When you said you were going to recite in this section I hurried and +changed my programme to make things come right for us." + +Marjorie's earnest little speech, so full of apparent good will, brought +a quick flush of contrition to Mary's cheeks. She experienced a swift +spasm of regret for her bitter suspicion of Marjorie. Her tense face +softened. Why not unburden herself to her chum now and find relief from +her torture of doubt? + +"Marjorie," she began, laying her hand lightly on her friend's arm, "I +wish you would tell me something. Miss La Salle said that Constance +Stevens----" + +"Mary!" Marjorie's sunny face had suddenly grown very stern. "I am sorry +to have to speak harshly of any girl in Sanford High, but as your chum +I feel it my duty to ask you to have nothing to do with Mignon La Salle, +or pay the slightest attention to her. She made us all very unhappy last +year, particularly Constance and myself. I can't help saying it, but I +am sorry that she has come back to Sanford. I understood that she was at +boarding school. I am sure I wish she had stayed there." Marjorie spoke +with a bitterness quite foreign to her generous nature. + +Mary's lips tightened obstinately as she listened. Her brief impulse +toward a frank understanding died with Marjorie's emphatic utterance. +She was inwardly furious at her chum's sharp interruption. + +"I am very well aware that you would stand up for Miss Stevens, whether +she were in the right or in the wrong," she said with cold sarcasm. +"I've been seeing that ever since I came to Sanford. But just because +she is perfect in _your_ eyes is not reason why _I_ should think so. For +my part, I like Miss La Salle. She was awfully sweet to me this morning, +and I don't think it is nice in you to talk about her behind her back." + +In the intensity of the moment both girls had stopped short in the +corridor, oblivious of the passing students. Mary's flashing blue eyes +fixed Marjorie's amazed brown ones in an angry gaze. + +"Why, Ma-a-ry!" stammered Marjorie. "What _is_ the matter? I don't +understand you." Her bewilderment served only to increase the rancor +that had been smouldering in Mary's heart. Now it burst forth in a fury +of words. + +"Don't pretend, Marjorie Dean. You know perfectly well what I mean. It +isn't necessary for me to tell you, either. When I came to Sanford to +live with you I thought I'd be the happiest girl in the world because I +was going to live at your house and go to school with you. If I had +known as much when Father and I came to see you as I know now--well, I +wouldn't--ever--have come back again!" Her anger-choked tones faltered. +She turned away her head. Then pulling herself sharply together, she +turned and hurried down the corridor. + +For a second Marjorie stood rooted to the spot. Could she believe her +ears? Was it really Mary, her soldier chum, with whom she had stood +shoulder to shoulder for so many years, who had thus arraigned her? Her +instant of inaction past, she darted down the corridor after Mary. But +the latter passed into the study hall before she could overtake her. She +could do nothing now to straighten the tangle in which they had so +suddenly become involved until the morning session of school was over. +She glanced anxiously toward Mary's seat the moment she stepped across +the threshold of the study hall, only to see her friend in earnest +conversation with Mignon La Salle. An angry little furrow settled on her +usually placid brow. Mignon had lost no time in living up to her +reputation. Mary must be rescued from her baleful influence at once. +When they reached home that day she would tell her chum the whole story +of last year. Once Mary learned Mignon's true character she would see +matters in a different light. But what had the French girl said about +Constance? If only she had held her peace and not interrupted Mary. Even +as a little girl Marjorie remembered how hard it had been, once Mary was +angry, to discover the cause. In spite of her usual good-nature she was +unyieldingly stubborn. When, at rare intervals, she became displeased or +hurt over a fancied grievance, she would nurse her anger for days in +sulky silence. + +"I'll tell her all about last year the minute we get into the house this +noon," resolved Marjorie. "When she knows how badly Mignon behaved +toward Connie----" The little girl drew a sharp breath of dismay. Into +her mind flashed her recent promise to Constance Stevens. She could tell +Mary nothing until she had permission to do so. That meant that for the +day, at least, she must remain mute, for Constance was not in school +that morning, nor would she be in during the day. She had received +special permission from Miss Archer to be excused from lessons while her +foster father was at Gray Gables. + +It was a very sober little girl who wended her way to the French class, +her next recitation. Out of an apparently clear sky the miserable set of +circumstances frowned upon her dawning sophomore year. But it must come +right. She would go to Gray Gables that very afternoon and ask Constance +to release her from her promise. Connie would surely be willing to do +so, when she knew all. Comforted by this thought, Marjorie brightened +again. + +"_Bon jour_, Mademoiselle Dean," greeted the cheerful voice of Professor +Fontaine as she entered his classroom. "It is with a great plaisure +that I see you again. Let us 'ope that you haf not forgottaine your +French, I trost you haf sometimes remembered _la belle langue_ during +your vacation." The little man beamed delightedly upon Marjorie. + +"I am afraid I have forgotten a great deal of it, Professor Fontaine." +Marjorie spoke with the pretty deference that she always accorded this +long-suffering professor, whose strongly accented English and foreign +eccentricities made him the subject of many ill-timed jests on the part +of his thoughtless pupils. "I'm going to study hard, though, and it will +soon come back to me." + +"Ah! These are the words it makes happiness to hear," he returned +amiably. "Some day, when you haf learned to spik the French as the +English, you will be glad that you haf persevered." + +"I'm sure I shall," smiled Marjorie. Then, as several entering pupils +claimed the little man's attention, she passed on and took a vacant seat +at the back of the room. + +Professor Fontaine had begun to address the class when the door opened +and Mignon La Salle sauntered in. She threw a quick, derisive glance at +his back, which caused several girls to giggle, then strolled calmly to +a seat. A shade of annoyance clouded the instructor's genial face. He +eyed his countrywoman severely for an instant, then went on with his +speech. + +Marjorie received little benefit that morning from the professor's +gallant efforts to impress the importance of the study of his language +on the minds of his class. Her thoughts were with Mary and what she had +best say to conciliate her. She had as yet no inkling of the truth. She +did not dream that jealousy of Constance had prompted Mary's outburst. +She believed that the whole trouble lay in whatever Mignon had told +Mary. + +She was more hurt than surprised when at the last period in the morning +she failed to find Mary in the chemistry room. Of course she might have +expected it. Nothing would be right until she had chased away the black +clouds of misunderstanding that hung over them. Still, it grieved her to +think that Mary had not trusted her enough to weigh her loyalty against +the gossip of a stranger. + +The hands of the study hall clock, pointing the hour of twelve, brought +relief to the worried sophomore. The instant the closing bell rang she +made for the locker room. It would be better to wait for Mary there, +rather than in the corridor. If Mary's mood had not changed, she +preferred not to run the risk of a possible rebuff in so prominent a +place. There were too many curious eyes ready to note their slightest +act. It would be dreadful if some lynx-eyed girl were to mark them and +circulate a report that they were quarreling. + +Arrived at the locker-room, she opened her locker and took out her +wraps. A faint gasp of astonishment broke from her. Only one rain-coat, +one hat and one pair of rubbers were there, where at the beginning of +the morning there had been two. Mary Raymond's belongings were gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHOOSING HER OWN WAY + + +Marjorie stood staring at her locker as one in a dream. + +"Hurry up, Marjorie!" Jerry Macy's loud, matter-of-fact tones broke the +spell. Behind her were Irma Linton and Susan Atwell. The faces of the +three were alive with suppressed excitement. Jerry caught sight of the +tell-tale locker and emitted an indignant snort. + +"Mary took her advice, Susie! If I were the President of the United +States I'd have that Mignon La Salle deported to the South Sea Islands, +or Kamchatka, or some place where she couldn't get back in a hurry. It +would be a good deal farther than boarding school, I can just tell you," +she ended with an angry sputter. + +Marjorie faced the battery of indignant young faces. "What is the +trouble, girls?" She tried to keep her voice steady, though she was at +the point of tears. + +"What's the matter with your friend, Mary Raymond, Marjorie?" continued +Jerry in a slightly lower key. "Has she gone suddenly crazy or--or----" +Jerry hesitated. She could not voice the other question which rose to +her lips. + +"Girls," Marjorie viewed her friends with brave, direct eyes, "you know +something that I don't about Mary. What is it?" + +"It's about Mignon," blurted Jerry. "Susie says that the minute she +landed in her seat she began talking to Mary." + +"I made signs to Mary to pay no attention to her," broke in Susan +Atwell, "but she didn't understand what I meant and I couldn't explain, +with Mignon sitting right there. The next thing I saw, they were walking +down the aisle together as though they'd known each other all their +lives." + +"Yes, and they came into geometry together, too," supplemented Jerry. +"But that's not the worst. Tell Marjorie what you overheard, Susie." + +"Well," began Susan, looking important, "when I came back to the study +hall just before the last class was called, they were both there ahead +of me. Just as I was going to sit down at my desk I heard Mignon tell +Mary she'd love to have her share her locker. Mary was looking awfully +sober and pretty cross, too, as though she were mad about something. I +heard her say, 'How can I get my wraps?' and Mignon said, 'Go to Marcia +Arnold and see if you can borrow Miss Stevens' key for a minute. If she +hasn't come back to school yet, very likely Marcia has it. Tell her you +want to take something from it and don't care to bother Miss Dean. You +can easily do it, because you haven't a recitation at this hour. I'd get +it for you, but I haven't any good reason for asking her for it.' I +couldn't hear what Mary said, but she left her seat and I saw her stop +at Miss Merton's desk. Miss Merton nodded her head and Mary went on out +of the study hall. Mignon saw me looking after her and smiled that +hateful smile of hers. I was so cross I made a face at her. Then the +third bell rang and I had to go to class. I wasn't sure whether Mary did +as Mignon told her to do until we saw you staring into your locker and +Jerry called my attention to it." + +Marjorie listened gravely to Susan's recital. She stood surveying the +three girls in silence. + +"What has happened, Marjorie?" questioned Jerry impatiently. "Or isn't +it any of our business? If it isn't, then forget that I asked you." + +"Girls," Marjorie's clear voice trembled a little, "I think I'd better +tell you about it. At first I thought I couldn't bear to tell anyone, +but as long as you all know something of what happened to Connie and I +last year, you might as well know this, too. Miss Archer made a remark +to me about our misunderstanding yesterday when Mary was with me. Mary +asked me afterward what she meant. I wanted to tell her, but I didn't +feel as though I had the right to, until I asked Connie if I could. I +was going to ask her last night, but before I had a chance she asked me +not to tell Mary about it. She was afraid Mary might not understand +and--and blame her. Of course, I knew that Mary wouldn't mind in the +least, but Connie seemed so worried that I promised I wouldn't." + +Jerry Macy's frown deepened. Susan Atwell made a faint gesture of +consternation, while Irma Linton looked distressed and sympathetic. + +"I thought perhaps Mary would forget about Constance," went on Marjorie. +"I never dreamed that Mignon was coming back, let alone she and Mary +becoming friendly. I saw them go down the aisle to geometry class +together and followed them. You see, Mary and I had planned to recite in +the same section. I asked her to wait and recite later, but she +wouldn't. Then I changed my hour so as to be in her class. After class I +caught up with her. She began to tell me something about what Mignon had +said of Connie. It made me so cross that I interrupted her, almost +before she had started. I told her she must have nothing to say to +Mignon and--she--I guess I hurt her feelings, for she walked off +and--left--me." Marjorie ended with a half sob. She turned her face to +the locker and leaned against it. The tears that she had bravely forced +back now came thick and fast. + +"What a shame!" burst forth Jerry. "Don't cry, dear. We'll straighten +things out for you. I'll go to Mary my own self and give her Mignon's +history in a few well chosen words." She patted the shoulder of the +weeping girl. + +"You might know that Mignon would bring trouble, hateful girl," was +Susan's indignant cry. "Never mind, we'll fix her." + +"I'll do all I can to help you, Marjorie," soothed Irma, who was known +throughout the school as a peace-maker. + +With a long, quivering sigh Marjorie turned slowly and faced her +friends. + +"You are very sweet to me, every one of you," she said gratefully, "but, +girls, you mustn't say a word. I promised Connie, and I'll keep my word +until she releases me from that promise. I'm going over to see her +to-night to ask her to do that very thing. She'll say 'yes,' I know. +Then I can tell Mary and it will be all right. I'm sorry I made such a +baby of myself, but Mary and I have been chums for years--and----" Her +voice broke again. + +Jerry wound her plump arms about the girl she adored. "You poor kid," +she comforted slangily. "If you must cry, cry on my shoulder. It's nice +and fat and not half so hard as that old locker." + +"You are a ridiculous Jerry," Marjorie laughed through her tears. +"There, I feel better now. I'm not going to cry another tear. Are my +eyes very red? I don't care to have the public gape at my grief. Come +on, children. It must be long after twelve. I suppose Mary is home by +this time. Naturally she wouldn't wait for me," she added wistfully. + +As a matter of fact, Mary had waited. Once she had removed her wraps to +Mignon's locker she had been seized with a sharp attack of conscience. +She felt a trifle ashamed of herself and decided that she would ask her +chum to forgive her and allow her to put her wraps in Marjorie's locker +again. At the close of the session she made a hasty excuse to Mignon, +seized her belongings and hurrying out of the building, took up her +stand across the street. When at twenty minutes past twelve Marjorie did +not appear, her good resolutions took wing, and sulkily setting her face +toward home, Mary left the school and the chance for reconciliation +behind, and angrily went her way alone, thus widening the gap that +already yawned between herself and Marjorie. + +It was twenty minutes to one when the latter ran up the steps of her +home in an almost cheerful frame of mind. The hall door yielded to her +touch and she rushed into the hall, her clear call of "Mary!" re-echoing +through the quiet house. + +"I'll be down in a minute," answered a cold voice from the head of the +stairs. + +"I'll be up in a second," laughed Marjorie, making a dive for the +stairs. The next instant she had caught the immovable little figure at +the landing in an impulsive embrace. "Poor old Lieutenant, I'm so +sorry," was her contrite cry. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. +Listen, dear. I'm going over to see Connie this afternoon after school +and ask her to let me tell you everything you wished to know about last +year. Then you will understand why----" + +Mary freed herself from the clinging arms with a jerk. "If you say a +word to Constance Stevens, I'll never forgive you!" she cried +passionately. "I won't be made ridiculous. Do you understand me? You +could tell me without asking her, if you cared to. I'd never say a word +and she'd never know the difference." + +"But, Mary, I promised her----" Marjorie stopped in confusion. She had +not meant to mention her promise to Constance. She had spoken before she +thought. + +"So _that's_ the reason, is it?" choked Mary, her cheeks flaming with +the humiliating knowledge. "Thank you, I don't care to hear your old +secrets. You may keep them, for all I care!" She whirled and started +toward her room. + +Marjorie caught her arm. "I haven't any secrets that I wish to keep from +you, Mary," she said with quiet dignity. "Last night at the dance +Constance asked me to promise I wouldn't say anything to you about the +trouble she had with Mignon La Salle during our freshman year. We were +upstairs in her room. I was mending my flounce. It got torn when we were +dancing. I had intended asking her permission then to tell you, and when +she spoke of it first I hardly knew what to do. I didn't like to let her +think that you were curious and----" + +"How dare you call me curious!" Mary stamped her foot in a sudden fury +of temper. "I'm not. I wouldn't listen to your miserable secret if you +begged me to. Now I truly believe what Miss La Salle told me. You and +your friend Constance ought to be ashamed of the way you treated that +poor girl last year. I'm sorry I ever came to your house to live. I'd +write to Father to come and take me away, but Mother would have to know. +She sha'n't be worried, no matter what I have to stand. You needn't be +afraid, I'll not make a fuss, either, so that General and Captain will +know. I'll try to pretend before them that we're just the same chums as +ever, and you'd better pretend it, too. But we won't be. From to-day on +I'll go _my_ way and choose _my_ friends and you can do the same." + +"Mary Raymond, listen to me." Marjorie's hands found the shoulders of +her angry chum. The brown eyes held the blue ones in a long, steadfast +gaze. "Mignon La Salle is only trying to make trouble. If you knew her +as well as I know her, you wouldn't pay any attention to her. We've +been best friends and comrades since we were little tots, Mary, and I +think you ought to trust me. No one can ever be so dear to me as you +are." + +"Except Constance Stevens," put in Mary sarcastically, twisting from +Marjorie's hold. "Why, that very first day when you came to the train to +meet me I could see you liked her best. You can imagine how I felt when +even your friends spoke of it. If you really cared about me, you would +have written to me of every single thing that happened last year. You +promised you would. You are very anxious to keep a promise to Constance, +but you didn't care whether you kept one to me. As for what you say of +Miss La Salle, I don't believe you. I'd far rather trust her than your +dear Miss Stevens!" + +"What has happened to my brigade?" called Mrs. Dean from the foot of the +stairs. "It is five minutes to one, girls. Come to luncheon at once." + +"We are coming, Captain," answered Marjorie in as steady a tone as she +could command. Then she said sorrowfully to her companion, "Mary, I feel +just the same toward you as always, only I am terribly hurt. I wish your +way to be my way and your friends mine. If you are sure that you would +like Mignon for a friend, then I am going to try to like her for your +sake. But we mustn't quarrel or--not--not speak--or--let General and +Captain know--that----" Marjorie's words died in a half-sob. + +"It doesn't make any difference to me whether you like Miss La Salle or +not," retorted Mary, ignoring Marjorie's distress, "but if you say a +single word to either General or Captain about us, I'll never speak to +you again." With this threat the incensed lieutenant ran heartlessly +down the stairs, leaving her sadly wounded comrade to follow when she +would. + +Luncheon was a dismal failure as far as Marjorie was concerned. She +tried to talk and laugh in her usual cheery manner, but she was unused +to dissembling, and it hurt her to play a part before her Captain, of +all persons. Mary, however, found a certain wicked satisfaction in the +situation she had brought about. Now that she had spoken her mind she +would go on in the way she had chosen. Marjorie would be very sorry. +There would come a time when she would be only too glad to plead for the +friendship she had cast aside. But it would be too late. + +The moment the two girls left the house for the afternoon session of +school, a blank silence fell upon them. It was broken only by a cool +"Good-bye" from Mary as they separated in the locker room. But during +that silent walk Marjorie had been thinking busily. Hers was a nature +that no amount of disagreeable shocks could dismay for long. No sooner +did a pet ideal totter than she steadied it with patient, tender hands. +True always to the highest, she was laying a foundation that would +weather the stress of years. Now she dwelt not so much upon her own +hurts, but rather on how she should bind up the wounds of her comrades. +What had been obscure was now plain. Mary was jealous of her friendship +with Constance. She had completely misunderstood. If only she, Marjorie, +had known in the beginning! And then there was Mignon. If she had stayed +away from Sanford, all might have been well in time. Mary was determined +to be friends with her. Marjorie knew her friend too well not to believe +that Mary would now cultivate the French girl from sheer obstinacy. +There was just one thing to do. She had said to Mary that she would try +to like Mignon for her sake. She stood ready to keep her promise. +Perhaps, far under her mischief-making exterior, Mignon's better self +lay dormant, waiting for some chance, kindly word or act to awaken it +into life. What was it her General had said about the worst person +having some good in his nature that sooner or later was sure to manifest +itself? How glorious it would be to help Mignon find that better self! +But she could not accomplish much alone. She needed the support of the +girls of her own particular little circle. She was fairly sure they +would help her. But how had they better begin? Suddenly Marjorie's sober +face broke into a radiant smile. She gave a chuckle born of sheer +good-will. "I know the very way," she murmured, half aloud. "If only the +girls will see it, too. But they _must_! It's a splendid plan, and if it +doesn't work it won't be from lack of trying on my part." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE COMPACT + + + "DEAR IRMA," wrote Marjorie, the moment she reached her desk, + "will you meet me across the street from school this afternoon? + I have something very important to say to you. + + "MARJORIE." + +She wrote similar notes to Muriel Harding, Susan Atwell and Jerry Macy, +managing in spite of the watchful eyes of Miss Merton to convey them, +through the medium of willing hands, to her schoolmates. This done, she +made a valiant effort to dismiss her personal affairs from her thoughts +and settled down to her lessons. The first period in the afternoon was +now her study hour, due to the change she had made in her geometry +recitation. + +Marjorie managed to study diligently for at least twenty minutes, on the +definitions in geometry given out by Miss Nelson as an advance lesson. +Then her attention flagged. She found herself wondering what she had +better do in regard to asking Constance to release her from her promise. +She was sure Connie would do it. Then, if Mary could be coaxed to listen +to her, she would---- Marjorie took a deep breath of sheer dismay. Of +what use would it be to plan to help Mignon find her better self, then +deliberately turn the one girl who liked her against her by relating +her past misdeeds? Here indeed was a problem. She knitted her brows in +troubled thought over this new knot in the tangle. One thing she was +resolved upon, however. She would open her heart to Connie. Perhaps she +might be able to suggest a satisfactory adjustment. + +The afternoon dragged interminably to the perplexed sophomore and she +hailed the ringing of the closing bell with thankfulness. She had caught +distant glimpses of Mary during the session and in each instance had +seen her in conversation with the French girl. Mignon was losing no +time. That was certain. + +As Marjorie rose from her seat to leave the study hall she had half a +mind to wait just outside the door for Mary. Then a flash of wounded +pride held her back. Mary would undoubtedly pass out with Mignon. If she +spoke to her chum, she was almost sure to be rebuffed. She could imagine +just how delighted Mignon would look at her discomfiture. Unconsciously +lifting her head, Marjorie left the study hall without so much as a +backward glance. + +Outside the door she encountered Jerry Macy. + +"Your note said, 'Wait across the street,' but this is a lot better," +greeted Jerry. "Let's hurry and get our wraps. Irma and Susie will +probably steer straight for your locker. I haven't seen Muriel to speak +to this afternoon, but she'll be on the scene, I guess. The sooner we +collect the sooner we'll hear what's on your mind. I can just about tell +you what you're going to say, though." + +"Then you're a mind-reader," laughed Marjorie. Nevertheless, a quick +flash rose to her face at Jerry's significant speech. + +"I can add two and two, anyhow," asserted Jerry. + +True to Jerry's prediction, three curious young women stood grouped in +front of Marjorie's locker, impatiently awaiting her arrival. + +"Wait until we are outside, girls. I'll be ready in a jiffy." Marjorie +slipped into her raincoat and pulled her blue velour hat over her curls. +"We can't talk here. Miss Merton is likely to wander down, and then you +know what will happen." + +"Oh, bother Miss Merton!" grumbled Jerry. "I can stand anything she says +and live. Still, I don't blame you, Marjorie. It tickles her to pieces +to get a chance to snap at you. Now if Mignon La Salle wanted to sing a +solo in front of her locker at the top of her voice, Miss Merton would +encore it." + +Susan Atwell giggled. "I can just hear Mignon lifting up her voice in +song with Miss Merton as an appreciative audience." + +The quartette thoughtlessly echoed her merriment. So intent were they +upon their own affairs that they did not notice the two girls who were +almost hidden behind an open locker at the end of the room. The black +eyes of one of them gleamed with rage. She turned to the fair-haired +girl at her side with a gesture which said more plainly than words, "You +see for yourself." The other nodded. Mignon laid a finger on her lips. +Then noiselessly as two shadows they flitted through the open door +without having been observed by the group at the other end. + +For the moment Marjorie's back had been turned toward that end of the +room. She whirled about just too late to see Mignon and Mary as they +hurried away. Unusually sensitive to impressions, she had perhaps felt +their presence, for she asked abruptly, "Girls, have you seen Mary? She +can't have gone, for I'm sure I left the study hall before she did. I +ought to wait for her, but I don't know what to do." She glanced +irresolutely about her. Then, her pride again coming to her rescue, she +said, "Never mind. Suppose we go on. Perhaps I'd better not try to see +her now, because I must tell you my plan and I--well--I can't--if she is +with us." + +Muriel Harding elevated her eyebrows in surprise. Of the four girls who +had received Marjorie's notes, she alone had no suspicion of the purpose +which had brought them together. + +Five pairs of bright eyes scanned the street across from the school +building as the little party came down the wide stone steps. + +"The coast is clear," commented Jerry. "Now do tell us what's the +matter, Marjorie. No, wait a minute." Jerry fumbled energetically in a +small leather bag. "Hooray! Here's a real life fifty-cent piece! I can +see it vanishing in the shape of five sundaes, at ten cents per eat. We +can't go to Sargent's. They cost fifteen----" + +"I've a quarter," insinuated Irma. + +"All contributions thankfully received," beamed Jerry. "On to Sargent's! +We'll talk about the weather until we get there. It's been such a +lovely day," she grimaced. "If it rains much more we'll have to do as +they do in Spain." + +"What do they do in Spain?" Susan Atwell rose to the bait, despite a +warning poke from Irma. + +"They let it rain," grinned Jerry. "Aren't you an innocent child?" + +Well pleased with her success in putting over this time-worn joke on one +more victim, Jerry continued with a lively stream of nonsense that +lasted during the brief walk to Sargent's. + +Once seated about a small round table at the back of the room, which +from long patronage they had come to look upon almost as their own, an +expectant murmur went the round of the little circle as Marjorie leaned +forward a trifle and began in a low, earnest tone. "Girls, I am going to +ask you to do something for me that perhaps you won't wish to do. All of +you know what happened last year to Connie and me. You know, too, that +if anyone has good reason to cut Mignon La Salle's acquaintance, we +would be justified in doing it. I was awfully surprised to see her come +into the study hall this morning, and I said to myself that aside from +bowing to her if I met her on the street, I would steer clear of her. +But since then something has happened to make me change my mind. Mary +wishes Mignon for a friend, and so----" + +"What a little goose!" interrupted Jerry disgustedly. "I beg your +pardon, Marjorie, but I can't help saying it." + +"This _is_ news!" exclaimed Muriel Harding. "Come to think of it, I +_did_ see your friend Mary walking into geometry with Mignon, Marjorie. +Why don't you enlighten her on the subject of Mignon and her doings?" + +"That's just it." Marjorie repeated briefly what she had said to the +others at noon. "I'm going to Gray Gables to see Constance before I go +home," she continued, addressing the group. "You see, it's like this. +Even if Connie says I may tell Mary everything, will it be quite fair to +Mignon? And now I'm coming to the reason I asked you to come here with +me. Sometimes when a girl has done wrong and been hateful and no one +likes her, another girl comes along and begins to be friendly with her. +That makes the girl who has done wrong feel ashamed of herself and then +perhaps she resolves to be more agreeable because of it." + +"Not Mignon, if you mean her," muttered Jerry. + +"I do mean Mignon," was Marjorie's grave response. "Every girl has a +better self, I'm sure, but if she doesn't know it she will never find it +unless someone helps her. We've never even stopped to consider whether +Mignon had any good qualities. We've judged her for the dishonorable +things she has done. I can't help saying that I don't like her very +well. You can't blame me, either. Still, if we are going to be sophomore +sisters we must all stand together." She glanced appealingly about her +circle, but on each young face she read plain disapproval. + +"You might as well try to carry water in a sieve as to reform Mignon," +shrugged Muriel Harding. + +"You can't tame a wildcat," commented Susan Atwell. + +"Look here, Marjorie," burst forth Jerry Macy. "We know that you are the +dearest, nicest girl ever, but you are going to waste your time if you +try to go exploring for Mignon's better self. She never had one. If you +try to be nice to her she'll just take advantage of your goodness and +make fun of you behind your back. Let me tell you something. You know +Miss Elkins, who sews for people. Well, she's at our house to-day. She +is making some silk blouses for me, and when I went upstairs to the +sewing-room for a fitting to-day she asked me if Mignon was in school. +Her sister is the housekeeper at the La Salle's and she told Miss Elkins +that Mignon was expelled from boarding school because she wouldn't pay +attention to the rules. She was threatened with dismissal twice, and the +other night she coaxed a lot of the girls to slip out of the dormitory +and go to the city to the theatre without a sign of a chaperon. One of +the girls had a key to the front door and she lost it. They didn't get +home until after one o'clock, and then they couldn't get into the +dormitory. The night watchman finally had to let them in and he reported +them. She and two others were expelled because they planned the affair. +I don't know what happened to the rest of them. Anyway, that's why our +dear Mignon is with us once more. I only wish that girl hadn't lost the +key." Jerry's face registered her disgust. + +"I don't believe Mother would like to have me associate with Mignon." +This from gentle Irma Linton, who was usually the soul of toleration. + +"And you, too, Irma!" was Marjorie's reproachful cry. "Then there isn't +much use is asking you girls to help me." + +This was too much for the impulsive Jerry. + +"Don't look at us like that. As though you had lost your last friend. +Just let me tell you, you haven't. I take it all back. I'll promise to +go on a hunting expedition for Mignon's better self any old time you +say." + +"Sieves _have_ been known to hold water," acknowledged Muriel, not to be +outdone by Jerry's burst of loyalty. + +"And wildcats have sometimes become household pets," added Susan with +her infectious giggle. + +"So have mothers been known to change their minds," put in Irma. "I'm +ashamed of myself for being a quitter before I've even heard your plan." + +Marjorie's dark eyes shone with affection. "You are splendid," she +praised with a little catch in her voice. "I can't help telling you now. +After all, it isn't a very great plan, but it's the best I could think +of just now, and this is it. Mother said I might give a party for Mary +when she first came to live with us, but I wished to wait until she got +acquainted with the girls in school. Then Connie gave her dance. So I +thought it would be nice to have mine in about two weeks, after we were +settled in our classes and didn't have so much to worry us. But now I've +changed my mind. I'm going to give my party next week and I shall invite +Mignon to it You girls can help me by being nice to her and making her +have a pleasant evening. If we are really determined to carry out our +plan we will have to invite her to our parties and luncheons, too, and +ask her to share our good times. The only way we can help her is to make +her one of us. If we draw away from her she will never be different. She +will just become more disagreeable and some day we might be very sorry +we didn't do our best for her." + +The eloquence of Marjorie's plea had its effect on her listeners. + +"I guess you are on the right track," conceded Jerry Macy warmly. "I am +willing to try to be a busy little helper. We might call ourselves the +S. F. R. M.--Society For Reforming Mignon, you know." + +This proposal evoked a ripple of laughter. + +"Irma, do you suppose your mother wouldn't like you to--to--be friendly +with Mignon?" asked Marjorie anxiously. "We mustn't pledge ourselves to +anything to which our mothers might say 'no.'" + +"I think I can fix that part of it," said Irma slowly. "If I explain +things to Mother, she'll understand." + +"Perhaps we all ought to talk it over with our mothers," suggested +Susan. + +"I guess we'd better," nodded Jerry. "But what about Connie? Suppose she +shouldn't be in favor of the S. F. R. M.? You couldn't blame her much if +she wasn't." + +"I'm going to see her to-night, after dinner. I intended to go to Gray +Gables after school, but you see me here instead," returned Marjorie. +"I am almost sure she'll say 'yes.'" + +"How are we going to begin our reform movement?" asked Muriel Harding. + +"That's what I'd like to know. Who is willing to be the first martyr to +the cause? Let me tell you right now, I'd just as soon make friends with +a snapping turtle. Only the snapper would probably be more polite." + +"You are a wicked Jerry," reproved Marjorie smilingly, "and you know you +don't mean half you say." + +"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't. Anyhow, on in the cause of Mignon! I +feel like one of the knights of old who buckled on his armor and went +forth to the fray with his lady's colors tied to his sleeve, or his +lance, or some of his belongings. I've forgotten just what the style +was. We are gallant knights, going forth to battle, wearing Marjorie's +colors, and Mignon will have to look out or she'll be reformed before +she has time to turn up her nose and shrug her shoulders." + +"Suppose we start by being as nice to her as we can in school +to-morrow," proposed Irma Linton thoughtfully. "If she meets us in the +same spirit, maybe something will happen that will show us what to do +next." + +"That wouldn't be a bad idea," declared Susan Atwell. "I sit near her, +so I'll be the first one to hold out the olive branch. But if you hear +something drop on the floor with a dull, sickening thud, you'll know +that my particular variety of olive branch was rejected." + +"Somehow, I have an idea she won't be so very scornful," said Marjorie +hopefully. + +"Being expelled from boarding school may have a soothing effect on her," +agreed Jerry grimly. "I suppose it really isn't very knightly to say +snippy things about a person one intends to reform." + +"I think you are right, Jerry," broke in Marjorie with sweet +earnestness. "We must try to think and say only kind things of Mignon if +we are to succeed." Taking in the circle of girls with a quick, bright +glance, she asked: "Then you are agreed to my plan? It is really a +compact?" + +Four emphatic nods answered her questions. + +"Hurrah for the S. F. R. M.!" exclaimed Jerry. "Long may it wave! Only +there's one glorious truth that I feel it my duty to impress on your +minds. The way of the reformer is hard." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN DEFENCE OF MIGNON + + +"Here are two letters for you, Lieutenant," called her mother, as +Marjorie burst into the living-room, her cheeks pink from a brisk run up +the drive. After leaving her schoolmates Marjorie had set off for home +as fast as her light feet would carry her. She managed to keep to a +decorous walk until she had swung the gate behind her, then she had +sped up the drive like a fawn. + +"Oh, lovely!" cried Marjorie. "Your permission, Captain." She touched +her hand to her hat brim in a gay little salute. Her spirits had been +rising from the moment she had left the girls, carrying with her the +precious security that they were now banded together in a worthy cause. +Surely the snarl would straighten itself in a short time. Mary would +soon see that she intended to keep her word about being friends with +Mignon. Then she would understand that she, Marjorie, was loyal in spite +of her unjust accusations. Then all would be as it had been before. +Perhaps Mary wouldn't be quite her old, sunny self for a few days, but +the shadow would pass--it must. + +"Why, it's from Connie!" she cried out in surprise, as her eyes sought +the writing on the upper-most envelope. It was in Constance's irregular, +girlish hand. She hastily tore it open and read. + + "DEAREST MARJORIE: + + "Last night at my dance I didn't know that father was to be + concertmeister in the symphony orchestra. It is a great honor + and we are all very happy over it. He kept it to himself until + the last minute, because he knew that if he told me, I would + insist on going back to New York with him for his opening + concert. But I'm going with him just the same. I shall be away + from Sanford for a week or so, for I want to be with him until + he goes to Boston. I'll study hard and catch up in school when + I come back. I wish you were going, too, but later in the season + he will be in New York City again. Then Auntie says she will + take you and Mary and me there to hear him play. Won't that be + glorious? I'll write you again as soon as I reach New York and + you must answer with a long letter, telling me about school and + everything. I am so sorry I can't see you to say good-bye, but I + won't have time. Don't forget to answer as soon as I write you. + + "Lovingly, + "CONSTANCE." + +Marjorie's cheerful face grew blank. Certainly she was glad that Connie +would experience the happiness of hearing her father play before a vast +assemblage who would gather to do him honor. Nevertheless she was just a +trifle cast down over the unexpected flight of her friend to New York. +With a start of dismay she remembered that she had intended going to see +Constance with the object of clearing away the clouds of +misunderstanding. Now she would have to wait until Connie returned. And +then, there was Mignon. She felt that it would be hardly fair to begin +her crusade without consulting the girl whom Mignon had wronged most +deeply. She had perfect faith in the quality of her friend's charity. +Constance was too generous of spirit to hold a grudge. Through suffering +she had grown great of soul. Still, it was right that she should be +asked to decide the question. If she refused outright to sanction the +proposed campaign for reform, or even demurred at the proposal, Marjorie +was resolved not to carry it forward, even for Mary's or Mignon's sake. + +Suddenly she recollected her adjuration to the girls to gain their +mothers' consent before going on with their plan. Her brows drew +together in a perplexed frown. Had not Mary threatened, in the heat of +her anger, that if Marjorie told her mother of their disagreement she +would never speak to her again? How could she inform Captain of the +compact she and her friends had made without involving Mary in it? Her +mother would naturally inquire the reason for this rather remarkable +movement. She might be displeased, as well as surprised, over Mary's +strange predilection for the French girl. Her Captain knew all that had +happened during her freshman year. On that memorable day when she had +leaped into the river to rescue Marcia Arnold, and afterward come home, +a curious little figure clad in Jerry Macy's ample garments, the recital +of those stormy days when she had doubted, yet clung to Constance, had +taken place. She recalled that long, confidential talk at her mother's +knee, and the peace it had brought her. + +All at once her face cleared. She would tell her mother about the +compact, but she would leave out the disagreeable scenes that had +occurred between herself and Mary. "I'll tell her now and have it over +with," she decided. + +"What makes you look so solemn, dear?" Her mother had glanced up from +her embroidery, and was affectionately scanning her daughter's grave +face. "Does your letter from Connie contain bad news? I hope nothing +unpleasant has happened to the child." + +"Oh, no, Captain. Quite the contrary. It's something nice," returned +Marjorie quickly. "Let me read you her letter." She turned to the first +page and read aloud rapidly Constance's little note. "I'm so glad for +her sake," she sighed, as she finished, "but I shall miss her +dreadfully." + +"I suppose you will. Good fortune seems to have followed the Stevens +family since the day when my lieutenant went out of her way to help a +little girl in distress." + +"Perhaps I'm a mascot, Captain. If I am, then you ought to take good +care of me, feed me on a special diet of plum pudding and chocolate +cake, keep me on your best embroidered cushion and cherish me +generally," laughed Marjorie, with a view toward turning the subject +from her own generous acts, the mention of which invariably embarrassed +her. + +"And give you indigestion and see you ossify for want of exercise under +my indulgent eye," retorted her mother. + +"I guess you had better go on cherishing me in the good old way," +decided Marjorie. "But you won't mind my sitting on one of your everyday +cushions, just as close to you as I can get, will you?" Reaching for one +of the fat green velvet cushions which stood up sturdily at each end of +the davenport, Marjorie dropped it beside her mother's chair and curled +up on it. + +"I've something to report, Captain," she said, her bantering tone +changing to seriousness. "You remember last year--and Mignon La Salle?" + +Mrs. Dean frowned slightly at the mention of the French girl's name. +Mother-like, she had never quite forgiven Mignon for the needless sorrow +she had wrought in the lives of those she held so dear. + +Marjorie caught the significance of that frown. "I know how you feel +about things, dearest," she nodded. "Perhaps you won't give your consent +to the plan I--that is, we--have made. But I have to tell you, anyway, +so here goes. Mignon La Salle went away to boarding school, but +she--well she was sent home, and now she's back in Sanford High again. +This afternoon Jerry, Irma, Susan, Muriel Harding and I went together to +Sargent's for ice cream. While we were there we decided that we ought to +forgive the past and try to help Mignon find her better self. The only +way we can help her is to treat her well and invite her to our parties +and luncheons. If she finds we are ready to begin all over again with +her, perhaps she'll be different. We made a solemn compact to do it, +provided our mothers were willing we should. So to be very slangy, 'It's +up to you, Captain!'" + +"But suppose this girl merely takes advantage of your kindness and +involves you all in another tangle?" remarked Mrs. Dean quietly. "It +seems to me that she proved herself wholly untrustworthy last year." + +"I know it." Marjorie sighed. She would have liked to say that Mignon +had already tied an ugly snarl in her affairs. But loyalty to Mary +forbade the utterance. Then, brightening, she went on hopefully: "If we +never try to help her, we'll never know whether she really has a better +self. Sometimes it takes just a little thing to change a person's +heart." + +"You are a dear child," Mrs. Dean bent to press a kiss on Marjorie's +curly head, "and your argument is too generous to be downed. I give my +official consent to the proposed reform, and I hope, for all concerned, +that it will turn out beautifully." + +"Oh, Captain," Marjorie nestled closer, "you're too dear for words. +There's another reason for my wishing to be friendly with Mignon. Mary +has met her and likes her." + +"Mary!" Mrs. Dean looked her astonishment. "By the way, Marjorie, where +is Mary? I had quite forgotten her for the time being. You didn't +mention her as being with you at Sargent's." + +"She wasn't there," explained Marjorie. "She didn't wait for me after +school. She must have gone on with--with someone and stopped to talk. +I--I think she'll be here soon." A hurt look, of which she was entirely +unconscious, had driven the brightness from the face Marjorie turned to +her mother. + +Mrs. Dean was a wise woman. She discerned that there had been a hitch in +the programme of her daughter's daily affairs, but she asked no +questions. She never intruded upon Marjorie's little reserves. She knew +now that whatever her daughter had kept back had been done in accordance +with a code of living, the uprightness of which was seldom equalled in +a girl of her years. She, therefore, respected the reservation and made +no attempt to discover its nature. + +"What are you going to do first in the way of reform, Lieutenant?" she +inquired brightly. + +"Well, I thought I would invite Mignon to my party, the one you said I +could give for Mary. I'd like to have it next Friday night. Friday's the +best time. We can all sleep a little later the next morning, you know." + +"Very well, you may," assented Mrs. Dean. "Does Mary know of the +contemplated reform?" + +"No. You see I hated to say much to her about Mignon, because it +wouldn't be very nice to discredit someone you were trying to help. +Don't you agree with me?" + +"I suppose I must. But what of Constance?" + +"That's the part that bothers me," was Marjorie's troubled reply. "I'm +going to write her all about it. I know she'll be with us. She's too +splendid to hold spite. I think it would be all right to invite Mignon +to my party, at any rate. But there's just one thing about it, Captain, +if Connie objects, then the reform will have to go on without me. You +understand the way I feel, don't you?" + +"Yes. I believe you owe it to Constance to respect her wishes. She was +the chief sufferer at Mignon's hands." + +The confidential talk came to a sudden end with the ringing of the +doorbell. + +"It's Mary." Marjorie sprang to her feet. "I'll let her in." + +Hurrying to the door, Marjorie opened it to admit Mary Raymond. She +entered with an air of sulkiness that brought dread to Marjorie's heart. + +"Oh, Mary, where were you?" she asked, trying to appear ignorant of her +chum's forbidding aspect. + +"I was with Mignon La Salle," returned Mary briefly. "Will you come +upstairs with me, please?" + +"I'd love to, Lieutenant Raymond. Thank you for your kind invitation." +Marjorie assumed a gaiety she did not feel. + +Without further remark Mary stolidly mounted the stairs. Marjorie +followed her in a distinctly worried state of mind. The quarrel was +going to begin over again. She was sure of that. + +Mary stalked past the half-open door of Marjorie's room and paused +before her own. "I'd rather talk to you in _my_ room, if you please," +she said distantly. + +"All right," agreed Marjorie, with ready cheerfulness. She intended to +go on ignoring her chum's hostile attitude until she was forced to do +otherwise. + +Mary closed the door behind them and faced Marjorie with compressed +lips. The latter met her offended gaze with steady eyes. + +"I heard you and your friends making fun of Miss La Salle this +afternoon, and I am going to say right here that I think you were all +extremely unkind. She heard you, too. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself, Marjorie Dean!" + +"Why, I don't remember making fun of Mignon!" exclaimed Marjorie. "What +do you mean?" + +"Then your memory is very short," sneered Mary. "But I might have +expected you to deny it." + +It was Marjorie's turn to grow indignant. "How can you accuse me of not +telling the truth?" she flashed. "I did not----" She stopped, flushing +deeply. She recalled Jerry Macy's humorous remark about Mignon as they +stood talking in front of her locker. "I beg your pardon, Mary," she +apologized. "I _do_ remember now that Mignon's name was mentioned while +we were standing there. But it was nothing very dreadful. We were saying +that if Miss Merton heard us talking she would scold us, and Jerry only +said that if Mignon chose to sing a solo at the top of her voice, in +front of _her_ locker, Miss Merton wouldn't mind in the least. Everyone +knows that Mignon has always been a favorite of Miss Merton. I am sorry +if she overheard it, for truly we hadn't the least idea of making fun of +her. It was Jerry's funny way of saying it that made us laugh. I'll +explain that to her the first time I see her." + +Mary's tense features relaxed a trifle. She was not yet so firmly in the +toils of the French girl as to be entirely blind to Marjorie's +sincerity. Her good sense told her that she was making a mountain of a +mole hill. There was a ring of truth in Marjorie's voice that brought a +flush of shame to her cheeks. Still she would not allow it to sway her. + +"It wasn't nice in you to laugh," she muttered. "She was dreadfully +hurt. She feels very sensitive about being sent home from school. Of +course, she knows she deserved it. She said so. But----" + +"Did she really say that?" interrupted Marjorie eagerly. + +"I am not in the habit of saying what isn't true," retorted Mary coldly. + +"Listen, Mary." Marjorie's face was aglow with honest purpose. "I said +to you, you know, that if you wished Mignon for a friend I would be nice +to her, too. Captain has promised to let me give my party for you on +next Friday night. I am going to invite Mignon to it, and we are all +going to try to make her feel friendly toward us." + +"She won't come," predicted Mary contemptuously. "I wouldn't, either, if +I were in her place. I shall tell her not to come, too." + +"Then you will be proving yourself anything but a friend to her," flung +back Marjorie hotly, "because you will be advising her against doing +something that is for her good." With this clinching argument Marjorie +walked to the door and opened it. + +"Whether I say a word or not, she won't come," called Mary after her. +But Marjorie was halfway down the stairs, too greatly exasperated to +trust herself to further speech. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE COMMON FATE OF REFORMERS + + +Nevertheless the session behind closed doors had one beneficial effect. +It broke the ice that had lately formed over the long comradeship of the +two girls, and, although nothing was as of old, they were both secretly +relieved to still be on terms of conversation. Out of pure regard for +Mary, Marjorie treated her exactly as she had always done, and Mary +pretended to respond, simply because she had determined that Mr. and +Mrs. Dean should not become aware of any difference in their relations. +She affected an interest in planning for the party and kept up a pretty +show of concern which Marjorie alone knew to be false. Privately Mary's +deceitful attitude was a sore trial to her. Honest to the core, she felt +that she would rather her chum had maintained open hostility than a +farce of good will which was dropped the moment they chanced to be +alone. Still she resolved to bear it and look forward to a happier day +when Mary would relent. + +The invitations to the party had been mailed and duly accepted. Much to +Mary's secret surprise and chagrin, Mignon had not declined to shed the +light of her countenance upon the proposed festivity, but had written a +formal note of acceptance which amused Marjorie considerably, inasmuch +as the acceptances of the others had been verbal. Despite her hatred +for Marjorie Dean and her friends, Mignon had resolved to profit by the +sudden show of friendliness which, true to their compact, the five girls +had lost no time in carrying out. Ignoble of soul, she did not value the +favor of these girls as a concession which she had been fortunate enough +to receive. She decided to use it only as a wedge to reinstate herself +in a certain leadership which her bad behavior of last year had lost +her. She had no idea of the real reason for their interest in her. She +preferred to think that they had come to a realization of her vast +importance in the social life of Sanford. Was not her father the richest +man in the town? She had an idea that perhaps Mary Raymond might be +responsible for her sudden accession to favor. She had taken care to +impress her own importance upon Mary's mind, together with certain vague +insinuations as to her wrongs. After her first brief outburst against +Marjorie and Constance Stevens, she had decided that she would gain +infinitely more by playing the part of wronged innocence. When she +received her invitation she had already heard that Constance was in New +York and likely to remain there for a time. This influenced her to +accept Marjorie's hospitality. Her own consciousness of guilt would not +permit her to go to any place where she would meet the accusing scorn of +Constance's blue eyes. Then, too, she had still another motive in +attending the party. She had always looked upon Lawrence Armitage with +eyes of favor. He had never paid her a great deal of attention, but he +had shown her less since the advent of Constance Stevens in Sanford. +She resolved to show him that she was far more clever and likable than +the quiet girl who had taken such a strong hold on his boyish interest, +and with that end in view Mignon planned to make her reinstatement a +sweeping success. + +Friday afternoon was a lost session, so far as study went, to the +Sanford girls who were to make up the feminine portion of Marjorie's +party. + +"Good gracious, I thought half-past three would never come!" grumbled +Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear as they filed decorously through the +corridor. "Let's make a quick dash for the locker-room. I've a pressing +engagement with the hair-dresser and I'm dying to get through with it +and sweep down to dinner in my new silver net party dress. It's a dream +and makes me look positively thin. You won't know me when you see me." + +"You're not the only one," put in Muriel Harding. "You won't be one, +two, three when I appear to-night in all my glory." + +"Listen to the conceited things," laughed Irma Linton. "'I won't speak +of myself,' as H. C. Anderson beautifully puts it." + +"Who's he?" demanded Jerry. "I know every boy in Sanford High, but I +never heard of him." + +A shout of laughter greeted her earnest assertion. + +"Wake up, Jerry," dimpled Susan Atwell. "H. C. stands for Hans +Christian. Now does the light begin to break?" + +"Oh, you make me tired," retorted Jerry. "Irma did that on purpose. +That's worse than my favorite trap about letting it rain in Spain. How +was I to know what she meant?" + +"That's all because you don't cultivate literary tastes," teased Muriel. + +"I do cultivate them," grinned Jerry. "I've read the dictionary through +twice, without skipping a page!" + +"It must have been a pocket edition," murmured Marjorie. + +"Stop teasing me or I'll get cross and not come to your party," +threatened Jerry. + +"You mean nothing could keep you away," laughed Irma. + +"You're right. Nothing could. I'll be there, clad in costly raiment, to +spur the reform party on to deeds of might." + +"Do come early, all of you," urged Marjorie as she paused at her corner +to say good-bye. + +"We'll be there," chorused the quartette after her. + +"I hope everyone will have a nice time," was Marjorie's fervent +reflection as she hurried on her way. "I do wish Mary would walk home +with me once in a while, instead of always waiting for Mignon. I +wouldn't ask her to for worlds, though." + +To see Mary walk away with Mignon at the end of every session of school +had been a heavy cross for Marjorie to bear. Surrounded as she always +was with the four faithful members of her own little set, she was often +lonely. If only Constance had been in school she could have better borne +Mary's disloyalty, although the latter could never quite fill the niche +which years of companionship had carved in her heart for Mary. But +Connie was far away, so she must go on enduring this bitter sorrow and +make no outward sign. + +Usually ready to bubble over with exhilaration when on the eve of +participating in so delightful an occasion as a party, it was a very +quiet Marjorie who tripped into the living-room that afternoon. The big, +cosy apartment had undergone a marked change. It was practically bare, +save for the piano in one corner, which had been moved from the +drawing-room, and a phonograph which was to do occasional duty, so that +the patient musicians might now and then rest from their labor. + +Mrs. Dean was giving a last direction to the men who had been hired to +move the furniture about as Marjorie entered. + +"Everything is ready, Lieutenant," smiled her mother. "We have all done +a strenuous day's work in a good cause." + +"Thank you over and over again, Captain. It's dear in you to take so +much trouble for me. I'm afraid you've worked too hard." Her lately +pensive mood vanishing as she viewed the newly waxed floor, Marjorie +executed a gay little _pas-seul_ on its smooth surface and made a +running slide toward her mother, striking against her with considerable +force. + +"Steady, Lieutenant." Her mother passed an arm about her and gave her a +loving little squeeze. "Please have proper respect for the aged." + +"There are no such persons here," retorted Marjorie, "I see a young and +beautiful lady, who----" + +"Must go straight to the kitchen and see what Delia is doing in the way +of dinner," finished Mrs. Dean. "Remember, we are to have it at +half-past five to-night, so don't wander away and be late. Your frock is +laid out on your bed, dear. You had better run along and dress before +dinner. Then you will be ready. The time will fairly fly afterward. +Where is Mary? Why doesn't she come home with you in the afternoon? For +the past week she has come in long after school is out." + +"Oh, she stops to talk and walk with Mignon," replied Marjorie, with an +air of elaborate carelessness. "They are very good friends." + +Mrs. Dean seemed about to comment further on the subject when Delia +appeared in the doorway and distracted her attention to other matters. + +Marjorie breathed a sigh of relief as she went upstairs. She was glad to +escape the further questions concerning Mary which her mother seemed +disposed to ask. Her gaiety had been evanescent and she now experienced +a feeling of positive gloom as she entered her pretty room and prepared +to bathe and dress for the evening. She could not resist a thrill of +pleasure at the sheer beauty of the white chiffon frock spread out on +her bed. She wondered if Mary would wear her pale blue silk evening +frock, or the white one with the lace over-frock. They were both +beautiful. But she had always loved Mary in white. She wondered if she +dared ask her to wear the white lace gown. + +While she was dressing, through her half-opened door she heard Mary's +voice in the hall in conversation with her mother. Hastily slipping +into her pretty frock, she went to the door hooking it as she walked. +Mary was just appearing on the landing. + +"Oh, Mary," she called genially, "do wear your white. You will look so +lovely in it." + +"I'm going to wear my blue gown," returned Mary stolidly, and marched on +down the hall to her room, closing the door with a bang. "Just as though +I'd let her dictate to me what to wear," she muttered. + +The two young girls made a pretty picture as they took their places at +the dinner table. + +"I wish General were here to see you," sighed Mrs. Dean. Mr. Dean had +been called away on a business trip east. + +"So do I," echoed Marjorie. "Things won't be quite perfect without him." + +Neither girl ate much dinner. They were far too highly excited to do +justice to the meal. In spite of their estrangement they were both +looking forward to the dance. + +At half-past seven o'clock Jerry and the rest of the reform party +arrived, buzzing like a hive of bees. + +"Is she here yet?" whispered Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear, after paying +her respects to Mrs. Dean and Mary, who, with Marjorie, received their +guests in the palm-decorated hall. + +"No, she hasn't come. I suppose she will arrive late. You know she loves +to make a sensation." Marjorie could not resist this one little fling, +despite her good resolutions. + +The guests continued to arrive in twos and threes and Marjorie was kept +busy greeting them. True to her prediction, it was after eight o'clock +when Mignon appeared. She wore an imported gown of peachblow satin that +must have been a considerable item of expense to her doting father. Her +elfish face glowed with suppressed excitement and her black eyes roved +about, with lightning glances, born of a curiosity to inspect every +detail of her unfamiliar surroundings. + +"I am glad you came," greeted Marjorie graciously, and presented Mignon +to her mother. + +The French girl acknowledged the introduction, then turning to Mary +began an eager, low-toned conversation, apparently forgetting her +hostess. + +Mrs. Dean betrayed no sign of what went on in her mind, but her thoughts +on the subject of Mignon were not flattering. Ill-bred, she mentally +styled her, and decided that she would look into the matter of her +growing friendship with Mary. + +The dancing had already begun when, piloted by Mary, who had apparently +forgotten that she was of the receiving party, the two girls strolled +into the impromptu ballroom. Mary was immediately claimed as a partner +by Lawrence Armitage, who tried to console himself with the thought +that, at least, she looked like Constance. Mignon's face darkened as +they danced off. Lawrie had merely bowed to her. But he had asked Mary +to dance. That was because she resembled that odious Stevens girl. Her +resentment against Constance blazed forth afresh. She hoped Constance +would never return to Sanford. + +Thanks to a long lecture which Jerry had read to her brother Hal, Mignon +was not neglected. Although none of the Weston High boys really liked +her, she was asked to dance almost every number. Later in the evening +Lawrence Armitage asked her for a one-step, and she vainly imagined +that, after all, she had made an impression on him. Radiant with triumph +over her social success, Mignon saw herself firmly entrenched in the +leadership she dreamed would be hers. But her triumph was to be +short-lived. + +After supper, which was served at two long tables in the dining-room, +the guests returned to their dancing with the tireless ardor of first +youth. Chancing to be without a partner, Mignon slipped into a +palm-screened nook under the stairs for a chat with Mary, who had +followed her about all evening, more with a view of hurting Marjorie +than from an excess of devotion. From their position they could see all +that went on about them, yet be quite hidden from the unobservant. The +unobservant happened to be Marjorie and Jerry Macy, who had come from +the ballroom for a confidential talk and taken up their station directly +in front of the alcove. Save for the two girls behind the palms, the +hall was deserted. + +"Well, I guess Mignon's having a good time," declared Jerry Macy in her +brisk, loud tones. "She ought to. I nearly talked myself hoarse to Hal +before he'd promise to see that the boys asked her to dance. This reform +business is no joke." + +"Lower your voice, Jerry," warned Marjorie. "Someone might hear you." + +Mary Raymond made a sudden movement to rise. Stubborn she might be, but +she was not so dishonorable as to listen to a conversation not intended +for her ears. Mignon pulled her back with sudden savage strength. She +laid her finger to her lips, her black eyes gleaming with anger. + +"Oh, there's no one around. Say, Marjorie, do you think it's really +worth while to go out of our way to reform Mignon? Look at her to-night. +You'd think she had conquered the universe. She was all smiles when +Laurie Armitage asked her to dance. He can't bear her, he told me so +last Hallowe'en, after she made all that fuss about her old bracelet. If +we hadn't banded ourselves together to find that better self which you +are so sure she's carrying around with her, I'd say call it off and +forget it. None of us really likes her. You know that, even if you won't +say so. She is----" + +The waltz time ended in a soft chord and the dancers began trooping +through the doorway to the big punch-bowl of lemonade in one corner of +the hall. They were just in time to see a lithe figure in pink spring +out, catlike, from behind the palm-screened alcove and hear a furious +voice cry out, "How dare you insult a guest by talking about her, the +moment her back is turned?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN IRATE GUEST + + +Jerry Macy and Marjorie Dean whirled about at the sound of that wrathful +voice. Mignon La Salle confronted them, her eyes flashing, her fingers +closing and unclosing in nervous rage, looking for all the world like a +young tigress. + +"Oh, for goodness' sake, some one lead her away!" muttered the Crane to +Irma Linton. "I told Hal to-day that, with Mignon aboard the good old +party ship, we'd be sure to have fireworks. Real dynamite, too, and no +mistake. I wonder what's upset her sweet, retiring disposition?" His +boyish face indicated his deep disgust. + +"I heard every word you said!" screamed Mignon. Rage had stripped her of +the thin veneer of civilization. She was the same young savage who had +kicked and screamed her way to whatever she desired when years before +she had been the terror of the neighborhood. "So, that's the reason you +invited me to your old party! You got together and picked me to pieces +and decided to reform me! Just let me tell you that you had better look +to yourselves. I don't need your kind offices. You are a crowd of +hateful, deceitful, mean, horrible girls! I despise you all! Everyone of +you! Do you hear me? I despise you! And _you_, Jerry Macy, had better be +a little careful as to what you gossip about me. I can tell you----" + +There came a sudden interruption to the tirade. Through the amazed +groups of young people who could not resist lingering to find out what +it was all about, Mrs. Dean resolutely made her way. + +"That will do, Miss La Salle," she commanded sternly. "I cannot allow +you to make such a disgraceful scene in my home, or insult my daughter +and her guests. If you will come quietly upstairs with me and state your +grievance, I shall do all in my power to rectify it. Marjorie," she +turned to her daughter, who stood looking on in wide-eyed distress, "ask +the musicians to start the music for the next dance." + +Marjorie obeyed and, somewhat ashamed of their curiosity, the dancers +forgot their thirst for lemonade and flocked into the ballroom. Only +Jerry Macy and Mary Raymond remained. + +"It's all my fault, Mrs. Dean," began Jerry contritely. "I didn't know +Mignon was in the alcove. I can't help saying she had no business to +listen, but----" + +"It _is_ my business," began Mignon furiously. "I have a right----" + +"Don't begin this quarrel all over again." Mrs. Dean held up her hand +for silence. "I repeat," she continued, regarding Mignon with marked +displeasure, "if you will come upstairs with me----" + +"Mrs. Dean, it's a shame the way Mignon has been treated to-night," +burst forth Mary Raymond, "and I for one don't intend to stand by and +see her insulted. Miss Macy said perfectly hateful things about her. I +heard them. Marjorie is just as much to blame. She listened to them and +never said a word to stop them." + +"Mary Raymond!" Mrs. Dean's voice held an ominous note that should have +warned Mary to hold her peace. Instead it angered her to open rebellion. + +"Don't 'Mary Raymond' me," she mocked in angry sarcasm. "I meant what I +said, every word of it. Mignon is my dear friend and I shall stand up +for her." + +"Oh, let me alone, all of you!" With an agile spring, Mignon gained the +stairway and sped up the stairs on winged feet. Two minutes later, +wrapped in her evening coat and scarf, she reappeared at the head and +ran down the steps two at a time. "Thank you so much for a delightful +evening," she bowed ironically. "I'm so sorry I haven't time to stay and +be lectured. It's too bad, isn't it, Miss Mary, that the reform couldn't +go on?" To Mary she held out her hand. "Come and spend the day with me +to-morrow, Mary. You may like it so well, you'll decide to stay. If you +do, why just come along whenever you feel disposed. I can assure you +that our house is a pleasanter place to live in than the one you are in +now." With this pointed fling she bowed again in mock courtesy to the +silent woman who had offended her and flounced out the door and into the +starlit night to where her own electric runabout was standing. + +"Can you beat that?" was the tribute that fell from Jerry Macy's lips. + +Mrs. Dean looked from one to the other of the three girls. "Now, girls, +I demand an explanation of all this. Who of you is at fault in the +matter?" + +"I told you it was I," answered Jerry. "Marjorie and I were talking +about Mignon and saying that she was having a good time. Then I had to +go on and say some more things that I don't take back, but that weren't +intended for listeners. I didn't know Mignon and Mary were hidden in +that alcove. Do you suppose I'd have spoiled our reform, after all the +trouble we've had making it go, if I'd known they were there?" + +Mrs. Dean could not repress a faint smile at Jerry's rueful admissions. +She liked this stout, matter-of-fact girl in spite of her rough, brusque +ways. + +"No, I don't suppose you would, but you were in the wrong, I am afraid. +You must learn to curb that sharp tongue, Jerry. It is likely, some day, +to involve you in serious trouble." + +"I know it." Jerry hung her head. "But, you see, Marjorie understands +me. That's why I say to her whatever I think." + +"Mary," Mrs. Dean gravely studied Mary's sulky face, "I am deeply hurt +and surprised. Later I shall have something to say to you and Marjorie. +Now go back to your friends, all of you, and try to make up to them for +this unpleasantness." + +Marjorie, who all this time had said nothing, now began timidly. She had +seldom seen her beloved Captain so stern. "Captain, we are----" + +"Not another word. I said, 'later.'" + +Jerry and Marjorie turned to the ballroom. Mary however, with a scornful +glance at Mrs. Dean, faced about and went upstairs. She had been imbued +with a naughty resolve and she determined to proceed at once to carry it +out. + +The dancing went on for a little, but the disagreeable happening had +dampened the ardor of the guests and they began leaving for home soon +afterward. + +It was midnight when the last sound of the footsteps of the departing +youngsters echoed down the walk. Side by side, Marjorie and her mother +watched them go, then the latter slipped her arm through that of her +daughter and said, "Now, Marjorie, we will get to the bottom of this +affair. Come with me to Mary's room." + +They reached it to find the door closed. Mrs. Dean knocked upon one of +the panels. + +"What do you want?" inquired an angry voice. + +"We wish to come in, Mary," was Mrs. Dean's even response. + +There was a muttered exclamation, a hurry of light feet, then the door +was flung open. + +"You can come in for all I care," was Mary's rude greeting. "You might +as well know now that I'm not going to live here after to-night. I'm +going to Mignon's house to live." Piles of clothing scattered about and +a significantly yawning trunk bore out the assertion. + +Mrs. Dean knew that the time for action had come. Walking over to the +girl, she placed deliberate hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, Mary +Raymond," she said decisively. "You are _not_ going one step out of this +house without my consent. Your father intrusted you to my care, and I +shall endeavor to carry out his wishes. You know as well as I that he +would be displeased and sorry over your behavior. I had intended to talk +matters over with you and Marjorie now, but you are in no mood for +reason. Therefore we will allow this affair to rest until to-morrow. +But, once and for all, unless your father sanctions your removal in a +letter to me, you will stay here, under my roof. Come, Marjorie." + +With a sorrowful glance toward the tense, angry little figure, Marjorie +followed her mother from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE PENALTY + + +Marjorie awoke the next morning with a dull ache in her heart. It was as +though she had been the victim of a bad dream. She stared gloomily about +her, struggling to recollect the cause of her depression. Then +remembrance rushed over her like a wave. No, she had not dreamed. Last +night had been only too real. If anyone had even intimated to her +beforehand that the party which had promised so much was fated to end so +disagreeably, she would have laughed the prediction to scorn. If only +Jerry had kept her unpleasantly candid remarks to herself! Yet, after +all, she could hardly blame her very much. What Jerry had said had been +intended for her ears alone. As hostess, however, she should not have +permitted Jerry to continue. Marjorie blamed herself heavily for this. +To be sure, it had been hardly fair in Mary and Mignon to listen. They +should have made known their presence. She wondered what she would have +done under the same circumstances. Her sense of honor answered her. She +knew she would have immediately come forward. She could not understand +why Mary had not done so. Loyal to the core, Marjorie's faith in her +chum refused to die. The Mary she had known for so many years had not +been lacking in honor. What she had feared from the first had come to +pass. Mary had been swayed by Mignon's baleful personality. The +much-talked-of reform had ended in a glaring fizzle. + +For some time Marjorie lay still, her thoughts busy with the disquieting +events of the previous night. She had longed to turn and comfort the +tense little figure standing immovable in the middle of her room, but +her Captain's word was law, and Marjorie could but sadly acknowledge to +herself that her mother had acted for the best. So she could do nothing +but follow her from the room with a heavy heart. + +What was to be the outcome of the affair she dared not even imagine. A +reconciliation with Mary was her earnest desire. This, however, could +hardly be brought about. Perhaps they would never again be friends. A +rush of tears blinded her brown eyes. Burying her face in the pillow, +Marjorie gave vent to the sorrow which overflowed her soul. + +The sound of light, tapping fingers on the door caused her to sit up +hastily. "Come in," she called, trying to steady her voice. + +The door opened to admit Mary Raymond. Her babyish face looked white and +wan in the clear morning light. For hours after her door had closed upon +Marjorie and her mother she had sat on the edge of her bed in her pretty +blue party frock, brooding on her wrongs. When she had finally prepared +for sleep, it was only to toss and turn in her bed, wide-awake and +resentful. At daylight she had risen listlessly, then fixing upon a +certain plan of action, had bathed, put on a simple house gown and +knocked at Marjorie's door. + +A single glance at Marjorie's face was sufficient for her to determine +that her chum had been crying. She decided that she was glad of it. +Marjorie had made _her_ unhappy, now she deserved a similar fate. + +"Why, Mary!" Marjorie sprang from the bed and advanced to meet her. +Involuntarily both arms were outstretched in tender appeal. + +Mary took no notice of the mutely pleading arms, save to step back with +a cold gesture of avoidance. + +"I haven't come here to be friends," she said with deliberate cruelty. +"I've come to ask you what you intend to say to your mother." + +"What _can_ I say to her?" Marjorie's voice had a despairing note. + +"You can say nothing," retorted Mary. "That is what _I_ intend to do. +Your friend, Jerry Macy, said too much last night. I cannot see why our +school affairs should be discussed in this house. I am sorry that +Mignon made a--a--disturbance last night. I didn't intend to listen, +but----" Her old-time frankness had almost overcome her newly hostile +bearing. She was on the point of saying that she had been ready to step +forth from behind the palms at Jerry's first speech. Then loyalty to +Mignon prevailed and she paused. + +Marjorie caught at a straw. "I _knew_ you didn't intend to listen, +Mary." The assurance rang out earnestly. "I couldn't make myself believe +that you would. I wanted to stay last night and tell you how sorry I was +for--for everything, but I owed it to Captain to obey orders. Mary, +dear, can't we start over again? I'm sure it's all been a stupid +mistake. Let's be good soldiers and resolve to face that dreadful enemy, +Misunderstanding, together. Let's go to Captain and tell her every +single thing! Think how much better we'll both feel. It almost broke my +heart, last night, when you said you were going to Mignon's to live. If +Captain thinks it best, I'll break my promise to Connie and tell +you----" + +At the mention of Constance Stevens' name Mary's face darkened. Touched +by Marjorie's impassioned appeal she had been tempted to break down the +barrier that rose between them and take the girl she still adored into +her stubborn heart again. But the mere name of Constance had acted as a +spur to her rancor. + +"Don't trouble yourself about begging permission of Miss Stevens on _my_ +account," she sneered. "I know a great deal too much of her already. +What do you suppose the girls and boys of Franklin High, who gave you +your butterfly pin, would say if they knew that you let the girl who +stole it from you wear it for months? If you had been honorable you +would have made her give it back and then dropped her forever." + +Marjorie's sorrow disappeared in wrath. "Mary Raymond, you don't know +what you are talking about," she flamed. "I can guess who told you that +untruth. It was Mignon La Salle. It was _not_ Constance who took my +butterfly pin. It was----" + +Again she remembered her promise. + +"Well," jeered Mary, "who was it, then?" + +"I shall not say another word until I see Captain." Marjorie's tones +were freighted with decision. + +"You mean that you can't deny that your friend Constance was guilty," +cut in Mary scornfully. "Never mind. I don't care to hear anything more. +You needn't consult your mother, either. I'm never going to be friends +with you again, so it doesn't matter. But if you ever cared the least +bit for me you'll do as I ask and not tell tales to Captain--I mean Mrs. +Dean," she corrected haughtily. "If you do, then I repeat what I said +the other day. I'll never speak to you again--no, not if I live here +forever. But I won't have to do that, for I shall write to Father and +ask him to let me go to Mignon's to live. So there!" + +With this dire threat Mary flounced angrily from the room, well pleased +with the stand she had taken. + +It was a most unsociable trio that gathered at the breakfast table that +Saturday morning. Mary carried herself with open belligerence. Marjorie +looked as though she was on the point of bursting into tears, while Mrs. +Dean was unusually grave. A delicate task lay before her and she was +wondering as she poured the coffee how she had best begin. Still she had +determined to thresh the matter out speedily, and as soon as Delia had +served the breakfast and retired to the kitchen, she glanced from one to +the other of the two principals and said, "Now, girls, I am waiting to +hear about last night." + +A blank silence fell. Marjorie fixed her eyes on Mary. To her belonged +the first word. + +The silence continued. + +"Well, Mary," Mrs. Dean spoke at last, "what have you to say for +yourself?" + +"Nothing," came the mutinous reply. + +"I am sorry that you won't meet me frankly," commented Mrs. Dean. "I had +hoped to find you on duty." Her searching gaze rested on Marjorie +"Lieutenant, it is your turn, I think." + +Marjorie flushed with distress. She was between two fires. Obedience +won. She related what had transpired in the hall in a few brief words, +shielding Mary as far as was possible. + +"But I know all this," said Mrs. Dean, a trifle impatiently. "Jerry told +me last night. There is more to this affair than appears on the surface. +What has happened to estrange you two, who have been chums for so many +years? I have seen for some time that matters were not progressing +smoothly between you. Things cannot go on in this way. You must take me +into your confidence. It is evident that a reform is needed here at +home." + +Mary stared fixedly at her plate. She was resolved not to be a party to +that reform. If Marjorie failed her, well--she knew the consequences. + +Marjorie saw the sullen, mutinous face through a mist of tears. She +tried to speak, but speech refused to come. + +"I am ashamed of my soldiers." Mrs. Dean spoke sadly. "What would +General say, if he were here?" + +The grave question rang like a clarion call in Marjorie's soul. A vision +of her father's merry, quizzical eyes grown suddenly sober and hurt over +the stubborn resistance of his little army was too much for her. One +mournfully appealing glance at the unyielding Mary and she burst forth +with, "I can't stand it any longer. I must speak. Last year, +when--when--Connie and I had so many unhappy days over my lost butterfly +pin I didn't write Mary about what was happening, because I felt +terribly and wished her to know only the pleasant side of my school +life. So she hadn't the least idea that Connie and I had become such +friends. She thought Connie was just a poor girl whom I tried to help +because I was sorry for her. When I asked Connie to come with us to the +station to meet Mary I was so happy to think they were going to meet +that I am afraid I made Mary believe that Connie had taken her place +with me. You know, Captain, that it couldn't be so. Mary has been and +always will be my dearest friend. I never dreamed she would become----" +Marjorie hesitated. She could not bring herself to say "jealous." + +A smile of contempt curved Mary's lips. "Why don't you say 'jealous'? +That's what you mean," she supplemented. + +"Very well, I will say it," rejoined Marjorie quietly. "I never dreamed +Mary would become jealous of my friendship with Connie. Before long I +noticed she was not quite her own dear self. Then she said something +that made me see that I ought to tell her all about last year, but I +didn't feel that it would be right until I had asked Connie's +permission. I told Mary I would do that very thing, but at Connie's +dance before I ever had a chance _she_ asked me not to say anything. She +was still so hurt over that affair of my pin that she was afraid Mary +might not like her so much if she knew. I didn't know what to do, then. +If I were to say that Mary had asked me to tell her, well--I thought +Connie might think her curious." + +Mary made a half-stifled exclamation of anger. Then she shrugged her +shoulders with inimitable contempt and fixed her gaze on the opposite +wall, assuming an air of boredom she was far from feeling. + +"Go on," commanded Mrs. Dean. Marjorie had hesitated at the +interruption. + +"There isn't much more to tell," continued Marjorie bravely, "only that +Mignon came back to school and met Mary and made mischief. You know the +rest, Captain. You remember what I said to you the other day----" + +"Then you _had_ told your mother things about me, already!" burst forth +Mary furiously. "Very well. You know what I said this morning. Just +remember it." + +Marjorie gazed piteously at the angry girl. She could not believe that +Mary intended to carry out her threat of the morning. + +"What did you say to Marjorie this morning?" inquired Mrs. Dean in cold +displeasure. She was endeavoring to be impartial, but her clear mental +vision pointed that it was not her daughter who was at fault. + +Mary's reply was flung defiantly forth. "I said I'd never speak to her +again, and I won't! I won't!" + +If Mary had expected Mrs. Dean either to order her to reconsider her +rash words or plead with her for reconciliation, she was doomed to +disappointment. "We will take you at your word, Mary," came the calm +answer. "Hereafter Marjorie must not speak to you unless you address her +first. Of course, it will be unpleasant for all of us, but I can see +nothing else to be done. You may write to your father if you choose. He +will undoubtedly write me in return, and naturally I shall tell him the +plain, unvarnished truth, together with several items of interest +concerning Mignon La Salle which cannot be withheld from him. I shall +not forbid you to continue your friendship with her. You are old enough +now to know right from wrong. So long as she does nothing to break the +conventions of society, I can condemn her only as a trouble-maker. My +advice to you would be to drop her acquaintance. When Constance returns +it would be well for you and Marjorie to invite her here and clear up +this difficulty. However, that rests with you. So far as General and I +are concerned, nothing is changed. We shall continue to the utmost to +fulfill your father's trust in us. Now, once and for all, we will drop +the subject. I must insist on no more bickering and quarreling in my +house. That applies to both of you." + +"Please let me say just one thing more, Captain." Marjorie turned +imploring eyes upon her mother. "If Mary will let me bring Connie here, +when she comes back, I'm sure every cloud can be cleared away. Mary," +her vibrant tones throbbed with tender sympathy, "won't you take back +what you've said and believe in me?" + +For answer Mary Raymond rose from the table and left the room, +obstinately trampling friendship and good will under her wayward feet. +She had begun to keep her vow. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION + + +The days following the final break in the friendship between the two +sophomores were dark indeed for Marjorie. The tale of Mignon's stormy +outbreak at her party had been retailed far and wide. It furnished +material for much speculative gossip among the students of Sanford High +School, and, as is always the case, grew out of proportion to truth with +each subsequent recital. Although the five girls who had banded +themselves together in the reform that met with such signal failure +refused to commit themselves, nevertheless the purpose of their compact, +revealed by Mignon's sarcastic tirade at the party, was no longer a +secret. Regarding the conscientiousness of their motives, opinions were +divided. Certain girls who had a wholesome respect for wealth, +personified in Mignon, murmured among themselves that it was a shame she +had been so badly treated, while under the Deans' roof. A few still +bolder spirits went so far as to criticize Mrs. Dean for interfering in +a school-girl's quarrel. They asserted that Mary Raymond had behaved +wisely in openly defending her. Marjorie Dean was a great baby to allow +her mother to run her affairs. There was no one quite so tiresome as a +goody-goody. + +On the other hand, Marjorie possessed many firm friends who defended +her, to the last word. For the time being discussion ran rife, for youth +loves to take up arms in any cause that promises excitement, without +stopping to consider dispassionately both sides of a story. + +After the party Mignon had lost no time in imparting to those who would +listen to her that the Deans had treated their guest with the utmost +cruelty and it was for her invalid mother's sake alone that Mary had +resigned herself to remain under their roof and go on with her school. +Her distortion of the truth grew with each recital and, as the autumn +days came and went, she found she had succeeded in dividing the +sophomore class far more effectually than she had divided it the +preceding year, when in its freshman infancy. + +At the Hallowe'en dance which the Weston boys always gave to their fair +Sanford schoolmates, dissension had reigned and broken forth in so many +petty jealousies that the boyish hosts had been filled with gloomy +disgust "at the way some of those girls acted," and vowed among +themselves never to give another party. There were exceptions, of +course, they had moodily agreed. Marjorie Dean and _her_ crowd were "all +right" girls and "nothing was too good for them." As for some others, +well--"they'd wait a long time before the fellows broke their necks to +show 'em another good time." + +After a three weeks' absence Constance Stevens had returned to Sanford +and school. To her Marjorie confided her sorrows. So distressed was the +latter at the part she had unwittingly played in the jangle that she +wrote Mary Raymond an earnest little note, which was read and +contemptuously consigned to the waste-basket as unworthy of answer. Long +were the talks Constance and Marjorie had on the sore subject of Mary's +unreasonable stand, and many were the plans proposed by which they might +soften her stony little heart, but none of them were carried out. They +were voiced, only to be laid aside as futile. + +To Marjorie it was all a dreadful dream from which she forlornly hoped +she might at any moment awaken. Three times a day she endured the +torture of sitting opposite Mary at meals, of hearing her talk with her +mother and father exactly as though she were not present. Mr. Dean had +returned from his Western trip. His wife had immediately advised him of +the painful situation, and, after due deliberation, he had decided that +the only one who could alter it was Mary herself. "Let her alone," he +counseled. "She has her father's disposition. You cannot drive her. You +were right in leaving her to work out her own salvation. It is hard on +Marjorie, poor child, but sooner or later Mary will wake up. When she +does she will be a very humble young woman. I wouldn't have her father +and mother know this for a good deal, and neither would she. You can +rest assured of that. Still you had better keep an eye on her. I don't +like her friendship with this La Salle girl. Mark me, some day she will +turn on Mary, and then see what happens! I'll have a talk with my +sore-hearted little Lieutenant and cheer her up, if I can." + +Mr. Dean kept his word, privately inviting his sober-eyed daughter to +meet him at his office after school and go for a long ride with him in +the crisp autumn air. Once they had left Sanford behind them, Marjorie, +who understood the purpose of the little expedition, opened her +sorrowing heart to her General. Sure of his sympathy, she spoke her +inmost thoughts, while he listened, commented, asked questions and +comforted, then repeated his prediction of a happy ending with a +positiveness that aroused in her new hope of better days yet to come. + +Marjorie never forgot that ride. They tarried for dinner at a wayside +inn, justly famous for its cheer, and drove home happily under the +November stars. As she studied her lessons that night she experienced a +rush of buoyant good fellowship toward the world in general which for +many days had not been hers. Yes, she was certain now that the shadow +would be lifted. Sooner or later she and Mary would step, hand-in-hand, +into the clear sunlight of perfect understanding. She prayed that it +might dawn for her soon. As is usually the case with persons innocent of +blame, she took herself sharply to task for whatever part of the snarl +she had helped to make. She did not know that the stubborn soul of her +friend could be lifted to nobler things only by suffering; that Mary's +moment of awakening was still far distant. + +But while Marjorie prayed wistfully for reconciliation, Mary Raymond sat +in the next room, her straight brows puckered in a frown over a sheet of +paper she held in her hand. On it was written: + + "DEAR MARY: + + "Be sure to come to the practice game to-morrow. I think you + will find it interesting. If it is anything like the last one, + several persons are going to be surprised when it is over. I + won't see you after school to-day, as I am not coming back to + the afternoon session. + + "MIGNON." + +Mary stared at the paper with slightly troubled eyes. Estranged from +Marjorie, she and Mignon had become boon companions. Since that eventful +morning when she had chosen her own course, she had discovered a number +of things about the French girl not wholly to her liking. First of all +she had expected that her latest sturdy defiance of the Deans would +elicit the highest approbation on the part of Mignon. Greatly to her +disappointment, her new friend, in whose behalf she had renounced so +much, had received her bold announcement, "I'm done with Marjorie Dean +forever," quite as a matter of course. She had merely shrugged her +expressive shoulders and remarked, "I am glad you've come to your +senses," without even inquiring into the details. Ignoring Mary's +wrongs, which had now become an old story to her and therefore devoid of +interest, she had launched forth into a lengthy discussion of her own +plans, a subject of which she was never tired of talking. After that it +did not take long for the foolish little lieutenant, who had so +unfeelingly deserted her regiment, to see that Mignon was entirely +self-centered. Other revelations soon followed. Mignon was agreeable as +long as she could have her own way. She would not brook contradiction, +and she snapped her fingers at advice. She was a law unto herself, and +to be her chum meant to follow blindly and unquestioningly wherever she +chose to lead. Mary tried to bring herself to believe that she had made +a wise choice. It was an honor to be best friends with the richest girl +in Sanford High School. She owned an electric runabout and wore +expensive clothes. At home she was the moving power about which the +houseful of servants meekly revolved. All this was very gratifying, to +be sure, but deep in her heart Mary knew that she would rather spend one +blessed hour of the old, carefree companionship with Marjorie than a +year with this strange, elfish girl with whom she had cast her lot. But +it was too late to retreat. She had burned her bridges behind her. She +must abide by that which she had chosen. + +To give her due credit, she still believed that Mignon had been +misjudged. She invested the French girl with a sense of honor which she +had never possessed, and to this Mary pinned her faith. Perhaps if she +had not been still sullenly incensed against Constance Stevens, the +scales might have fallen from her eyes. But her resentment against the +latter was exceeded only by Mignon's dislike for the gentle girl. Thus +the common bond of hatred held them together. She had only to mention +Constance's name and Mignon would rise to the bait with torrential +anger. This in itself was an unfailing solace to Mary. + +To-night, however, her conscience troubled her. For the past three weeks +basket ball had been the all-important topic of the hour with the +students of Sanford High School. It was the usual custom for the +instructor in gymnastics to hold basket ball try-outs among the aspiring +players of the various classes. Assisted by several seniors, she culled +the most skilful players to make the respective teams. But this year a +new departure had been declared. Miss Randall was no longer instructor. +She had resigned her position the previous June and passed on to other +fields. Her successor, Miss Davis, had ideas of her own on the subject +of basket ball and no sooner had she set foot in the gymnasium than she +proceeded to put them into effect. Instead of picking one team from the +freshman and sophomore classes, she selected two from each class. Then +she organized a series of practice games to determine which of the two +teams should represent their respective classes in the field of glory. + +Marjorie, Susan Atwell, Muriel Harding, a tall girl named Esther Lind, +and Harriet Delaney made one of the two teams. Mignon La Salle, +Elizabeth Meredith, Daisy Griggs, Louise Selden and Anne Easton, the +latter four devoted supporters of Mignon La Salle, composed the other. +There had been some little murmuring on the part of Marjorie's coterie +of followers over the choice. Miss Davis was a close friend of Miss +Merton and it was whispered that she had been posted beforehand in +choosing the second team. Otherwise, how had it happened to be made up +of Mignon's admiring satellites? + +Miss Davis had decreed that three practice games between the two +sophomore teams should be played to decide their prowess. The winners +should then be allowed to challenge the freshmen, who were being put +through a similar contest, to play a great deciding game for athletic +honors on the Saturday afternoon following Thanksgiving. She also +undertook to make basket ball plans for the juniors and seniors, but +these august persons declined to become enthusiastic over the movement +and balked so vigorously at the first intimation of interference with +their affairs that Miss Davis retired gracefully from their horizon and +devoted her energy to the younger and more pliable pupils of the school. + +Not yet arrived at the dignity of the two upper classes, the sophomores +and freshmen were still too devoted to the game itself to resent being +managed. To find in Miss Davis an ardent devotee of basket ball was a +distinct gain. Miss Archer, although she attended the games played +between the various teams, was not, and had not been, wholly in favor of +the sport since that memorable afternoon of the year before when Mignon +had accused Ellen Seymour, now a junior, of purposely tripping her +during a wild rush for the ball. Privately, Miss Archer considered +basket ball rather a rough sport for girls and they knew that a +repetition of last year's disturbance meant death to basket ball in +Sanford High School. + +Two of the three practice games had been played by the sophomore teams. +The squad of which Marjorie was captain had easily won the first. This +had greatly incensed Captain Mignon and her players. A series of locker +and corner confabs had followed. Mary, who did not aspire to basket ball +honors, had been present at these talks. In the beginning the +discussions had merely been devoted to the devising of signals and the +various methods of scoring against their opponents. But gradually a new +and sinister note had crept in. Mignon did not actually counsel her team +to take unfair advantages, but she made many artful suggestions, backed +up by a play of her speaking shoulders that conveyed volumes to her +followers. It began to dawn upon Mary that these "clever tricks," as +Mignon was wont to designate them, were not only flagrant dishonesties +but dangerous means to the end, quite likely to result in physical harm. +Her sense of honor was by no means dead, although companionship with +Mignon had served to blunt it. She had remonstrated rather weakly with +the latter on one occasion, as they walked toward home together after +leaving the other girls, and had been ridiculed for her pains. + +She now stared at Mignon's irregular, disjointed writing, which in some +curious way suggested the girl's elfish personality, with unhappy eyes. +Just what did Mignon mean by intimating that several persons were "going +to be surprised" when to-morrow's practice game was over? It sounded +like a threat. No doubt it was. Suppose--some one were to be hurt +through this tricky playing of Mignon's team! Suppose that some one were +to be Marjorie! Mary shuddered. She remembered once reading in a +newspaper an account of a basket-ball game in which a girl had been +tripped by an opponent and had fallen. That girl had hurt her spine and +the physicians had decreed that she would never walk again. Mary put her +hands before her eyes as though to shut out the mental vision of +Marjorie, lying white and moaning on the gymnasium floor, the victim of +an unscrupulous adversary. What could she do? She could not warn +Marjorie to be on her guard. She had now passed out of her former +chum's friendship of her own free will. She could not go privately to +Muriel or Susan or the other members of the team. No, indeed! Yet, +somehow, she must convey a message of warning. + +Seized with a sudden impulse to carry out her resolve, she picked up a +pencil and began to scrawl on a bit of paper in a curious, back-handed +fashion, quite different from her neat Spencerian hand. Over and over +she practiced this hand on a loosened sheet from her note-book. At +length she rose and, going to her chiffonier, took from the top drawer a +leather writing case. Tumbling its contents hastily over, she selected a +sheet of pale gray paper. There was a single envelope to match. Long it +had lain among her stationery, the last of a kind she had formerly used. +She was sure Marjorie had never seen it, so if it fell into her hands +she could not trace it to her. Once more she practiced the back-handed +scrawl. Then, with an energy born of the remorse which was to serve as a +continual penance for her folly, she wrote: + + "TO THE SOPHOMORE TEAM: + + "Be on your guard when you play to-morrow. If you are not very + careful you may be sorry. Beware of 'tricks.' + + "ONE WHO KNOWS." + +Folding the warning, Mary slipped it into its envelope. But now the +question again confronted her, "To whom shall I send it?" After a +moment's frowning thought she decided upon Harriet Delaney as the +recipient. But dared she trust it to the mail service? Suppose it were +not delivered until afternoon? Then it would be too late. The Delaneys +lived only two blocks further up the street. It was not yet ten o'clock. +Mrs. Dean had gone to a lecture. Marjorie was in her room. If she met +General she would merely state that she was going to post a letter. That +would be entirely true. She would run all the way there and back. Once +she had reached Harriet's house she must take her chance of being +discovered. + +Drawing on her long blue coat, Mary crept noiselessly down the stairs. +General was not in sight. The living room was in darkness. Only the hall +lights burned. It took but an instant to softly open the door. Mary sped +down the walk and on her errand of honor like a frightened fawn. Fortune +favored her. No eye marked her cautious ascent of the Delaney's steps. +She breathed a faint sigh of relief as she slipped the envelope into the +letter slot in the middle of the front door. Then she turned and dashed +for home like a pursued criminal. + +She had hardly gained the shelter of her room when she heard the front +door open to the accompaniment of cheerful voices. Mr. Dean had +evidently gone forth to bring his wife home from the lecture. Mary threw +herself on the bed, her heart pounding with excitement and the energy of +her brisk run. And though she was conscious only of having done a good +deed for honor's sake, nevertheless she had faced about and taken a long +step in the right direction. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A MYSTERIOUS WARNING + + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Dean. Is Marjorie here?" There was a hint of +suppressed excitement in the clear voice that asked the question. + +"Good morning, Harriet. Come in." Mrs. Dean smiled pleasantly upon her +caller, as she ushered her into the hall. "You are out early this +morning. Yes, Marjorie is here. She hasn't come downstairs yet. She is a +little inclined to linger in bed on Saturday morning." + +"I can't blame her," laughed Harriet. "I am fond of doing the same. But +I've a special reason for being out early this morning. It's about +basket ball. You may be sure of that." + +"Basket-ball is enjoying its usual popularity. I hear a great deal about +it of late," returned Mrs. Dean. "Pardon me." Raising her voice, she +called up the stairway, "Mar-jorie!" + +"Coming down on the jump, Captain!" answered Marjorie's voice. Verifying +her words, she bounded lightly down the stairs, still in her dressing +gown, her hair falling in long loose curls about her lovely face. "I +knew who was here. I heard Harriet's voice." + +"Oh, Marjorie," burst forth Harriet, taking a quick step forward. +"I--something awfully queer has happened!" She glanced nervously about +her, but Mrs. Dean had already vanished through the doorway, leading +into the dining room. She rarely intruded upon Marjorie's callers longer +than to welcome them. + +"What is it, Harriet?" fell wonderingly from Marjorie's lips. Her +friend's early call, coupled with her agitated manner, betokened +something unusual. + +"Read this!" Harriet thrust a sheet of pale gray note paper into +Marjorie's hand. "It's the strangest thing I ever heard of!" + +Marjorie swept the few scrawling lines of which the paper boasted with a +keen, comprehensive glance. As its import dawned upon her, her brown +eyes grew round with amazement. She re-read it twice. "Where did you +receive it?" came her sharp question, as she continued to hold it in her +hand. + +"I don't know when it came. Mother found it on the floor in the +vestibule this morning. I was still in bed. She sent Nora, our maid, +upstairs with it. You can imagine I didn't stop to finish my nap. I +hurried and dressed, ate about three bites of breakfast and started for +your house as fast as I could travel. I thought you ought to see it +first. What do you make of it?" + +"I hardly know what to think." Marjorie's glance strayed from Harriet's +perturbed face to the mysterious letter of warning. "Somehow, I don't +believe it was written for a joke. Do you?" + +"No, I don't." Harriet shook her head positively. "I think it was +intended for just what it is, a warning to be on our guard to-day. I'll +tell you something, Marjorie. I never mentioned it before +because--well--you know I've never liked Mignon La Salle since she +nearly broke up basket ball at Sanford High last year, and I was afraid +it might sound hateful on my part, but the girls of Mignon's squad are +as tricky as can be. Twice, in the first practice game we played, I had +my own troubles with them. Once Daisy Griggs nearly knocked me over. She +pretended it was an accident, but it wasn't. Then, in the second half, +Mignon poked me in the side with her elbow. We were bunched so close +that not even the referee saw her. I almost had the ball, but my side +hurt me so that I missed it entirely. Susan Atwell was awfully cross +about something that day, too. I asked her what had happened, but she +only muttered that she hoped she'd get through the game without being +murdered. She wouldn't say another word, but you can guess from what +I've told you that she must have had good reason for getting mad. Did +she say anything to you?" + +"No; I wish she had." A flash of anger darkened Marjorie's delicate +features. "The girls of Mignon's team have played fairly enough with me. +They are rough, I'll say that, but, so far they've not overstepped the +rules." + +"They know better than to try their tricks on _you_!" exclaimed Harriet +hotly, "or on Muriel, either. Mignon's afraid of you because you are +everything that's good and noble!" + +"Nonsense," Marjorie grew red at this flattering assertion. + +"It's true, just the same. She's afraid of Muriel, too, because she +knows that Muriel would report her to Miss Archer in a minute. She +thinks she can harass Esther and Susan and me and that we won't dare say +anything for fear Miss Archer will make a fuss. She knows how crazy we +are to play and that we'd stand a good deal of knocking about rather +than spoil everything. It's different with Muriel. If _she_ got mad, she +would walk off the floor and straight to Miss Archer's office, and those +girls know it." + +Marjorie was silent. What Harriet said in regard to Muriel was +undoubtedly true. Since the latter had turned from Mignon La Salle to +her, she had been the soul of devotion. She had never forgiven Mignon +for her cowardly conduct on the day of the class picnic. Muriel +reverenced the heroic, and Mignon had disgraced herself forever in the +eyes of this impulsive, hero-worshipping girl. + +"We had better show this letter to the other girls," Marjorie said with +sudden decision. "Come upstairs to my house. I'll hurry and dress. +Suppose you have a few more bites of breakfast with me. Your early +morning rush must have made you hungry, and you ought to be well fed, if +you expect to do valiant work on the field of battle this afternoon." + +"I _am_ hungry," conceded Harriet, "and I won't wait to be urged. I'd +love to take breakfast with you." Then, lowering her voice, she asked: +"Is Mary going to the game?" + +A faint wistfulness tinged Marjorie's voice as she said slowly. "I don't +know. I haven't asked her. I suppose she is, though." + +Although it was whispered among Marjorie's close friends that the +unpleasant scene at her party had left a yawning gap between the two +friends, never, by so much as a word, had Marjorie intimated the true +state of affairs to any one except Constance and Jerry Macy. Not even +Susan Atwell and Muriel Harding knew just how matters stood. Harriet +remembered this in the same moment of her question, and, flushing at her +own inquisitiveness, remarked hurriedly, "Everyone in school is coming +to see us play." + +"I'm glad of that." Marjorie had recovered again her usual cheerfulness, +and answered heartily. She kept up a lively stream of talk as she +completed her dressing. Tucking the letter inside her white silk blouse +she led the way downstairs to the dining room. She was slightly relieved +to see Mary's place at the table vacant. She guessed that the latter had +heard Harriet's voice and had purposely remained in her room. She had +not gone astray in this supposition. Mary _had_ heard Harriet speak and +knew only too well what had brought her to the Deans' house so early +that morning. + +It was nine o'clock when Marjorie and Harriet left the house to call on +Susan Atwell, who lived nearest. Susan read the mysterious warning and +was duly impressed with its significance. She was equally at sea as to +the writer. It soon developed, however, that Harriet had been correct in +assuming that Susan's wrath at the first game played against Mignon's +team had been occasioned by their unfair tactics. She had been slyly +tripped by Louise Selden, she asserted, and had fallen heavily. + +"All this is news to me," declared Marjorie, frowning her disapproval. +"It must be stopped." + +"How?" inquired Susan almost sulkily. + +"If necessary, we must have an understanding with our opponents," was +the quiet response. + +"That is easy enough to say," retorted Susan, "but if we were to accuse +those girls of playing unfairly, they would simply laugh at us and call +us babies." + +"I'd rather be laughed at and called a baby than allow such unfairness +to go on." There was a ring of determination in Marjorie's reply. + +"Let us hurry on to Muriel and hear her views," suggested Harriet. "She +lives next door to Esther Lind, so we can call them together and show +them the letter." + +Once the team were together they spent an anxious session over the +letter left by an unseen hand. Discussion ran rife. With her usual +impetuosity Muriel announced her intention of taking Mignon to task +before the game. "I'm not afraid of her," she boasted. "I'd rather not +play than to feel that at any minute I might be laid up for repairs. I'm +much obliged to the one who wrote this. He or she must have had a +troubled conscience." + +Marjorie cast a startled glance at Muriel. Could it be possible that +Mary had written the note? And yet something about the gray stationery +had seemed familiar. She was not sure, but she thought she had at some +time or other received a letter from her chum written on gray note +paper. She resolved to look through Mary's letters to her as soon as she +reached home. If Mary had, indeed, sent the warning, it was because she +felt constrained to do the only honorable thing in her power. +Association with Mignon had not entirely deadened her sense of right and +wrong. A wave of love and longing brought the tears to Marjorie's eyes. +She winked them back. She must not betray herself to her schoolmates. + +"Listen to me, girls," she began earnestly. "We mustn't say a word to +our opponents before the game. I know I just said that we ought to have +an understanding, and I meant it. But we had better wait until the end +of the first half. If everything is all right, then so much the better. +If it isn't--well--we shall at least have given them their chance." + +The players lingered in the Hardings' living room to discuss the coming +contest, go over their signals and prepare themselves as effectually as +possible for the fray. It was almost noon when Marjorie sped up the +stairs to her room, there to put into execution the search she had +decided to make. Mary's letters to her, tied with a bit of blue ribbon, +reposed in a pretty lacquered box designed especially to hold them. +Marjorie untied the ribbon and fingered them with a sigh of regret for +the happy past. Most of them were written on white paper, a few were on +pale blue, Mary's color. Almost at the bottom of the box was one gray +envelope. The searcher drew a quick breath as she separated it from its +fellows. Drawing the envelope from her blouse, she compared the two. +They were identical. The mysterious warning was no longer a mystery +to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A BOLD STAND FOR HONOR + + +Thrilled with the discovery she had just made, Marjorie's first impulse +was to seek admittance to the room so long denied her and confront Mary +with the knowledge of her good deed. Remembering her General's +injunction, "Let her alone," she refrained from yielding to that +impulse. Her pride, too, asserted itself. It was not her place to make +advances, all too likely to be rebuffed. No, she must keep her secret +until time had done its perfect work. Reconciliation lay in Mary's +hands, not hers. She decided, however, that the girls must never know +who had been the author of the warning. So far as she was concerned, it +must remain a mystery to them. + +"Where is Mary?" she inquired of her mother, as they sat down to +luncheon a little later. Mary's place at the table was vacant. + +"Oh, she was invited to luncheon at her friend Mignon's home," returned +Mrs. Dean, frowning slightly. "I suppose she is hoping that Mignon's +team will win the game this afternoon." + +"I suppose so," returned Marjorie absently. Her mind was still on her +discovery. Should she tell Captain about it? Perhaps it would be best. +Briefly she acquainted her mother with what she had so recently found +out. + +"I am not greatly surprised," was her mother's quiet comment. "Mary is +too good a girl at heart to persist for long in this ridiculous stand +she has taken. I am glad you said nothing of it to her. She must clear +her own path of the briars she has sown. When she does, she will have +learned a much-needed lesson." + +"But, Captain, it's dreadful to think of Christmas coming and Mary +and--I--not--friends," faltered Marjorie. "I can't give her a present, +and I'd love to. I suppose she doesn't care to give me one. We've always +exchanged gifts ever since we were little tots." + +"Perhaps everything will be all right by that time. If it isn't--well, I +have a plan--but I'm not going to say a word about it yet. Wait until +nearer Christmas. Then we shall see." + +"Oh, Mother, if only you could think of something that would make us +friends again, just for a day, I'd be so happy!" Marjorie clasped her +hands in fervent appeal. + +"Wait and see," smiled Mrs. Dean enigmatically. + +As Marjorie set out for the high school that afternoon she hummed a +jubilant snatch of song, due to the bright ray of sunlight that had +pierced the gloom. She could afford to wait, if waiting would bring +about the miracle that her mother had hinted might be wrought. She quite +forgot basket ball until she reached the steps of the high school. +There her mind reverted to the coming contest and she set her lips in +silent determination. Her team must win to-day. She could not endure the +thought that Mignon's team should be the one to play against the +freshmen for sophomore honors. + +It was half past one o'clock when she entered the building and hurried +to the dressing room at one side of the gymnasium, which was reserved +for her squad. The first to arrive, she hastily prepared for the game. +Meanwhile, she kept up an earnest thinking as to the course she had best +pursue if Mignon and her supporters overstepped the bounds of fair play. +But she could make up her mind to nothing. Mere contemplation of the +subject was so disagreeable she hated to face it. + +While she pondered, Susan Atwell bustled in with Muriel Harding. The two +remaining members of the team appeared soon after and a lively dressing +and talking bee ensued. The sophomore team, which Marjorie captained, +had chosen to wear their black basket ball regalia of the year before, +but instead of the violet "F" that had ornamented their blouses, a +scarlet "S" now replaced it. Black and scarlet were the sophomore +colors. Should their team win, they could wear the same suits in the +more important game to come. It was reported, however, that Mignon's +team would shine resplendently in new suits of gray, ornamented with a +rose-colored "S," which Mignon had provided at her own expense. If they +won, she had promised her adherents the prettiest black and scarlet +suits that could be obtained for the Thanksgiving Day contest. It is +needless to say that they had also set their minds on carrying off the +victor's palm. + +The game had been set for half past two o'clock, but long before that +hour the gallery audience of Sanford School girls, with a fair +sprinkling of boys from Weston High, had begun to arrive. Opinion was +divided as to the prospective winners. Marjorie's team boasted of +seasoned players, whose work on the field was well known. Mignon had not +been so fortunate. Neither Daisy Griggs nor Anne Easton had played +basket ball, previous to the opening of the season. But Mignon herself +was counted a powerful adversary. The sympathy of the boys lay for the +most part with Marjorie's squad. The Weston High lads were decidedly +partial to the pretty, brown-eyed girl, whose modest, gracious ways had +soon won their boyish approbation. Among the girls, however, Mignon +could count on fairly strong support. + +As it was a practice game no special preparations in the way of songs or +the wearing of contestants' colors had been observed. That would come +later, on Thanksgiving Day. But excitement ran higher than usual in the +audience, for it had been whispered about that it was to be "some game." + +"It's twenty-five after, children," informed Jerry Macy, who, with Irma +Linton and Constance Stevens, had been accorded the privilege of +invading the dressing room of Marjorie's team. Jerry had elected to +become a safety deposit vault for a miscellaneous collection of pins, +rings, neck chains and other simple jewelry dear to the heart of the +school girl. Marjorie's bracelet watch adorned one plump wrist, while +her own ornamented the other. + +"Look out, Jerry, or you'll make yourself cross-eyed trying to tell time +by both those watches at once," giggled Susan Atwell. + +"Don't you believe it," was Jerry's good-humored retort. "They're both +right to the minute." + +"Remember, girls, that we've just _got_ to win," counseled Marjorie +fervently. "Keep your heads, and don't let a single thing get by you. +We've practiced our signals until I'm sure you all know them perfectly." + +"We'll win fast enough, if certain persons play fairly," nodded Muriel +Harding, "but look out for Mignon." + +A shrill blast from the referee's whistle followed Muriel's warning. It +called them to action. + +The next instant five black and scarlet figures flashed forth onto the +gymnasium floor to meet the gray-clad quintette that advanced from the +opposite side of the room. + +United cheering from the gallery constituents of both teams rent the +air. The contestants acknowledged the applause and ran to their +stations. A significant silence fell as the referee poised the ball for +the opening toss. Mignon La Salle's black eyes were fastened upon it +with almost savage intensity. She leaped like a cat for it as it left +the referee's hands. Again the screech of the whistle sounded. The game +had begun. + +It was Marjorie who won the toss-up, however. She had been just a shade +quicker than Mignon. Now she sent the ball flying toward Susan Atwell +with a sure aim that made the onlookers gasp with admiration. Before the +gray-clad girls could comprehend just how it had all happened, their +opponents had scored. But this was only the beginning of things. Buoyant +over their initial gain, the black and scarlet girls played as though +inspired and soon the score stood 8 to 0 in their favor. + +Mignon La Salle was furious at the unexpected turn matters had taken. +Her players, of whom she had expected wonders, were behaving like +dummies. They had evidently forgotten her fierce exhortations to fight +their way to victory regardless of expense. Well, she would soon show +them their work. It did not take her long to put her resolve into +execution. Joining a wild rush for the ball, which Harriet Delaney was +valiantly trying to throw to basket, Mignon made good her word. Just +what happened to her Harriet could not say. She knew only that a sly, +tripping foot, unseen in the turmoil, sent her crashing to the floor, +while the ball passed into the enemy's keeping, and they scored. + +Inspired by the sweetness of success, Mignon's "dummies" awoke and +carried out the instructions, so often impressed upon them in secret by +their unscrupulous leader, in a series of plays that for sly roughness +had never been equalled by any other team that had elected to take the +floor in that gymnasium. Yet so cleverly did they execute them that +beyond an occasional foul they managed to elude the supposedly-watchful +eyes of the referee, an upper class friend of the French girl's, and +rapidly piled up their score. + +When the whistle called the end of the first half it found the score +10-8 in favor of the grays. It also found a quintet of enraged +black-clad girls, nursing sundry bruises and vows of vengeance. + +"It's a burning shame!" cried Susan Atwell, the moment the teams had +reached the safety of their dressing room. "I won't stand it. My ankle +hurts so where some one kicked it that I thought I couldn't finish the +first half. And poor Harriet! You must have taken an awful fall." + +"I did." Harriet Delaney was half crying. + +Muriel Harding's dark eyes were snapping with rage and injury. She was +nursing a scraped elbow, which she had received in the melee. "I'm going +straight to Miss Archer," she threatened. "I won't play the second half +with such dishonorable girls. That Miss Dutton, the referee, must know +something of the rough way they are playing. But _she_ is a friend of +Mignon's. I don't care much if Miss Archer forbids basket ball for the +rest of the season. I'd rather have it that way than be carried off the +floor, a wreck. I'm going now to find her. She's up in her office. Jerry +saw her just before she came to the gym. Didn't you, Jerry?" She turned +to the stout girl, who had just entered. At the beginning of the game, +Jerry, Constance and Irma had hurried to the gallery to watch it. +Seasoned fans, they had observed the playing with critical eyes that saw +much. The instant the first half was over, they had descended to their +friends with precipitate haste. + +"Yes, she's in her office." Jerry had appeared in time to hear Muriel's +tirade. "I think I _would_ go to her, if I were you, Muriel. Those girls +are a disgrace to Sanford." + +"Let's all go," proposed Harriet Delaney, wrathfully. "I'd rather do +that than stay and be murdered." + +Marjorie stood regarding her players with brooding eyes. She smiled +faintly at Harriet's vehement utterance. "Girls," she said in a clear, +resolute voice, "I told you this morning that if anything like this +happened I'd go straight to Mignon and have an understanding. I'm going. +I wish you to go with me, though. I have a reason for it." She walked +determinedly to the door. + +"What are you going to say to them, Marjorie?" demanded Muriel. "You +might as well save your breath. They'll only laugh at you. Miss Archer +is the person to go to." + +"Not yet." Marjorie shook her head in gentle contradiction. "Please let +me try my way, Muriel. If it doesn't work, then I promise you that I'll +go with you to Miss Archer. Oh, yes. I wish you all to stand by me, but +don't say a word unless I ask you to. Will you trust me?" She glanced +wistfully at her little flock. + +"Go ahead," ordered Muriel shortly. "We'll stand by you. Won't we, +girls?" + +Three heads nodded on emphatic assent. + +"All right. Come on. We haven't much time left. How many minutes, +Jerry?" + +"Eight," replied the stout girl. "Can Irma and Connie and I come, too?" + +"No. I'd rather you wouldn't." + +"We'll forgive you. Now beat it." Although Jerry was earnestly +endeavoring to eliminate slang from her vocabulary, she could not resist +this forceful advice. + +"Suppose we go around through the corridor and use that side door +nearest Mignon's dressing room," suggested Marjorie. "Then we won't be +noticed. I'd rather we weren't. This is really private, you know." + +Four black and scarlet figures gloomily followed their leader. There +were two doors to each dressing room. One led into the gymnasium, which +was situated in a wing of the school, the other led into the corridor. +Through the half-open door of Mignon's dressing room the sound of +exultant voices reached the advancing squad. She stood with her back +toward them. + +"We were a little too much for them." Mignon's boasting tones brought +fresh resentment to her injured opponents. "I told you that----" + +"Miss La Salle!" Marjorie's stern voice caused the French girl to whirl +about. "We heard what you were saying. We came over here to notify you +that we do not intend to play the second half of the game with you +unless you give us your promise to play fairly and without unnecessary +roughness." + +Mignon's black eyes blazed. "What do you mean by stealing into our room +and listening to our private conversation?" she demanded passionately. + +Marjorie faced the furious girl with calm, contemptuous eyes. Before +their steady gaze, Mignon quailed a trifle. + +"We did not _steal_ into your room. If you had not been so busy boasting +over your own unfairness you could have heard our approach. However, +that doesn't matter. What _does_ matter is this. Come here, Muriel." She +beckoned Muriel to her side. "Show Miss La Salle your elbow," she +commanded. + +Muriel rolled back her loose sleeve and showed the raw, red spot on her +soft, white arm. + +Mignon laughed sarcastically and shrugged her scorn of the injury. "You +can't be a baby and play basket ball," she jeered. + +"Neither can you behave like a savage and expect it to pass +unnoticed--by at least a few persons," retorted Marjorie. She was +fighting hard to control the rush of temper which this heartless girl +always brought to the surface. "Harriet was badly shaken up, because +someone purposely tripped her. Some one else kicked Susan on the ankle. +It is too much. We won't endure it. Now I give you fair warning, if any +girl of my squad is handled roughly during the next half she intends to +call a halt in the game. The rest of us will then leave the floor and go +to Miss Archer's office. Think it over. That's all." + +Marjorie turned on her heel. Without so much as a glance toward the +discomfited girls of Mignon's team, she walked from the room, followed +by her silently obedient train. + +"Well, _what_ do you think of that?" gasped Louise Selden. Nevertheless, +she had had the grace to turn very red during Marjorie's stern +arraignment. + +Mignon turned savagely upon the abashed members of her squad. "If you +pay any attention to _her_, you are all _babies_," she hissed. "You are +to play the second half just as I told you. Don't let that priggish Dean +girl scare you. _She_ wouldn't go to Miss Archer. She knows better than +that." + +"You're wrong, Mignon. She meant every word she said." Daisy Griggs' +ruddy face had grown suddenly pale. "_I'm_ going to be pretty careful +how I play the rest of this game." + +"So am I," echoed Elizabeth Meredith. "If Miss Dean went to Miss Archer +it would raise a regular riot." + +Anne Easton and Louise Selden nodded in solemn agreement with Daisy's +bold stand. In her heart each of them stood convicted of unworthiness. +The righteous gleam of Marjorie's clear eyes had made them feel most +uncomfortable. + +"You're cowards, every one of you," burst forth Mignon, her dark face +distorted with rage, "and if----" + +"T-r-r-ill!" The referee's whistle was summoning them to the game. + +Mignon ran to her station resolved on vengeance. Four girls followed her +to their places divided between two fears. Awe of Miss Archer and the +disaster that would surely overtake them if they persisted in their +former tactics acted as a spur to their sleeping consciences. Fear of +Mignon became a secondary emotion. They vowed within themselves to play +fairly and they kept their vow. + +The second half of the game opened very well for Marjorie's team. She +passed the ball to Susan Atwell, who scored, thereby winning a salvo of +hearty applause from the gallery. The watchful spectators had not been +blind to the unfair methods of the grays. Two goals followed in their +favor. So far the grays had done nothing. Unnerved by Marjorie's just +censure and the fear of exposure, they paid little heed to Mignon's +glowering glances and frantic signals. They played in a half-hearted, +diffident fashion, quite the opposite of their whirlwind sweep during +the first half. The black and scarlet girls soon brought the score up to +14 to 10 in their favor, and from that moment on had things decidedly +their own way. Time after time Mignon cut in desperately for the basket +to receive a pass, but on each occasion her team-mates made a wild +throw. Marjorie's team, however, played with perfect unity, working in +several successful signal plays. Try as she might, the French girl could +do nothing to arouse her players. Their passing became so delinquent +that once or twice it brought derisive groans from the male spectators +in the gallery. As the second half neared its end, Muriel Harding made a +sensational throw to basket that aroused the gallery to wild enthusiasm. +It also served to take the faint remaining spirit from the disheartened +grays, and the game wound up with a score of 30 to 12 in favor of the +black and scarlet girls. They had won a complete and sweeping victory +over their unworthy opponents. + +It was a proud moment for Marjorie Dean, as she stood surrounded by a +flock of jubilant boys and girls, who had rent the gallery air with +appreciative howls, then hustled from their places aloft to offer their +congratulations to the victors. + +"I'm so glad you won, Marjorie," cried Ellen Seymour. Lowering her +voice, she added: "I could see a few things. I'm not the only one. But +what happened to them? They actually played fairly in the second +half--all except Mignon. But she couldn't do much by herself." + +Marjorie smiled faintly. "We must have discouraged them, I suppose. We +never before worked together so well as we played in that second half. +Wasn't that a wonderful throw to basket that Muriel made?" + +"Splendid," agreed Ellen warmly. "I predict an easy victory for the +sophomores on Thanksgiving Day." + +Marjorie breathed relief. "Are you coming to see us play, or are you +going away for Thanksgiving?" was her tactful question. + +Ellen plunged into a voluble recital of her Thanksgiving plans, quite +forgetting her curiosity over the sudden change of tactics of the +defeated grays. Several girls joined in the conversation, and thus the +talk drifted away from the subject Marjorie wished most to avoid. + +In Mignon's dressing room, however, a veritable tornado had burst. Four +sullen, gray-clad girls bowed their heads before the storm of +passionate reproaches hurled upon them by their irate leader. They were +seeing and hearing Mignon at her worst, and they did not relish it. It +may be set down to their credit that not one of them took the trouble to +answer her. Beyond a mute exchange of meaning glances, they ignored her +scorn, slipping away like shadows when they had changed their basket +ball suits for street apparel. Outside the high school they congregated +and made solemn agreement that now and forever they were "through" with +Mignon. + +Several friends of the latter, including Miss Dutton, the referee, +dropped into the dressing room, and to them Mignon continued her tirade. +But the face of one hitherto ardent supporter was missing. Mary Raymond +had fled from the school the moment the game was ended. For once she had +seen too much of Mignon. She had tried to force herself to believe that +she was sorry for the latter's deserved defeat, but, in reality, she was +glad that Marjorie's team had won. She determined to go home and wait +for her chum. She would confess that she was sorry for the past and ask +Marjorie to forgive her. + +Putting her determination into swift action, she left the high school +behind her almost at a run. Once she had reached home she paused only to +hang her wraps on the hall rack, then posted herself in the living-room +window, an anxious little figure. When Marjorie came she would open the +hall door for her. She would say, "I surrender, Lieutenant. Please +forgive me." She smiled a trifle sadly to herself in anticipation of +the forgiving arms that Marjorie would extend to her. She was not sure +she merited forgiveness. + +But when at last Marjorie came in sight of the gate, Mary vented an +exclamation of pain and anger. Marjorie was not alone. Up the walk she +loitered, arm-in-arm with Constance Stevens. The old jealousy, forgotten +in Marjorie's hour of triumph, swept Mary like a blighting wind. She +turned and fled from the hated sight that met her eyes, a deserter to +her good intentions. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +HOISTING THE FLAG OF TRUCE + + +Thanksgiving Day walked in amid a flurry of snow, accompanied by a +boisterous wind, which roared a bleak reminiscence of that first +Thanksgiving Day on a storm rock-bound coast, when a few faithful souls +had braved his fury and gone forth to give thanks for life and liberty. +Despite his challenging roar, the boys of Weston High School played +their usual game of football against a neighboring eleven and emerged +from the field of conquest, battered and victorious, to rest in the +proud bosoms of their families and devour much turkey. In the afternoon, +the long-talked-of game of basket ball came off between the sophomores +and the freshmen. It was an occasion of energetic color-flaunting, in +which black and scarlet banners predominated. It seemed as though almost +every one in Sanford High School, with the exception of the freshmen +themselves, was devoted heart and soul to the sophomores. The rumor of +the unfair treatment they had received in the deciding practice game had +been noised abroad, and Marjorie and her team mates were in a fair way +to be lionized. A packed gallery, much jubilant singing and frantic +applause of every move they made, spurred the black and scarlet girls to +doughty deeds, and, although it was a hard-fought battle, in which the +freshmen played for dear life, the sophomores won. + +Altogether, it was a day long to be remembered, and Marjorie lived it +for all that lay within her energetic young body and mind. Only the one +flaw that marred its perfection and left her sober-eyed and +retrospective when the eventful holiday was ended. She felt that one +word of commendation from Mary would have been worth more than all the +praise she had received from admiring friends. But Mary was as stony and +implacable as ever, giving no sign of the surrender which Constance +Stevens had unconsciously nipped in the bud. + +Just how Mary spent that particular Thanksgiving Day Marjorie did not +learn until long afterward. She knew only that Mary had left the house +directly after dinner, merely stating that she intended making several +calls, and was seen no more until ten o'clock that night, when she +flitted into the house like a ghost and vanished up the stairs to her +own room. + +After Thanksgiving, basket ball echoes died out in the growing murmur of +coming Christmas joys, and like every young girl, Marjorie grew +impatient and enthusiastic over her holiday plans. She did not chatter +them as freely to General and Captain when at table as had been her +custom each year in the happy days when only they three had been +together. As her formerly lovable self, Marjorie would have felt no +reserve in Mary's presence, but this strange, new Mary with her white, +immobile face and indifferent eyes, chilled her and killed her desire to +exchange the usual gay badinage with her General, which had always made +meal-time a merry occasion. + +"I don't like Mary's effect on our little girl, Margaret. Of late, +Marjorie is as solemn as a judge," remarked Mr. Dean one evening as he +lingered at the dinner table after Mary and Marjorie had excused +themselves and gone upstairs on the plea of studying to-morrow's +lessons. "I counseled Marjorie, the night I took her to Devon Inn to +dinner, to let matters work out in their own way. That was some time +ago. Perhaps I'd better take a hand and see what I can do toward ending +this internal war. Christmas will soon be here. We can't have our Day of +Days spoiled by one youngster's perversity." + +"I have thought of that, too," returned Mrs. Dean, smiling, "and I have +a plan. I shall need your help to carry it out, though." + +When she had finished the laying out of her clever scheme for a +congenial Christmas all around, Mr. Dean threw back his head in a hearty +laugh. "It's decidedly ingenious, and in keeping," was his tribute. +"I'll help you put it through, with pleasure. But after Christmas----" +He paused, his laughing eyes growing grave. + +"After Christmas our services as peace advocates may not be needed," +supplemented Mrs. Dean. "At least, I hope they may not. I am still of +the opinion, however, that Mary must be left to repent of her own folly. +If she is coaxed and wheedled into good humor she will never realize how +badly she has behaved." + +"I suppose that is so. But, naturally, I am more interested in healing +our poor little soldier's hurts than in trying to bring a certain +stubborn young person to her senses. We will try out our idea. It will +insure one satisfactory day, I hope. Unless I prove a poor diplomat." + +Although Marjorie's blithe voice was too frequently stilled in Mary's +presence, she was uniformly sunny when she and her Captain were alone +together. Now fairly familiar with Sanford, Mrs. Dean had made it a part +of her daily life to seek and assist certain families among the poor of +the little northern city. Now that Christmas was so near she was making +a special effort to gladden the hearts of those to whom life had seemed +to grudge even daily bread. She had contrived wisely to interest +Marjorie in this charitable work, with the idea of taking her mind from +the bitter disappointment Mary's change of heart had brought her, and +had been touched and gratified at the unselfish eagerness with which +Marjorie had taken up the work. The latter had aroused Jerry Macy's, as +well as Constance Stevens', interest in planning a merry Christmas for +the poor of Sanford. Constance was particularly desirous of helping. She +would never forget the previous Christmas Eve, when, laden with good +will and be-ribboned offerings, Marjorie had smilingly appeared at the +little gray house where Poverty reigned supreme and helped her transform +Charlie's rickety express wagon into a veritable fairy couch, piled high +with the precious tokens of unselfish love. She felt that the only way +in which she might show her lasting gratitude for the gifts of that +snowy Christmas Eve was to share her blessings with others who were in +need, and she quickly became Marjorie's most faithful servitor. + +Good-natured Jerry was also keen to bestow her time and world goods in +the Christmas cause, and almost every afternoon when school was over the +three girls conspired together in the cause of happiness. Marjorie +unearthed a trunk of her childish toys from an obscure corner of the +garret, and a great mending and refurbishing movement ensued. Jerry, not +to be outdone, canvassed among her friends for suitable gifts to lay at +the shrine of Christmas, which rose to life eternal when three wise men +placed their reverent offerings at the feet of a Holy Child long +centuries before. While Constance Stevens drew largely on a sum of +money, which her indulgent aunt had placed in the bank to her credit and +enjoyed to the full the blessedness of giving. + +"Maybe we haven't been busy little helpers, though," declared Jerry +Macy one blustering afternoon, as the three girls sat in the Deans' +living room, surrounded by ribbon-bound packages of all shapes and +sizes. "Truly, I never had such a good time before in all my life." + +"That's just the way I feel," nodded Constance, as she tied an +astounding bow of red ribazine about an oblong package that +suggested a doll, and consulted a fat note book, lying wide +spread on the library table, for the address of the prospective +possessor. "Marjorie, will you ever forget how happy Charlie was +last year?" + +"Dear little Charlie!" Marjorie's lips smiled tender reminiscence of the +tiny boy's jubilation over his wonderful discovery that Santa Claus had +not forgotten him. "His Christmas will be a merry one this year, even to +the good, strong leg that he hoped Santa would bring him." + +"He can't possibly be any happier than he was _last_ Christmas morning," +was Constance's soft reply. "And it was all through you, Marjorie." + +"Oh, I wasn't the only one. Your father and you and Uncle John gave him +things, and Delia popped the corn for his tree, and, don't you remember, +Laurie Armitage brought you the tree and the holly and ground pine?" + +Constance flushed slightly at the mention of Lawrence Armitage. A +sincere boy and girl friendship had sprung up between them that promised +later to ripen into perfect love. + +"That reminds me," broke in Jerry bluntly. "I've something to tell you, +girls. Hal told me. He's my most reliable source of information when it +comes to news of Weston High. Laurie is writing an operetta. He's going +to call it 'The Rebellious Princess,' and he would like to give a +performance of it in the spring. There's to be a big chorus and +Professor Harmon is going to pick a cast from the boys and girls of +Weston and Sanford High Schools." + +"Who is Professor Harmon?" asked Constance curiously. + +"Oh, he's the musical director at Weston High," answered Jerry +offhandedly. "He looks after the singing and glee clubs there, just as +Miss Walters does at Sanford High. You can sing, Connie, and Laurie +knows it. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd get the leading part." + +"I'd be more surprised if I did," laughed Constance, "considering that I +don't even know Professor Harmon when I see him." + +"Laurie will introduce you to him, I guess," predicted Jerry +confidently. "Hal said something about a try-out of voices. I can't +remember what it was. I'll ask him when I go home." + +"I don't believe I could even sing in a chorus," laughed Marjorie. "I +haven't a strong voice." + +"You can look pretty, though, and _that_ counts," was Jerry's emphatic +consolation. "That's more than I can do. I can't see myself shine, even +in a chorus. I don't sing. I shout, and then I'm always getting off the +key," she ended gloomily. + +Constance and Marjorie giggled at Jerry's funny description of her vocal +powers. The stout girl's brief gloom vanished in a broad grin. + +"Two more days and Christmas will be here!" exclaimed Marjorie with a +joyous little skip, which caused a pile of packages on the floor near +her to tumble in all directions. + +"Easy there!" warned Jerry. Secretly she was delighted at her friend's +lightsome mood. Marjorie had been altogether too serious of late. +Privately, she had frequently wished that Mary Raymond had never set +foot in Sanford. + +The early December dusk had fallen when, the last package wrapped, +Constance and Jerry said good-bye to Marjorie. "I'll be over bright and +early Christmas morning," reminded Constance. "Remember, you are coming +to Gray Gables on Christmas night, Marjorie. Charlie made me promise for +you ahead of time. I'd love to have you come, too, Jerry." + +"Can't do it. Thank you just the same, but the Macys far and near are +going to hold forth at our house and poor little Jerry will have to stay +at home and do the agreeable hostess act," declared Jerry, looking +comically rueful. + +"I'll surely be there, Connie. I'll bring my offerings with me. Don't +you forget that you are due at the Deans' residence on Christmas +morning. Bring Charlie with you." + +After her friends had gone, Marjorie went into the living room to +speculate for the hundredth time on the subject of Mary's present. It +was a beautiful little neckchain of tiny, square, gold links, similar to +one her Captain had given her on her last birthday. Mary had frequently +admired it in times past and for months Marjorie had saved a portion +from her allowance with which to buy it. She had a theory that a gift to +one's dearest friends should entail self-sacrifice on the part of the +giver. Mary's changed attitude toward her had not counted. She was still +resolved upon giving her the chain. But how was she to do it? And +suppose when she offered it Mary were to refuse it? + +The entrance of her mother broke in upon her unhappy speculations. "I'm +glad you came, Captain," she said. "I've been trying to think how I had +best give Mary her present." + +"Then don't worry about it any longer," comforted Mrs. Dean. Stepping +over to the low chair in which Marjorie sat she passed her arm about her +troubled daughter and drew her close. "That is a part of my plan. Wait +until Christmas morning and you will know." + +"Tell me now," coaxed Marjorie, snuggling comfortably into the hollow of +the protecting arm. + +"That would be strictly against orders," came the laughing response. +"Have patience, Lieutenant." + +"All right, I will." Sturdily dismissing her curiosity, Marjorie began a +detailed account of the afternoon's labor, which lasted until Mr. Dean +came rollicking in and engaged Marjorie in a rough-and-tumble romp that +left her flushed and laughing. + +Despite her many errands of good will and charity, the next two days +dragged interminably. On Christmas Eve Mr. Dean took his family and Mary +to the theatre to see a play that had had a long, successful run in New +York City the previous season and was now doomed to the road. After the +play they stopped at Sargent's for a late supper. Under Mr. Dean's +genial influence Mary thawed a trifle and even went so far as to address +Marjorie several times, to the latter's utter amazement. This was in +reality the beginning of Mrs. Dean's carefully laid plan. Marjorie +guessed as much and wondered hopefully as to what might happen next. + +Nothing special occurred that evening, however, except that Mary bade +her a curt "good night." But Marjorie hugged even that short utterance +to her heart and went to sleep in a buoyantly hopeful state of mind. + +She was awakened the next morning by a military tattoo, rapped on her +door by energetic fingers. "Report to the living room for duty," +commanded a purposely gruff voice, which she was not slow to recognize. + +"Merry Christmas, General," she called. "Lieutenant Dean will report in +the living room in about three minutes." Hopping out of bed she reached +for her bath robe. Then the sound of tapping fingers again came to her +ears. This time they were on Mary's door. Hastily drawing on stockings +and bed-room slippers, she sped from her room and down the stairs. Her +father stood stiffly at the foot of the stairway in his most +general-like manner. She saluted and came to attention. A moment or two +of waiting followed, then Mary appeared at the head of the stairs. She +began to descend slowly, but Mr. Dean called out, "No lagging in the +line," and long obedience to orders served to make her quicken her pace. + +"Twos right, march," ordered Mr. Dean, motioning toward the living room. + +Wonderingly the company of two obeyed. Then two pairs of eyes were +fastened upon a curious object that stood upright in the middle of the +living-room table. It was a good-sized flag of pure white. + +"Form ranks!" came the order. + +Two girlish figures lined up, side by side. + +"Salute the Flag of Truce," commanded the wily General. + +Mary gave an audible gasp of sheer amazement. Marjorie laughed outright. + +"Silence in the ranks," bellowed the stern commandant. "Pay strict +attention to what I am about to say. In time of war it sometimes becomes +necessary to hoist a flag of truce. This means a suspense of +hostilities. The flag of truce is hoisted in this house for all day. It +will remain so until twelve o'clock to-night. Respect it. Now break +ranks and we'll enjoy our Christmas presents. I hope my army hasn't +forgotten its worthy General!" + +"Mary," Marjorie's voice trembled. Tears blurred her brown eyes. "It's +Christmas morning. Will you kiss me?" + +Mary was possessed with a contrary desire to turn and rush upstairs. She +felt dimly that to kiss Marjorie was to declare peace against her will. +But her better nature whispered to her not to ruin the peace of +Yuletide. She would respect the flag of truce for one day. Then she +could give Marjorie the ring she had bought for her before coming to +Sanford and laid away for Christmas. Afterward she would show her that +she had softened merely for the time being. She returned Marjorie's +affectionate kiss rather coolly. Nevertheless, the ice was broken. + +Five minutes later she found herself running upstairs for her presents +for the Deans in an almost happy mood, and she joined in the present +giving with a heartiness that was far from forced. Once she had ceased +to resist Marjorie's winning advances she was completely drawn into the +divine spirit of the occasion, and she allowed herself to drift once +more into the dear channel of bygone friendship. + +Marjorie fairly bubbled over with exuberant happiness. The unbelievable +had come to pass. She and Mary were once more chums. She longed to tell +Mary all that was in her heart, but refrained. For to-day it was better +to live on the surface of things. Later there would be plenty of time +for confidences. After breakfast she mentioned rather timidly that she +expected a call from Constance and little Charlie. + +Mary received the statement with an apparent docility that brought +welcome relief to Marjorie. She was not sure of her chum on this one +point. When Constance and Charlie arrived at a little after ten o'clock, +burdened with gaily decked bundles, Marjorie's fears were set at rest. +To be sure, Mary showed no enthusiasm over Constance, but Charlie was a +different matter. She had conceived a strange, deep love for the quaint +little boy and spared no pains to entertain him. While she was putting +Marjorie's beautiful angora cat, Ruffle, through a series of cunning +little tricks, which he performed with sleepy indolence, Marjorie +managed to say to Constance, "I can't come to see you to-night, Connie. +I'll explain some day soon. You understand." + +Constance nodded wisely. Nothing could have induced her to mar the +reconciliation which had evidently taken place. "Come when you can," she +murmured. Generously leaving herself out of the question, she purposely +shortened her stay, although Charlie pleaded to remain. + +"I'll come again soon," he assured Mary, as he was being towed off by +his sister's determined hand. "I like you almost as well as Connie." + +Marjorie's glorious day was over all too soon. She hovered about Mary +with a friendly solicitude that could not be denied. The latter +graciously allowed her the privilege, but behind her pleasant manner +there was a hint of reserve, which did not dawn upon Marjorie until late +that evening. At first she reproached herself for even imagining it, but +as bedtime approached the conviction grew that when twelve o'clock came +Mary would again resume her hostile attitude. + +"It is time taps was sounded," reminded Mr. Dean, looking up from his +book, as the grandfather's clock in the living room pointed half past +eleven. Mrs. Dean sat placidly reading a periodical. + +"We'll obey you, General, as soon as we've finished our game." Marjorie +looked up from the backgammon board at which she and Mary were seated. +It had always been a favorite game with them and Marjorie had proposed +playing to relieve the curious sensation of apprehension that was +gradually settling down upon her. + +It was five minutes to twelve when she put the board away. Mary had +strolled to the living-room door. Pausing for an instant she said, as +though reciting a lesson, "I've had a lovely day. Thank you all for my +presents." Without waiting for replies, she turned and mounted the +stairs. The sound of a door, closed with certain decision, floated down +to the three in the living room. + +Marjorie walked slowly to the table, and drawing the flag of truce from +its improvised standard, handed it to her father. "I knew it would end +like that, General," she commented sadly. "I felt it coming all evening. +Just the same it was a splendid plan, and I thank you for it." She +lingered lovingly to kiss her father and mother good night, then marched +to her room with a brave face. But as she passed the door that had once +more been closed against her she vowed within herself that from this +moment forth she would cease to mourn for the "friendship" of a girl who +was so heartless as Mary Raymond. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE LAST STRAW + + +It had been Mary Raymond's firm intention when she closed her door that +Christmas night to resume hostilities the next day. But when she met +Marjorie at breakfast the following morning, her desire for continued +warfare had vanished. Some tense chord within her stubborn soul had +snapped. Looking back on yesterday she realized that it had not been +worth while. Now her proud spirit cried for peace. She wished she had +not been so ready to doubt her chum's loyalty and with a curious +revulsion of feeling she began to long for a reinstatement into her +affections. + +But her perfunctory "good night" had cost her more than she dreamed. It +had awakened a tardy resentment in Marjorie's hitherto forgiving heart +that she could not readily efface. Outwardly Marjorie seemed the same. +She returned Mary's greeting pleasantly enough, showing nothing of the +surprise it had given her. Mary was not destined to learn for some time +to come that a reaction had taken place. + +Mr. and Mrs. Dean were relieved to find that Marjorie's prediction was +not verified. To all appearances the two girls had definitely resumed +their old, friendly footing. Only Marjorie knew differently, but she did +not intend then or on any future occasion to betray herself, even to her +Captain. + +As the winter days glided swiftly along the road to Spring, it was +circulated about among Marjorie's intimate friends that she and Mary had +settled their differences. Keen-eyed Jerry Macy, however, had seen +deeper than her classmates. Although Mary now occasionally walked home +with them or accompanied them to Sargent's, spending considerably less +time with Mignon, Jerry was quick to feel rather than note the slight +reserve Marjorie exhibited toward Mary. "Don't you believe they've made +up," she declared to Irma Linton. "Mary may think they have, but they +haven't. I guess Marjorie's grown tired of Mary's nonsense. I'm glad of +it. She's a silly little goose, I mean Mary, and she's lost more than +she thinks." + +It was on a sunny afternoon in late March, however, before Mary was +rudely jolted into the same conclusion. Mignon La Salle was also +possessed of "the seeing eye." Mary was no longer her devoted satellite, +although she still kept up an indifferent kind of friendship with the +French girl. Mignon soon divined the cause of her lagging allegiance. +"You are a little idiot, Mary Raymond, to follow Marjorie Dean about as +you do. She doesn't care a snap for you. She may treat you nicely, but +that's as far as it goes. She cares more for that miserable Stevens girl +in a minute than she cares for _you_ in a whole year. Why can't you let +her alone and chum with some one who appreciates you." + +"I don't follow Marjorie about," contested Mary hotly. "I never go +anywhere with her unless she asks me." + +"She merely does that through courtesy," shrugged Mignon. "I suppose she +thinks it her duty. She's a prig and I despise her." + +Mary's face flamed at the obnoxious word "duty." In a flash her mind +reviewed all that had passed since that memorable Christmas day. Her +cheeks grew hotter at the brutal truth of Mignon's words. + +"If you think I care anything about her, you have made a mistake," she +retorted, stung to untruthfulness by the taunt. "I'll soon prove to you +that I don't." + +"Stop running around with her and her wonderful friends and I'll believe +you," sneered Mignon. + +"I will, if only to show you that I don't care," flung back the angry +girl. + +"That's the way to talk," approved Mignon. She had kept but few friends +among the sophomores since that fatal practice game and she did not +intend to lose Mary from her diminished circle. Besides, she was certain +that the Deans, one and all, did not approve of Mary's friendship with +her and it accorded her supreme pleasure to annoy them. + +"I'm going to give a fancy dress party two weeks from Friday night," she +went on, with an abrupt change of subject. "Nearly all the girls I'm +intending to invite are juniors and seniors. We'll have a glorious time. +I don't have to strip our living room of furniture for a place to dance. +I have a _real_ ballroom in my home. I'll send you an invitation in a +day or two." + +Surely enough, three days after Mignon's announcement the invitation was +duly delivered to Mary through the mail. She read it listlessly. She was +not keen about attending the party. Marjorie merely smiled when Mary +showed her the invitation and briefly announced her intention of going. +She graciously offered the Snow White costume she had worn at the +masquerade of the previous Spring. Mary declined it coldly. She had not +forgotten Mignon's taunts. Since then she had kept strictly to herself, +steadily refusing Marjorie's polite invitations to accompany her here +and there. Earlier in the year Marjorie would have grieved in secret +over this frostiness, but Marjorie had hardened her gentle heart and now +fancied that Mary's movements were of small concern to her. And so the +wall of misunderstanding towered higher and higher. + +Mrs. Dean willingly helped Mary plan a cunning little girl costume, and +when on the night of the party she entered the living room in obedience +to her Captain's call, "Come here and let us see how you look, Mary," a +lump rose in Marjorie's throat. In her short, white, embroidered frock, +with its Dutch neck and wide, blue ribbon sash, she looked precisely +like the pretty child that she had been when she and Marjorie played +"house" together in the Raymonds' backyard. The blue silk stockings and +heelless, blue kid slippers emphasized the babyish effect of her +costume, and Marjorie had hard work to keep back her tears. But Mary +could not read that sudden rush of emotion in the calm, uncritical face +which Marjorie turned to her. + +Mignon had sent her runabout for Mary and it was a trifle after eight +o'clock when the La Salle's chauffeur drove up the wide, handsome +driveway to Mignon's home. It was an unusually mild evening in April and +as they neared the port-cochere, a slim figure in gypsy dress ran down +the steps. "I've been watching for you," called Mignon, as Mary stepped +from the runabout. "The musicians are here and so are most of the girls. +I can't imagine why the boys don't come. Only six have appeared, so far. +We've had one dance," she went on crossly. "Some of the girls had to +dance together. Wasn't that horrid? Take off your cloak and let me see +your costume. It's sweet." + +The chauffeur had disappeared and the two girls stood for an instant at +the foot of the steps. + +Advancing suddenly out of the darkness marched a sturdy little figure. +Under its arm was thrust a diminutive violin case. "How do you do?" it +greeted with a quaint, bobbing bow. "I comed to play in the band." + +With a quick exclamation of surprise, Mary Raymond darted toward the +tiny youngster. "Charlie Stevens!" she gasped. "What are you doing away +over here after dark?" + +"I comed to play in the band," repeated Charlie with a jubilant wave of +his violin case that almost sent it hurtling from his baby fingers. +"Uncle John comed and so I comed, too." + +Mary knelt on the driveway and gathered him into her round, young arms. +"Listen to Mary, dear little boy. Did Charlie run away?" She had heard +from Marjorie of Charlie's frequent attempts to sally forth to conquer +the world with his violin. + +The child's sensitive face clouded. His lip quivered. "Connie says I +have to always tell the truth," he wailed. "I runned away because I have +to play in the big band. A man comed to see Uncle John this afternoon. I +heard him talk about the band. Uncle John comed to play in it, so I +comed, too. Only he didn't see me. I kept behind him till he got to the +gate. Then after a while I comed, too!" + +Mignon La Salle stood watching the wailing aspirant for the "big band" +with frowning eyes. "I suppose this ridiculous child belongs to those +Stevens," she sneered. + +"Ain't a 'diclus child," contradicted Charlie with dignity. "I'm a +mesishun. I can play the fiddle. I like Mary. I don't like you." + +"I have heard that this Stevens boy was an idiot. Now I believe it," +snapped Mignon. "I suppose I'll have to take him in until some one comes +after him. I didn't know his uncle was to be one of the musicians. If I +had, I would have made the leader hire some other man. I sha'n't tell +his uncle that he's here. He's hired to play for my dance, not to waste +his time taking a simpleton home. It's a perfect nuisance." + +Her long hoop ear-rings swung and shook with the vehemence of her +displeasure. + +Mary Raymond's face changed from red to white as she listened to the +French girl's callous speech. A lover of all children, she could not +endure the slight put upon this tiny boy. She straightened up with an +alacrity that nearly threw Charlie off his balance. Her blue eyes +flashed with righteous wrath. "How can you be so harsh with this cunning +boy?" she cried. "He isn't an idiot or a simpleton! He's as bright +as--as----" (courtesy conquered) "as any child of his age. Why, he's +only a baby. He's not going into your house, either, to wait for his +family to find him. He's going home now, and I'm going to take him." + +"You can't go very far in that short dress and those thin slippers," +mocked Mignon. "Don't be a silly. Bring him in, I say, and hurry. I must +go back to my guests." + +"Please go to them," Mary spoke in icily dignified tones. "As for me, I +have my cloak." She held forth one bare arm on which swung her long, +gray evening cape. "I should never forgive myself if I neglected this +little tot. I'm sorry to be so rude, but I can't help it. I'm going now. +Good night. Come, Charlie." Wrapping her cloak about her, Mary gently +disengaged the violin case from Charlie's clutch, tucked it under one +arm and took firm hold of the youngster's hand. Charlie was still +regarding Mignon's swaying ear-rings with childish fascination. + +"You are a orful naughty girl," he pouted reproachfully. + +"If you leave me now to take that impudent child home, I'll never speak +to you again," threatened Mignon, her black eyes snapping. + +"Very well. You may do as you please," was Mary's laconic response over +her shoulder. She had already started down the driveway with her +venturesome charge. The little boy had been momentarily awed into +silence at Mignon's menacing features. + +"She's a cross girl," he observed calmly, as he marched along beside +Mary, "but we don't care, do we?" + +"_No_, we _don't_," came emphatically from Mary's lips. And she meant +it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +FACE TO FACE WITH HERSELF + + +Although Mary Raymond had deliberately snapped the chain that bound her +to Mignon La Salle, she now found herself confronted by a far more +difficult task. How was she to return little Charlie to Gray Gables +without meeting Constance Stevens or another member of her family? It +was not yet nine o'clock. It was, therefore, barely possible that +Charlie had not been missed. Perhaps Constance and her aunt were not at +home. It stood to reason that if they had been, Charlie would never have +succeeded in slipping away and following John Roland to his evening's +assignment. + +Once outside the La Salle's gate, Mary paused uncertainly. Charlie +tugged impatiently at her hand. "Come on, Mary. Take Charlie home," he +demanded. + +Apparently unmindful of the child's presence, Mary stood still, staring +thoughtfully up and down the moonlit street. It was an unusually mild +night for that time of year, and the ground was bare of snow. March was +in a deceptive, springlike mood, smiling and sunny by day, with the +merest touch of snappiness by night. Nevertheless, it was scarcely an +occasion for a walk in thin kid slippers and silk stockings, and Mary +shivered slightly as she stood there trying to decide what was to be +done. + +"Listen to Mary, Charlie boy," she began suddenly, bending down and +looking seriously into the child's bright, black eyes. "Where were +Connie and Auntie when you ran away?" + +"_They_ runned away from Charlie," was the prompt reply, given with an +aggrieved pout. "Charlie wanted to go, too, and Connie said 'no.' They +wented to the the'ter where the band plays all the time." + +"And where was nurse?" + +"She wented away, too, but Connie didn't know it. She thought Charlie +didn't know, either. But she told Bessie, and Charlie heard." + +"So, that is the reason," murmured Mary. Then she said to Charlie, "If +Mary takes you home will you promise her something?" + +"Yes," nodded Charlie. + +"Then promise Mary that you won't tell anyone you ran away, or that Mary +brought you home." + +"Aren't you going to tell Connie that Charlie was a naughty boy?" came +the anxious question. + +"No, not unless someone sees Charlie when he goes home and asks about +it." + +"Then Charlie won't tell, either," was the calm response. The boy was +proving himself anything but a simpleton. + +"All right. Now we must hurry." Mary took firm hold of the tiny hand and +the two started for Gray Gables as fast as the boy's small feet would +permit of walking. It was not far from the La Salle's home to Gray +Gables. Mary was thankful for that. Not in the least oppressed with a +sense of his own shortcomings, Charlie kept up an animated conversation +during the short walk. He even proposed stopping in the middle of the +street to demonstrate for her special edification his prowess as a +fiddler. Mary vetoed this proposal, however. She was bent on reaching +Gray Gables as soon as possible. + +Just inside the grounds she halted and viewed the house with speculative +eyes. Lights gleamed from the hall, the living room, and from one +upstairs window. Then, with Charlie's hand still in hers, she walked +boldly up the driveway and mounted the steps. Within the shielding +shadow of the veranda she paused for a long moment and listened. Turning +to the child she laid her finger on her lips with a gesture of silence. +Charlie beamed understandingly. Mary's strange behavior was as +interesting to him as though it were a new game invented for his +pleasure. He entered completely into the spirit of it. + +"Now," whispered the girl, "Mary is going to ring the bell and run away. +Charlie must stand still and wait until someone opens the door. If no +one comes, Charlie must ring the bell again. And remember, he mustn't +tell who brought him home!" + +"Charlie won't tell," gravely assured the youngster. + +Mary pressed a firm finger on the bell and held it there for a second. +Then she darted down the steps, around a corner of the house and across +a wide stretch of frozen lawn. She remembered that she could climb the +low fence at the back of the grounds, cut across a field which lay below +them and emerge on a small street not far from the Deans' home. She did +not pause for breath until she reached the street she had in mind. +Flushed and panting from her wild flight it was several minutes before +she could compose herself sufficiently to go on toward home. Luckily for +her she met but two persons, a boy of perhaps fifteen and a laboring +man. Neither gave her more than the merest glance. + +But her last ordeal was yet to come. What would Marjorie and her mother +think when they saw her? They would immediately guess that something +unusual must have happened to bring her home from the party before it +had hardly more than begun. Her recent experience had left her in no +mood for explanations. She decided to try slipping quietly in at the +rear door of the house. There was, of course, a possibility that it +might be locked, but if it were not--so much the better for her. + +There was an instant of breathless suspense as she noiselessly turned +the knob. It yielded to her touch, and she stole into the kitchen and up +the back stairs like an unsubstantial shadow of the night, rather than a +very tired and sore-hearted girl. Once in her room she sat down on her +bed to think things over. She dared not move about for fear of being +heard by Marjorie or her mother. Long she sat, moodily reviewing the +year that had promised so much, yet had yielded her nothing but +dissension and sorrow. One bare, ugly fact confronted her, looming up +like a hideous monster whose dreadful claws had shredded her peace of +mind and now waved at her the tattered fragments. It had all been her +fault. For the first time she saw herself as she really was. A jealous, +suspicious, hateful girl. It was she, not Marjorie, who had been +unfaithful to friendship. But she had gone on blindly, unreasoningly, +preferring to think the worst, until now it was too late to bridge the +gap that she had daily widened between herself and her chum by her +absurd jealousy. She could never regain her lost ground. She felt that +Marjorie's patience with her had long since been exhausted. She dared +not, could not, plead for reinstatement. All that remained to be done +was to go through the rest of that dreadful year alone. When she and +Marjorie had finished their sophomore course she would go quietly away, +and they would, perhaps, never meet again. + +Alone with her bitter remorse, Mary wept until she could cry no more. +As is usually the case with youth, she was sweeping in her +self-condemnation. But that bitter hour of self-revelation did more to +arouse within her the determination to conquer herself and establish the +foundation for a noble womanhood than she could possibly believe. + +At last she pulled herself together to play the final scene in her +evening's drama. Mrs. Dean had given her a latchkey, in order that she +might let herself into the house, should she return from the party after +the Deans had retired. At half-past ten o'clock she heard Marjorie and +her mother come up the stairs to their rooms. Mr. Dean was away from +home on a business trip. When all sounds of conversation between the two +women had ceased and the house had apparently settled down for the +night, Mary crept softly out of her room and down the stairs. Opening +the hall door with stealthy fingers, she stepped into the vestibule. She +listened intently for a sign from above that her soft-footed journey +down the stairs had been discovered. But none came. Turning deliberately +about, she retraced her steps, closing the hall door with sufficient +force to announce her arrival. Without attempt at stealth she walked +across the hall, up the stairs and into the pretty blue room that she +had lately left. The closing of her own door purposely sounded her home +coming. + +"Is that you, Mary?" called Marjorie's voice from the next room. + +Mary trembled with positive relief at the signal success of her +manoeuver. Steadying her voice, she replied, "Yes, it is I." + +"Did you have a nice time?" + +Mary read merely polite inquiry in the tone. It lacked Marjorie's former +warmth and affection. + +"Not particularly." Impulsively she added, "I missed you, Marjorie. I'm +sorry you weren't there." Breathlessly she waited for a response. + +But Marjorie was only human. Resentment against Mignon, rather than +Mary, permeated her reply. "It's nice in you to say so, but I am very +glad I wasn't there. I should consider an invitation to Mignon La +Salle's party as anything but an honor." It was the first deliberately +cutting speech that Marjorie Dean had ever uttered. Realizing its +cruelty she called out contritely, "That was hateful in me, Mary. Please +forget what I said." + +"Oh, it doesn't matter. Good night." Mary managed to force the +indifferent answer. She felt that she deserved even this and more. She +was rapidly learning to her sorrow that, when one plants nettles, in +time they are sure to grow up and sting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +FOR THE FAME OF SANFORD HIGH + + +When Marjorie Dean went down to breakfast the following morning it was +with the feeling that her sharp answer to Mary's unexpected comments of +the night before had been unworthy of her better self. Mary's reply, +"Oh, it doesn't matter," had somehow sounded wistful rather than +indifferent. To be sure, Mary had literally forced upon her the reserved +stand which she had at last taken. Yet underneath her proud attitude of +distant courtesy toward the girl who had once taken first place in her +friendship still lurked the faint hope of reconciliation. But she had +made her last advance on that memorable Christmas day when Mary had +shown her so plainly that she respected the flag of truce for the day +only and had returned to her former state of antagonism at the first +opportunity. In the beginning it had been hard to stifle her impulsive +nature, and appear courteous yet wholly unconcerned regarding her chum's +welfare, but in time she found it comparatively easy. Friendship was +dying hard, yet it _was_ dying, nevertheless. This thought had startled +Marjorie a little as she recalled how easy it had been to be +disagreeable, where once it would have seemed absolutely impossible to +allow those cutting words to pass her lips. It came soberly to her that +morning as she walked into the dining room that, after all, she did not +wish that friendship to die. Something must be done to keep it alive +until Mary was quite herself again. + +The faint line of concern which appeared between her dark brows deepened +as this latest conviction took hold of her. As she pondered, the object +of her thoughts appeared in the doorway. Mary's face wore an air of +listlessness that quite corresponded with her subdued, "Good morning, +Marjorie. Good morning, Captain." + +"You look all tired out, my dear," remarked Mrs. Dean solicitously. +There was a curiously pathetic droop to Mary's mouth which gave her the +appearance of a very tired child who had played too hard and was ready +to be put to bed, rather than to begin the day's round of events. "Did +you dance too much?" + +"No." A peculiar little smile flickered across the girl's pale features. +She wondered what Mrs. Dean would say if she told her just how she had +spent her evening. + +Marjorie regarded Mary almost curiously. In some indefinable way she had +changed. Then it flashed across her that Mary's usual stubborn +expression had given place to one of distinct sadness. With a kindly +endeavor toward lightening her chum's heavy mood, she tried to draw her +out to talk of the party. She met with little success. As Mary, in +reality, knew nothing further of it than the fact that Mignon had worn a +gypsy costume and that the majority of the boys invited had not put in +an appearance, she was hardly prepared to describe the affair. She, +therefore, answered Marjorie's questions in brief monosyllables and +volunteered no information whatever. + +"I am going over to see Jerry Macy this morning. Would you like to go +with me?" asked Marjorie, after her attempt to discuss the party had +proved futile. + +"No; I thank you just the same. I have several things to buy at the +stores, and then I am going for a walk. I would ask you to go with me, +only you are going to Jerry's." + +"I'd love to," a touch of Marjorie's old heartiness came to the surface, +"but I promised Jerry I'd surely go to see her to-day." + +"Perhaps we can take a walk some other day," remarked Mary vaguely as +they rose from the table. + +"I will take you both for a ride this afternoon, if you are good," +volunteered Mrs. Dean. She had been observing the signs. She decided, +within herself, that matters were assuming a more hopeful turn. Yet she +had long since left the two girls to work out their problem in their own +way. + +"That will be splendid!" cried Marjorie. + +"I should like to go," acceded Mary almost shyly. + +Mrs. Dean smiled to herself and saw light ahead. The barrier seemed +about to crumble. + +But as the days went by, both she and Marjorie grew puzzled over the +change in blue-eyed Mary. She had, indeed, lost her belligerent spirit +of animosity, but a profound melancholy had settled down upon her like a +pall. Gradually it became noised about in school that Mary Raymond and +Mignon La Salle were no longer on speaking terms. Why this was so, no +one knew. Mary was mute on the subject. For once, also, the French girl +had nothing to say. As it happened, she believed that no one of the +guests had witnessed the scene between herself and Mary, and to try to +relate it, even with emendations of her own, would hardly redound to her +credit. She was too shrewd not to know that the average person resents +an affront against childhood. Then, too, Constance Stevens was making +rapid strides toward popularity among the girls of Sanford High School +and her cowardly nature warned her to be silent. But her chief reason +for silence lay in the fact that Mary had curtly informed her on the +Monday morning following the party that she had seen Charlie safely +home, that so far as she could learn his family did not know who had +escorted him home, and that if she, Mignon, were wise she would say +nothing whatever of the occurrence. Without further words, Mary had +walked away, but that same afternoon she had removed her wraps to +another locker, a significant sign that she was done with the French +girl forever. + +When it came to Marjorie's ears that Mary and Mignon had quarreled, she +decided a trifle sadly that Mary's melancholy was due to the French +girl's defection. She was sure that, whatever the quarrel had been +about, Mignon was to blame. Until then she had never quite believed in +the sincerity of Mary's affection for this unscrupulous, headstrong +girl, and it hurt her to see Mary take the estrangement so to heart. + +She said as much to Constance Stevens as they walked home from school +together on the Monday following the Easter vacation. To Marjorie the +Easter holidays had been a continuous succession of good times. She had +attended half a dozen parties given by her various schoolmates, and +numerous luncheons and teas. To all these Mary had received invitations +also. She had politely declined them, however, going on long, lonely +walks by day and moping in the living room or her own room by night. + +"Somehow," Marjorie confided to Constance, "I never believed Mary could +be so deceived in a person. But she must think a lot of Mignon, or she +wouldn't be so dreadfully sad all the time." + +"It's queer," mused Constance. "I don't think she knows to this day the +truth about last year." + +"I am sure she doesn't. Mary is really too honorable to stand by +a--a--person that you and I know isn't worthy of loyalty. That sounds +rather hard, especially from one of the reform party. But I can't help +it. I am quite ready to say and mean it, Mignon La Salle hasn't a better +self. She never had one!" + +"It hasn't been very pleasant for you this year, has it?" was +Constance's sympathizing question. "It's too bad. After all the nice +things we had planned. Sometimes I think it is better not to make plans. +They never turn out as one hopes they will." + +"I know it," rejoined Marjorie with a sigh. "Jerry Macy says that Mary +has something on her mind besides Mignon." + +"Perhaps she is sorry that she----" Constance hesitated. + +"That we aren't chums any more?" finished Marjorie. "I don't think so. +If she had been truly sorry she would have come to me and said so. I +thought so the day after Mignon's party. Then I heard that they had +quarreled, and I changed my opinion." There was a faint touch of +bitterness in Marjorie's speech. "Suppose we don't talk of it any more. +I wish to forget it, if I can. It doesn't do much good to mourn over +what can't and won't be changed. Did Jerry tell you that Laurie Armitage +has finished his operetta? Professor Harmon is going to have a try-out +of voices in the gymnasium next Saturday morning." + +"Laurie told me himself. He brought the score of the operetta to Gray +Gables last night and we tried it over on the piano. The music is +beautiful. It is so tuneful it lingers. I've been humming snatches of it +ever since he played it for me. The 'Rebellious Princess' has some +wonderful songs. That clever young man, Eric Darrow, composed the +libretto and thought out the plot. It's about a princess who grew tired +of staying at home in her father's castle and going to state dinners and +receptions, so she put on the dress of a peasant girl and ran away from +the castle to see the world. She took some gold with her, but it was +stolen from her the very first thing. No one paid any attention to her +because she was poor, and she had a dreadfully hard time. But she was so +stubborn she wouldn't go back to her father and say she was sorry, so +she wandered on until her clothes were ragged and her shoes were worn +out. Then an old woman took the poor princess to live with her and she +had to work terribly hard and wait on the woman's daughter, who loved +nothing but pretty clothes and to have a good time. No one was good to +her except the woman's adopted son, who was left on her doorstep when he +was a baby. At last the princess grew so tired of it all she went back +to her father, but to punish her he pretended he didn't know her. So +she had to go away again, but the woman's son had followed her and when +he saw her leave the castle, crying, he told her he loved her and asked +her to marry him. She said 'yes,' because he was the only person in the +world who cared for her. But her father hadn't really intended that she +should go away. He sent his courtiers after her to bring her back to the +castle. She wanted to go back, but she wouldn't go unless the young man +went with her. When he found out that she was really a great princess he +said he would never dare to ask her to marry him. But she said that true +love was better than all the wealth in the world, and she would not go +back unless he went with her, and so he said he would go. That is where +the operetta ends. They sing a duet, 'True Love Is Best,' and you have +to imagine what the king said. There isn't so much in the plot, but it +is very sweet, and the music is delightful," finished Constance. + +"I know I shall love to hear it!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I do hope you +will be chosen to sing the part of the princess." + +Constance flushed. "Laurie wishes me to have it," she said almost +humbly. "But there are sure to be others who can sing it better than I. +However, the try-out will settle that. At any rate, I may be chosen for +a court lady in the chorus. I hope you'll be in it, too." + +"I can't sing well enough," laughed Marjorie. "But I'll be there on +Saturday, and perhaps I'll be lucky enough to get into it somehow. Won't +it be fun to rehearse? Hal Macy ought to have a part. He has a splendid +tenor voice, and the Crane can sing bass. I can hardly wait until +Saturday comes. I am so anxious to see who will be chosen." + +Marjorie's pleasant anxiety was shared by the majority of the girls of +Sanford High School. The proposed operetta became the chief topic for +discussion as the unusually long week dragged interminably along toward +that fateful Saturday. Even the high and mighty seniors condescended to +become interested. Among their number, more than one ambitious seeker +after fame secretly imagined herself as carrying off the rôle of the +Rebellious Princess, and conducted assiduous practice of much neglected +scales in the hope of glory to come. + +As the star singer of her class, Constance Stevens' name was often +brought up for discussion among her classmates as the possibly +successful contestant in the try-out. Besides, was it not Lawrence +Armitage's opera? It was generally known that the dark-haired, +dreamy-eyed lad had a decided predeliction for Constance's society. +Rumor, therefore, decreed that if Laurie Armitage had the say, Constance +would have no trouble in carrying off the leading rôle. + +But the most determined aspirant for fame was none other than Mignon La +Salle. With her usual slyness, she kept her own counsel. Nevertheless, +she believed she stood a fair chance of winning the prize of which she +dreamed. For Mignon could sing. From childhood her father had spared no +expense in the matter of her musical education. An ardent lover of +music he had decreed that Mignon should be initiated into the mysteries +of the piano when a tiny girl, and, although Mr. La Salle had allowed +her undisputed liberty to grow up as she pleased, on one point he was +firm. Mignon must not merely study music; she must each day practice the +required number of hours. In the beginning she had rebelled, but finding +her too indulgent parent adamant in this one particular, she had been +forced to bow her obstinate head to his decree. In consequence she +profited by the enforced practice hours to the extent of becoming a +really creditable performer on the piano for a girl of her years. At +fourteen she had begun vocal training. Possessed of a strong, clear, +soprano voice, three years under the direction of competent instructors +had done much for her, and, although she was far too selfish to use her +fine voice merely to give pleasure to others, she never allowed an +opportunity to pass wherein she might win public approval by her +singing. + +The mere fact that "The Rebellious Princess" was Lawrence Armitage's own +composition served to spur her on to conquest. Given the leading rôle, +she believed that she might awaken in the young man a distinct +appreciation of herself which hitherto he had never demonstrated toward +her. Once she had brought him to a tardy realization of her superiority +over Constance Stevens, by outsinging the latter, along with all the +other contestants, she was certain that admiration for herself as a +singer would blot out any unpleasant impression he might earlier have +conceived of her. She had heard that "the Stevens girl" could sing. It +was to be doubted, however, if her voice amounted to much. Another point +in her favor lay in the fact that Professor Harmon was a close friend of +her father. He would surely give her the preference. + +But while she dreamed of triumphantly holding the center of the stage +before a spellbound audience, her rival to be, Constance Stevens, was +seriously debating within herself regarding the wisdom of even entering +the contest. Of a distinctly retiring nature, Constance was not eager to +enter the lists. On the Friday afternoon before the try-out she was +still undecided, and when the afternoon session of school was over, and +she and the five girls with whom she spent most of her leisure hours +were walking down the street, headed for Sargent's and its never-failing +supply of sweets, she was curiously silent amid the gay chatter of her +friends. + +"I suppose you girls know that our dear Mignon has designs on the +Princess," announced Jerry Macy, with the elaborate carelessness of one +who gives forth important news as the commonest every-day matter. + +"Mignon!" exclaimed Marjorie Dean in amazement. "I never even knew she +could sing." + +"She thinks she can," shrugged Muriel Harding. "Goodness knows she ought +to. She has studied for ages. I'm surprised to hear that she is going to +enter the try-out, considering it's Laurie's operetta. You know just how +much he likes her. She knows, too." + +"Who told you, Jerry?" quizzed Susan Atwell. "The way you gather news +is positively marvelous. Was it big brother Hal?" + +"No, he doesn't know it. If I told him, he'd tell Laurie and Laurie +would promptly have a spasm. One of the girls in the senior class +mentioned it to me." + +"Mignon really sings well," put in Irma. "Don't you remember the time +she sang at Muriel's party, two years ago? She has been studying ever +since. She must have improved a good deal since then." + +"Oh, I've heard her sing more than once," said Jerry Macy, "but I don't +like her voice. It's--well, it isn't sweet and sympathetic." + +"Neither is she," put in Susan with her customary giggle. + +"Wait until Connie sings at the try-out. Then someone can gently lead +Mignon to a back seat," predicted Jerry. "It would give me a good deal +of pleasure to be that 'someone.'" + +"I don't think I shall enter the try-out," remarked Constance, flushing. + +"Why not?" was the questioning chorus. + +"Oh, I don't know, only I just don't care to. If I do, someone might say +that I went into it because----" She hesitated, and the flush on her +cheeks deepened. + +"Because you expected Laurie to choose you, you mean," finished Jerry. + +"Yes; that is what I meant," admitted Constance. "Of course, I know +there are other girls who are better singers than I, and that I couldn't +possibly be chosen. Still, I'd rather not go into it at all, unless I +could just be in the chorus." + +"You are a goose; a nice, dear goose, but a goose, just the same," was +Jerry's plain sentiment. + +"Connie Stevens, if you don't try for that part, I'll never speak to you +again," threatened Muriel. + +"I'll disown you," added Susan in mock menace. + +"Connie," Marjorie's voice vibrated with sudden energy, "I think you +_ought_ to try for the Princess. I am almost sure no other girl in +Sanford High can sing so beautifully. Then there is Laurie. He has +always been nice to you. It would hurt his feelings dreadfully if you +didn't try for a part in his operetta. Besides, I know it sounds +hateful, but I can't help saying that I'd be glad to see you take the +Princess away from Mignon. That is, if she really stands a good chance +of winning it. I suppose that is what Miss Archer would call 'an ignoble +sentiment,' but I mean it, just the same." Marjorie glanced half +defiantly around the bright-eyed circle. They were now in Sargent's, +seated about their favorite table. + +"Hurrah for you, Marjorie!" cried Jerry, flourishing her hand as though +it were a pennant of triumph. "That's what I say, too. You are really a +human, everyday person, after all. I used to think you were almost too +forgiving toward certain persons, but now I can see that you aren't such +a model forgiver, after all." + +"That is rather a doubtful compliment, isn't it?" laughed Marjorie. + +"Frankness is the soul of virtue," jeered Muriel. + +"Oh, now, you know what I mean," protested Jerry, looking somewhat +sheepish. "You girls do like to tease me. All right, I'll do the +forgiving act and order the refreshments. I'll pay for them, too. I've a +whole dollar. I am supposed to buy some stationery with it, but I'll +just let my correspondence languish and treat instead. Name your eat and +you can have it. Fifteen cents apiece is your limit. I need the other +ten to buy stamps." + +"What is the use in buying stamps if you don't intend to correspond?" +put in Irma mischievously. + +"I might need them some day," was Jerry's calm retort. "Besides, if I +don't spend the ten cents I may lose it. Now the bureau of information +is closed. Order your fifteen cents' worth!" + +After changing their minds several times in rapid succession to the +infinite disgust of the waitress, the sextette finally made unanimous +decision for a new concoction in the way of a fruit lemonade, known as +Sargent Nectar. + +"Now," announced Jerry, as the long-suffering waitress deposited the +tall glasses on the table and retired to the back of the room to grumble +uncomplimentary comments to a fellow-worker on the ways of high school +girls who didn't know their own minds, "let us all drink a toast to Miss +Connie Stevens, the celebrated star of 'The Rebellious Princess.' But +remember, we can't drink it until the star says she will shine. + + "'Twinkle, twinkle, little star, + Shall we see you from afar? + On the Sanford stage so shy, + For the fame of Sanford High.' + +"Who says I'm not a poet?" + +"Connie, you can't resist that poetic appeal," giggled Susan. + +Constance's blue eyes shone misty affection upon the circle of fresh, +young faces, alight with the honest desire for her success. Her voice +trembled a little as she said: "I'll take it all back, girls. Now that I +know just how you feel about the try-out, _I'd_ be an ungrateful girl to +say I wouldn't do my best. I'll sing to-morrow, but if I'm not chosen, +please don't be disappointed." + +"To Connie, our Princess! Long may she warble!" Jerry raised her glass +of lemonade. "Drink her down!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE MOMENT OF TRIUMPH + + +It was a buzzing and excited assemblage of young men and women that +gathered in the gymnasium of Weston High School on Saturday morning for +the much-discussed try-out. As it had been strictly enjoined upon the +students of both high schools that unless they desired to take part in +the coming operetta their presence was not requested, nor would it be +permitted, on the momentous occasion, the great room was only +comfortably filled. Weston High School was represented by not more than +twenty-five or thirty ambitious aspirants for fame, but at least a +hundred girls from Sanford High cherished hopes of gaining admission to +the magic cast. After much discussion, Marjorie and her four friends had +decided to make a bold attempt at chorus celebrity, purely for the sake +of seeing what happened. Constance had earnestly urged them to do so, +declaring that she could not sing unless they were present to encourage +her. + +"I wonder if all this crowd expects to be chosen," was Jerry Macy's +blunt comment, as the sextette of girls stood grouped at one side of the +room, waiting for the affair to begin. "I hope I'm not asked to sing +alone. Not so much for my own sake. I hate to make other people feel +sad. I practised 'America' and 'Marching through Georgia' last night, +just to see what I could do. One of our maids came rushing into the +living room because she said she wondered who was making all that noise. +Then Hal poked his head in the door and asked if I was hurt. So I quit. +It was time." + +Jerry's painful experience as a soloist provoked a burst of laughter +from her friends. It had hardly died away when Professor Harmon, a +stout, little man, with a shock of bushy hair and an expression of being +always on the alert, bustled in. With him came Lawrence Armitage and a +tall, dark-haired young man, a stranger to those present. The professor +trotted to the piano, opened it, held a hurried conference with his +companions, then, stepping forward, ran a searching eye over the +assembled boys and girls. The more ambitious contestants of both sexes +carried music rolls containing the selections they intended to offer, +but the majority of that carefree congregation aspired to nothing higher +than the chorus, looking upon the whole affair as a grand lark. + +Professor Harmon proceeded to make a short speech, briefly outlining the +plot of the opera and stating the nature of the try-out. "We shall ask +those who wish to try for principals to step to that side of the room," +he said, indicating the left. "I wish to hear them sing, first. +Afterward, I shall select the chorus, and hear them sing together." + +"That lets me out," was Jerry's relieved, inelegant comment to +Susan Atwell, as she moved to the right. Susan stifled an irrepressible +chuckle and sobered her face for what was to come. + +Over among the groups of possible principals Constance became obsessed +with sudden shyness. The majority of the girls were of the upper +classes, and she felt lonely and ill at ease. She noted that she and +Mignon La Salle were the only representatives of the sophomore class. +Mignon, looking radiant self-possession in a smart old-rose suit and hat +to match, carried herself with the air of one whose success was already +assured. Her black eyes were snapping with excitement as they darted +from the professor to the two young men standing beside the piano. She +fingered her gray morocco music roll nervously, her thin fingers never +still. + +Stepping over to the piano the professor seated himself. "That young +lady on the right, please come to the piano." The girl indicated, a +dignified senior, obeyed the summons, coolly handed the professor her +music, stationed herself at his side and awaited trial with the air of a +Spartan. After a short prelude she began to sing a popular air that was +at that time going the round of Sanford. She sang one verse, then the +professor dropped his hands from the keys, inquired her name, made a +memorandum on a pad, and, dismissing her, signaled another girl to take +her place. + +The try-out proceeded with a business-like snap that bade fair to end it +with speedy commission. So far nothing startling in the way of voices +had been discovered. Constance listened to the various girl soloists and +wondered if she could do as well as they. Mignon leaned far forward with +breathless interest. She was firmly convinced that her singing would +create a sensation. When at last her turn came, she walked boldly +forward. Professor Harmon smiled approval and encouragement. He desired +particularly to see her carry off the honor of the leading rôle. She +darted a lightning glance at Lawrence Armitage as she approached the +piano, but in his impassive features she could read neither approval nor +indifference. + +She had chosen a French song, full of difficult runs and trills, and it +may be set down here to her credit that she sang it well. As her clear, +but somewhat unsympathetic voice rang out, a faint murmur of +approbation swept the listeners. Her long training now stood her in good +stead. Professor Harmon allowed her to go on with her song, instead of +halting her in the middle of it, as he had in the case of the previous +aspirants. When she had finished singing, she was greeted with a round +of genuine applause, the first accorded to a singer since the beginning +of the try-out. The brilliancy of her performance could not be denied, +even by those who had reason to dislike her. + +"Excellent, Miss La Salle," was Professor Harmon's tribute, as he handed +her her music. Flushing with pride of achievement, the French girl +returned to her place among the others, tingling with the sweetness of +her success. + +There now remained not more than half a dozen untried soloists. +Constance Stevens was among that number. By this time Marjorie was +becoming a trifle anxious. There was just a chance that Connie might be +overlooked. Naturally retiring, she would be quite likely to make no +sign, were Professor Harmon to pass her by, under the impression that +she had already sung. But Marjorie's fears were needless. Constance had +a staunch friend at court. During the try-out Lawrence Armitage's blue +eyes had been frequently directed toward the quiet, fair-haired girl of +his choice. Locked in his boyish heart was a secret knowledge that he +had composed the operetta chiefly because he had wished Constance to +have the opportunity of singing the part of the Princess. He had +consented to the try-out merely to please Professor Harmon. He was +convinced that no other girl could compare with Constance in the matter +of voice. He was glad that she was to sing last, and a smile of proud +expectation played about his mouth as Professor Harmon abruptly cut off +an enterprising senior, the last contestant before Constance, in the +midst of a high note. + +The smile quickly faded to an expression of dismay as he saw the +professor rise from the piano, his eyes on his memorandum pad. At the +same instant a faint ripple of consternation was heard from a group of +girls of which Marjorie formed the center. The latter took a hurried +step forward. Marjorie was determined that Connie must not be cheated of +her chance. She had caught a glimpse of Mignon, her black eyes blazing +with insolent triumph and positive joy at the possibility of this +unexpected elimination of the girl she hated. + +But Marjorie's intended protest in behalf of her friend was never +uttered. Laurie Armitage had come to the rescue. She saw him halt +Professor Harmon, as he was about to address the company. She saw the +little man's eyebrows elevate themselves in a glance toward Constance, +following Laurie's low, energetic communication. Then she felt herself +trembling with relief as Professor Harmon announced apologetically, "I +understand that I almost made the mistake of overlooking one of +Sanford's promising young singers. Will Miss Stevens please come +forward?" + +Pink with the embarrassment of the professor's words, Constance made no +move to comply with the request. Good-natured Ellen Seymour, who was one +of the contestants, pushed her gently forward. Ellen's light touch awoke +Constance to motion. She walked mechanically toward the piano, as though +propelled against her will by an unseen force. The humiliation of being +even accidentally passed by looked forth from her sensitive features. +Quick to note it, Lawrence Armitage advanced toward her, took her +tightly rolled music from her hand, and, conducting her to the piano, +introduced her to Professor Harmon, apparently unmindful of the many +pairs of eyes intently watching the little scene. + +"Now we are ready." The professor nodded to Constance, who stood with +her small hands loosely clasped, her grave eyes fastened upon him. He +half smiled, as his experienced fingers began the first soft notes of +Mendelssohn's Spring Song. Long ago her foster father had written a set +of exquisitely tender words that had exactly seemed to fit those +unforgettable strains, so familiar to every true lover of music. +Constance had sung them so many times that she knew them by heart. Now +she fixed her eyes on the east wall of the gymnasium, and, leaving the +world behind her, rendered the beautiful selection as though she were in +her own home, with only her dear ones to listen to the flood of +ravishing melody that issued from her white throat. + +Marjorie Dean felt a swift rush of tears flood her brown eyes as she +listened to her friend. She recalled the time when she had halted at the +door of the little gray house, in wonder at that glorious voice. +Conquering her emotion, she began to take stock of the effect of the +song upon those assembled. She saw the proud flash of gladness that +leaped to Laurie's fine face. His faith in Connie's powers was being +amply fulfilled. She read the profound surprise and admiration of +Professor Harmon, as he accompanied the singing girl. She glimpsed +enthusiastic admiration in the countenances of the spell-bound students, +many of whom had never before heard Constance sing. Then her gaze +centered upon Mignon. Anger, surprise and chagrin swept the elfish face +of the French girl. She read vocalization more flawless than her own, as +well as greater sweetness and an intense sympathy, which she lacked, in +the full, sweet, rounded tones that issued from her rival's lips. This +was the voice of a great artist. + +Professor Harmon turned from the piano as the last golden note died away +and held out his hand. "Allow me to congratulate you, Miss Stevens. +You----" His voice was drowned in tumult of noisy and fervent +approbation on the part of the delighted audience. Boys and girls forgot +the dignity of the occasion, and the next instant the surprised +Constance found herself surrounded by as admiring a throng as ever did +honor to a triumphant basket-ball or football star. If signs were true +presagers of victory, if the united acclamation of the majority counted, +then Constance Stevens had, indeed, come into her own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +AN UNHAPPY PRINCESS + + +It took Professor Harmon several minutes to reduce the noisy enthusiasts +to the decorous state of order in which they had entered the gymnasium. +Far from being elated over her triumph, Constance Stevens received the +ovation with the shyness of a child brought before an audience against +its will to speak its first piece. She heaved an audible sigh of relief +when at last she was left to herself and retired behind Marjorie and her +friends with a flushed, embarrassed face. + +The boys' try-out was shortened considerably by the fact that there were +fewer singers to be heard. When it was over it was announced that Hal +Macy had carried off the rôle of the poor, neglected son, which was in +reality the male lead. The Crane was selected for the king, while +freckle-faced Daniel Seabrooke was chosen for the jester, greatly to his +delight and surprise. There was an emphatic round of applause when +Professor Harmon announced that Constance Stevens had been selected to +sing the Princess. Ellen Seymour captured the rôle of the queen, and to +Mignon La Salle was allotted the part of the disagreeable step-sister. +It was second in importance to that of the Princess, but the French +girl's face was a study as she received the announcement. She tried to +smile, but the baffled anger and keen disappointment which was hers +blazed forth from her elfish eyes. The minor parts were soon given out, +and then came the trial of the chorus. + +The hope of Marjorie and her four friends that they might be chosen was +fulfilled. A number of the girls who had sung solos were also selected, +and, with one or two disgruntled exceptions, resigned themselves to the +lesser glory, gratefully accepting what was offered them. It was +evident, however, that pretty faces had much to do with the Professor's +choice of the chorus, and when he had gathered the elect together and +heard them sing "The Star Spangled Banner" as a test, he expressed +himself as satisfied, and appointed a rehearsal for the following +Tuesday afternoon at four o'clock. + +With the exception of Constance, it was a most jubilant sextette that +set out for Sargent's, at Marjorie's invitation, after the try-out was +over. She was still somewhat dazed over her success. Although she smiled +as the five girls paid her affectionate tribute, she had little to say. + +"Girls, did you see Mignon's face when Connie was singing?" began Muriel +Harding, as soon as they were out of earshot of any possible +participants in the try-out. + +"Did we see it? Well, I guess so." Jerry made prompt answer. "At least, +I did. While Connie was singing I was dividing my seeing power between +her and the fair but frowning Mignon. Maybe she wasn't mad! She tried to +pretend she wasn't listening, but she never missed a note. She had sense +enough to know good singing when she heard it." + +"I was watching her, too," nodded Muriel Harding. "Her eyes positively +glittered when Professor Harmon almost missed hearing Connie sing. I +knew she was hoping he would. Then Laurie Armitage came to the rescue." + +"I was going to say something," was Marjorie's quiet comment. "I had +made up my mind that Connie shouldn't be overlooked. I was so glad when +Laurie spoke to the professor." + +"I thought you were," declared Jerry. "I was going to say something, if +no one else did." + +"I don't believe any one of us could have stood there and seen Connie +miss her turn without making a fuss," said gentle Irma Linton. "I am so +glad it all came out nicely. Laurie Armitage is a splendid boy." + +"So is the Crane," put in Jerry slyly. + +"Of course he is," agreed Irma, placidly ignoring Jerry's attempt to +tease. "So is your brother Hal. There are lots of nice boys in Weston +High." + +Jerry merely grinned cheerfully at this retort and returned to the +subject of the coming opera. "Is Laurie going to help you with your +songs?" she asked, addressing Constance. + +"Yes," replied Constance simply. "He said he would. I can't quite +believe yet that I am to sing the Princess. I may be able to manage the +songs, but I can't act. I imagine Mignon would make a better actress +than I." + +"She ought to," jeered Muriel Harding, who could never resist a thrust +at the French girl. "She never does anything else. I don't believe she'd +know her real self if she came face to face with it in broad daylight." + +"Oh, forget Mignon. Who was that tall, dark man with Laurie and +Professor Harmon?" interposed Susan Atwell. "You ought to know, Connie. +I saw Laurie introduce you to him." + +"His name is Atwell," answered Constance. "He is an actor, I believe. I +don't know why he happened to be at the try-out to-day. Perhaps +Professor Harmon invited him." + +"I'll find out all about him and tell you," volunteered Jerry. "Hal may +know. If he doesn't, some one else will." + +"For further information, ask brother Hal," giggled Susan. + +It was not until Marjorie and Constance had said good-bye to the others +and were strolling home in the spring sunshine that the latter asked, +"Where was Mary to-day?" + +"I don't know." Marjorie spoke soberly. "She left the house before I did +this morning. She said last night that she wasn't interested in the +try-out. I thought perhaps she might like to be in the chorus, but she +doesn't appear to care about it. She has a sweet, soprano voice and can +sing well." + +"I am sorry," was Constance's brief answer. + +"So am I." Marjorie did not continue the painful subject. They had +talked it over so many times, there was nothing left to be said. "I am +glad you were chosen for the Princess," she said after a little silence, +during which the two girls were busy with their own thoughts. + +"I am going to try to sing well, if only to please you and Laurie," was +Constance's earnest avowal. + +"I'm glad Mignon didn't get the part. It won't be very pleasant for you +to have to sing with her. I wouldn't say this to anyone else, but if I +were you I would keep a watchful eye on her, Connie." + +"If she tries to be disagreeable, I shall simply pay no attention to +her." + +"That will be best," nodded Marjorie. Nevertheless, she reflected that +as a member of the chorus she would have opportunity to observe the +French girl and mentally decided to keep an eye on her. + +"Has Mary come in, Delia?" was Marjorie's quick question, as the maid +answered her ring. + +"Here I am," called Mary from the living room. She had heard Marjorie's +question. Now she appeared in the doorway of the living room, viewing +her former chum with sombre gravity. "Who is going to sing the +Princess?" she asked abruptly. + +"Connie was chosen. She sang beautifully." + +"I'm glad Mignon didn't get the part," muttered Mary. Wheeling about, +she walked into the living room, and, taking up a book she had turned +face downward on the table, became, to all appearances, absorbed in its +pages. + +For a moment Marjorie stood watching her through the half-drawn +portieres. She would have liked to continue the conversation, but pride +forbade her to do so. Mary's mood presaged rebuff. Later, at luncheon, +she unbent sufficiently to question Marjorie further regarding the +try-out. Although she did not say so, she was sorry that Mignon had +been given a principal's part in the operetta. Privately, she wished +she had made an attempt to get into the chorus. She, too, was of the +opinion that the French girl would bear watching. Failure to carry off +the highest honors would act as a spur to Mignon's unscrupulous nature, +and sooner or later some one would pay for her defeat. + +Mary was quite correct in her conjecture that Mignon would not allow +matters to rest as they were. From the moment that Constance had been +announced as the Princess she had made a vow that by either fair or +unfair means she would supplant "that white-faced cat of a Stevens +girl," who had been awarded the honor that should have been hers. The +first step consisted in holding a private session with Professor Harmon +after the others had gone, to ascertain if by any chance he might be +relied upon to help her. She found him engaged in conversation with the +dark young man. He eyed her with interest, bowed affably when presented +to her by the professor, and expressed somewhat profuse pleasure at +meeting her. In the presence of a stranger, Mignon dared not ask +Professor Harmon openly to reconsider his recent decision in her favor. +Three minutes' conversation with him showed her that, had she made the +request, it would have availed her nothing. The brisk little man's mind +was made up. He congratulated her on capturing second honors with a +finality that could not be assailed. Then a brilliant idea entered her +wily brain. + +"Professor Harmon," she began, with a pretty show of girlish confusion, +quite foreign to her usual bold method of reaching out for whatever she +coveted, "I would like to ask you if I might understudy the Princess. Of +course, I know that I can't sing as Miss Stevens sings, and I wouldn't +for the world wish anything to happen to prevent her from singing on the +great night, but I am so fond of music that it would be a pleasure to +understudy the rôle. I shouldn't like anyone to know that I was doing +so, though. It is just a fancy on my part." + +"Certainly you may, Miss La Salle," was the professor's hearty response. +"Your idea is excellent. It is a mistake, even in an amateur production, +not to provide an understudy for an important rôle, such as Miss Stevens +will sing. I must provide an understudy for Mr. Macy, and others of the +cast, also. But you are too modest in your request that no one else must +know. I am sure Mr. Armitage will be pleased with your suggestion." + +"Oh, please don't tell him!" exclaimed Mignon. A shade of alarm crossed +her dark face, which was not lost on the professor's companion, Ronald +Atwell. A mere acquaintance of Professor Harmon's, he had lately arrived +in Sanford, at the close of a season as leading man in a popular musical +comedy, to visit a cousin. Brought up in that hard school of experience, +the stage, he was an adept at reading signs, and he was by no means +deceived as to the true character of the girl who stood before him. Far +from being displeased with his deductions, he became mildly interested +in her and mentally characterized her as being worth cultivating. He had +watched her during the try-out, and he had glimpsed her true self in +the varying expressions that animated her dark face. He had attended the +try-out on the polite invitation of Professor Harmon, and at the +latter's earnest solicitation had agreed to take charge of the stage +direction of the operetta. The professor had congratulated himself on +obtaining such valuable assistance, while the actor looked upon the +affair as a pastime which would serve to lighten his stay with his +rather dull cousin. He had come to Sanford for a period of relaxation +before going to New York to begin rehearsals with a summer show, and the +prospect of directing the operetta promised to be amusing. + +"Very well, I will say nothing," promised the professor amiably. He had +come to the try-out, hoping to see the daughter of his friend capture +the rôle of the Princess, but the enthusiasm of the artist had driven +that hope from his mind when he had heard Constance sing. Now he dwelt +only on the success of the operetta, and was distinctly relieved to find +that Mignon was in an amiable frame of mind over the unexpected change +in his plans. Knowing her tempestuous disposition, he decided that it +would be policy to humor her whim. + +"Thank you so much," beamed Mignon. "I must go now. Good-bye." + +"I find I must leave you, also," said Ronald Atwell, glancing at his +watch, "or I shall be late for luncheon." + +Mignon had already walked toward the east door of the gymnasium. With a +hurried "Good-bye, Professor. I will be here for rehearsal on Tuesday," +the dark, young man strode after Mignon and overtook her in the +corridor. + +"I wonder if our ways lie in the same direction," he said pleasantly. "I +am the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Horton. Mr. Horton is a cousin of mine." + +"I pass their house on my way home," was the prompt reply. + +Elated at receiving the marked attention of this distinguished stranger, +Mignon exerted herself to the utmost to be agreeable during their walk. +From the few words she had heard pass between the professor and Mr. +Atwell as she approached them, she had gathered the information that the +latter was to manage the stage and coach the actors in the operetta. She +determined that, if it were possible, she would enlist his services in +her behalf. She had counted on Professor Harmon, and he had failed her. +In this good-looking, affable young man she foresaw a valuable ally. The +presentation of "The Rebellious Princess" was still four weeks distant. +A great many things might happen in that time. + +Her companion's suave comment, "I think Professor Harmon made a mistake +in assigning the Princess to the young woman who sang last," uttered +with just the exact shade of regret, caused Mignon to thrill with new +hope. Mr. Atwell, at least, was of the same mind as herself. She +brightened visibly when he went on to say that as stage manager he would +try to give her every advantage that lay in his power. "I am certain +that you have within you the possibilities which go to make a great +actress, Miss La Salle," was his parting remark to her, and these +flattering words, which were, in reality, merely idle on the part of the +actor, she accepted as gospel truth. It was always very easy for her to +accept that which she wished to believe, for self-analysis was not one +of her strong points. + +When the cast and chorus for the operetta met in the gymnasium the +following Tuesday afternoon, it did not take the lynx-eyed feminine +contingent long to discover that Mignon La Salle had a friend at court. +Laurie Armitage, also, soon became aware of the fact. He was secretly +displeased that Mignon had been chosen to sing in his operetta, and +almost on first acquaintance he had formed a dislike for Ronald Atwell. +Behind his polished manners he read insincerity, and he was sorry that +Professor Harmon had asked this newcomer to assist in managing the +production. But, manlike, he kept his prejudice to himself, admitting +reluctantly that Atwell seemed to know what he was about. + +In the frequent rehearsals that followed, however, many irritating +incidents occurred to try his boyish soul. Most of all he disapproved of +the actor manager's brusque manner toward Constance Stevens. He found +fault continually with her in the matter of the speaking of her lines, +and developed a habit of rehearsing her over and over again in a single +scene until she was ready to cry of sheer humiliation at her own failure +to please him. More than once Laurie made private protest to Professor +Harmon, but the latter invariably reminded him that despite Miss +Stevens' beautiful voice, she was far from grasping the principles of +acting, and that Mr. Atwell was a striking example of a conscientious +director. + +Lawrence Armitage was not the only one whose resentment against the too +conscientious stage manager had been aroused. His unfair attitude toward +Constance was the subject of many indignant discussions on the part of +the girls who comprised her coterie of intimate friends. + +"It's a shame," burst forth Jerry Macy in an undertone to Marjorie, as +they stood together at one side of the gymnasium and watched the +impatient manner in which the actor ordered their idol about. "I +wouldn't stand it, if I were Connie. I guess you know who is to blame +for it, don't you?" + +Marjorie nodded. A faint touch of scorn curved her red lips. Mignon's +growing friendship with Ronald Atwell was the talk of the cast. He +frequently accompanied her home from school, invited her to Sargent's, +and it was rumored that he was often a guest at dinner or luncheon at +her home. Proud of the fact that his daughter was to sing an important +rôle in "young Armitage's opera," Mr. La Salle had treated his +daughter's new acquaintance with considerable deference and allowed +Mignon to do as she pleased in the matter of entertaining him. + +"Laurie told Hal that he was sorry Professor Harmon had asked that old +crank to help. Laurie didn't say 'old crank,' but I say it, and I mean +it," continued Jerry vindictively. "Don't breathe it to anyone, though. +It was a brotherly confidence and Hal would rave if he knew I repeated +it." + +"Jerry," whispered Marjorie. Her brief scorn had faded into a faint +frown of anxiety. "I don't think Mr. Atwell is really the best sort of +person for Mignon to go around with. He is ever so much older than she +and, somehow, he doesn't seem sincere. Someone told Muriel that he told +Mignon she would make a wonderful actress. Mignon was boasting of it. +Suppose she were to get an idea of going on the stage. She is so +headstrong she might run away from home and do that very thing if she +happened to feel like it. I don't like her, but I can't help being just +a little bit sorry for her. You know, she hasn't any mother to help her +and love her and advise her. Her father is so busy making money, he +doesn't pay much attention to her. Fathers are splendid, but mothers are +simply splendiferous. I don't know what I'd do without my Captain." +Marjorie sighed in sweet sympathy for all the motherless girls in the +universe. + +"Mothers are a grand institution," agreed Jerry, looking a trifle +solemn. "I think mine is just about right. I never thought of Mignon in +that way before. Now, I suppose I'll have to be sorry for her, too. She +doesn't look as though she needed much sympathy just now. She's so +pleased with the way Connie is being ordered about that she can't see +straight. There, he's through with the poor child at last. Come on. It's +time for the chorus to perform. Try to imagine that this good old gym is +the king's palace and that our mutual friend the Crane is a kingly king. +He looks more like a clothes-pole!" + +Marjorie was forced to laugh at Jerry's uncomplimentary comparison. +They had no further opportunity for conversation in the busy hour that +followed. Professor Harmon drilled them rigidly, his short hair +positively standing erect with energy, and they were quite ready to +gather their little band together and hurry off to Sargent's for rest +and ice cream when the rehearsal was at last over. + +"See here, Connie, why don't you tell that Atwell man to mind his own +business," sputtered Jerry as the six girls walked down the street in +the direction of their favorite haunt. + +"He _is_ minding his business," returned Constance ruefully. Her small +face was very pale and her blue eyes were strained and unhappy. "It is +my fault. But he makes me nervous, and then I can't act. When I am at +home I can say my lines just as I ought, but the minute he begins to +tell me what to do, everything goes wrong. Then he finds fault and +almost makes me cry. I wish I hadn't tried for a part. If it weren't so +late I'd resign from the cast." + +"And let Mignon sing the Princess!" came from Muriel in deep disgust. + +"Don't you do it," advised Susan. "That's precisely what she'd like you +to do." + +"It's a plot between Mignon and Mr. Snapwell--I mean Atwell," declared +Jerry. "She's crazy to be the Princess and he is trying to help her +along. A blind man could see that." + +"I think so, too," said Irma Linton slowly. "You must try not to mind +him, Connie, then you won't be nervous." + +"Why don't you ask Laurie to interfere?" proposed Jerry. "He looked +crosser than I look when I'm mad when that Atwell man was worrying you +about your lines this afternoon. I'll ask him myself, if you say so." + +"No." Constance shook her head. "I wouldn't for the world complain to +Laurie. He has enough to think of now, without bothering his head over +my troubles. I suppose I am too easily hurt. I must learn not to mind +such things, if ever I expect to become a real artist." + +"That's the way you ought to feel, Connie," put in Marjorie's soft +voice. She had been thinking seriously, while the others talked, as to +what she might say to cheer up her disconsolate schoolmate. "You were +chosen to sing the part of the Princess, and I am sure no one else can +sing it half so well. Try to think that, all the time you are +rehearsing. Remember, Laurie believes in you, and so do we. When the +great night comes you won't have to listen to that horrid Mr. Atwell's +nagging, or say your lines over and over again. You will truly be the +Princess, and that will make you forget everything else. If you believe +in yourself, nothing can make you fail. For your own sake, don't think +for a minute of giving up the part." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +MAKING RESTITUTION + + +Greatly to Mr. Ronald Atwell's chagrin, Constance Stevens began suddenly +to show a marked improvement in her work that did not in the least +coincide with his plans. Influenced by Mignon's tale of her wrongs, laid +principally at Constance's door, albeit Marjorie, too, came in for her +share of blame, he had taken a dislike to the gentle girl and lost no +opportunity to humiliate her. Privately, he regarded the entire cast, +Mignon included, as a set of silly children, and his only regard for +Mignon lay in a wholesome respect for her father's money. At heart he +was not a scoundrel, he was merely vain and selfish, and imbued with a +profound sense of his own importance. It had pleased his fancy to assume +the charge of the staging of the operetta, but now he was growing rather +tired of it and wished that it were over. + +Long before this he and Mignon had come to a definite understanding +regarding the operetta. Mignon had informed him boldly that she wished +to sing the part of the Princess, and he had assured her that he would +arrange matters to her satisfaction. It, therefore, became incumbent +upon him to keep his word. He had begun his persistent annoying of +Constance, convinced that, unable to endure it, she would resign and +leave the field of honor free to the French girl. But Constance did +nothing of the sort. She stood her ground, half-heartedly at first, but +afterward, with Marjorie's words ringing in her ears, she exhibited a +steadiness of purpose that he could not shake. + +At the dress rehearsal, the last before the public performance, she was +a brilliant success, compelling even his reluctant admiration. It was +now too late even to consider the possibility of Mignon replacing her, +and he informed the latter rather sheepishly of this, as he rode home +with her in her electric runabout. + +For the first and last time he had the pleasure of seeing Mignon in a +royal rage, and when they reached her home, he declined her sullen offer +to send him home in her automobile, and made his escape with due speed. +Deciding he had had enough of amateurs and amateur operettas, he mailed +a note to Professor Harmon excusing himself from further service on the +plea of a telegram summoning him to New York. Whether the telegram were +a myth, history does not record. Sufficient to say that he actually went +to New York the following afternoon. And thus "The Rebellious Princess" +lost a stage manager and Mignon the hitherto chief factor in her plans. +She was also the recipient of an apologetic note from the actor, which +caused her to clench her hands in rage, then shrug her thin shoulders +with a gesture that did not spell defeat. Somehow, in some way, she +would accomplish her purpose. Even at the eleventh hour she would not +acknowledge herself beaten. Yet as the day wore on toward evening she +could think of nothing to do that would bring her her unreasonable +desire. + +The operetta was to be sung in the Sanford Theatre, where the dress +rehearsal had been held. Furious almost to tears at her inability to +bring about the impossible, Mignon at last ordered her runabout and made +sulky preparations to start for the theatre. The possession of an +automobile gave her the advantage of being able to don her first act +costume at home, but her really attractive appearance in the fanciful +gown of the heartless step-sister afforded her no pleasure. She hooked +it up pettishly, made a face at herself in the mirror of her dressing +table, and, drawing her evening cloak about her, flounced downstairs to +her runabout, completely out of humor with the world in general. + +She drove along recklessly, as was her custom, and when half way to the +theatre narrowly missed running down a small, sturdy figure that was +marching across the street. + +"Naughty old wagon," screamed a familiar voice after her. + +At sound of that piping voice, Mignon stopped her car and peered out. +Trotting along the sidewalk a little to her rear was a small boy with a +diminutive violin case tucked under his arm. Little Charlie Stevens had +come forth once more to see the world. In a flash wicked inspiration +came to Mignon. The Stevens child was running away again, but this time +he had chosen an evening exactly to her liking. Slipping out of her car +she ran toward the boy. "Why, good evening, little boy," she called +pleasantly. "Where are _you_ going?" + +"I know you. You're a naughty girl!" observed Charlie with more truth +than courtesy. He braced himself defiantly and regarded Mignon with +patent disapproval. + +"I am so sorry you think so." Mignon affected a sadness which she was +far from feeling at this unvarnished statement. "I was going to take you +for a ride and buy you some ice cream." + +Charlie considered this astonishing offer in silence. He stared +frowningly at Mignon. "Is it chok'lit ice cream?" he asked, eyeing her +in open disbelief. + +"Of course it is. As much as you can eat." + +"All right. I want some. But you're a naughty girl, just the same. Mary +said so." + +Mignon shrugged indifferently. She was not greatly concerned at either +his or Mary's opinion of her. "Come on, if you want a ride," she urged. + +Charlie obeyed with some show of reluctance. He was not sure that even +the prospect of ice cream warranted his surrender. Mignon caught him up +and swung him into the runabout. Her wrist watch pointed to fifteen +minutes past seven. She had no time to lose. She drove rapidly through +the town to a small confectioner's store at the other end. Charlie kept +up a lively chatter as they rolled along. Stopping before it she lifted +the boy from the automobile, and, taking his hand, hurried him into the +brightly lighted store. Seating him at a table, she ordered two plates +of chocolate ice cream and sat down opposite the boy, her black eyes +glittering as she watched him eat. From time to time she glanced at her +watch. When the child had finished his plate of cream, she pushed her +own toward him. "Eat it," she commanded. + +Charlie responded nobly to the command. When she saw the last spoonful +vanish, she smiled elfishly. It was eight o'clock. The operetta began at +half past eight. Allowing herself fifteen minutes to reach the theatre +and carry out the last step in her plan, she would arrive there at +fifteen minutes past eight. + +The wandering musician made strenuous objection, however, to leaving the +ice cream parlor. "I could eat more chok'lit cream," he informed her. + +"You are a greedy boy," she said, her former friendliness vanishing into +angry impatience. "Come with me this minute." + +"You're a cross old elefunt," was Charlie's crushing but inappropriate +retort. + +Mignon was in no mood for an exchange of pleasantries. Seizing Charlie +by the arm she hustled him out of the shop into her runabout, and was +off like the wind. When half way between the shop and the theatre, she +halted her car. Lifting the boy out she set him on the sidewalk before +he had time to protest. "Now go where you please. I'll tell Connie to +come and find you," was her malicious farewell. Stepping into the +runabout she drove away, leaving Charlie Stevens to take care of himself +as best he might. + +Although Mignon was unaware of the fact, there had been an amazed +witness to the final scene in her little drama. A fair-haired girl had +come up just in time to hear her heartless speech and see her drive +away, leaving a small, perplexed youngster on the sidewalk. That girl +was Mary Raymond. She had steadily refused Marjorie's earnest plea that +she attend the much-talked-of performance of "The Rebellious Princess," +and directly after dinner that evening, on the plea of mailing a letter, +had slipped from the house on one of her melancholy, soul-searching +walks which she had become so fond of taking. Convinced that she was an +utter failure, imbued with a daily growing sense of her own unfitness to +be the friend of a girl like Marjorie Dean, Mary was plunged into the +depths of humiliation and unhappiness. This alone had been the cause of +the marked change in her that Marjorie had innocently attributed to +Mignon's defection. In her sad little soul there was now no bitterness +against Constance Stevens. Quite by chance she had one day not long past +encountered Jerry Macy in Sargent's, alone. Touched by her woe-begone +air, Jerry had taken pains to draw her out. With her usual shrewdness +the stout girl had discovered the real cause of Mary's depression, and +kindly advised her to have a heart-to-heart talk with Marjorie. Jerry +had also made it a point to inform Mary, so far as she knew the details, +of the trouble over the butterfly pins during Marjorie's freshman year, +and of Mignon's cruel treatment of Constance. Distinctly to Jerry's +credit, she told no one afterward of that chance meeting, yet she +secretly hoped that what she had said would have its effect upon Mary. + +Overwhelmed with shame, Mary had left the talkative, stout girl and +dragged herself home, in an agony of humiliation that can be better +imagined than described. She felt that she could never forgive herself +for the ignoble thoughts she had harbored against innocent Constance +Stevens, and she was still more certain that she could never ask either +Marjorie or Constance to forgive _her_. Again and again she had tried to +bring herself to approach Marjorie and humbly sue for pardon. The weight +of her own troubled conscience prevented her from yielding, and thus she +kept her sorrow locked in her aching heart and waited dejectedly for the +day when she must leave the Deans' pleasant home, taking with her +nothing but bitter self-reproach for her own folly. + +It was in this black mood that Mary had wandered forth that evening and +straight into the path of the very thing that was destined to bring her +peace. Mignon had hardly driven away when Mary caught the venturesome +youngster in her arms. The boy gave a jubilant little shout as he saw +who held him. Mary, however, was still at a loss regarding the meaning +of what she had seen. + +"Every time the cross girl scolds Charlie, you come and get him," was +the joyful exclamation. "She wasn't cross all the time. She gave Charlie +a ride and lots of ice cream. Then she wented away. She said she'd tell +Connie to come and find me. Connie's gone to the the'tre. I wented, too, +but the naughty girl got Charlie." + +"Charlie boy, try to tell Mary, where was he when the cross girl got +him?" + +"Way over there." Charlie waved an indefinite hand in the wrong +direction. + +Mary stood still, in a perplexed endeavor to read meaning in the nature +of Mignon's strange action. Suddenly the light burst upon her. "Oh!" she +cried, dismay written on every feature. "Now I begin to understand!" She +glanced wildly about her. Far up the street shone the light of an +oncoming street-car. Seizing Charlie by the hand she hurried him to the +corner. It was not more than two minutes until the car came to a +creaking stop before them. Mary helped Charlie into it and fumbled in +her purse. She had just two nickels. Breathing her relief, she paid the +fares, deposited Charlie on a seat beside her, then stared out the +window in an anxious watch of the streets. + +But while Mary Raymond was making a desperate attempt to redeem herself +by at least one kind act, Mignon La Salle had reached the theatre. +Dropping all appearance of haste, she strolled past the groups of gaily +attired boys and girls, nodding condescendingly to this one and that, +and switched downstairs to the dressing room which she occupied with +several other girls. Leisurely removing her cloak, she plumed herself +before the mirror. Her black eyes constantly sought her watch, however. +At last she turned from the mirror with a peculiar smile and abruptly +left the room. Straight to the star's dressing room she walked. Her thin +fingers beat a sharp tattoo on the door. It opened, and she stood face +to face with Constance Stevens, who was just about to take her place in +the wings, preparatory to the beginning of the opera. She was to make +her first entrance directly after the opening chorus. + +"I came to tell you, Miss Stevens," said Mignon with an indescribable +smile of pure malice, "that I saw your brother, Charlie, wandering along +the street as I drove to the theatre. I suppose he has run away." + +With a frightened cry, Constance dashed past her and up the stairs. +Mignon laughed aloud as she watched the vanishing figure. "That settles +her," she muttered. "Harriet Delaney can sing my part. She has +understudied it." Springing into sudden action she ran to her dressing +room, eluding a collision with the feminine portion of the chorus who +were scurrying for the stage in obedience to a gong that summoned them +to the wings. Reaching to a hook in the wall, from which depended her +several costumes, hung over one another, she took from under them an +almost exact copy of the gown Constance Stevens was wearing in the first +act and held it up with a murmur of satisfaction. Stripping off the gown +she wore she hastily donned this other costume. Then she sat down to +await what she believed would happen. + +But while Mignon busied herself with her own affairs, Constance was +making a hurried search for Laurie Armitage. Unluckily, he had gone, for +the moment, to the front of the house. Professor Harmon, too, was not in +sight. He also had gone to the front to take his place in the orchestra +pit. What could she do? The performance was about to begin. To leave +the theatre on a search for Charlie meant disaster to Laurie's operetta. +To leave Charlie to wander about the streets alone was even more +terrifying. She flitted past the waiting choristers, drawn up for +action, without a word of explanation. Marjorie Dean caught one look at +her friend's terrified face. It was enough to convince her that +something unusual had happened. Slipping out of her place in the line +she followed Constance, who was making directly for the stage door. +Marjorie saw her fling it open and glance wildly into the night. She ran +toward Connie, calling out, "What is the matter?" + +As the question crossed her lips both girls saw a familiar girlish +figure, strangely burdened, running toward them as fast as the weight +she carried would permit her to run. With a cry which rang in Marjorie's +ears for days afterwards Constance darted forward. She wrapped the girl +and her burden in a tumultuous embrace, laughing and crying in the same +breath. + +"The cross girl got Charlie, then she runned away and Mary comed and +found him. Charlie's goin' to the the'tre to play in the band. Mary said +so." He wriggled from the tangle of encircling arms to the stone walk. +"Hello, Marj'ry," he greeted genially. + +Marjorie turned from the marvelous sight of the two she loved best in +each other's arms. It was too wonderful for belief. Tardy remembrance +caused her to utter a dismayed, "You'll be late, Connie! Hurry in. Mary +and I will take care of Charlie. It doesn't matter if I do miss the +opening number." + +With a swift glance at Mary that contained untold gratitude, Constance +faltered, "I--love--you--Mary, for taking care of Charlie! I'll see you +again as soon as I can. Good-bye!" + +She was gone in a flash, leaving Mary and Marjorie to face each other +with full hearts. + +"You are my own, dear Mary again." Marjorie's clear voice was husky with +emotion, "and my very first and best chum, forever!" + +Mary nodded dumbly, her blue eyes overflowing. +"I've--come--back--to--you--to stay," she whispered. And on the stone +steps, worn by the passing of the feet of those who had entered the +theatre to play many parts, these two young players in Life's varied +drama enacted a little scene of love and forgiveness that was entirely +their own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE FULFILLMENT + + +The chorus were tunefully lifting up their voices in their initial +number, their watchful eyes on Professor Harmon's baton, when the +belated Princess hurried to her position in the wings. Laurie Armitage +had returned to the stage and was instituting a wild search for +Constance. Failing to find her upstairs, he had hastened below, and was +rushing desperately up and down the corridors, peering into the open +doorways of the deserted dressing rooms. Only one door was closed. +Behind it a black-haired girl awaited a call to fame. He called +Constance by name, again and again, then, receiving no answer, he dashed +up the stairs, encountering the object of his search at the very height +of his alarm. Marjorie Dean stood on guard beside her. She advanced +toward the excited composer, saying briefly, "Let her alone, Laurie. +She's awfully nervous and upset. She has just had a dreadful fright. +I'll tell you about it later." + +Constance cast a reassuring glance at Laurie. She had heard Marjorie's +protecting words. "I'm all right now," she nodded. "I won't fail you." + +The dulcet notes of her opening song, "I'm tired of being a Princess," +brought immeasurable relief to Lawrence and Marjorie, as they stood in +the wings, their anxious gaze fixed upon Constance. In one of the +dressing rooms below, the silver strains came faintly to the ears of +Mignon La Salle. During her interval of waiting she had been softly +humming that very song, confident of the summons she believed she would +receive. She had no doubt that her cowardly plan had worked only too +well. Knowing Constance Stevens' deep affection for her tiny foster +brother, she could readily see a vision of the terrified girl rushing +out into the night in search of him, her duty to the operetta completely +forgotten. As the sound of that hated voice reached her, she sprang to +the door of her dressing room and half opening it, halted to listen. A +wave of black rage swept over her. Forgetting her recent change of +costume, she took the stairs, two at a time, and ran squarely against +Lawrence Armitage and Marjorie Dean. + +Marjorie could not resist a low laugh of contemptuous scorn as she +viewed the stormy-eyed girl whose unscrupulous plan had failed. The +contempt in her pretty face deepened as her quick eyes took in the +details of Mignon's costume. The French girl's indiscreet haste to make +ready had convicted her. Marjorie had already learned from Mary all that +had occurred. It needed this one proof to complete the evidence. +Lawrence Armitage was regarding Mignon with perplexed brow. "That is not +the costume you wore last night, Miss La Salle," he said with cold +abruptness. Scrutinizing her closely, amazement began to dawn on his +clear-cut features. "When did you----" + +With a low cry of mingled humiliation and fury, Mignon turned and ran +down the stairs, her slender body trembling with the anger of a defeat +born of the failure of her plan and her own betraying haste. Gaining the +shelter of her dressing room, she gave herself up to a paroxysm of rage +that ended in a burst of hysterical sobs. + +The end of the first act brought a troop of hurrying, laughing girls +downstairs. Instead of the alert, self-possessed Mignon who had swept +proudly into the dressing room that night, those who shared the room +with her found a convulsive weeper lying face downward on the floor. + +"What's the matter?" was the concerted cry. + +A good-natured senior took Mignon gently by the shoulders. "Get up, +Mignon," she commanded. "If you don't stop crying, you won't be able to +go on when your cue comes, let alone trying to sing." Mignon's first +entrance took place in the second act and occurred directly after the +rise of the curtain. + +The French girl half raised herself at this reminder, then sank back to +her original position with a fresh burst of racking sobs. Finding her +good-natured ministrations ineffectual, the senior left Mignon to +herself and began to change methodically to her peasant costume of the +second act, the scene of which was laid in a village and in front of the +cottage where she supposedly dwelt. + +"Ten minutes," called the warning tones of the freshman who was serving +as call boy. Still Mignon refused to heed the admonitions of her +companions. + +"Better call Laurie Armitage," suggested one girl. "She can't possibly +go on. Harriet Delaney will have to take her place. Mignon isn't even +dressed for her part. Where do you suppose----" The senior did not +finish her sentence. Something in the familiar details of the gown +Mignon wore aroused an unpleasant suspicion in her active brain. A +swift-footed messenger had already sped away to find the young composer, +who, with the departure of Ronald Atwell had taken the arduous duties of +stage manager upon his capable shoulders. + +When the information of Mignon's collapse reached him, he made no move +to go to her. Instead, he beckoned to Harriet Delaney, who had just come +upstairs, and whispered a few words to her which caused her colorful +face to pale, then turn pinker than usual. + +"But I haven't a suitable costume," several girls heard her protest. + +"Go on as you are. Your costume is suitable," reassured Laurie. + +But down in the dressing room Mignon had struggled to her feet. The +knowledge that her unfairness was to cost her her own part in the +operetta aroused her to action. In feverish haste she began to tear off +the gown she wore. + +"Second act," rang out through the corridor. With a low wail of genuine +grief, Mignon dropped into a chair. She heard Harriet Delaney begin her +first song. Unable to bear the chagrin that was hers, she sprang up. +Readjusting the gown she had partly thrown off, she seized her cloak and +wrapped it about her. Then she fled up the stairway, and into the calm, +starlit night to where her runabout awaited her, the victim of her own +wrong-doing. + + * * * * * + +It was a happy trio of girls that, shortly before midnight, climbed into +the Deans' automobile, in which Mr. and Mrs. Dean sat patiently awaiting +their exit from the stage door. Lawrence Armitage's operetta had been an +artistic as well as a financial success. It had been a "Standing Room +Only" audience, and the proceeds were to be given to the Sanford +Hospital for Children. Laurie had decreed this as a quiet memento to +Constance's devotion to little Charlie during his days of infirmity. The +audience had not been chary of their applause. The principals had +received numerous curtain calls, Constance had received an enthusiastic +ovation, and many beautiful floral tokens from her admiring friends. +Laurie had been assailed with cries of "Composer! Speech! Speech!" and +had been obliged to respond. Even the chorus came in for its share of +approbation, and to her intense amazement Marjorie Dean received two +immense bouquets of roses, a fitting tribute to her fresh, young beauty. +One of them bore Hal Macy's card, the other she afterward learned was +the joint contribution of a number of her school friends. + +Only one person left the theatre that night who did not share in the +enthusiasm of the Sanford folks over the creditable work of their town +boys and girls. Mignon La Salle's father had, for once, put business +aside and come out to hear his daughter sing. Why she had not appeared +on the stage, he could not guess. His first thought was that she had +told him an untruth, but the printed programme carried her name as a +principal. He arrived home to be greeted with the servant's assertions +that Miss La Salle was ill and had retired. Going to her room to inquire +into the nature of her sudden illness, he was refused admittance, and +shrewdly deciding that his daughter had been worsted in a schoolgirl's +dispute in which she appeared always to be engaged, he left her to +herself. It was not until long afterward, when came the inevitable day +of reckoning, which was to make Mignon over, that he learned the true +story of that particular night. + +It had been arranged beforehand that Constance was to spend the night +with Marjorie. Shortly after Charlie had been comfortably established in +Constance's dressing room, Uncle John Roland had appeared at the stage +door of the theatre, his placid face filled with genuine alarm. He had +been left in charge of Charlie, and the child had eluded his somewhat +lax guardianship and run away. Finding the little violin missing, he +guessed that the boy had made his usual attempt to find the theatre, and +the old man had hastened directly there. Charlie was sent home with him, +despite his wailing plea to remain, thus leaving Constance free to carry +out her original plan. + +The Deans exchanged significant smiles at sight of Marjorie, Mary and +Constance approaching the automobile, three abreast, arms firmly linked. + +"Attention!" called Mr. Dean. "Salute your officers!" Two hands went up +in instant obedience of the order. Constance hesitated, then followed +suit. + +"I see my regiment has increased," remarked Mr. Dean, as he sprang out +to assist the three into the car. + +"Yes, Connie has joined the company," rejoiced Marjorie. "I am answering +for her. She needs military discipline." + +"Three soldiers are ever so much more interesting than two," put in Mary +shyly. Her earnest eyes sought the face of her Captain, as though to ask +mute pardon for her errors. Mrs. Dean's affectionate smile carried with +it the absolution Mary craved, and Mr. Dean's firm clasp of her hand, +as he helped her into the car, was equally reassuring. + +Mrs. Dean had ordered a light repast especially on account of Constance +and Marjorie. She had not counted on Mary, but she was a most welcome +addition. Their faithful maid, Delia, had insisted on staying up to make +cocoa and serve the supper party. + +"Captain," begged Marjorie, as the three girls appeared in her room, +after going upstairs, "please let us stay up as late as we wish +to-night? We simply must talk things out. To-morrow is Saturday, you +know." + +"For once I will withdraw all objections. You may stay up as late as you +please." The three girls kissed her in turn. Mary was last. Mrs. Dean +drew her close and kissed her twice. "Have you won the fight, +Lieutenant?" she whispered. + +Mary simply nodded, her blue eyes misty. She could not trust herself to +speak. "To-morrow--I'll--tell you," she faltered, then hurried to +overtake Constance and Marjorie, who were half-way upstairs. + +The "talk" lasted until two o'clock that morning. It was interspersed +with laughter, fond embracing and a few tears. When it ended, Marjorie's +dream of friendship had come true. + +Mary had more to say than the others. She confessed to writing the +letter of warning that had so mystified the basket-ball team. + +"I knew you wrote it," Marjorie said quietly. "I found it out by +comparing the paper it was written on with a letter I had received from +you. I was so glad. I knew you couldn't be like Mignon, even if you were +her friend." + +"I was never her friend, nor she mine," asserted Mary with a positive +shake of her head. "I was jealous of Constance and was glad to find +someone besides myself who didn't like her. I never knew the true story +of the pin until Jerry----" She paused, coloring deeply. + +"So Jerry told you. That is just like her. She is the kindest-hearted +girl in the world. Next to you two, I like her best of all my +schoolmates." Marjorie's affectionate tones bespoke her deep regard for +the stout girl whose matter-of-fact ways and funny sayings were a +perpetual joy. + +"If only I had listened to you and Connie in the first place." Mary +sighed. "I've spoiled my sophomore year and tried hard enough to spoil +yours. And there's so little of it left! I won't have time to show you +how sorry I am and how much I care." + +"We will begin now and make the most of what is left of it," proposed +Marjorie gently. Then she added, "Jerry didn't know all that happened +last year. I would like to tell you about it." + +"Please do," urged Mary humbly. + +Marjorie told the story of her first year in Sanford, frequently turning +to Constance for confirmation. When she had finished Mary was silent. +She had no words with which to express her utter contrition. + +"Now you know our sad history," smiled Marjorie, with a kindly attempt +at lightening the burden of self-reproach Mary bore. + +"But neither of you has told _me_ how Mary happened to find Charlie +to-night," reminded Constance. "I am anxious to know. This is the first +time he ever ran so far away." + +"Oh, no, you forget the night he went to Mignon's----" Mary broke off +shortly, red with embarrassment. She had not intended to speak of this. +Constance's positive assertion had caught her off her guard. + +"Went to Mignon's?" was the questioning chorus of her two listeners. + +Mary was obliged to enlighten them. "I wondered if he ever told you, +Connie. He promised he wouldn't," she ended. + +"And he never told, the little rascal," was Constance's quick reply. "No +one except the maid knew it, and you may be sure she never said a word." + +"It was that night I came to my senses." Mary smiled a trifle wistfully. +"I saw myself as others saw me. You thought I was grieving over Mignon, +Marjorie. But I wasn't. It was my own shortcomings that bothered me. Now +I must tell you about to-night, and then you will know everything about +me." + +Constance received the account of Mignon's attempt to supplant her in +the operetta with no trace of resentment. "I ought to be angry with her, +but I can't. She has suffered more to-night than I would have if her +plan had succeeded. Poor Mignon, I wonder if she will ever wake up?" + +"That's hard to say. At any rate, she did some good, even if she didn't +intend to," reminded Marjorie. "I'm going to try to keep my junior year +in high school free of snarls. There is no use in mourning for the past. +Let us set our faces to the future and be glad that we three are done +with misunderstandings. Marjorie Dean, High School Junior, is going to +be a better soldier than Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore has ever +been." + +Both Constance Stevens and Mary Raymond smiled at this earnest resolve. +In their hearts they felt that Marjorie Dean need make no vows. She +stood already on the heights of loyalty and truth, steadfast and +unassailable. + +How fully Marjorie Dean carried out her resolve and what happened to her +as a junior in Sanford High School will be told in "Marjorie Dean, High +School Junior," a story which every friend of this delightful girl will +surely welcome. + + + + +THE END + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + Alternative spelling and variations in hyphenated words + have been retained as in the original publication. + + The following changes have been made: + + who were maknig _changed to_ + who were making + + Do you miss anyone? _changed to_ + "Do you miss anyone? + + racuous voice _changed to_ + raucous voice + + atuomobile, and when _changed to_ + automobile, and when + + asperin tablets _changed to_ + aspirin tablets + + strange predeliction _changed to_ + strange predilection + + sinmply because she _changed to_ + simply because she + + atlhough the latter _changed to_ + although the latter + + stayled her, and _changed to_ + styled her, and + + continual penace for _changed to_ + continual penance for + + the previous Christmas eve _changed to_ + the previous Christmas Eve + + please don't be disapponted _changed to_ + please don't be disappointed + + Who says I'm not a poet _changed to_ + "Who says I'm not a poet + + That let's me out _changed to_ + That lets me out + + was alloted the part _changed to_ + was allotted the part + + red with embarassment _changed to_ + red with embarrassment + + soldier than Marjorie, Dean _changed to_ + soldier than Marjorie Dean + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Marjorie Dean, by Pauline Lester + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN *** + +***** This file should be named 27985-8.txt or 27985-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/8/27985/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Marjorie Dean + High School Sophomore + +Author: Pauline Lester + +Release Date: February 4, 2009 [EBook #27985] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="contents" id="contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="Table of Content"> +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#I">I</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">When Dreams Come True</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#II">II</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Shadow</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#III">III</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Sowing the Seed of Discord</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#IV">IV</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Introducing Mary to the Girls</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#V">V</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">An Uncalled-for Rebuff</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#VI">VI</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Mary's Disturbing Discovery</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#VII">VII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">The Promise</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#VIII">VIII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Latest Sophomore Arrival</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#IX">IX</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">The Blindness of Jealousy</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#X">X</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">The Valley of Misunderstanding</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XI">XI</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">Choosing Her Own Way</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XII">XII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> <span class="smcap">The Compact</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XIII">XIII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In Defence of Mignon</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XIV">XIV</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Common Fate of Reformers</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XV">XV</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">An Irate Guest</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XVI">XVI</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Penalty</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XVII">XVII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Step in the Right Direction</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Mysterious Warning</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XIX">XIX</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Bold Stand for Honor</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XX">XX</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hoisting the Flag of Truce</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXI">XXI</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Last Straw</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXII">XXII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Face to Face with Herself</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXIII">XXIII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">For the Fame of Sanford High</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXIV">XXIV</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Moment of Triumph</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXV">XXV</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">An Unhappy Princess</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXVI">XXVI</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Making Restitution</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#XXVII">XXVII</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fulfillment</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr /> + +<h1><big>Marjorie Dean</big><br /> +High School Sophomore</h1> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="450" height="534" alt="Cover" title="Spine" /> +</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 389px;"> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" class="jpg" width="389" height="600" alt="Frontispiece" title="" /> +<span class="caption">MARY KNELT ON THE DRIVEWAY AND GATHERED CHARLIE INTO HER +ARMS.<br /> + +<em>Marjorie Dean High School Sophomore.</em><br /> +<em><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a>.</em></span> +</div> + +<div id="tpc"> +<p class="tp"><span class="title"><big>MARJORIE DEAN</big> +High School Sophomore</span></p> + +<hr class="hr4" /> + +<p class="tp"><span class="by">By PAULINE LESTER</span></p> + +<hr class="hr5" /> + +<p class="center noi">AUTHOR OF<br /> +<br /> +"Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman"<br /> +"Marjorie Dean, High School Junior"<br /> +"Marjorie Dean, High School Senior"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 124px;"> +<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="124" height="150" alt="Publisher's Logo" title="Title page" /> +</div> + +<hr class="hr4" /> + +<p class="center top">A. L. BURT COMPANY<br /> + +<span class="left">Publishers</span> <span class="right">New York</span></p> +</div> + +<h5 class="copy">Copyright, 1917<br /> +<span class="smcap">BY A. L. Burt Company</span></h5> +<hr class="hr3" /> +<h5 class="copy">MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE</h5> + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span><big>MARJORIE DEAN,</big><br /> +HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE</h2> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> +<br /> +<small>WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE</small></h2> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Come</span> on in, Connie. The water's fine!" invited Marjorie Dean, beckoning +with one round, dripping arm to the girl on the sands, while with the +other she kept herself lazily afloat.</p> + +<p>The sun of a perfect August morning poured down upon the white beach, +dotted here and there with ambitious bathers, who had grasped Time +firmly by his venerated forelock, and fared forth with the proverbial +early bird for a morning dip in a deceitfully dimpled and smiling sea.</p> + +<p>It was not yet nine o'clock, but, fearful of losing a minute of her +precious seaside vacation, Marjorie Dean had come down to her favorite +playground for her usual early morning swim.</p> + +<p>"I know it's fine," laughed Constance Stevens, "but this nice white sand +is even finer."</p> + +<p>"You'll never learn to swim if you just sit on the beach and dream," +reminded Marjorie. "I feel that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> it's my stern duty to see that your +education as a water paddler is not neglected. So here goes!"</p> + +<p>With a few skilful strokes she brought up in shallow water. There was a +quick rush of lithe feet, the sound of sweet, high laughter, then a +little, good-natured gurgle of protest from the golden-haired, blue-eyed +girl curled up on the sand as she found herself being dragged into the +water by a pair of sturdy young arms.</p> + +<p>"Now—sink or swim, survive or perish!" panted Marjorie, as the lapping +shallows broke over the yielding figure of her friend. "You'll simply +have to be a water baby, Connie, dear. It's as important as being a +sophomore in Sanford High, and you know just how important that is! Now, +watch me and do likewise."</p> + +<p>Her day dream thus rudely interrupted, Constance Stevens laughingly +resigned herself to Marjorie's energetic commands, and, now thoroughly +awake to the important business at hand, tried her best to follow her +friend's instructions. A fifteen minutes' lesson in the art of learning +to float followed, and at the end of that time, by common consent, the +two girls waded ashore and flung themselves on the warm sand.</p> + +<p>"I'll never learn to swim. I feel it in my bones," asserted Constance, +as she lazily rose, wrung the water from her bathing suit and seated +herself on the white beach beside Marjorie, who lay stretched at full +length, her head propped upon her elbows, her alert gaze upon the few +bathers who were disporting themselves in the water.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then your bones are false prophets," declared Marjorie calmly. "You +know how to float already, and that's half the battle. We'll rest a +little and talk some more, and then we'll try it again. Next time I'll +teach you an easy stroke. Isn't it funny, Connie, we never seem to get +'talked out.' We've been here together five whole weeks and yet there +always seems to be something new to say. You are really a most +entertaining person."</p> + +<p>"That's precisely my opinion of you." Constance's blue eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>The two girls laughed joyously. Two wet hands stretched forth and met in +a loving little squeeze.</p> + +<p>"It's been wonderful to be here with you, Marjorie. Last year at this +time I never dreamed that anything so wonderful could possibly happen to +me." The golden-haired girl's voice was not quite steady.</p> + +<p>"And I've loved being here with you. What a lot of things can happen in +a year," mused Marjorie. "Why, at this time last year I never even knew +that there was a town called Sanford on the map, and when I found out +there was really such a place, and that I was going to live there +instead of staying in B—— and going to Franklin High, I felt perfectly +<em>awful</em> about it."</p> + +<p>It had, indeed, been a most unhappy period for sunny, lovable Marjorie +Dean when the call of her father's business had made it necessary for +him to remove his family from the beautiful city of B——, where +Marjorie had been born and lived sixteen untroubled years of life, to +the smaller northern city of Sanford, where she didn't know a soul<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>.</p> + +<p>All that happened to Marjorie Dean from the first day in her new home +has been faithfully recorded in "<span class="smcap">Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman</span>." +In that narrative was set forth her trials, which had been many, and her +triumphs, which had been proportionately greater, as a freshman in +Sanford High School. How she had become acquainted with Constance +Stevens and how, after never-to-be-forgotten days of storm and sunshine, +the friendship between the two young girls had flowered into perfect +understanding, formed a story of more than ordinary interest.</p> + +<p>Now, after several happy weeks at the seashore, where the Deans had +rented a cottage and were spending their usual summer outing with +Constance as their guest, the two friends were enjoying the last perfect +days of mid-summer before returning to Sanford, where, in September, +Constance and Marjorie were to enter the delightful realm of the +sophomore, to which they had won admission the previous June.</p> + +<p>There had been only one shadow to mar Marjorie's bliss. She had hoped +that her childhood friend and companion, Mary Raymond, might be with +them at the seashore, but, owing to the ill-health of Mary's mother, the +Raymonds had been obliged to summer in the mountains, where Mary was +needed at her mother's side. That Constance and Mary should meet and +become friends had ever been Marjorie's most ardent desire. It was +Constance's remarkable resemblance to Mary that had drawn her toward the +girl in the very beginning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's all been so perfectly beautiful, Connie." Marjorie gave a little +sigh of sheer happiness. "I've only one regret."</p> + +<p>"I know—you mean your chum, Mary," supplemented Constance, with quick +sympathy.</p> + +<p>Marjorie nodded.</p> + +<p>"It seems strange I haven't heard from her. She hasn't written me for +over two weeks. I hope her mother isn't worse."</p> + +<p>"No news is good news," comforted Constance.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps there will be a letter for me from her when we get back to the +cottage. Suppose there should be! Wouldn't that be glorious?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we'd better go up now and see," suggested Constance. "It must +be time for the postman."</p> + +<p>"We're not going until after you've had fifteen more minutes' +instruction in the noble art of swimming, you rascal," laughed Marjorie. +"See how self-sacrificing I am! You don't appreciate my noble efforts in +your direction."</p> + +<p>"Of course I appreciate them, Marjorie Dean." Constance's habitually +wistful expression broke up in a radiant smile that set her blue eyes +dancing. "But I must confess, this minute, that I can live and be happy +if I never learn to swim."</p> + +<p>"That settles it. In you go again."</p> + +<p>Marjorie sprang energetically to her feet, and began dragging her +protesting friend down the beach to the water. Another fifteen minutes' +instruction followed, punctuated by much laughter on the part of the two +girls.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There! I'll let you off for to-day," conceded Marjorie, at last. "Now, +come on. I have a hunch that there <em>is</em> a letter for me. I haven't had +any letters for two whole days."</p> + +<p>It was only a few rods from the bathing beach to the "Sea Gull," the +cottage in which the Deans were living. As they neared it, a +gray-uniformed figure was seen hurrying down the walk.</p> + +<p>"It's the postman! What did I tell you?" Marjorie broke into a run, +Constance following close at her heels.</p> + +<p>The two girls brought up flushed and laughing at the pretty, +vine-covered veranda, where Mrs. Dean sat, in the act of opening a +letter. Half a dozen other postmarked envelopes lay in her lap.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Captain," Marjorie touched a hand to her bathing cap, "how many of +them are for me?"</p> + +<p>"All of them except this, Lieutenant," smiled her mother, holding up the +letter she had been reading. "But why all this haste? I hardly expected +you back so soon. Five minutes before luncheon is your usual time for +reappearing," she slyly reminded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I had an unmistakable hunch that there was a letter here for me +from Mary, so I let Connie off easy on her lesson. I'll make up for it +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>By this time Marjorie held in her hand the half-dozen envelopes, each +bearing its own special message from the various friends who held more +or less important places in her regard, and was rapidly going over them.</p> + +<p>"Here's one from Jerry and one from Hal." The pink in her cheeks +deepened at sight of the familiar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> boyish hand. "One from Marcia Arnold, +another from Muriel Harding. Here's a tiresome advertisement." She threw +the fifth envelope disdainfully on the wicker table at her side. +"And—yes, here it is, in Mary's very own handwriting!"</p> + +<p>Laying the other letters on the table with a carefulness that bespoke +their value, Marjorie hastily tore open the envelope that contained news +of her friend and drawing out a single closely written sheet of paper +said apologetically, "You won't mind if I read this now, will you, +Connie and Mother?"</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," urged Constance. "We couldn't be so hard-hearted as to +object."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean smiled her assent. Marjorie's thoughtfulness of others was +always a secret source of joy to her.</p> + +<p>Marjorie read down the page, then uttered a little squeal of delight. +"Mother!" she exclaimed joyously, "just listen to this:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">"Dearest Marjorie:</span></p> + +<p>"You will wonder, perhaps, what has happened to me. I know I have owed +you a letter for over two weeks, but I have been so busy taking care of +mother that I haven't had very much time to write. Of course, we have a +nurse, but, still, there are so many little things to be done for her, +which she likes to have me do. She is much better, but our doctor says +she must go to a famous health resort in the West for the winter. She +will start for Colorado in about two weeks, and now comes the part of +my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> letter which I hope you will like to read. I am going to make you a +visit. Father and I are coming to see you on a very mysterious mission. +I won't tell you anything more about it until I see you. Part of it is +sad and part of it glad, and it all depends upon three persons whether +it will ever happen. There! That ought to keep you guessing.</p> + +<p>"You wrote me that you would be at home in Sanford by the last of next +week. Please writs me at once and let me know just exactly when you +expect to reach there. We shall not try to come to the seashore, as +father prefers to wait until you are back in Sanford again. With much +love to you and your mother,</p> + +<p class="center">"Yours Mysteriously,<br /> +<span class="smcap pl">"Mary."</span></p> +</div> + +<p>Marjorie finished the last word with a jubilant wave of the letter.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of that, Captain? What do you suppose this mysterious +mission can be?" Marjorie's face was alight with affectionate curiosity.</p> + +<p>"I am not good at guessing," Mrs. Dean smiled tolerantly. The ways of +schoolgirls were usually shrouded with a profound mystery, which +disappeared into nothingness when confronted with reality.</p> + +<p>"It must be something extraordinary. She says it's part sad and part +glad. I hope it's mostly glad. I know <em>I'm</em> glad that I'm going to see +her. Why, it's almost a year since we said good-bye to each other!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> Oh, +Connie," she turned rapturously to Constance, "you two girls, my dearest +friends, who look alike, will actually meet at last! You'll love Mary. +You can't help yourself, and she'll love you. She can't do anything +else."</p> + +<p>"I hope she will like me," said Constance a trifle soberly. "I know I +shall like her, because she is your friend, Marjorie."</p> + +<p>"You'll like her for yourself, Connie," predicted Marjorie loyally, and +secure in the belief that neither of these two girls, whose friendship +she held above rubies, could fail her, Marjorie Dean dreamed of a +kingdom of fellowship into which the three were fated to enter only +after scaling the steep and difficult walls of misunderstanding.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE SHADOW</small></h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Listen</span>, Connie! Do you hear that train whistling? I'm sure it's Mary's +train."</p> + +<p>Marjorie Dean peered anxiously up the track in the direction of the +sound. In the distance her alert eyes spied the smoke of the approaching +train before it rounded the bend and appeared in full view, and her +heart beat high with the thought that the longer-for moment had come at +last.</p> + +<p>Since her return to Sanford, five days before, Marjorie had been in a +quiver of affectionate impatience.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> How slowly the days dragged! She +read and re-read Mary's latest letter, stating that she and her father +would arrive at Sanford on Wednesday on the 4.30 train and her +impatience grew. It was not alone that she desired to see Mary. There +was the "mysterious mission" to be considered. What girl does not love a +mystery? And Marjorie was no exception. At that moment, however, as she +waited for her childhood's friend, all thought of the mystery was swept +aside in the longing to see Mary again.</p> + +<p>As the train rumbled into the station and after many groans and shudders +stopped with a last protesting creak of wheels, Marjorie's anxious gaze +traveled up and down its length. Suddenly, at the far end, she spied a +tall, familiar figure descending the car steps. Close behind him +followed a slender girl in blue. With a cluck of joy and a "There she +is!" Marjorie fairly raced up the station platform. Constance followed, +but proceeded more slowly. To Marjorie belonged the right to the first +rapturous moments with her chum. In her girlish soul lurked no trace of +jealousy. She understood that with Marjorie, Mary must always be first, +and she was filled with an unselfish happiness for the pleasure of the +girl who had braved all things for her and would forever mean all that +was best and highest to her.</p> + +<p>"Mary!" Marjorie exclaimed, her clear voice trembling with emotion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Marjorie, it's been ages," quavered Mary Raymond. Then the two +became locked in a tempestuous embrace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here, here, where do I come in?" asked an injured voice, as the two +young women continued to croon over each other, all else forgotten.</p> + +<p>Marjorie gently disengaged herself from Mary's detaining arms and turned +to give her hand to Mr. Raymond.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad to see you," she said fervently. "Mother is waiting in our +car, just the other side of the station. But first, let me introduce my +friend, Constance Stevens. Why, where is she? I thought she was right +behind me. Oh, here she comes. Hurry up, Connie!"</p> + +<p>Constance approached rather shyly. In spite of the fact that the old +days of poverty and heartache lay behind her like a bad dream, she was +still curiously reserved and diffident in the presence of strangers. The +decision of her aunt, Miss Susan Allison, to take up her abode in +Sanford in order that Constance might finish her high school course with +Marjorie had brought many changes into the life of the once friendless +girl. Miss Allison had purchased a handsome property on the outskirts of +Sanford, and, after much persuasion, had, with one exception, induced +the occupants of the little gray house to share it with her. Soon +afterward Mr. Stevens, Constance's foster-father, whose name she still +bore and refused to change, had accepted a position as first violin in a +symphony orchestra and had gone to fulfill his destiny in the world of +music which he loved. Uncle John Roland and little Charlie, once puny +and crippled, but now strong and rosy, had, with Constance, come into +the lonely old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> woman's household at a time when she most needed them, +and, in her contrition for the lost years of happiness which she had so +stubbornly thrust aside, she was in a fair way to spoil her little flock +by too much petting.</p> + +<p>The fact that from a mere nobody Constance Stevens had become the social +equal of Sanford's most exclusive contingent did not impress the girl in +the least. Naturally humble and self-effacing, she had no ambition to +shine socially. Her one aim was to become a great singer, and it was +understood between herself and her aunt that when she was graduated from +high school she was to enter a conservatory of music and study voice +culture under the best masters.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Constance that she now had everything in the world that she +could possibly hope for or desire, but of the great good which had come +to her in one short year she felt that above all she prized the +friendship of Marjorie Dean and in whatever lay Marjorie's happiness, +there must hers lie also.</p> + +<p>This was her thought as she now stepped forward to meet Mary Raymond. +She was prepared to give this girl who was Marjorie's dearest friend a +loyalty and devotion, second only to that which she accorded Marjorie +herself.</p> + +<p>"At last my dearest wish has come true!" exclaimed Marjorie when +Constance had been presented to Mr. Raymond and she and Mary had clasped +hands. "I've been so anxious for you two to know each other. Now that +you're here together<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> I can see that resemblance I've told you of. +Connie, you look like Mary and Mary looks like you. You might easily +pass for sisters."</p> + +<p>Constance smiled with shy sweetness at Mary and Mary returned the smile, +but in her blue eyes there flashed a sudden, half-startled expression, +which neither Constance nor Marjorie noted. Then she said in a tone +intended to be cordial, but which somehow lacked heart, "I'm awfully +glad to know you, Miss Stevens. Marjorie has written me often of you."</p> + +<p>"And she has talked to me over and over again of you," returned +Constance warmly.</p> + +<p>"Now that you know each other, you can postpone getting chummy until +later," laughed Marjorie. "Mother will wonder what has happened to us. +She'll think you didn't come on that train if we don't put in an +appearance."</p> + +<p>Possessing herself of Mary's traveling bag she led the way with Mary +through the station and out to the opposite side where Mrs. Dean awaited +them. Constance followed with Mr. Raymond. In her heart she experienced +an odd disappointment. Was it her imagination, or did Mary's cordiality +seem a trifle forced? Perhaps it would have been better if she had not +accompanied Marjorie to the station to meet Mary. Perhaps Mary was a +trifle hurt that her chum had not come alone. She decided that she would +not ride to Marjorie's home with the party, although she had been +invited to dine with them that night. She could not bear to think of +intruding. She managed to answer Mr. Raymond's courteous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> remarks, but +her thoughts were not centered upon what he was saying. Without warning, +her old-time diffidence settled down upon her like an enveloping cloak, +and her one object was to slip away as quickly and as unobtrusively as +possible.</p> + +<p>"I think I had better not go home with you, Marjorie," she said in a low +voice. They had reached the waiting automobile and Mary and Mrs. Dean +were exchanging affectionate greetings.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why not, Connie?" Marjorie's happy face clouded. "You know we'd +love to have you, wouldn't we, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Of course." Mary again smiled at Constance, but again her smile lacked +warmth.</p> + +<p>Constance shook her head almost obstinately.</p> + +<p>"I think I had better not come," she repeated, and in her speech there +was a shadowy return of the old baffling reserve that had so greatly +disturbed Marjorie in the early stages of their friendship.</p> + +<p>"But you promised to take dinner with us to-night," remarked Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"I—I have changed my mind. It will be best for me to go home, I think. +I'll come over to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean added her persuasions, but Constance was firm, and, after +bidding a courteous farewell to the Deans' guests, she hurried away, +more agitated than she cared to admit.</p> + +<p>"Why, what ails Constance, Marjorie?" asked Mrs. Dean in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—that is, I don't know." Marjorie looked after her friend's +rapidly disappearing figure, a puzzled expression in her brown eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mary Raymond viewed Marjorie with a faint frown. It was rather provoking +in Marjorie to express so much concern over this Constance Stevens. +After their long separation she felt that her chum's every thought ought +to be for her alone. And in that instant a certain fabled green-eyed +monster, that Mary had never believed could exist for her, suddenly +sprang into life and whispered to her that, perhaps, after all, she was +not first in Marjorie Dean's heart.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> +<br /> +<small>SOWING THE SEED OF DISCORD</small></h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Before</span> you talk of another single thing, Mary Raymond, please tell me +what you mean by a 'mysterious mission' that is 'part sad and part +glad,'" exclaimed Marjorie.</p> + +<p>Mr. Raymond was occupying the front seat of the automobile, beside Mrs. +Dean, who drove the car, a birthday present from her husband, and the +two girls had the tonneau of the automobile to themselves. They had +scarcely deposited Mary's luggage on the floor of the car and settled +themselves for the short ride to the Deans' home when Marjorie had made +her eager inquiry into the nature of the "mysterious mission" that had +so aroused her curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Well," began Mary, brightening, "father and I <em>have</em> come to see you on +a mission, but the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> mystery about it is that you don't as yet know +why we've come. I thought 'mysterious mission' looked rather well on +paper so I set it down."</p> + +<p>"But you're going to tell me about it this instant, you wicked, +tantalizing girl," insisted Marjorie with pretended sternness.</p> + +<p>"I thought perhaps you might be able to guess certain things from my +letter," continued Mary. "You see, I wrote you that mother would have to +go to Colorado for the winter and——"</p> + +<p>"You are going with her," supplemented Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"No, that's a wild guess. I'm not going west with her. Father says I +must stay in the East and go through my sophomore year in high school."</p> + +<p>"But you can't stay at home by yourself, Mary. Just think how dreadful +that would be for you, with your father away most of the time," reminded +Marjorie.</p> + +<p>Mary's father was a traveling salesman for a large furniture +manufactory, and spent the greater part of his time on the road.</p> + +<p>"That's just the point," responded Mary. "I know I can't stay at home +alone. Mother's illness and what is to become of me when father goes on +the road again is the sad part of it, but the glad part is—oh, +Marjorie, can't you guess now?" Mary caught Marjorie's hand in hers. +"We've come all the way to Sanford to see if," her voice rose high with +excitement, "there isn't a little corner in the Dean barracks that a +certain lieutenant can call her own for this year and——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mary!" It was Marjorie's turn to become excited. "Do you really mean +that you wish to come to live with me and enter Sanford High? That we'll +be sophomores together?"</p> + +<p>Mary clung to Marjorie's hand and nodded. For a moment she was too near +to tears for speech. But they were tears of happiness. Marjorie really +desired her for a best friend after all. Her sudden jealousy of +Constance Stevens vanished.</p> + +<p>"I should say that was a <em>glad</em> part of your mission," laughed Marjorie +happily. "I don't know what I've ever done to deserve such good fortune. +Mother will be glad, too. She loves you almost as much as she loves me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother," Marjorie leaned impulsively forward, "Mary's coming to +live with me this year while her mother is in Colorado. You'll have two +lieutenants instead of one to look after. We are going to win sophomore +honors together and be promoted to be captains next June!"</p> + +<p>"There," declared Mr. Raymond with comical resignment, "now you have let +the cat out of the bag with a vengeance, Mary Raymond. All this time I +had been planning to ask Mrs. Dean, in my most ingratiating manner, if +she thought she might possibly make room for a certain very frisky +member of my family for a while. I had intended to proceed carefully and +diplomatically so that she wouldn't be too much shocked at such a +prospect, but now——"</p> + +<p>"It's all settled, isn't it, Mother?" interrupted Marjorie. "You are +just as anxious as I for Mary to come and live with us, aren't you?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall I stop the car in the middle of the street and assure you of my +willingness to increase my regiment?" laughed Mrs. Dean.</p> + +<p>"No, no," protested Marjorie. "Let's hurry home as fast as we can and +talk it over. We're only two squares from our house now. Besides, I've +planned everything already. Mary can have the spare bedroom next to my +house." Marjorie always referred to her room as her "house." "There's +only the bath between and we'll use that together, and have a regular +house of our own. Oh, Mary, won't it be perfectly splendid?"</p> + +<p>Regardless of what passersby might think, Mary and Marjorie embraced +with an enthusiasm that threatened to land them both in the tonneau of +the rapidly moving car, while their elders smiled at this reckless +display of affection.</p> + +<p>The automobile had hardly come to a full stop on the broad driveway, +that wound through the wide stretch of lawn that was one of the chief +beauties of the Deans' pretty home, when Marjorie swung open the door +and skipped nimbly out of the car with, "Welcome home, Mary!"</p> + +<p>Mary was only an instant behind Marjorie in leaving the car, and the two +hugged each other afresh out of pure joy of living.</p> + +<p>"Take Mary up to her room at once, dear," directed Mrs. Dean. "I'm sure +she must be tired and hungry after her long ride in the train. We will +have an early dinner to-night. I expect Mr. Dean home at almost any +moment," she continued, turning to Mr. Raymond.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Come on, Mary." Marjorie had lifted Mary's bag from the automobile. Now +she stretched forth an inviting hand to Mary, and piloted her across the +lawn and up the short stretch of stone walk to the front door. The door +opened and a trim, rosy-cheeked maid appeared as by magic. She reached +for Mary's bag, but Marjorie waved her gently aside.</p> + +<p>"I'll do the honors, Delia. You can look after mother and Mr. Raymond. +We are very self-sufficient persons who don't need anything except a +chance to go upstairs and talk ourselves hoarse."</p> + +<p>A wide smile irradiated the maid's goodnatured face, as she stepped +aside to allow Marjorie and Mary to enter the hall.</p> + +<p>"What a darling house!" Mary's glance traveled about the pretty Dutch +hall to the large, comfortable living room beyond. "You have oceans of +room here, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie nodded. "Yes; when first we came here I felt lost. It was +actually lonesome. It took me a whole week to grow accustomed to looking +out without seeing rows of brick houses across the street and on each +side of me. Don't you remember, I wrote you all about it? You see, I +didn't enter high school until we'd been here almost two weeks, and in +all that time I never met a single girl. I felt like a shipwrecked +sailor on a great, big, lonely, old island. Shall we go upstairs now? +I'm so anxious to have you see my 'house.' It's a house within a house, +you know. Mother had it all done up in pink and white for me, and I +spent hours in it. Your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> house is blue. I made general and captain let +me have one of the spare bedrooms done in blue, so that when you came to +visit me you'd feel at home. And now it's going to be your very own for +a whole year! It's too good to be true."</p> + +<p>Releasing Mary's hand, Marjorie led the way up the stairs to the second +floor and down the short hall to her "house." Mary cried out in +admiration at her friend's dainty room. She walked about, exclaiming +over its perfect details after the manner of girls, then three minutes +later the two somehow found themselves seated side by side on Marjorie's +pretty white bed, their arms about each other's waists, and fairly +launched into one of the good, old-time confabs they were wont to +indulge in when the top step of the Deans' veranda in B—— had been +their favorite trysting place.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Mrs. Dean entered the room to find them still talking +at an alarming rate, the rest of their world apparently forgotten.</p> + +<p>"I might have known it," she smiled. "Why, you haven't even taken off +your hats, and dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Marjorie, you are a +most neglectful hostess."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we don't mind having dinner with our hats on," returned Marjorie +cheerfully. Then, rising, she took off her broad-brimmed Panama, and +began gently pulling the pins from Mary's hat. "Make it fifteen minutes, +instead of ten, Captain, and we'll be as spick and span as you please."</p> + +<p>"Discipline seems to be very lax in these barracks," commented Mrs. +Dean. "I am afraid I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> ought to call upon General to help me enforce my +orders. Under the circumstances I'll be lenient, though, and stretch the +time to fifteen minutes. There, I hear General downstairs now!"</p> + +<p>She disappeared from the doorway and immediately a great scurrying about +began, punctuated with much talk and laughter. To Marjorie it seemed as +though she had not been so happy for ages. It was wonderful to know that +her beloved Mary was actually with her once more, and still more +wonderful that she would continue to be with her indefinitely.</p> + +<p>At dinner she beamed joyously across the table at the little blue-eyed +girl, while their elders discussed and settled her destiny for the +coming year. Mr. and Mrs. Dean met Mr. Raymond's request in behalf of +his daughter with the whole-heartedness that so characterized them. In +fact, they were highly in favor of receiving Mary as a member of their +little household.</p> + +<p>"Two soldiers are better than one," asserted Mr. Dean humorously. "I +believe in preparedness. 'In times of peace prepare for war,' you know. +With such a valiant army under my command I could do wonders if attacked +by the enemy."</p> + +<p>After dinner they all repaired to the living room, where the discussion +of the all-important subject was continued, and when at eleven o'clock +two sleepy, but blissfully happy, lieutenants climbed the stairs to bed, +Mary Raymond lacked nothing except actual adoption papers, signed and +sealed, to admit her into the Deans' hospitable fold.</p> + +<p>Yet there was one tiny drawback to Mary's joy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> Try as she might she +could not forget Constance Stevens and Marjorie's too evident fondness +for her. From Marjorie's early letters she had formed the conclusion +that Constance was merely a poor nobody, whom her chum, with her usual +spirit of generosity had tried to befriend. Marjorie's later letters had +contained little pertaining to Constance. Mary had not known of the long +period of estrangement between Constance and Marjorie that had so nearly +wrecked their budding friendship, and of the many changes that time had +wrought in the life of the girl who looked like her. She had, therefore, +been quite unprepared to meet the dainty, well-dressed young woman whom +Marjorie appeared to hold in such strong affection. She reflected that +night, a trifle resentfully, after Marjorie had kissed her good-night +and left her, that it was very strange in Marjorie not to have put her +in possession of the real facts of the case. Still, it was really not +her affair. If Marjorie chose to become chummy with Constance without +even writing a word of it to her, there was nothing to do except to be +silent over the whole affair. Perhaps Marjorie would tell her all about +it later. Certainly she would ask no questions. And then and there, +little, blue-eyed Mary Raymond made her first mistake, and sowed a tiny +seed of discord in her jealous heart that was fated later to bear bitter +fruit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<br /> +<small>INTRODUCING MARY TO THE GIRLS</small></h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">We've</span> come for a last inspection, Captain. How do we look?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie Dean danced into her mother's room, her brown eyes sparkling +with anticipation, her charming face all smiles. Mary Raymond followed +her excited chum.</p> + +<p>"Halt! Company, attention!" commanded Mrs. Dean, as she turned from her +dressing table to pass an opinion upon the waiting brigade of two. Her +brown eyes rested approvingly upon the trim figures drawn up in their +most soldierly attitude before her. Marjorie's frock of pink linen, with +its wide lace collar and cuffs, exactly suited her dark eyes and hair, +while Mary's gown of pale blue of the same material served to accentuate +the fairness of her skin and the gold of her curls.</p> + +<p>"Shall we do, Captain? Are we absolutely spick and span?" Marjorie +turned slowly about, then made a laughing dive at her mother and +enveloped her in a devastating embrace.</p> + +<p>"Now see the havoc you've wrought," complained Mrs. Dean. "I shall have +to do my hair over again. Never mind. I'll forgive you, and, being +magnanimous, will state that I am very proud of the appearance of my +army."</p> + +<p>"You're a gallant officer and a dear, all in one."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> Marjorie caught her +mother's hand in hers. "Now, we must be on our way. We are going to +school early because Mary will have to see Miss Archer. Besides, I'm +anxious for her to meet Jerry Macy and some of the other girls. If only +she had come to Sanford sooner, I'd have loved to give a party for her. +Then she'd know every one of my friends. Oh, well, there is plenty of +time for that. Good-bye, Captain. We'll be back before long. There is +never very much to do in school on the first day."</p> + +<p>Dropping a gay little kiss on her mother's smooth cheek, Marjorie left +the room, followed by Mary, who stopped just long enough to kiss Mrs. +Dean good-bye.</p> + +<p>Three weeks had slipped by since Mr. Raymond and Mary had come to +Sanford upon the so-called mysterious mission that had made Mary Raymond +a member of the Dean household. They had returned to the city of +B—— the following day. From there Mr. Raymond had gone directly to the +mountains, for his wife, who, in spite of her ill-health, had insisted +on returning to her home to oversee the making of Mary's gowns and the +choosing of her wardrobe in general. Two days before coming to Sanford, +Mary had seen her mother off on her journey to Colorado in quest of +health. She had put on a brave face and smiled when she wished to cry, +and it was alone the thought that she was going to live with Marjorie +during her mother's absence that kept her from breaking down at the last +sad moment of farewell.</p> + +<p>It was a sober-faced, sad-eyed Mary that Marjorie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> had met at the train, +but, under the irresistible sunniness of Marjorie's nature, Mary had +soon emerged from her cloud, and now the prospect of entering Sanford +High School filled her with lively anticipation.</p> + +<p>As Marjorie and Mary emerged from the house and swung down the stone +walk in perfect step, they beheld a stout, and to Marjorie, a decidedly +familiar figure turning in at the gate. In the same instant a joyous +"Hello" rent the air, and the stout girl cantered up the walk at a +surprising rate of speed. There was a delighted gurgle from Marjorie, +that ended in a fervent embrace of the two young women.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jerry, I'm so glad to see you! I was afraid you wouldn't be back in +Sanford before school opened. I saw Irma day before yesterday and she +said she hadn't heard a word from you for over a week."</p> + +<p>"We didn't get here until last night at ten o'clock Maybe I'm not glad +to see <em>you</em>." Jerry beamed affectionately upon Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"This is my friend, Mary Raymond, Jerry," introduced Marjorie. "She is +going to live with us this winter and be a sophomore at dear old Sanford +High. There will be six of us instead of five now."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to know you." Jerry smiled and stretched forth a plump hand in +greeting. "I've heard a lot about you."</p> + +<p>"I've heard Marjorie speak of you, too. I'm ever so pleased to meet +you." Mary exhibited a friendliness toward Jerry Macy that had been +quite lacking in her greeting of Constance Stevens.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the three stood for a moment at the gate Jerry's eyes suddenly grew +very round.</p> + +<p>"Why, Marjorie, your friend looks like Connie, doesn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she does," replied Marjorie happily. "Don't you remember I +told you long ago that that was why I felt so drawn toward Connie in the +first place?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember it now. Isn't it funny that your two dearest friends +should look alike? Have you met Constance, Mary? I'm going to call you +Mary. I never call a girl 'Miss' unless I can't bear her. I'm sure I'm +going to like you. Not only because you're Marjorie's chum, but for +yourself, you know. If you turn out to be even one half as nice as +Constance Stevens, I'll adore you. Connie is a dear and no mistake about +it."</p> + +<p>The shadow of a frown touched Mary's forehead. Why must she be compelled +to hear continually of Constance Stevens? And why should this Jerry Macy +place her and Constance on the same plane in Marjorie's affection? She +did not propose to share her place in her chum's heart with anyone. Of +course, this girl could not possibly know just how much she and Marjorie +had always been to each other. Later on they would understand. They +would soon see that Marjorie preferred her above all others.</p> + +<p>Comforted by this reflection the shadow passed from Mary's face and the +trio started down the street for school, chatting and laughing as only +carefree schoolgirls can.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<p>Once inside the school building, Jerry said good-bye to them and turned +down the corridor toward the study hall. Marjorie smiled with tender +reminiscence as she and Mary climbed the familiar broad stairway to the +second floor. She was thinking of another Monday morning that belonged +to the past, when a timid stranger had climbed those same stairs and +diffidently inquired the way to the principal's office. How far away +that day seemed, and how much had happened within those same walls since +that fateful morning.</p> + +<p>"I'll never forget my first morning here," she said to Mary, as they +walked down the corridor toward their destination—the last room on the +east side. "Captain had a headache and couldn't come with me. I had to +march into Miss Archer's office all by myself. I felt like a forlorn +stranger in a strange, unfriendly land. Then I met such a nice girl, +Ellen Seymour, a friend of mine now, and she took me to the office and +introduced me to Miss Archer."</p> + +<p>Before Mary had time to reply they had entered the cheerful living-room +office that had so greatly impressed Marjorie on her first introduction +to Sanford High. A tall, dark girl, seated at a desk at one end of the +room, glanced up at the sound of the opening door. She hurried forward +with a little exclamation of delighted surprise. "Why, Marjorie!" she +exclaimed. "I was just thinking of you. I was wondering if you'd be in +for the first day. I had made up my mind to run down to the study hall a +little later and see." She now had Marjorie's hands in an affectionate +clasp.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I've been wondering about you, too," nodded Marjorie. "You are another +stray who didn't come back until the last minute."</p> + +<p>"I'm a working girl, you know," reminded Marcia. "Doctor Bernard was +dreadfully disappointed because I wouldn't give up high school and keep +on being his secretary. But I couldn't do that."</p> + +<p>"Of course you couldn't," agreed Marjorie, "especially now that you are +a senior."</p> + +<p>Mary Raymond had drawn back a little while Marjorie and Marcia Arnold, +Miss Archer's once disagreeable secretary, but now a changed girl +through the influence of Marjorie, exchanged greetings. Marjorie turned +and drew her chum forward, introducing her to Marcia, who bowed and +extended her hand in friendly fashion.</p> + +<p>"Is Miss Archer busy, Marcia?" asked Marjorie, after she had explained +that Mary was to become a pupil of Sanford High School.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, I'll see." Marcia went into the inner office, returning +almost instantly with, "Go right in. She is anxious to see you, +Marjorie."</p> + +<p>Miss Archer's affectionate welcome of Marjorie Dean brought a blush of +sheer pleasure to the girl's cheeks. Her heart thrilled with joy at the +thought that there was now no veil of misunderstanding between her and +her beloved principal.</p> + +<p>"And so this is Mary Raymond." Miss Archer took the newcomer's hand in +both her own. "We are glad to welcome you into our school, my dear. Your +principal at Franklin High School has already<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> written me of you. How +long have you been in Sanford?"</p> + +<p>Mary answered rather shyly, explaining her situation, while Marjorie +looked on with affectionate eyes. She was anxious that Miss Archer +should learn to know and love Mary.</p> + +<p>"I will put you in Marjorie's hands," declared Miss Archer, after a few +moments' pleasant conversation. "She will take you to the study hall and +see that you are made to feel at home. We wish our girls to look upon +their school as their second home, considering they spend so much of +their time here. Please tell your mother, Marjorie," she added, as the +two girls turned to leave the room, "that I shall try to call on her +this week."</p> + +<p>"How do you like Miss Archer? Isn't she splendid?" were the quick +questions Marjorie put, as they retraced their steps down the long +corridor.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm going to love her," returned Mary fervently. "I hope I'll be +happy here, Marjorie." There was a wistful note in her voice that caused +Marjorie to glance sharply at her friend. Mary's charming face was set +in unusually sober lines.</p> + +<p>"Poor Mary," was her reflection. "She's thinking of her mother." But +Mary Raymond's thoughts were far from the subject of her mother. +Instead, they were fixed upon what Jerry Macy had said that morning +about Constance Stevens. Miss Archer had asked about Constance, too. She +had spoken of her as though she and Marjorie were best friends. What had +she meant when she said, "Well, Marjorie, you and Constance deserve fair +sophomore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> weather after last year's storms." The flame of jealousy, +which Mary had sought to stifle after her first meeting with Constance, +was kindled afresh.</p> + +<p>"What did Miss Archer mean when she spoke of you and Miss Stevens—and +last year's storms?" she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't explain now. It's too long a story. Here we are at the +study hall." Her mind occupied with school, Marjorie had not caught the +strained note in Mary's voice.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't wish me to know," was Mary's jealous thought. "She is +keeping secrets from me. All right. Let her keep them. Only I know one +thing, and that is—I'll <em>never</em>, <em>never</em>, <em>never</em> be friends with +Constance Stevens, not even to please Marjorie!"</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /> +<br /> +<small>AN UNCALLED-FOR REBUFF</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> great study hall which Marjorie and Mary entered had little of the +atmosphere supposed to pervade a hall of learning. A loud buzz of +conversation greeted their ears. It came from the groups of girls +collected in various parts of the hall, who were <a name="making" id="making"></a><ins title="original had maknig"> +making</ins> the +most of their opportunities to talk until called to order. Marjorie gave +one swift glance toward the lonely desk on the platform. It had always +reminded her of an island in the midst of a great sea. She breathed a +little sigh of relief.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> Her pet aversion, Miss Merton, was not occupying +the chair behind it. This, no doubt, accounted for the general air of +relaxation that pervaded the room. Her alert eyes searched the room for +Constance Stevens. She was not present. She gave another sigh, this time +it was one of disappointment. She had seen Constance only twice since +Mary's arrival. On one occasion she had taken dinner at the Deans' home. +The three girls had spent, what seemed to Marjorie, an unusually +pleasant evening. Constance, feeling dimly that Mary did not quite +approve of her, had dropped her usually reticent manner and exerted +herself to please. So well had she succeeded that Mary had rather +unwillingly succumbed to her charm and grown fairly cordial.</p> + +<p>Totally unconscious of the shadow which had darkened the pleasure of +Constance's first meeting with Mary, and equally ignorant of Mary's +secret resentment of her new friend, Marjorie had retired that night +inwardly rejoicing in both girls and planning all sorts of good times +that they three might have together.</p> + +<p>Several days later Constance had entertained them at luncheon at "Gray +Gables," the beautiful, old-fashioned house Miss Allison had purchased, +on the outskirts of Sanford. Mary had been secretly impressed with its +luxury and had instantly made friends with little Charlie. The quaint +child had gravely informed her that she looked like Connie and +immediately taken her into his confidence regarding his aspirations +toward some day playing in "a big band." He had also obligingly favored +her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> with a solo of marvelous shrieks and squawks on his much tortured +"fiddle." Mary loved children, and this, perhaps, went far toward +stilling the jealousy, which, so far, only faintly stirring, bade fair +to one day burst forth into bitter words.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you in school on Monday," Marjorie had called over her +shoulder, as she and Mary had taken their departure from Constance's +home that afternoon. But now Monday had come and there was no sign of +the girl Marjorie held so dear in the study hall.</p> + +<p>"Connie had better hurry. It's five minutes to nine. She'll be late." +Marjorie's gaze traveled anxiously toward the door. An unmistakable +frown puckered Mary's brows, but Marjorie did not see it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Marjorie Dean, here you are at last. We've been waiting for you." +Susan Atwell left a group of girls with which she had been hob-nobbing +and hurried down the aisle. "Come over here, you dear thing. We've been +looking our eyes out for you." She stopped short and stared hard at +Mary. "Why, I thought——" she began.</p> + +<p>"You thought it was Connie, didn't you?" laughed Marjorie. She +introduced Mary to Susan.</p> + +<p>"The girls over there thought you were Constance Stevens, too," smiled +Susan, showing her dimples. "You see, Marjorie and Connie are +inseparable, so, of course, we naturally mistook you for her. I never +saw two girls look so much alike. If we have a fancy dress party this +year you two can surely go as the Siamese Twins. Wouldn't that be +great?"</p> + +<p>Mary smiled perfunctorily. She had her own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> views in the matter, and +they did not in the least coincide with Susan's.</p> + +<p>A moment later they were hemmed in by an enthusiastic bevy of girls, +each one trying to make herself heard above the others. Marjorie was +besieged on all sides with eager inquiries. The girls had discovered, as +she neared them, that her companion was not Constance Stevens. Marjorie, +at once, did the honors and Mary found herself nodding in quick +succession to half a dozen girls.</p> + +<p>"You fooled us all for a minute, Miss Raymond," cried Muriel Harding.</p> + +<p>"She didn't fool me," announced Jerry Macy, who had joined them just in +time to hear Muriel's remark. "I knew she was coming, but I kept still +because I wanted to see you girls stare."</p> + +<p>"Look around the room, Marjorie," observed Irma Linton in a guarded +tone. <a name="do" id="do"></a><ins title="original omitted open quotation marks">"Do</ins> +you miss anyone? Not Constance. I wonder where she is?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." Marjorie's eyes took in the big room, then again sought +the door. "She said she would meet me here this morning. Let me see. Do +I miss anyone? Do you mean a girl in our class, Irma?"</p> + +<p>Irma nodded.</p> + +<p>Marjorie cast another quick look about her. "Why, no. Oh, now I know. +You mean Mignon."</p> + +<p>Again Irma nodded. Under cover of a burst of laughter from the others +she murmured, "Mignon won't be with us this year. You will observe, if +you look hard, that I'm not weeping over our loss."</p> + +<p>Marjorie was silent for a moment. The past rode<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> before her like a +panorama, as the thought of the elfish-faced French girl and of how +deeply she had caused both herself and Constance Stevens to suffer. Her +pretty face hardened a trifle as she said, in a low voice, "I'm not +sorry, either, Irma. But why won't she be in high school this year? Has +she moved away from Sanford? I haven't seen her since we came home from +the beach."</p> + +<p>"She has gone away to boarding school," answered Irma. "Between you and +me, I think she was ashamed to come back here this year. Susan told me +that her father wanted her to stay in high school and go to college, but +she teased and teased to go away to school, so finally he said she +might. She left here over two weeks ago. One of the girls received a +letter from her last week. In it she said she was so glad she didn't +have to go to a common high school and that the girls in her school were +not milk-and-water babies, but had a great deal of spirit and daring."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's lip curled unconsciously. "I'd rather be a 'milk-and-water +baby' than as cruel and heartless as she. I'll never forgive her for the +way she treated Connie. Let's not talk of her, Irma. It makes me feel +cross and horrid, and, of all days, I'd like to be happy to-day. There's +so much to be happy over, and I'm so glad to see all of you. Life would +be a desert waste without high school, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie's soft hand found Irma's. She was very fond of this quiet, +fair-haired girl, who, with Jerry Macy, had stood by her so resolutely +through dark days.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here she comes—our dear teacher. Look out, girls, or you'll be ushered +out of Sanford High before you've had a chance to look at the bulletin +board," warned Muriel Harding's high-pitched voice. Her sarcastic +remarks carried farther than she had intended they should, as a sudden +hush had fallen upon the study hall. Miss Merton, Marjorie's pet +aversion, had stalked into the great room. She cast a malignant glance, +not at Muriel, but straight at Marjorie Dean.</p> + +<p>"Oh," gasped Muriel and Marjorie in united consternation.</p> + +<p>"That's the time you did it, Muriel," muttered Jerry Macy. "I always +told you that you ought to be an orator or an oratress or something. +Your voice carries a good deal farther than it ought to. Only Miss +Merton didn't think it was you who made those smart remarks. She thought +it was Marjorie. Now she'll have a new grievance to nurse this year."</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully sorry." Muriel was the picture of contrition. "I didn't +intend she should hear me—but to blame you for it! That's dreadful. +I'll go straight and tell her that I said it."</p> + +<p>Muriel made a quick movement as though to carry out her intention. +Marjorie caught her by the arm. "You'll do nothing of the sort, Muriel +Harding. My sophomore shoulders are broad enough to beat it. Perhaps she +didn't really hear what you said. She can't dislike me any more for that +than she did before she thought I said it."</p> + +<p>"Young ladies, I am waiting for you to come to order. Will you kindly +cease talking and take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> seats?" Miss Merton's <a name="raucous" id="raucous"></a><ins title="original had racuous">raucous</ins> +voice +broke harshly upon the abashed group of girls. They scuttled into the +nearest seats at hand like a bevy of startled partridges.</p> + +<p>"What a horrid woman," was Mary Raymond's thought, as she slipped into a +seat in front of Marjorie, and stared resentfully at the rigid figure, +so devoid of womanly beauty, in its severe brown linen dress, unrelieved +by even a touch of white at the neck.</p> + +<p>With a final glare at Marjorie, the teacher proceeded at once to the +business at hand. Within the next few minutes she had arranged the girls +of the freshman class in the section of the study hall they were to +occupy during the coming year. Marjorie awaited the turn of the +sophomores to be assigned to a seat with inward trepidation. She had had +no opportunity to introduce Mary to Miss Merton. What should she do? She +half rose from the seat, then sat down undecidedly.</p> + +<p>Miss Merton had arranged the freshmen to her satisfaction. Now she was +calling for the sophomores to rise. Perhaps she would not notice Mary. +If she did not, then Mary could pass with the sophomores to their +section. As soon as the session was dismissed, she would introduce her +to Miss Merton.</p> + +<p>But Miss Merton was lynx-eyed. "That girl there in the blue dress," she +blared forth. "You were not in the freshman class last year."</p> + +<p>Mary turned in her seat and shot a glance of appeal to Marjorie. The +girl rose bravely in friend's behalf.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Miss Merton," she said in her clear, young voice, "I brought Miss +Raymond here with me. She——"</p> + +<p>"You are not supposed to bring visitors to school, Miss Dean," was the +teacher's sarcastic reminder.</p> + +<p>Marjorie's eyes kindled with wrath. Then, mastering her anger, she made +courteous reply. "She is not a visitor. She expects to enter the +sophomore class."</p> + +<p>"Come down to this front seat, young woman," ordered Miss Merton, +ignoring Marjorie's explanation. "I'll attend to you later."</p> + +<p>Mary sat still, surveying Miss Merton out of two belligerent blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Do as she says, Mary," whispered Marjorie.</p> + +<p>Mary obeyed. Walking down the aisle with maddening deliberation, she +seated herself on the bench indicated.</p> + +<p>"No talking," rasped Miss Merton, as a faint murmur went up from the +girls in the sophomore section.</p> + +<p>Once the classes had been assigned to their places for the year there +was little more to be done. Nettled by her recent resentment against +Marjorie, Miss Merton took occasion to deliver a sharp lecture on good +conduct in general, making several pointed remarks, which caused +Marjorie to color hotly. More than one pair of young eyes glared their +resentment of this harsh teacher who had never lost an opportunity in +the past school year of censuring their favorite.</p> + +<p>The moment the short session was over the girls of her particular set +gravitated toward Marjorie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, of all the old cranks!" scolded Geraldine Macy.</p> + +<p>"She's the most hateful teacher in the world," was Muriel Harding's +tribute.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't pay any attention to her, Marjorie. I'd go straight to Miss +Archer," advised Susan Atwell. "Just see her now! She looks as though +she'd actually snap at your friend."</p> + +<p>Miss Merton was engaged in interviewing the still belligerent Mary, who +stood listening to her, a sulky droop to her pretty mouth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I must go and help Mary out. Wait for me outside, girls."</p> + +<p>"Do you need any help?" inquired Jerry. "I never was afraid of Miss +Merton, if you'll remember."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no." Marjorie hurried toward her friend, and stood quietly at +Mary's side.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Dean, what is it?" Miss Merton eyed Marjorie with her most +disagreeable expression.</p> + +<p>"I came to tell you, Miss Merton," began Marjorie in her direct fashion, +"that Miss Raymond saw Miss Archer this morning before we came to the +study hall. She sent us——"</p> + +<p>"That will do, Miss Dean," interrupted Miss Merton. "I hope Miss Raymond +is capable of attending to her affairs without your assistance. I should +greatly prefer that you go on about your own business and leave this +matter to me. I believe I have been a teacher in Sanford High School +long enough to be trusted to manage my own work."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>A bitter retort rose to Marjorie's lips. She forced it back and with a +dignified bow to Miss Merton and, "I will wait for you in the corridor, +Mary," walked from the room, her head held high, her eyes burning with +resentful tears.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<br /> +<small>MARY'S DISTURBING DISCOVERY</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> outside the study hall Marjorie Dean's proud manner left her. Her +recent joy in returning to high school gave place to a feeling of deep +dejection. Everything had certainly gone wrong. She had had so many +pleasant little thrills of anticipation that she had quite forgotten +Miss Merton and the teacher's unreasoning dislike for her, which she had +never taken pains to conceal. Muriel's injudicious remarks had made a +bad matter worse. Marjorie knew that from now on she would have to be +doubly on her guard. It was evident that Miss Merton intended to take +her to task whenever the slightest opportunity presented itself. +Marjorie even had her suspicions that Miss Merton had known that it was +Muriel instead of herself who had uttered those distinctly unflattering +words.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to be very careful not to offend Miss Merton," she ruminated +gloomily, as she stood waiting for Mary, her eyes fastened on the big +study-hall door. Then her thoughts switched from Miss Merton<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> to +Constance Stevens. Why hadn't Connie come to school? Surely she could +not be ill. Perhaps Charlie was sick.</p> + +<p>The opening of the study-hall door interrupted her worried reflections. +Mary emerged from the hall, looking like a young thundercloud. She +closed the door after her with a resounding bang, which conveyed more +than words.</p> + +<p>"Of all the hateful old tyrants!" she exclaimed, as she hurried toward +Marjorie. "I despise her. How dared she treat you so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind," soothed Marjorie. "Let us forget her. Tell me, are you +or are you not a sophomore? Or must we go to Miss Archer to straighten +things?"</p> + +<p>"I'm a sophomore all right enough," said Mary grimly. "I told her what +Miss Archer said, and after that she treated me more civilly. Such a +teacher is a disgrace to a school. Why is she so bitter against you, +Marjorie?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. She has always acted +like that toward me. It's just a natural dislike, I suppose. Sometimes, +after a teacher has taught school a great many years, she takes sudden +likes and dislikes. I've been in her black books since my very first day +in Sanford High."</p> + +<p>"Poor old Lieutenant." Mary patted Marjorie's hand with sympathetic +affection.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it doesn't matter. I don't really care much. There are so many nice +teachers here who <em>do</em> like me that I'm not going to worry over Miss +Merton.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> Come along." She linked her arm in Mary's. "The girls will be +waiting for us outside. We are all going down to Sargent's for ice +cream. Then we'll go home and report to Captain. After luncheon, I think +we had better walk over to Gray Gables. I am afraid Connie or, perhaps, +little Charlie is sick. You know Connie promised us, when we were there +on Friday, that she'd see us at school."</p> + +<p>Mary's face clouded. "I—I think I won't go to Gray Gables with you. I +must write to mother. Besides, you and Constance may wish to be by +yourselves."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's brown eyes opened wide. "Why should we?" she asked. "You know +you are always first with me. I haven't any secrets from you."</p> + +<p>Mary's face brightened. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her +conclusions. "I wish you would tell me all about yourself and +Constance," she said slowly. "You promised you would."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will," began Marjorie. Then she paused and flushed slightly. It +had suddenly come to her that perhaps Constance would not care to have +Mary know of the clouds of suspicion that had hung so heavily over her +freshman year. "I'd love to tell you about it now, Mary, but I think I +had better ask Constance first if she is willing for me to do so. You +see, it concerns her more than me. I am almost sure she wouldn't mind, +but I'd rather be perfectly fair and ask her first. You know Captain and +General have always said to us, 'Never break a confidence.'"</p> + +<p>A hurt look crept into Mary's face. "Oh, never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> mind," she managed to +say with a brave assumption of indifference. "I don't wish to know about +it if you don't care to tell me."</p> + +<p>"But I <em>do</em> care to tell you, and I will if Connie says I may," assured +Marjorie earnestly.</p> + +<p>Mary had no time for further remark. They had reached the double +entrance doors to the building and were hailed by a crowd of girls at +the foot of the steps.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Connie," Marjorie Dean cried out delightedly. She had spied her +friend among them.</p> + +<p>Constance ran forward to meet Marjorie and Mary. "I couldn't come +before. I've been to the train. Father is here. He's going to be at home +for two days. And what do you think he wishes me to do?"</p> + +<p>"You are not going away with him?" asked Marjorie in sudden alarm.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. I couldn't give up my sophomore year here, even for him. It +isn't anything so serious. He proposed that as long as he was here to +play for us, it would be a good idea to——"</p> + +<p>"Give a dance," ended Jerry Macy. "Hurrah for Mr. Stevens! Long may he +wave!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you have guessed it, Jerry," laughed Constance. "I'm going to give +a party in honor of Mary. I was so excited over it that I left him to go +on to Gray Gables by himself, while I rushed over here as fast as I +could come. I wanted to catch you girls together so I could invite you +in a body. Jerry, do you suppose Hal would be willing to see Lawrie and +the Crane and some of our boys? It will have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> to be a strictly informal +hop, for I haven't time to send out invitations."</p> + +<p>"Of course he'll round up the crowd," assured Jerry slangily. "If he +doesn't, I will. I guess I won't go to Sargent's with you. What is mere +ice cream when compared to a dance? Besides, it's fattening—the ice +cream, I mean. I've lost five pounds this summer and I'm not going to +find them again at Sargent's if I can help it. So long, I'll see you all +to-night."</p> + +<p>Jerry bustled off on her errand, leaving her friends engaged in an eager +discussion of the coming festivity. A little later they trooped down the +street to their favorite rendezvous, where most of their pocket money +found a resting place.</p> + +<p>"We won't have a single bit of appetite for luncheon," commented +Marjorie to Mary, when, an hour later, they set out for home.</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," assented Mary indifferently. Her thoughts were far from +the subject of luncheon. Her jealousy of Constance Stevens was +thoroughly aroused and flaming. She wished Marjorie had never seen nor +heard of this hateful girl. And to think that Constance had announced +that she was going to give a party in honor of <em>her</em>, the very person +she had robbed of her best friend! It was insufferable. What could she +do? If she refused to go, Marjorie and all those girls would wonder. She +could give no reasonable excuse for declining to go at this late day. +She told herself she would rather die than have Marjorie know how deeply +she had hurt her. Oh, well, she was not the first martyr to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> the cause +of friendship. She would try to bear it. Perhaps, some day, Marjorie, +too, would know the bitterness of being supplanted.</p> + +<p>It was an unusually quiet Mary who slipped into her place at luncheon +that day.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, dear?" asked Mrs. Dean, noting the girl's silence. +"Don't you feel well?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am all right," she made reply, torturing her sober little face +into a smile.</p> + +<p>"Mary had troubles of her own this morning, Captain," explained +Marjorie. Then she launched forth into an account of the morning's +happenings.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean looked her indignation as her daughter's recital progressed. +She had met Miss Merton and disliked her on sight.</p> + +<p>"I have no wish to interfere in your school life, Marjorie," she said +with a touch of sternness, when Marjorie had finished, "but I will not +hear of either of you being imposed upon. If Miss Merton continues her +unjust treatment I shall insist that you tell me of it. I shall take +measures to have it stopped."</p> + +<p>"Captain won't stand having her army abused," laughed Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"At least you must admit that I'm a conscientious officer," was her +mother's reply. "To change the subject, would you like to go shopping +with me this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," chorused the two. Even Mary forgot her grievances for the +moment. As little girls they had always hailed the idea of shopping with +their beloved captain.</p> + +<p>The shopping tour took up the greater part of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> afternoon, and it was +after five o'clock when the two started for home.</p> + +<p>"No lingering at the dinner table to-night for this army," declared +Marjorie, finishing her dessert in a hurry. "It's almost seven, Mary. +We'll have to hurry upstairs to dress for the dance."</p> + +<p>"You didn't apply to me for a leave of absence," reminded Mr. Dean. "You +know the penalty for deserting."</p> + +<p>"We've forgotten it, General. You can tell us what it is to-morrow," +retorted Marjorie. "Come on, Mary. Salute your officers and away we go."</p> + +<p>In the excitement of dressing for the dance Mary almost forgot that she +was about to enter the house of the girl she now believed she disliked. +Marjorie's praise of her pretty white chiffon evening frock almost +restored her to good humor. Marjorie herself was radiant in a gown of +apricot Georgette crepe and filmy lace.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean had elected to drive them to their destination in the +<a name="automobile" id="automobile"></a><ins title="original had atuomobile">automobile</ins>, +and when they alighted from the machine at the +gate to Gray Gables, waving her a gay good night, Mary felt almost glad +that she had come and that the dance was to be given in her honor.</p> + +<p>"I've been watching for you." A slender figure in pale blue ran down the +steps to meet them. Out of pure sentiment Constance Stevens had chosen +to wear the blue chiffon dress—Marjorie's gracious gift to her. She had +taken the utmost care of it, and it looked almost as fresh as on the +night she had first worn it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mary Raymond stared at her in amazement Could it be—yes, it was the +very gown that Marjorie's aunt had given her a year ago as a +commencement present. Had not Marjorie declared over and over again that +she would never part with it? And now she had deliberately given it to +Constance. This proved beyond a doubt where Marjorie's true affection +lay. Mary was obsessed with a wild desire to turn and run down the drive +and away from this hateful girl. This was, indeed, the last straw.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE PROMISE</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Mary Raymond</span> wondered, as she walked up the steps of Gray Gables, +between Constance and Marjorie, and into the brightly lighted reception +hall, how she could manage to endure the long evening ahead of her. She +was seized with an insane desire to break from Marjorie's light hold on +her arm and rush out of the house of this girl who had stolen her +dearest possession, Marjorie's friendship. How well she remembered the +day on which Marjorie had received the blue dress which Constance was +wearing so unconcernedly. It had come by express in a huge white +pasteboard box, while she and Marjorie were seated on the Deans' step +engaged in one of their long confabs. How excited they had been over it! +How they had exclaimed as Marjorie drew the blue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> wonder from its +pasteboard nest. Then a great trying-on had followed. She recalled with +jealous clearness how great Marjorie's disappointment had been when she +found it too small for her. Then Marjorie had said as she lovingly +patted its soft folds, "Never mind, I'll keep it always, just to look +at. It was awfully dear in Aunt Louise to send it to me and I wouldn't +let her know for worlds that it doesn't fit me." And now, after all she +had said, she had lightly given it away—and to Constance Stevens.</p> + +<p>Mary forced herself to smile and reply to the friendly greeting of Miss +Allison, who stood in the big, old-fashioned hall helping to receive her +niece's guests. A moment more and she was surrounded by Geraldine Macy, +Irma Linton and Susan Atwell, who had come forth in a body from the +long, palm-decorated parlor off the hall to welcome her, accompanied by +a singularly handsome youth, a very tall, merry-faced young man and a +black-haired, blue-eyed lad, with clean cut, sensitive features.</p> + +<p>She was presented in turn to Harold Macy, Sherman Norwood, known as the +Crane to his intimate associates, and Lawrence Armitage.</p> + +<p>"So, <em>you</em> are Marjorie's friend, Mary Raymond, of whom she has spoken +to me so often," smiled Hal Macy. "We are very glad to welcome you to +Sanford, Miss Raymond."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Mary returned, almost forgetting her first bitter moment. +Hal Macy's direct hand-clasp and frank, bright smile of welcome stamped +him with sincerity and truth. She liked equally well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> Lawrence +Armitage's deferential greeting and she found the Crane's wide, boyish +grin irresistible as he bowed low over her small hand. Yes, the Sanford +boys were certainly nice. She was not so sure that she liked the girls. +They made too much of Marjorie, and Marjorie had proved herself disloyal +to her sworn comrade and playmate of years.</p> + +<p>Once inside the drawing-room, which had been transformed into an +impromptu ball-room by taking up the rugs and moving the piano to one +end of it, introductions followed in rapid succession.</p> + +<p>"Mary, you must meet my foster father." Constance slipped her arm +through Mary's and conducted her to the piano where stood a man with an +immense shock of snow-white hair, sorting high piles of music arranged +on top. "Father."</p> + +<p>The man at the piano wheeled at the sound of the soft voice. His stern, +almost sad face broke into a radiant smile that completely transformed +it.</p> + +<p>"This is Mary Raymond. Mary, my father, Mr. Stevens," introduced +Constance. "And this is my uncle, Mr. Roland."</p> + +<p>Both men bowed and took Mary's hand in turn, expressing their pleasure +at meeting her. Old John Roland's faded blue eyes contained a puzzled +look. "You are very familiar," he said. "Where have I seen you before?"</p> + +<p>"Look sharply, Uncle John," laughed Marjorie, who had joined them. "You +have never seen Mary before. She is like someone you know."</p> + +<p>"'Someone you know,'" repeated the old man faithfully. He would never +outgrow his quaint habit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> of repetition, although he had improved +immensely in other ways since the change in Constance's fortune had +released him from the clutch of poverty.</p> + +<p>Mary eyed him curiously. Then her gaze rested on Mr. Stevens. What +peculiar persons they were. And Marjorie had never written her of them. +They must have a strange history. She made up her mind that she would +never ask her fickle chum about them. She would find out whatever she +wished to know from others. Now that she was a pupil of Sanford High she +would soon become acquainted with girls of her class other than those +she had already met. Perhaps she might learn to like some one better +than—— Her sober reflections stopped there. She could not bring +herself to the point of breaking her long comradeship with the girl who +had failed her.</p> + +<p>Uncle John Roland was still staring at her and smilingly shaking his +gray head. "I don't know. I can't think, and yet——"</p> + +<p>Suddenly a jubilant little shout rent the air, causing the group about +the piano to smile. In the same instant Mary felt a small hand slip into +hers. "I knew you comed to see Charlie again. Charlie wouldn't go to bed +because Connie said you'd surely come. Charlie loves you a whole lot. +You look like Connie."</p> + +<p>"Look like Connie," muttered Uncle John. Then his faded eyes flashed +sudden intelligence. "I know. Of course she's like Connie. I guessed it, +didn't I?" He glanced triumphantly at Marjorie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>"So you did, Uncle John," nodded Marjorie brightly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens gazed searchingly at the young girl so like his foster +daughter. Mary felt her color rising under that penetrating gaze. It was +as though this dreamy-eyed man with the dark, sad face had read her very +soul. For a brief instant she sensed dimly the ignobleness of her +jealousy of his daughter. She felt that she would rather die than have +him know it. Perhaps, after all, she was in the wrong. She would try to +dismiss it and do her best to enter into the spirit of the merry-making. +An impatient tug at her hand caused her to remember Charlie's presence.</p> + +<p>"Talk to me," demanded the child. "Connie says I have to go to bed in a +minute, so hurry up."</p> + +<p>Mary stooped and wound her arms about the tiny, insistent youngster. She +clasped Charlie tightly to her and kissed his eager face. And that +embrace sealed the beginning of an affection between them, the very +purity of which was one day to lead her from the terrible Valley of +Doubt into the sunlight of belief.</p> + +<p>"Now you've done it," was Marjorie's merry accusation. "You've stolen my +cavalier. Oh, Charlie, I thought I was your very best girl." She made +reproachful eyes at Charlie, who, delighted at receiving so much +attention, sidled over to her with a ridiculous air of importance and +took her hand.</p> + +<p>"Everybody likes Charlie," he observed complacently. "Now he can stay up +all night and listen to the band."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'd go to sleep and never hear the band at all," laughed Constance. +"No, Charlie must go to bed and sleep and sleep, or he will never grow +big enough and strong enough to play in the band."</p> + +<p>The half pout on Charlie's babyish mouth, born of Constance's dread +edict, died suddenly. Even the joys of staying up all night were not to +be compared with the glories of that far-off future.</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll go," he sighed. "But you and Marjorie must come again +soon in the daytime when I don't have to go to bed. I'll play a new +piece for you on my fiddle. Uncle John says it's a marv'lus +compysishun."</p> + +<p>A burst of laughter rose from the group around him at this calm +statement. After kissing everyone in his immediate vicinity, Charlie +made a quaint little bow and marched off beside Constance, well pleased +with himself.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he a perfect darling?" was Mary's involuntary tribute.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I adore Charlie," returned Marjorie. "I used to feel so dreadfully +for him when he was crippled. Isn't it splendid, Mr. Stevens, to see him +so well and lively?" She turned radiantly to the white-haired musician. +His face lighted again in that wonderful smile. He was about to answer +Marjorie, when Constance, who had seen Charlie to the door where he had +been taken in charge by a white-capped nurse, returned to them, saying:</p> + +<p>"What shall we have first, girls, a one step?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, do!" exclaimed Jerry Macy, who had come up in time to hear +Constance's question, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> company with a mischievous-eyed, +freckled-faced youth who rejoiced in the dignified cognomen of Daniel +Webster Seabrooke, but who was most appropriately nicknamed the Gadfly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Seabrooke, Miss Raymond," introduced Jerry.</p> + +<p>The freckled-faced boy put on a preternaturally solemn expression and +begged the pleasure of the first dance with Mary. Mr. Stevens had +already handed the old violinist the music for the dance and placed his +own score in position upon the piano. The slow, fascinating strains of +the one step rang out and a great scurrying for partners began.</p> + +<p>Marjorie found herself dancing off with Hal Macy, while Lawrence +Armitage swung Constance into the rapidly growing circle of dancers. +Irma Linton and the Crane danced together, while Jerry Macy, who danced +extremely well for a stout girl, was claimed by Arthur Standish, one of +her brother's classmates.</p> + +<p>Once the hop had fairly begun, dance followed dance in rapid succession. +Much to Mary's secret satisfaction there were no gaps in her programme. +As it was, there were no wall flowers. An even number of boys and girls +had been invited and every one had put in an appearance. At eleven +o'clock a dainty repast, best calculated to suit the appetites of hungry +school girls and boys, was served at small tables on the side veranda, +which extended almost the length of the house.</p> + +<p>It was not until after supper, when the dancing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> was again at its +height, that Marjorie and Constance found time for a few words together.</p> + +<p>The two girls had slipped away to Constance's pretty blue and white +bedroom to repair a torn frill of Marjorie's gown.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it splendid that we can have a minute to ourselves?" laughed +Constance. "I'm glad you happened to need repairing. I hope Mary is +having a good time. As long as it's her party I'm anxious that she +should enjoy herself."</p> + +<p>"Of course she's having a good time. How could she help it?" returned +Marjorie staunchly. "All the boys have been perfectly lovely to her and +so have the girls. I knew everyone would like her. You and Mary and I +will have lots of fun going about together this winter."</p> + +<p>Constance smiled an answer to Marjorie's joyous prediction. Then her +pretty face sobered. "Marjorie," she said, then paused.</p> + +<p>Marjorie glanced up from the flounce she was setting to rights. +Something in Constance's tone commanded her attention. "What is it, +Connie?"</p> + +<p>"Have you ever said anything to Mary about you—and me—and things last +year?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no. I wouldn't think of doing so unless I asked you if I might. +I——"</p> + +<p>"Please don't, then," interrupted Constance. "I had rather she didn't +know. It is all past, and, as long as so few persons know about it, +don't you think it would be better to let it rest?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie bent her head over her work to conceal the sudden disturbing +flush that rose to her face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> She had intended telling Constance that +very night of the remark that Miss Archer had made in Mary's presence +about their freshman year. She had felt dimly that, perhaps, Mary ought +to be put in possession of the story, although she had not the remotest +suspicion of the jealousy that was already warping her chum's thoughts. +Her one idea had been to answer all her questions as freely as she had +done in the past. She intended to put the matter to Constance in this +light. But now Constance had forestalled her and was asking her to be +silent on the very matters she wished to impart to Mary.</p> + +<p>"It isn't as though it is something which Mary ought to know," continued +Constance, quite unaware of Marjorie's inward agitation. "It wouldn't +make her happier to learn it and—and—she might not think so well of +me. I wish her to like me, Marjorie, just because she is your dearest +friend. Don't you think I am right about it? You wouldn't care to have +even the friend of your best friend know all the little intimate details +of your life. Now, would you?" Constance slipped to her knees beside +Marjorie, one arm across her shoulder, and regarded her with pleading +eyes.</p> + +<p>Marjorie stared thoughtfully into the earnest face of the girl at her +side. What should she say? If she told Constance that Mary had twice +asked questions regarding her affairs, Constance might think Mary unduly +curious. Perhaps, after all, silence was wisest. Mary might forget all +about it, and, in any case, she was far too sensible to feel hurt or +indignant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> because she, Marjorie, was not free to tell her of the +private affairs of another.</p> + +<p>"Promise me, Marjorie, that you won't say anything," urged Constance. +Her natural reticence made her dread taking even Mary into confidence +regarding herself.</p> + +<p>"I promise, Connie," said Marjorie with a half sigh. "There, I guess +that flounce will stay in place. I've sewed it over and over."</p> + +<p>The two girls returned to the dance floor arm in arm. Mary Raymond's +blue eyes were turned on them resentfully as they entered the room. They +had been having a talk together, and hadn't asked her to join them. Then +her face cleared. She thought she knew what that talk was about. +Marjorie had been asking Constance's permission to tell her everything. +She would hear the great secret on the way home, no doubt. Her spirits +rose at the prospect of the comfy chat they would have in the automobile +and for the rest of the evening she put aside all doubts and fears, and +danced as only sweet and seventeen can.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE LATEST SOPHOMORE ARRIVAL</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Though</span> the evening of the dance had been deceitfully clear and balmy, +dark clouds banked the autumn sky before morning and the day broke in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +downpour of rain. It was a doubly dreary morning to poor little Mary +Raymond and over and over again Longfellow's plaintive lines,</p> + +<div class="block2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"Into each life some rain must fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some days must be dark and dreary,"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">repeated themselves in her brain. Yes, rain had indeed fallen into her +life. The bitter rain of false friendship. All the days must from now on +be dark and dreary. Last night she had danced the hours away, secure in +the thought that Marjorie would not fail her. And Marjorie had spoken no +word of explanation. During the drive home she had talked gaily of the +dance and of the boys and girls who had attended it. She had related +bright bits of freshman history concerning them, but on the subject of +Constance Stevens and her affairs she had been mute. Mary fancied she +had purposely avoided the subject. In this respect she was quite +correct. Marjorie, still a little disturbed over her promise to +Constance, had tried to direct Mary's mind to other matters. Deeply +hurt, rather than jealous, Mary had listened to Marjorie in silence. She +managed to make a few comments on the dance, and pleading that she was +too sleepy for a night-owl talk, had kissed Marjorie good night rather +coldly and hurried to her room. Stopping only to lock the door, she had +thrown herself on her bed in her pretty evening frock and given vent to +long, tearless sobs that left her wide awake and mourning, far into the +night. It was, therefore, not strange that lack of sleep, coupled with +her supposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> dire wrongs, had caused her to awaken that morning in a +mood quite suited to the gloom of the day.</p> + +<p>A vigorous rattling of the door knob caused her to spring from her bed +with a half petulant exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Let me in, Mary," called Marjorie's fresh young voice from the hall. +"Whatever made you lock your door? I guess you were so sleepy you didn't +know what you were about."</p> + +<p>Mary turned the key and opened the door with a jerk. Marjorie pounced +upon her like a frolicsome puppy. Wrapping her arms around her chum, she +whirled her about and half the length of the room in a wild dance.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone, please." Mary pulled herself pettishly from Marjorie's +clinging arms.</p> + +<p>"Why, Lieutenant, what's the matter? You aren't sick, are you? If you +are, I'm sorry I was so rough. If you're just sleepy, then I'm not. You +needed waking up. It's a quarter to eight now and we'll have to hustle. +Captain let us sleep until the last minute. Now, which are you, sick or +sleepy?"</p> + +<p>"Both," returned Mary laconically. "I—that is—my head aches."</p> + +<p>"Poor darling. Was Marjorie a naughty girl to tease her when her was so +sick?" Marjorie sought to comfort her chum, but Mary eluded her +sympathetic caress and said almost crossly, "Don't baby me. I—I hate +being babied and you know it."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's arms dropped to her sides. "I didn't mean to tease you. I'm +sorry. I'll go down and ask<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> Captain to give you something to cure your +headache." She turned abruptly and left the room, deeply puzzled and +slightly hurt. What on earth ailed Mary?</p> + +<p>The moment the door closed Mary pattered into the bathroom and banged +the door. She hurried through her bath and was partly dressed when +Marjorie returned with a little bottle of <a name="aspirin" id="aspirin"></a><ins title="original had asperin">aspirin</ins> +tablets. +"One of these will fix up your head," she declared cheerily.</p> + +<p>"I don't want it," muttered Mary. "My head is all right now."</p> + +<p>"That is what I would call a marvelous recovery," laughed Marjorie. "I +wish Captain's headaches would take wing so easily. You know what +dreadful sick headaches she sometimes has. She had one on the first day +I went to Sanford High, and I had to go alone."</p> + +<p>"I remember," nodded Mary carelessly. "That was one of the things you +<em>did</em> write me."</p> + +<p>"I wrote you lots of things," retorted Marjorie lightly, failing to +catch the significance of Mary's words. "But now you are here, I don't +have to write them. I can <em>say</em> them."</p> + +<p>"Then, why don't you?" was on Mary's tongue, but she did not say it. +Instead, she maintained a half sulky silence, as she walked to the +wardrobe and began fingering the gowns hung there. Selecting a blue +serge dress, made sailor fashion, she slipped into it and began +fastening it as she walked to the mirror. Marjorie stood watching her, +with a half frown. She did not understand this new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> mood of Mary's. The +Mary she had formerly known had been sunny and light-hearted. The girl +who stood before the mirror, grave and unsmiling, was a stranger.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to go downstairs." Mary turned slowly from the mirror and +walked toward the door. Beneath her quiet exterior, a silent struggle +was going on. Should she speak her mind once and for all to Marjorie, or +should she go on enduring in silence? Perhaps it would be best to speak +and have things out. Then, at least, they would understand each other. +Then her pride whispered to her that it was Marjorie's and not her place +to speak. Marjorie must know something of her state of mind. At heart +she must be just the least bit ashamed of herself for shutting her out +of her personal affairs. Had they not sworn long ago to tell each other +their secrets. <em>She</em> had always kept her word. It was Marjorie who had +failed to do so. No, she would not humble herself. Marjorie might keep +her secrets, for all <em>she</em> cared. She was sorry that she had ever come +to Sanford. Now that she was here she would have to stay. If she wrote +her father to take her away, her mother would have to be told. Mary was +resolved that no matter what happened to her, her mother must be spared +all anxiety. She would try to bear it. Marjorie should never know how +deeply she was wounded. She would pretend that all was as it had been +before.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean looked up from her letters, as the two girls entered the +dining room.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, children," she admonished. "You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> haven't much time to spare. +These social affairs completely break up army discipline. Look out you +don't go to sleep at your post this morning."</p> + +<p>"Who's sleepy? Not I," boasted Marjorie. "I feel as though I'd slept for +hours and hours. Your army is ready for duty, Captain. Lieutenant Mary's +headache has been put to rout and everything is lovely."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you feel quite well, dear?" questioned Mrs. Dean +anxiously. She noted that Mary was very pale and that her eyes looked +strained and tired.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite well now, thank you." The ghost of a smile flickered on her +pale face.</p> + +<p>"Did you enjoy the dance? It was nice in Connie to give it in your +honor. We are all very fond of her and of little Charlie."</p> + +<p>Mary's wan face brightened at the mention of the child's name. "Isn't he +dear?" she asked impulsively.</p> + +<p>"Mary has stolen Charlie from me," put in Marjorie. "He adores her +already. I don't blame him. So do I, and so does Connie, too. We three +are going to have splendid times together this winter."</p> + +<p>During the rest of the breakfast Marjorie regaled her mother with an +account of the dance. Mary said little or nothing, but amid her friend's +merry chatter her silence passed unnoticed.</p> + +<p>"Wear your raincoats," called Mrs. Dean after them, as, their breakfast +finished, they ran upstairs for their wraps.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later they had joined the bobbing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> umbrella procession +that wended its way into the high school building.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to go to Miss Merton, Mary, and be assigned to a seat. She +didn't give you one yesterday, did she?" asked Marjorie. "You can put +your wraps in our locker. We are to have the same lockers we had last +year. Connie and I have a locker together. There is lots of room in it +for your things, too. I'll task Marcia Arnold to let you in with us. She +has charge of the lockers."</p> + +<p>Mary's first impulse was to decline this friendly offer. On second +thought she closed her lips tightly, resolved to make no protest. +Later—well, there was no telling what might happen.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid of Miss Merton," was Marjorie's whispered counsel, as +they crossed the threshold of the study hall. "She can't eat you."</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid." Mary's lip curled a trifle scornfully. Marjorie +treated her as though she were a baby.</p> + +<p>"I have come to you for my seat," was her terse statement, as she paused +squarely before Miss Merton's desk.</p> + +<p>Miss Merton glanced up to meet the unflinching gaze of two purposely +cold blue eyes. Something in their direct gaze made her answer with +undue civility, "Very well. I will assign you to one. Come with me."</p> + +<p>She stalked down the aisle, Mary following, to the last seat in one of +the two sophomore rows, and paused before it. "This will be your seat +for the year," she said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank you." Mary sat down and took account of her surroundings. Across +the aisle on one side, Susan Atwell's dimpled face flashed her a +welcome. On the other side sat a tall, severe junior who wore +eye-glasses. The seat in front of her was vacant. Marjorie sat far down +the same row. Mary could just see the top of her curly head. It still +lacked five minutes of opening time and the students were, for the most +part, conversing in low tones. Now and then an accidentally loud note +caused Miss Merton to raise her head from her writing and glare severely +at the offender.</p> + +<p>Susan Atwell leaned across the aisle and patted Mary's hand in friendly +fashion. "I'm so glad you are going to sit here," she said in an +undertone. "I was afraid Miss Merton would put some old slow-poke there +who wouldn't say 'boo' or pass notes or do anything to help the +sophomore cause along."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad she put me near you," returned Mary affably. She had made up +her mind to win friends. They would be indispensable to her now that all +was over between her and Marjorie. "I don't imagine that tall girl is +very sociable."</p> + +<p>"She's a dig and a prig," giggled Susan. "You'd get no recreation from +labor from that quarter."</p> + +<p>Mary echoed Susan's infectious giggle. "Who sits in front of me?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"No one, yet. Who knows what manner of girl is in store for us? That's +the only vacant seat in the section. The first late arrival into our +midst will get it. I don't believe we'll have any more girls, though, +unless someone comes into school late as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> Marjorie came last year. It's +too bad. It makes an awkward stretch if one wants to pass a note. I +always am caught if I throw one. Last year I threw one and hit Miss +Merton in the back. She was standing quite a little way down the aisle. +I thought it was a splendid opportunity. I'd been waiting to send one to +Irma Linton, who sat two seats in front of me. The girl between us +wouldn't pass it. So I threw it, and it went further than I thought." +Susan's fascinating giggle burst forth anew. She rocked to and fro in +merriment at the recollection.</p> + +<p>Mary found herself laughing in concert. Just then the opening bell +clanged forth its harsh note of warning. The low buzz of voices in the +great study hall died into silence. Every pair of eyes faced front. Miss +Merton rose from her chair to conduct the opening exercises. A sudden +murmur that swept the hall caused her to say sternly, "Silence." Then, +noting that the eyes of her pupils were fixed in concerted gaze on the +study-hall door, she turned sharply.</p> + +<p>A black-haired, black-eyed girl, whose elfish face wore an expression of +mingled contempt and amusement, advanced into the room with a decided +air of one who wishes to create an impression.</p> + +<p>"Mignon!" gasped Susan. "Well, <em>what</em> do you think of that?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE BLINDNESS OF JEALOUSY</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">At</span> sight of the newcomer Miss Merton's severe face underwent a lightning +change. She stepped from the platform and hurried toward the dark-eyed +girl with outstretched hand. Her harsh voice sounded almost pleasant, as +she said, "Why, Mignon, I am delighted to see you!"</p> + +<p>Mignon La Salle tossed her head with an air of triumph as she took Miss +Merton's hand. In her, at least, she had a powerful ally. Lowering her +voice, the teacher asked her several questions. Mignon answered them in +equally guarded tones, accompanied by the frequent significant gestures +which are involuntary in those of foreign birth.</p> + +<p>A subdued buzzing arose from different parts of the study hall. +Apparently engrossed in her conversation with the girl who had been her +favorite pupil during her freshman year, Miss Merton paid no attention +to the sounds provoked by Mignon La Salle's unexpected arrival. As a +matter of fact, she was quite aware of them, but chose to ignore them +solely on Mignon's account. To rebuke the whisperers would tend toward +embarrassing the French girl.</p> + +<p>"There is just one vacant place in the sophomore section," she informed +Mignon. "I think I must have reserved it specially for you." She +contorted her face into what she believed to be an affable smile.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mignon answered it in kind, with an inimitable lifting of the eyebrows +and a significant shrug.</p> + +<p>"Look at her," muttered Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear. "Miss Merton is +taffying her up in great style. She always puts on her +cat-that-ate-the-canary expression when she's pleased. And to think that +we've got to stand for <em>her</em> again this year!" Jerry gave a positive +snort of disgust.</p> + +<p>"Shh! They'll hear you, Jerry," warned Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Don't care if they do. Wish they would," grumbled the disgruntled +Jerry. "I'll bet you ten to one she was sent home from boarding school."</p> + +<p>There was a general turning of heads and craning of necks as Miss Merton +conducted Mignon down the aisle to the vacant seat in front of Mary +Raymond. There was a brief exchange of low-toned words between the two, +then Mignon seated herself, while Miss Merton marched stolidly back to +her desk and without further delay began the interrupted morning +exercises.</p> + +<p>Mary Raymond viewed the black, curly head and silken-clad shoulders of +the newcomer with some curiosity. The subdued ripple of astonishment +that had passed over the roomful of girls told her that here was no +ordinary pupil. Mignon's expensive frock of dark green Georgette crepe, +elaborately trimmed, also pointed to affluence. Mary reasoned that she +must be known to the others. A stranger would not have created such a +buzz of comment. Then, she remembered Susan's amazed exclamation. She +turned to the latter and made a gesture of inquiry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> Susan shook her +head. Her lips formed a silent, "After school," and Mary nodded +understandingly.</p> + +<p>"Young ladies, you will arrange your programme of recitations this +morning as speedily as possible," was Miss Merton's command the moment +opening exercises were over. "You will be given until ten o'clock to do +so. Then there will be twenty-minute classes for the rest of the +morning. Classes will occupy the usual period of time during the +afternoon. Try to arrange your studies so that you will not have to +waste valuable time in making changes. Please avoid asking unnecessary +questions. The bulletin board will tell you everything, if you take +pains to examine it carefully. Let there be no loud talking or personal +conversation."</p> + +<p>Miss Merton sat down with the air of one who has done her duty, and +glared severely at the rows of attentive young faces. She was not in +sympathy with these girls. Their youth was a distinct affront to her +narrow soul.</p> + +<p>The business of arranging the term's studies began in quiet, orderly +fashion. The majority of the pupils had long since decided upon their +courses of study. Their main duty now lay in making satisfactory +arrangements of their classes and the hours on which their various +recitations fell.</p> + +<p>Marjorie Dean studied the bulletin board with a serious face. She had +successfully carried five studies during her freshman year. She decided +that she would do so again, provided the fifth subject held interest +enough to warrant the extra effort it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> meant. Plane geometry, of course, +she would have to take. Then there was second year French. She and +Constance intended to go on with the language of which they were so +fond. Her General had insisted that she must begin Latin. She should +have begun it in her freshman year. That made three. Then there was +chemistry. Should she choose a fifth subject? Yes, there was English +Literature. It would not be hard work. She was sure she would love it. +Besides, she wished to be in Miss Flint's class.</p> + +<p>Once she had decided upon her subjects, she studied the board anew for a +proper arrangement of her recitation hours. For a wonder they fitted +into one another beautifully, leaving her that last coveted period in +the afternoon, free for study. She sat back at last with a faint breath +of satisfaction. She wondered how Mary was getting on and what she +intended to study. They had agreed beforehand on Chemistry. Only the day +before Mr. Dean had half-promised to fit out a tiny laboratory for them +in a small room at the rear of the house.</p> + +<p>Mary, however, was frowning darkly at the board. She wondered in which +section Marjorie intended to recite geometry. She had been so busy with +her own woes that gloomy morning that she had quite forgotten to plan +with Marjorie. Oh, well, she reflected, what difference did it make? +Marjorie wouldn't care whether they recited together or not. Very likely +she had already made plans with that odious Constance Stevens that would +leave her out. Marjorie had already said that she and Constance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +intended to go on with French together. Then there were Cæsar's +Commentaries. She had finished first-year Latin. She would have to take +them next. Suddenly a naughty idea came into her perverse little brain. +Why not purposely leave Marjorie out of her calculations? Marjorie had +wished her to take chemistry. Very well. She would disappoint her by +choosing something else. Then if Mr. Dean fitted out a laboratory, his +daughter would have the pleasure of working in it all by herself. She +would show a certain person what it meant to cast aside a lifelong +friendship. Oh, yes, Marjorie was anxious for her to take English +literature. She would take rhetoric instead. She would go still further. +If when classes assembled she found herself in the same geometry section +with her chum she would make an excuse and change to another period of +recitation. The frown deepened on her smooth forehead as she jotted down +her subjects on the sheet of paper before her.</p> + +<p>Suddenly conscious of the intent regard of someone, she raised her head. +A pair of elfish black eyes were fixed upon her in curious intent.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" asked Mignon La Salle with cool impudence. "You look like +that priggish Miss Stevens. I hope for your sake you are not a relative +of hers."</p> + +<p>"Most certainly I am not," retorted Mary, flushing angrily. It was too +provoking. Why must she be constantly reminded of her resemblance to one +she disliked so intensely? In her annoyance at the nature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> of the French +girl's remarks, she quite overlooked the impertinence of her address.</p> + +<p>A gleam of satisfaction flashed across Mignon's face. "Then there is +hope," she returned, holding up her forefinger in an impish imitation of +a world-wide advertisement. "Say it again. I can't believe the evidence +of my own ears."</p> + +<p>"I am not a relative of Miss Stevens," repeated Mary a trifle stiffly. +The French girl's mocking tones were distinctly unpleasant. "Why do you +ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because I wish to know," shrugged Mignon Then she added tactfully, +"Please don't think me rude. I am always too frank in expressing my +opinions. If I dislike anyone I can't smile deceitfully and pretend them +to be my dearest friend."</p> + +<p>Mary's sullen face cleared. Here at last was a girl who seemed to be +sincere. She unbent slightly and smiled. Mignon returned the smile in +her most amiable fashion.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for a moment." Mignon turned in her seat and began fumbling +in a little leather bag that lay on her desk.</p> + +<p>Mary felt a quick, light touch on her arm. Susan Atwell began making +violent signs at her behind Mignon's back. She desisted as suddenly as +she began. The French girl had turned again toward Mary with the quick, +cat-like manner that so characterized all her movements.</p> + +<p>"Here is my card," she offered, placing a bit of engraved pasteboard on +Mary's desk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> + +<p>The latter picked it up and read, "Mignon Adrienne La Salle."</p> + +<p>"What a pretty name!" was her soft exclamation.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you like it," beamed Mignon. "But you haven't told me yours."</p> + +<p>"I haven't any cards with me," apologized Mary. "My name is Mary +Raymond."</p> + +<p>"Have you lived long in Sanford?" inquired Mignon suavely. She had +already decided that a girl who was in sympathy with her on one point +might prove to be worth cultivating.</p> + +<p>"Only a short time. My mother is in Colorado for her health and I am +living in Marjorie Dean's home until Mother returns next summer."</p> + +<p>Mary's innocent words had an electrical effect on the French girl. Her +heavy brows drew together in a scowl and her dark face set in hard +lines.</p> + +<p>"Then that settles it," she said coldly. "You and I can <em>never</em> be +friends." She switched about in her seat with an angry jerk.</p> + +<p>Mary leaned forward and touched her on the shoulder. "I don't +understand," she murmured. "Please tell me what you mean."</p> + +<p>The French girl swung halfway about. She regarded Mary with narrowed +eyes. Was it possible that Marjorie Dean had never mentioned her to her +friend?</p> + +<p>"Hasn't Miss Dean ever spoken to you of me?" she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>Mary shook her head. "No, I am sure I never before heard of you. I don't +know many Sanford<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> girls yet. I have met Miss Atwell and Miss Macy and a +few others who were at Miss Stevens' dance last night."</p> + +<p>"So, Miss Stevens is doing social stunts," sneered Mignon. "Quite a +change from last year, I should say. I used to be friends with Susan +Atwell and Jerry Macy, but this Stevens girl made mischief between us +and broke up our old crowd entirely. Your friend, Miss Dean, took sides +with them, too, and helped the thing along. She made a perfect idiot of +herself over Constance Stevens. Oh, well, never mind. I'm not going to +say another word about it. I'm sorry we can't be friends. I'm sure we'd +get along famously together. It is impossible, though. Miss Dean +wouldn't let you."</p> + +<p>Mary suddenly sat very erect. She had listened in amazement to Mignon's +recital. Could she believe her ears? Had her hitherto-beloved Marjorie +been guilty of trouble-making? And all for the sake of Constance +Stevens. Marjorie must indeed care a great deal for her. She had not +been mistaken, then, in her belief that she had been supplanted in her +chum's heart. And now Mignon was suggesting that Marjorie would not +allow her to be friends with the girl whom she had wronged. Mary did not +stop to consider that there are always two sides to a story. Swayed by +her resentment against Constance, she preferred to believe anything +which she might hear against her.</p> + +<p>"Please understand, once and for all, that Marjorie has nothing to say +about whoever I choose to have for a friend," she said with decision. "I +hope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> I am free to do as I please. I shall be very glad to know you +better, Miss La Salle, and I am sorry that you have been so badly +treated."</p> + +<p>The ringing of the first recitation-bell broke in upon the conversation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, gracious, I haven't looked at the bulletin board. Excuse me, Miss +Raymond. I'll see you later and we'll have a nice long talk. I'm sure I +shall be pleased to have <em>you</em> for a friend."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to recite geometry in this first section?" asked Mary +eagerly. The students were already filing out of the great room.</p> + +<p>"Let me see." Mignon consulted the bulletin board. "Why, yes, I might as +well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, splendid!" glowed Mary. "Then you can show me the way to the +geometry classroom."</p> + +<p>"Delighted, I'm sure," returned Mignon. Her black eyes sparkled with +triumph. At last she had found a way to even her score with Marjorie +Dean. With almost uncanny shrewdness she had divined what Marjorie +herself had not discovered. This blue-eyed baby of a girl, for Mignon +mentally characterized her as such, was jealous of Marjorie's friendship +with the Stevens girl. Very well. She would take a hand and help matters +along. Of course there was a strong chance that it might all come to +nothing. Marjorie might take Mary in charge the moment school was over +and tell her a few things. Yet that was hardly possible. Much as she +hated the brown-eyed girl who had worsted her at every point, in her own +cowardly heart lurked a respect for Marjorie's high standard of honor. +So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> far Mary knew nothing against her. Perhaps she would never know. +Perhaps if Marjorie and Jerry and Irma tried to prejudice Mary against +her, the girl would rebel and send them about their business. She had +looked stupidly obstinate when she said, "I hope I am free to do as I +please." Mignon smiled maliciously as she walked down the long aisle +ahead of Mary.</p> + +<p>Marjorie had risen from her seat at the sound of the first bell. Now she +gazed anxiously up the aisle toward Mary's seat. She looked relieved as +she saw her chum approaching. She bowed coldly to Mignon as she passed. +"Oh, Mary," she said, "I was looking for you. If you are going to recite +geometry now, then please don't go. Wait and recite in my section. You +know, we said we'd recite it together."</p> + +<p>Mary's blue eyes glowed resentfully. "I've made up my programme," she +answered with cool defiance. "I can't change it now. Miss La Salle is +going to show me the way to the geometry classroom. I'll see you later."</p> + +<p>Without waiting for a reply she marched on, leaving Marjorie to stare +after her with troubled eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE VALLEY OF MISUNDERSTANDING</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">For</span> a brief instant Marjorie continued to stare after the retreating +form of her chum, oblivious to the steady stream of girls passing by +her. Then, seized with a sudden idea, she slipped into her seat and +hastily consulted the bulletin board. The ringing of the third bell +found her hurrying from the aisle toward the door. That brief survey of +the schedule had resulted in an entire change of her programme. She had +decided to recite geometry in the morning section. It meant giving up +the cherished last hour in the afternoon which she had reserved for +study. She would have to recite Latin at that time. Well, that did not +matter so much. Reciting geometry in the same section with Mary was what +counted. She had experienced a curious feeling of alarm as she had +watched Mary and Mignon La Salle disappear through the big doorway side +by side. Mignon was the last person she had supposed Mary would meet. To +be sure, there was nothing particularly alarming in their meeting. As +yet they were comparative strangers to each other. She had noted that +Miss Merton had assigned the French girl to the seat in front of Mary. +It was, therefore, quite probable that Mary had inquired the way to the +geometry classroom and Mignon had volunteered to conduct her to it.</p> + +<p>Marjorie's sober face lightened a little as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> hastened down the +corridor to the geometry room. Miss Nelson, the instructor in +mathematics, was on the point of closing the door as she hurriedly +approached. She smiled as she saw the pretty sophomore, and continued to +hold the door open until Marjorie had crossed the threshold. The latter +gave an eager glance about the room. The classrooms were provided with +rows of single desks similar to those in the study hall. Mary was +occupying one of them well toward the front of the room. Directly ahead +of her sat the French girl. On one of the back seats was Jerry Macy, +glaring in her most savage manner, her angry eyes fixed on the black, +curly head of the girl she despised.</p> + +<p>There was no vacant seat near Mary. Marjorie noted all these facts in +that one comprehensive glance. It also seemed to her that the French +girl's face wore an expression of mocking triumph. And was it her +imagination, or had Mary glanced up as she entered and then turned away +her eyes? What did it all mean? Marjorie took the nearest vacant seat at +hand, the prey of many emotions. Then, as Miss Nelson stepped forward to +address the class, she resolutely put away all personal matters and, +with the fine attention to the business of study which had endeared her +to her various teachers during her freshman year, she strove to center +her troubled mind on what Miss Nelson was saying.</p> + +<p>After a short preliminary talk on the importance of the study the class +was about to begin, Miss Nelson proceeded to the business of registering +her pupils and giving out the text books. Miss Nelson<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> laid particular +stress on the thorough learning of all definitions pertaining to the +study in hand. "You must know these definitions so well that you could +say them backward if I requested it," she emphasized. "They will be of +greatest importance in your work to come." Then she heartlessly gave out +several pages of them for the advance lesson. The rest of the period she +spent in going over and explaining these same definitions in her usual +thorough manner, ending with the stern injunction that she expected a +letter-perfect recitation on the following morning.</p> + +<p>"Miss Nelson doesn't want much," grumbled Jerry Macy in Irma Linton's +ear, as they filed out of class at the ringing of the bell which ended +the period. Then, before Irma had time to reply, she continued: "<em>What</em> +do you think of Mignon? Isn't it a shame she's back again? And did you +see her march in here with Mary Raymond? It's a pretty sure thing that +neither of them knows who is who in Sanford. I suppose Mary, poor +innocent, asked her the way to the classroom. Where was Marjorie all +that time, I wonder? I'll bet you a box of Huyler's that they won't walk +into geometry again to-morrow morning. Hurry up, there's Marjorie just +ahead of us with Mary now. The fair Mignon has vanished. I can see her +away ahead of them. I guess Marjorie didn't know who piloted Mary into +class. She came in last, you know."</p> + +<p>Irma laid a detaining hand on Jerry's arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, wait until after school, Jerry," she counseled. This quiet, +unobtrusive girl was a keen observer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> She had noted Marjorie's +half-troubled expression as she entered the room. The suspicion that +Marjorie knew and was not pleased had already come to her.</p> + +<p>"All right, I will. Wish school was out now. Those geometry definitions +make me tired. I'm worn out already and school hasn't fairly begun yet. +I hate mathematics. Wouldn't look at a geometry if I could graduate +without it."</p> + +<p>But while Jerry was anathematizing mathematics, Marjorie was saying +earnestly to Mary, whom she had joined at the door, "I am so sorry I +didn't come back to your seat in the study hall before the first bell +rang. I really ought to have asked permission to do so, but I was afraid +Miss Merton would say 'no.' She never loses a chance to be horrid to me. +When you said you were going to recite in this section I hurried and +changed my programme to make things come right for us."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's earnest little speech, so full of apparent good will, brought +a quick flush of contrition to Mary's cheeks. She experienced a swift +spasm of regret for her bitter suspicion of Marjorie. Her tense face +softened. Why not unburden herself to her chum now and find relief from +her torture of doubt?</p> + +<p>"Marjorie," she began, laying her hand lightly on her friend's arm, "I +wish you would tell me something. Miss La Salle said that Constance +Stevens——"</p> + +<p>"Mary!" Marjorie's sunny face had suddenly grown very stern. "I am sorry +to have to speak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> harshly of any girl in Sanford High, but as your chum +I feel it my duty to ask you to have nothing to do with Mignon La Salle, +or pay the slightest attention to her. She made us all very unhappy last +year, particularly Constance and myself. I can't help saying it, but I +am sorry that she has come back to Sanford. I understood that she was at +boarding school. I am sure I wish she had stayed there." Marjorie spoke +with a bitterness quite foreign to her generous nature.</p> + +<p>Mary's lips tightened obstinately as she listened. Her brief impulse +toward a frank understanding died with Marjorie's emphatic utterance. +She was inwardly furious at her chum's sharp interruption.</p> + +<p>"I am very well aware that you would stand up for Miss Stevens, whether +she were in the right or in the wrong," she said with cold sarcasm. +"I've been seeing that ever since I came to Sanford. But just because +she is perfect in <em>your</em> eyes is not reason why <em>I</em> should think so. For +my part, I like Miss La Salle. She was awfully sweet to me this morning, +and I don't think it is nice in you to talk about her behind her back."</p> + +<p>In the intensity of the moment both girls had stopped short in the +corridor, oblivious of the passing students. Mary's flashing blue eyes +fixed Marjorie's amazed brown ones in an angry gaze.</p> + +<p>"Why, Ma-a-ry!" stammered Marjorie. "What <em>is</em> the matter? I don't +understand you." Her bewilderment served only to increase the rancor +that had been smouldering in Mary's heart. Now it burst forth in a fury +of words.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't pretend, Marjorie Dean. You know perfectly well what I mean. It +isn't necessary for me to tell you, either. When I came to Sanford to +live with you I thought I'd be the happiest girl in the world because I +was going to live at your house and go to school with you. If I had +known as much when Father and I came to see you as I know now—well, I +wouldn't—ever—have come back again!" Her anger-choked tones faltered. +She turned away her head. Then pulling herself sharply together, she +turned and hurried down the corridor.</p> + +<p>For a second Marjorie stood rooted to the spot. Could she believe her +ears? Was it really Mary, her soldier chum, with whom she had stood +shoulder to shoulder for so many years, who had thus arraigned her? Her +instant of inaction past, she darted down the corridor after Mary. But +the latter passed into the study hall before she could overtake her. She +could do nothing now to straighten the tangle in which they had so +suddenly become involved until the morning session of school was over. +She glanced anxiously toward Mary's seat the moment she stepped across +the threshold of the study hall, only to see her friend in earnest +conversation with Mignon La Salle. An angry little furrow settled on her +usually placid brow. Mignon had lost no time in living up to her +reputation. Mary must be rescued from her baleful influence at once. +When they reached home that day she would tell her chum the whole story +of last year. Once Mary learned Mignon's true character she would see +matters in a different light. But what had the French<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> girl said about +Constance? If only she had held her peace and not interrupted Mary. Even +as a little girl Marjorie remembered how hard it had been, once Mary was +angry, to discover the cause. In spite of her usual good-nature she was +unyieldingly stubborn. When, at rare intervals, she became displeased or +hurt over a fancied grievance, she would nurse her anger for days in +sulky silence.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell her all about last year the minute we get into the house this +noon," resolved Marjorie. "When she knows how badly Mignon behaved +toward Connie——" The little girl drew a sharp breath of dismay. Into +her mind flashed her recent promise to Constance Stevens. She could tell +Mary nothing until she had permission to do so. That meant that for the +day, at least, she must remain mute, for Constance was not in school +that morning, nor would she be in during the day. She had received +special permission from Miss Archer to be excused from lessons while her +foster father was at Gray Gables.</p> + +<p>It was a very sober little girl who wended her way to the French class, +her next recitation. Out of an apparently clear sky the miserable set of +circumstances frowned upon her dawning sophomore year. But it must come +right. She would go to Gray Gables that very afternoon and ask Constance +to release her from her promise. Connie would surely be willing to do +so, when she knew all. Comforted by this thought, Marjorie brightened +again.</p> + +<p>"<em>Bon jour</em>, Mademoiselle Dean," greeted the cheerful voice of Professor +Fontaine as she entered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> his classroom. "It is with a great plaisure +that I see you again. Let us 'ope that you haf not forgottaine your +French, I trost you haf sometimes remembered <em>la belle langue</em> during +your vacation." The little man beamed delightedly upon Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I have forgotten a great deal of it, Professor Fontaine." +Marjorie spoke with the pretty deference that she always accorded this +long-suffering professor, whose strongly accented English and foreign +eccentricities made him the subject of many ill-timed jests on the part +of his thoughtless pupils. "I'm going to study hard, though, and it will +soon come back to me."</p> + +<p>"Ah! These are the words it makes happiness to hear," he returned +amiably. "Some day, when you haf learned to spik the French as the +English, you will be glad that you haf persevered."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I shall," smiled Marjorie. Then, as several entering pupils +claimed the little man's attention, she passed on and took a vacant seat +at the back of the room.</p> + +<p>Professor Fontaine had begun to address the class when the door opened +and Mignon La Salle sauntered in. She threw a quick, derisive glance at +his back, which caused several girls to giggle, then strolled calmly to +a seat. A shade of annoyance clouded the instructor's genial face. He +eyed his countrywoman severely for an instant, then went on with his +speech.</p> + +<p>Marjorie received little benefit that morning from the professor's +gallant efforts to impress the importance of the study of his language +on the minds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> of his class. Her thoughts were with Mary and what she had +best say to conciliate her. She had as yet no inkling of the truth. She +did not dream that jealousy of Constance had prompted Mary's outburst. +She believed that the whole trouble lay in whatever Mignon had told +Mary.</p> + +<p>She was more hurt than surprised when at the last period in the morning +she failed to find Mary in the chemistry room. Of course she might have +expected it. Nothing would be right until she had chased away the black +clouds of misunderstanding that hung over them. Still, it grieved her to +think that Mary had not trusted her enough to weigh her loyalty against +the gossip of a stranger.</p> + +<p>The hands of the study hall clock, pointing the hour of twelve, brought +relief to the worried sophomore. The instant the closing bell rang she +made for the locker room. It would be better to wait for Mary there, +rather than in the corridor. If Mary's mood had not changed, she +preferred not to run the risk of a possible rebuff in so prominent a +place. There were too many curious eyes ready to note their slightest +act. It would be dreadful if some lynx-eyed girl were to mark them and +circulate a report that they were quarreling.</p> + +<p>Arrived at the locker-room, she opened her locker and took out her +wraps. A faint gasp of astonishment broke from her. Only one rain-coat, +one hat and one pair of rubbers were there, where at the beginning of +the morning there had been two. Mary Raymond's belongings were gone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<br /> +<small>CHOOSING HER OWN WAY</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Marjorie</span> stood staring at her locker as one in a dream.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Hurry</span> up, Marjorie!" Jerry Macy's loud, matter-of-fact tones broke the +spell. Behind her were Irma Linton and Susan Atwell. The faces of the +three were alive with suppressed excitement. Jerry caught sight of the +tell-tale locker and emitted an indignant snort.</p> + +<p>"Mary took her advice, Susie! If I were the President of the United +States I'd have that Mignon La Salle deported to the South Sea Islands, +or Kamchatka, or some place where she couldn't get back in a hurry. It +would be a good deal farther than boarding school, I can just tell you," +she ended with an angry sputter.</p> + +<p>Marjorie faced the battery of indignant young faces. "What is the +trouble, girls?" She tried to keep her voice steady, though she was at +the point of tears.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with your friend, Mary Raymond, Marjorie?" continued +Jerry in a slightly lower key. "Has she gone suddenly crazy or—or——" +Jerry hesitated. She could not voice the other question which rose to +her lips.</p> + +<p>"Girls," Marjorie viewed her friends with brave, direct eyes, "you know +something that I don't about Mary. What is it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's about Mignon," blurted Jerry. "Susie says that the minute she +landed in her seat she began talking to Mary."</p> + +<p>"I made signs to Mary to pay no attention to her," broke in Susan +Atwell, "but she didn't understand what I meant and I couldn't explain, +with Mignon sitting right there. The next thing I saw, they were walking +down the aisle together as though they'd known each other all their +lives."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and they came into geometry together, too," supplemented Jerry. +"But that's not the worst. Tell Marjorie what you overheard, Susie."</p> + +<p>"Well," began Susan, looking important, "when I came back to the study +hall just before the last class was called, they were both there ahead +of me. Just as I was going to sit down at my desk I heard Mignon tell +Mary she'd love to have her share her locker. Mary was looking awfully +sober and pretty cross, too, as though she were mad about something. I +heard her say, 'How can I get my wraps?' and Mignon said, 'Go to Marcia +Arnold and see if you can borrow Miss Stevens' key for a minute. If she +hasn't come back to school yet, very likely Marcia has it. Tell her you +want to take something from it and don't care to bother Miss Dean. You +can easily do it, because you haven't a recitation at this hour. I'd get +it for you, but I haven't any good reason for asking her for it.' I +couldn't hear what Mary said, but she left her seat and I saw her stop +at Miss Merton's desk. Miss Merton nodded her head and Mary went on out +of the study hall. Mignon saw me looking after her and smiled that +hateful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> smile of hers. I was so cross I made a face at her. Then the +third bell rang and I had to go to class. I wasn't sure whether Mary did +as Mignon told her to do until we saw you staring into your locker and +Jerry called my attention to it."</p> + +<p>Marjorie listened gravely to Susan's recital. She stood surveying the +three girls in silence.</p> + +<p>"What has happened, Marjorie?" questioned Jerry impatiently. "Or isn't +it any of our business? If it isn't, then forget that I asked you."</p> + +<p>"Girls," Marjorie's clear voice trembled a little, "I think I'd better +tell you about it. At first I thought I couldn't bear to tell anyone, +but as long as you all know something of what happened to Connie and I +last year, you might as well know this, too. Miss Archer made a remark +to me about our misunderstanding yesterday when Mary was with me. Mary +asked me afterward what she meant. I wanted to tell her, but I didn't +feel as though I had the right to, until I asked Connie if I could. I +was going to ask her last night, but before I had a chance she asked me +not to tell Mary about it. She was afraid Mary might not understand +and—and blame her. Of course, I knew that Mary wouldn't mind in the +least, but Connie seemed so worried that I promised I wouldn't."</p> + +<p>Jerry Macy's frown deepened. Susan Atwell made a faint gesture of +consternation, while Irma Linton looked distressed and sympathetic.</p> + +<p>"I thought perhaps Mary would forget about Constance," went on Marjorie. +"I never dreamed that Mignon was coming back, let alone she and Mary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +becoming friendly. I saw them go down the aisle to geometry class +together and followed them. You see, Mary and I had planned to recite in +the same section. I asked her to wait and recite later, but she +wouldn't. Then I changed my hour so as to be in her class. After class I +caught up with her. She began to tell me something about what Mignon had +said of Connie. It made me so cross that I interrupted her, almost +before she had started. I told her she must have nothing to say to +Mignon and—she—I guess I hurt her feelings, for she walked off +and—left—me." Marjorie ended with a half sob. She turned her face to +the locker and leaned against it. The tears that she had bravely forced +back now came thick and fast.</p> + +<p>"What a shame!" burst forth Jerry. "Don't cry, dear. We'll straighten +things out for you. I'll go to Mary my own self and give her Mignon's +history in a few well chosen words." She patted the shoulder of the +weeping girl.</p> + +<p>"You might know that Mignon would bring trouble, hateful girl," was +Susan's indignant cry. "Never mind, we'll fix her."</p> + +<p>"I'll do all I can to help you, Marjorie," soothed Irma, who was known +throughout the school as a peace-maker.</p> + +<p>With a long, quivering sigh Marjorie turned slowly and faced her +friends.</p> + +<p>"You are very sweet to me, every one of you," she said gratefully, "but, +girls, you mustn't say a word. I promised Connie, and I'll keep my word +until she releases me from that promise. I'm going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> over to see her +to-night to ask her to do that very thing. She'll say 'yes,' I know. +Then I can tell Mary and it will be all right. I'm sorry I made such a +baby of myself, but Mary and I have been chums for years—and——" Her +voice broke again.</p> + +<p>Jerry wound her plump arms about the girl she adored. "You poor kid," +she comforted slangily. "If you must cry, cry on my shoulder. It's nice +and fat and not half so hard as that old locker."</p> + +<p>"You are a ridiculous Jerry," Marjorie laughed through her tears. +"There, I feel better now. I'm not going to cry another tear. Are my +eyes very red? I don't care to have the public gape at my grief. Come +on, children. It must be long after twelve. I suppose Mary is home by +this time. Naturally she wouldn't wait for me," she added wistfully.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Mary had waited. Once she had removed her wraps to +Mignon's locker she had been seized with a sharp attack of conscience. +She felt a trifle ashamed of herself and decided that she would ask her +chum to forgive her and allow her to put her wraps in Marjorie's locker +again. At the close of the session she made a hasty excuse to Mignon, +seized her belongings and hurrying out of the building, took up her +stand across the street. When at twenty minutes past twelve Marjorie did +not appear, her good resolutions took wing, and sulkily setting her face +toward home, Mary left the school and the chance for reconciliation +behind, and angrily went her way alone, thus widening the gap that +already yawned between herself and Marjorie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was twenty minutes to one when the latter ran up the steps of her +home in an almost cheerful frame of mind. The hall door yielded to her +touch and she rushed into the hall, her clear call of "Mary!" re-echoing +through the quiet house.</p> + +<p>"I'll be down in a minute," answered a cold voice from the head of the +stairs.</p> + +<p>"I'll be up in a second," laughed Marjorie, making a dive for the +stairs. The next instant she had caught the immovable little figure at +the landing in an impulsive embrace. "Poor old Lieutenant, I'm so +sorry," was her contrite cry. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. +Listen, dear. I'm going over to see Connie this afternoon after school +and ask her to let me tell you everything you wished to know about last +year. Then you will understand why——"</p> + +<p>Mary freed herself from the clinging arms with a jerk. "If you say a +word to Constance Stevens, I'll never forgive you!" she cried +passionately. "I won't be made ridiculous. Do you understand me? You +could tell me without asking her, if you cared to. I'd never say a word +and she'd never know the difference."</p> + +<p>"But, Mary, I promised her——" Marjorie stopped in confusion. She had +not meant to mention her promise to Constance. She had spoken before she +thought.</p> + +<p>"So <em>that's</em> the reason, is it?" choked Mary, her cheeks flaming with +the humiliating knowledge. "Thank you, I don't care to hear your old +secrets. You may keep them, for all I care!" She whirled and started +toward her room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>Marjorie caught her arm. "I haven't any secrets that I wish to keep from +you, Mary," she said with quiet dignity. "Last night at the dance +Constance asked me to promise I wouldn't say anything to you about the +trouble she had with Mignon La Salle during our freshman year. We were +upstairs in her room. I was mending my flounce. It got torn when we were +dancing. I had intended asking her permission then to tell you, and when +she spoke of it first I hardly knew what to do. I didn't like to let her +think that you were curious and——"</p> + +<p>"How dare you call me curious!" Mary stamped her foot in a sudden fury +of temper. "I'm not. I wouldn't listen to your miserable secret if you +begged me to. Now I truly believe what Miss La Salle told me. You and +your friend Constance ought to be ashamed of the way you treated that +poor girl last year. I'm sorry I ever came to your house to live. I'd +write to Father to come and take me away, but Mother would have to know. +She sha'n't be worried, no matter what I have to stand. You needn't be +afraid, I'll not make a fuss, either, so that General and Captain will +know. I'll try to pretend before them that we're just the same chums as +ever, and you'd better pretend it, too. But we won't be. From to-day on +I'll go <em>my</em> way and choose <em>my</em> friends and you can do the same."</p> + +<p>"Mary Raymond, listen to me." Marjorie's hands found the shoulders of +her angry chum. The brown eyes held the blue ones in a long, steadfast +gaze. "Mignon La Salle is only trying to make trouble. If you knew her +as well as I know her, you wouldn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> pay any attention to her. We've +been best friends and comrades since we were little tots, Mary, and I +think you ought to trust me. No one can ever be so dear to me as you +are."</p> + +<p>"Except Constance Stevens," put in Mary sarcastically, twisting from +Marjorie's hold. "Why, that very first day when you came to the train to +meet me I could see you liked her best. You can imagine how I felt when +even your friends spoke of it. If you really cared about me, you would +have written to me of every single thing that happened last year. You +promised you would. You are very anxious to keep a promise to Constance, +but you didn't care whether you kept one to me. As for what you say of +Miss La Salle, I don't believe you. I'd far rather trust her than your +dear Miss Stevens!"</p> + +<p>"What has happened to my brigade?" called Mrs. Dean from the foot of the +stairs. "It is five minutes to one, girls. Come to luncheon at once."</p> + +<p>"We are coming, Captain," answered Marjorie in as steady a tone as she +could command. Then she said sorrowfully to her companion, "Mary, I feel +just the same toward you as always, only I am terribly hurt. I wish your +way to be my way and your friends mine. If you are sure that you would +like Mignon for a friend, then I am going to try to like her for your +sake. But we mustn't quarrel or—not—not speak—or—let General and +Captain know—that——" Marjorie's words died in a half-sob.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't make any difference to me whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> you like Miss La Salle or +not," retorted Mary, ignoring Marjorie's distress, "but if you say a +single word to either General or Captain about us, I'll never speak to +you again." With this threat the incensed lieutenant ran heartlessly +down the stairs, leaving her sadly wounded comrade to follow when she +would.</p> + +<p>Luncheon was a dismal failure as far as Marjorie was concerned. She +tried to talk and laugh in her usual cheery manner, but she was unused +to dissembling, and it hurt her to play a part before her Captain, of +all persons. Mary, however, found a certain wicked satisfaction in the +situation she had brought about. Now that she had spoken her mind she +would go on in the way she had chosen. Marjorie would be very sorry. +There would come a time when she would be only too glad to plead for the +friendship she had cast aside. But it would be too late.</p> + +<p>The moment the two girls left the house for the afternoon session of +school, a blank silence fell upon them. It was broken only by a cool +"Good-bye" from Mary as they separated in the locker room. But during +that silent walk Marjorie had been thinking busily. Hers was a nature +that no amount of disagreeable shocks could dismay for long. No sooner +did a pet ideal totter than she steadied it with patient, tender hands. +True always to the highest, she was laying a foundation that would +weather the stress of years. Now she dwelt not so much upon her own +hurts, but rather on how she should bind up the wounds of her comrades. +What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> had been obscure was now plain. Mary was jealous of her friendship +with Constance. She had completely misunderstood. If only she, Marjorie, +had known in the beginning! And then there was Mignon. If she had stayed +away from Sanford, all might have been well in time. Mary was determined +to be friends with her. Marjorie knew her friend too well not to believe +that Mary would now cultivate the French girl from sheer obstinacy. +There was just one thing to do. She had said to Mary that she would try +to like Mignon for her sake. She stood ready to keep her promise. +Perhaps, far under her mischief-making exterior, Mignon's better self +lay dormant, waiting for some chance, kindly word or act to awaken it +into life. What was it her General had said about the worst person +having some good in his nature that sooner or later was sure to manifest +itself? How glorious it would be to help Mignon find that better self! +But she could not accomplish much alone. She needed the support of the +girls of her own particular little circle. She was fairly sure they +would help her. But how had they better begin? Suddenly Marjorie's sober +face broke into a radiant smile. She gave a chuckle born of sheer +good-will. "I know the very way," she murmured, half aloud. "If only the +girls will see it, too. But they <em>must</em>! It's a splendid plan, and if it +doesn't work it won't be from lack of trying on my part."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE COMPACT</small></h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="smcap">"Dear Irma</span>," wrote Marjorie, the moment she reached her desk, "will you +meet me across the street from school this afternoon? I have something +very important to say to you.</p> + +<p class="center pl"><span class="smcap">"Marjorie."</span></p> +</div> + +<p>She wrote similar notes to Muriel Harding, Susan Atwell and Jerry Macy, +managing in spite of the watchful eyes of Miss Merton to convey them, +through the medium of willing hands, to her schoolmates. This done, she +made a valiant effort to dismiss her personal affairs from her thoughts +and settled down to her lessons. The first period in the afternoon was +now her study hour, due to the change she had made in her geometry +recitation.</p> + +<p>Marjorie managed to study diligently for at least twenty minutes, on the +definitions in geometry given out by Miss Nelson as an advance lesson. +Then her attention flagged. She found herself wondering what she had +better do in regard to asking Constance to release her from her promise. +She was sure Connie would do it. Then, if Mary could be coaxed to listen +to her, she would—— Marjorie took a deep breath of sheer dismay. Of +what use would it be to plan to help Mignon find her better self, then +deliberately turn the one girl who liked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> her against her by relating +her past misdeeds? Here indeed was a problem. She knitted her brows in +troubled thought over this new knot in the tangle. One thing she was +resolved upon, however. She would open her heart to Connie. Perhaps she +might be able to suggest a satisfactory adjustment.</p> + +<p>The afternoon dragged interminably to the perplexed sophomore and she +hailed the ringing of the closing bell with thankfulness. She had caught +distant glimpses of Mary during the session and in each instance had +seen her in conversation with the French girl. Mignon was losing no +time. That was certain.</p> + +<p>As Marjorie rose from her seat to leave the study hall she had half a +mind to wait just outside the door for Mary. Then a flash of wounded +pride held her back. Mary would undoubtedly pass out with Mignon. If she +spoke to her chum, she was almost sure to be rebuffed. She could imagine +just how delighted Mignon would look at her discomfiture. Unconsciously +lifting her head, Marjorie left the study hall without so much as a +backward glance.</p> + +<p>Outside the door she encountered Jerry Macy.</p> + +<p>"Your note said, 'Wait across the street,' but this is a lot better," +greeted Jerry. "Let's hurry and get our wraps. Irma and Susie will +probably steer straight for your locker. I haven't seen Muriel to speak +to this afternoon, but she'll be on the scene, I guess. The sooner we +collect the sooner we'll hear what's on your mind. I can just about tell +you what you're going to say, though."</p> + +<p>"Then you're a mind-reader," laughed Marjorie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> Nevertheless, a quick +flash rose to her face at Jerry's significant speech.</p> + +<p>"I can add two and two, anyhow," asserted Jerry.</p> + +<p>True to Jerry's prediction, three curious young women stood grouped in +front of Marjorie's locker, impatiently awaiting her arrival.</p> + +<p>"Wait until we are outside, girls. I'll be ready in a jiffy." Marjorie +slipped into her raincoat and pulled her blue velour hat over her curls. +"We can't talk here. Miss Merton is likely to wander down, and then you +know what will happen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother Miss Merton!" grumbled Jerry. "I can stand anything she says +and live. Still, I don't blame you, Marjorie. It tickles her to pieces +to get a chance to snap at you. Now if Mignon La Salle wanted to sing a +solo in front of her locker at the top of her voice, Miss Merton would +encore it."</p> + +<p>Susan Atwell giggled. "I can just hear Mignon lifting up her voice in +song with Miss Merton as an appreciative audience."</p> + +<p>The quartette thoughtlessly echoed her merriment. So intent were they +upon their own affairs that they did not notice the two girls who were +almost hidden behind an open locker at the end of the room. The black +eyes of one of them gleamed with rage. She turned to the fair-haired +girl at her side with a gesture which said more plainly than words, "You +see for yourself." The other nodded. Mignon laid a finger on her lips. +Then noiselessly as two shadows they flitted through the open door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +without having been observed by the group at the other end.</p> + +<p>For the moment Marjorie's back had been turned toward that end of the +room. She whirled about just too late to see Mignon and Mary as they +hurried away. Unusually sensitive to impressions, she had perhaps felt +their presence, for she asked abruptly, "Girls, have you seen Mary? She +can't have gone, for I'm sure I left the study hall before she did. I +ought to wait for her, but I don't know what to do." She glanced +irresolutely about her. Then, her pride again coming to her rescue, she +said, "Never mind. Suppose we go on. Perhaps I'd better not try to see +her now, because I must tell you my plan and I—well—I can't—if she is +with us."</p> + +<p>Muriel Harding elevated her eyebrows in surprise. Of the four girls who +had received Marjorie's notes, she alone had no suspicion of the purpose +which had brought them together.</p> + +<p>Five pairs of bright eyes scanned the street across from the school +building as the little party came down the wide stone steps.</p> + +<p>"The coast is clear," commented Jerry. "Now do tell us what's the +matter, Marjorie. No, wait a minute." Jerry fumbled energetically in a +small leather bag. "Hooray! Here's a real life fifty-cent piece! I can +see it vanishing in the shape of five sundaes, at ten cents per eat. We +can't go to Sargent's. They cost fifteen——"</p> + +<p>"I've a quarter," insinuated Irma.</p> + +<p>"All contributions thankfully received," beamed Jerry. "On to Sargent's! +We'll talk about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> weather until we get there. It's been such a +lovely day," she grimaced. "If it rains much more we'll have to do as +they do in Spain."</p> + +<p>"What do they do in Spain?" Susan Atwell rose to the bait, despite a +warning poke from Irma.</p> + +<p>"They let it rain," grinned Jerry. "Aren't you an innocent child?"</p> + +<p>Well pleased with her success in putting over this time-worn joke on one +more victim, Jerry continued with a lively stream of nonsense that +lasted during the brief walk to Sargent's.</p> + +<p>Once seated about a small round table at the back of the room, which +from long patronage they had come to look upon almost as their own, an +expectant murmur went the round of the little circle as Marjorie leaned +forward a trifle and began in a low, earnest tone. "Girls, I am going to +ask you to do something for me that perhaps you won't wish to do. All of +you know what happened last year to Connie and me. You know, too, that +if anyone has good reason to cut Mignon La Salle's acquaintance, we +would be justified in doing it. I was awfully surprised to see her come +into the study hall this morning, and I said to myself that aside from +bowing to her if I met her on the street, I would steer clear of her. +But since then something has happened to make me change my mind. Mary +wishes Mignon for a friend, and so——"</p> + +<p>"What a little goose!" interrupted Jerry disgustedly. "I beg your +pardon, Marjorie, but I can't help saying it."</p> + +<p>"This <em>is</em> news!" exclaimed Muriel Harding.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> "Come to think of it, I +<em>did</em> see your friend Mary walking into geometry with Mignon, Marjorie. +Why don't you enlighten her on the subject of Mignon and her doings?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it." Marjorie repeated briefly what she had said to the +others at noon. "I'm going to Gray Gables to see Constance before I go +home," she continued, addressing the group. "You see, it's like this. +Even if Connie says I may tell Mary everything, will it be quite fair to +Mignon? And now I'm coming to the reason I asked you to come here with +me. Sometimes when a girl has done wrong and been hateful and no one +likes her, another girl comes along and begins to be friendly with her. +That makes the girl who has done wrong feel ashamed of herself and then +perhaps she resolves to be more agreeable because of it."</p> + +<p>"Not Mignon, if you mean her," muttered Jerry.</p> + +<p>"I do mean Mignon," was Marjorie's grave response. "Every girl has a +better self, I'm sure, but if she doesn't know it she will never find it +unless someone helps her. We've never even stopped to consider whether +Mignon had any good qualities. We've judged her for the dishonorable +things she has done. I can't help saying that I don't like her very +well. You can't blame me, either. Still, if we are going to be sophomore +sisters we must all stand together." She glanced appealingly about her +circle, but on each young face she read plain disapproval.</p> + +<p>"You might as well try to carry water in a sieve as to reform Mignon," +shrugged Muriel Harding.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You can't tame a wildcat," commented Susan Atwell.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Marjorie," burst forth Jerry Macy. "We know that you are the +dearest, nicest girl ever, but you are going to waste your time if you +try to go exploring for Mignon's better self. She never had one. If you +try to be nice to her she'll just take advantage of your goodness and +make fun of you behind your back. Let me tell you something. You know +Miss Elkins, who sews for people. Well, she's at our house to-day. She +is making some silk blouses for me, and when I went upstairs to the +sewing-room for a fitting to-day she asked me if Mignon was in school. +Her sister is the housekeeper at the La Salle's and she told Miss Elkins +that Mignon was expelled from boarding school because she wouldn't pay +attention to the rules. She was threatened with dismissal twice, and the +other night she coaxed a lot of the girls to slip out of the dormitory +and go to the city to the theatre without a sign of a chaperon. One of +the girls had a key to the front door and she lost it. They didn't get +home until after one o'clock, and then they couldn't get into the +dormitory. The night watchman finally had to let them in and he reported +them. She and two others were expelled because they planned the affair. +I don't know what happened to the rest of them. Anyway, that's why our +dear Mignon is with us once more. I only wish that girl hadn't lost the +key." Jerry's face registered her disgust.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe Mother would like to have me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> associate with Mignon." +This from gentle Irma Linton, who was usually the soul of toleration.</p> + +<p>"And you, too, Irma!" was Marjorie's reproachful cry. "Then there isn't +much use is asking you girls to help me."</p> + +<p>This was too much for the impulsive Jerry.</p> + +<p>"Don't look at us like that. As though you had lost your last friend. +Just let me tell you, you haven't. I take it all back. I'll promise to +go on a hunting expedition for Mignon's better self any old time you +say."</p> + +<p>"Sieves <em>have</em> been known to hold water," acknowledged Muriel, not to be +outdone by Jerry's burst of loyalty.</p> + +<p>"And wildcats have sometimes become household pets," added Susan with +her infectious giggle.</p> + +<p>"So have mothers been known to change their minds," put in Irma. "I'm +ashamed of myself for being a quitter before I've even heard your plan."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's dark eyes shone with affection. "You are splendid," she +praised with a little catch in her voice. "I can't help telling you now. +After all, it isn't a very great plan, but it's the best I could think +of just now, and this is it. Mother said I might give a party for Mary +when she first came to live with us, but I wished to wait until she got +acquainted with the girls in school. Then Connie gave her dance. So I +thought it would be nice to have mine in about two weeks, after we were +settled in our classes and didn't have so much to worry us. But now I've +changed my mind. I'm going to give my party next week and I shall invite +Mignon to it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> You girls can help me by being nice to her and making her +have a pleasant evening. If we are really determined to carry out our +plan we will have to invite her to our parties and luncheons, too, and +ask her to share our good times. The only way we can help her is to make +her one of us. If we draw away from her she will never be different. She +will just become more disagreeable and some day we might be very sorry +we didn't do our best for her."</p> + +<p>The eloquence of Marjorie's plea had its effect on her listeners.</p> + +<p>"I guess you are on the right track," conceded Jerry Macy warmly. "I am +willing to try to be a busy little helper. We might call ourselves the +S. F. R. M.—Society For Reforming Mignon, you know."</p> + +<p>This proposal evoked a ripple of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Irma, do you suppose your mother wouldn't like you to—to—be friendly +with Mignon?" asked Marjorie anxiously. "We mustn't pledge ourselves to +anything to which our mothers might say 'no.'"</p> + +<p>"I think I can fix that part of it," said Irma slowly. "If I explain +things to Mother, she'll understand."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we all ought to talk it over with our mothers," suggested +Susan.</p> + +<p>"I guess we'd better," nodded Jerry. "But what about Connie? Suppose she +shouldn't be in favor of the S. F. R. M.? You couldn't blame her much if +she wasn't."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to see her to-night, after dinner. I intended to go to Gray +Gables after school, but you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> see me here instead," returned Marjorie. +"I am almost sure she'll say 'yes.'"</p> + +<p>"How are we going to begin our reform movement?" asked Muriel Harding.</p> + +<p>"That's what I'd like to know. Who is willing to be the first martyr to +the cause? Let me tell you right now, I'd just as soon make friends with +a snapping turtle. Only the snapper would probably be more polite."</p> + +<p>"You are a wicked Jerry," reproved Marjorie smilingly, "and you know you +don't mean half you say."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't. Anyhow, on in the cause of Mignon! I +feel like one of the knights of old who buckled on his armor and went +forth to the fray with his lady's colors tied to his sleeve, or his +lance, or some of his belongings. I've forgotten just what the style +was. We are gallant knights, going forth to battle, wearing Marjorie's +colors, and Mignon will have to look out or she'll be reformed before +she has time to turn up her nose and shrug her shoulders."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we start by being as nice to her as we can in school +to-morrow," proposed Irma Linton thoughtfully. "If she meets us in the +same spirit, maybe something will happen that will show us what to do +next."</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't be a bad idea," declared Susan Atwell. "I sit near her, +so I'll be the first one to hold out the olive branch. But if you hear +something drop on the floor with a dull, sickening thud,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> you'll know +that my particular variety of olive branch was rejected."</p> + +<p>"Somehow, I have an idea she won't be so very scornful," said Marjorie +hopefully.</p> + +<p>"Being expelled from boarding school may have a soothing effect on her," +agreed Jerry grimly. "I suppose it really isn't very knightly to say +snippy things about a person one intends to reform."</p> + +<p>"I think you are right, Jerry," broke in Marjorie with sweet +earnestness. "We must try to think and say only kind things of Mignon if +we are to succeed." Taking in the circle of girls with a quick, bright +glance, she asked: "Then you are agreed to my plan? It is really a +compact?"</p> + +<p>Four emphatic nods answered her questions.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah for the S. F. R. M.!" exclaimed Jerry. "Long may it wave! Only +there's one glorious truth that I feel it my duty to impress on your +minds. The way of the reformer is hard."</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<br /> +<small>IN DEFENCE OF MIGNON</small></h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Here</span> are two letters for you, Lieutenant," called her mother, as +Marjorie burst into the living-room, her cheeks pink from a brisk run up +the drive. After leaving her schoolmates Marjorie had set off for home +as fast as her light feet would carry her. She managed to keep to a +decorous walk until she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> had swung the gate behind her, then she had +sped up the drive like a fawn.</p> + +<p>"Oh, lovely!" cried Marjorie. "Your permission, Captain." She touched +her hand to her hat brim in a gay little salute. Her spirits had been +rising from the moment she had left the girls, carrying with her the +precious security that they were now banded together in a worthy cause. +Surely the snarl would straighten itself in a short time. Mary would +soon see that she intended to keep her word about being friends with +Mignon. Then she would understand that she, Marjorie, was loyal in spite +of her unjust accusations. Then all would be as it had been before. +Perhaps Mary wouldn't be quite her old, sunny self for a few days, but +the shadow would pass—it must.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's from Connie!" she cried out in surprise, as her eyes sought +the writing on the upper-most envelope. It was in Constance's irregular, +girlish hand. She hastily tore it open and read.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">"Dearest Marjorie</span>:</p> + +<p>"Last night at my dance I didn't know that father was to be +concertmeister in the symphony orchestra. It is a great honor and we are +all very happy over it. He kept it to himself until the last minute, +because he knew that if he told me, I would insist on going back to New +York with him for his opening concert. But I'm going with him just the +same. I shall be away from Sanford for a week or so, for I want to be +with him until he goes to Boston.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> I'll study hard and catch up in +school when I come back. I wish you were going, too, but later in the +season he will be in New York City again. Then Auntie says she will take +you and Mary and me there to hear him play. Won't that be glorious? I'll +write you again as soon as I reach New York and you must answer with a +long letter, telling me about school and everything. I am so sorry I +can't see you to say good-bye, but I won't have time. Don't forget to +answer as soon as I write you.</p> + +<p class="center">"Lovingly,<br /> +<span class="smcap pl3">"Constance."</span></p> +</div> + +<p>Marjorie's cheerful face grew blank. Certainly she was glad that Connie +would experience the happiness of hearing her father play before a vast +assemblage who would gather to do him honor. Nevertheless she was just a +trifle cast down over the unexpected flight of her friend to New York. +With a start of dismay she remembered that she had intended going to see +Constance with the object of clearing away the clouds of +misunderstanding. Now she would have to wait until Connie returned. And +then, there was Mignon. She felt that it would be hardly fair to begin +her crusade without consulting the girl whom Mignon had wronged most +deeply. She had perfect faith in the quality of her friend's charity. +Constance was too generous of spirit to hold a grudge. Through suffering +she had grown great of soul. Still, it was right that she should be +asked to decide the question. If she refused outright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> to sanction the +proposed campaign for reform, or even demurred at the proposal, Marjorie +was resolved not to carry it forward, even for Mary's or Mignon's sake.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she recollected her adjuration to the girls to gain their +mothers' consent before going on with their plan. Her brows drew +together in a perplexed frown. Had not Mary threatened, in the heat of +her anger, that if Marjorie told her mother of their disagreement she +would never speak to her again? How could she inform Captain of the +compact she and her friends had made without involving Mary in it? Her +mother would naturally inquire the reason for this rather remarkable +movement. She might be displeased, as well as surprised, over Mary's +strange <a name="predilection" id="predilection"></a><ins title="original had predeliction">predilection</ins> for the French girl. Her Captain +knew all that had happened during her freshman year. On that memorable +day when she had leaped into the river to rescue Marcia Arnold, and +afterward come home, a curious little figure clad in Jerry Macy's ample +garments, the recital of those stormy days when she had doubted, yet +clung to Constance, had taken place. She recalled that long, +confidential talk at her mother's knee, and the peace it had brought +her.</p> + +<p>All at once her face cleared. She would tell her mother about the +compact, but she would leave out the disagreeable scenes that had +occurred between herself and Mary. "I'll tell her now and have it over +with," she decided.</p> + +<p>"What makes you look so solemn, dear?" Her mother had glanced up from +her embroidery, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> was affectionately scanning her daughter's grave +face. "Does your letter from Connie contain bad news? I hope nothing +unpleasant has happened to the child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Captain. Quite the contrary. It's something nice," returned +Marjorie quickly. "Let me read you her letter." She turned to the first +page and read aloud rapidly Constance's little note. "I'm so glad for +her sake," she sighed, as she finished, "but I shall miss her +dreadfully."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you will. Good fortune seems to have followed the Stevens +family since the day when my lieutenant went out of her way to help a +little girl in distress."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'm a mascot, Captain. If I am, then you ought to take good +care of me, feed me on a special diet of plum pudding and chocolate +cake, keep me on your best embroidered cushion and cherish me +generally," laughed Marjorie, with a view toward turning the subject +from her own generous acts, the mention of which invariably embarrassed +her.</p> + +<p>"And give you indigestion and see you ossify for want of exercise under +my indulgent eye," retorted her mother.</p> + +<p>"I guess you had better go on cherishing me in the good old way," +decided Marjorie. "But you won't mind my sitting on one of your everyday +cushions, just as close to you as I can get, will you?" Reaching for one +of the fat green velvet cushions which stood up sturdily at each end of +the davenport,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> Marjorie dropped it beside her mother's chair and curled +up on it.</p> + +<p>"I've something to report, Captain," she said, her bantering tone +changing to seriousness. "You remember last year—and Mignon La Salle?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean frowned slightly at the mention of the French girl's name. +Mother-like, she had never quite forgiven Mignon for the needless sorrow +she had wrought in the lives of those she held so dear.</p> + +<p>Marjorie caught the significance of that frown. "I know how you feel +about things, dearest," she nodded. "Perhaps you won't give your consent +to the plan I—that is, we—have made. But I have to tell you, anyway, +so here goes. Mignon La Salle went away to boarding school, but +she—well she was sent home, and now she's back in Sanford High again. +This afternoon Jerry, Irma, Susan, Muriel Harding and I went together to +Sargent's for ice cream. While we were there we decided that we ought to +forgive the past and try to help Mignon find her better self. The only +way we can help her is to treat her well and invite her to our parties +and luncheons. If she finds we are ready to begin all over again with +her, perhaps she'll be different. We made a solemn compact to do it, +provided our mothers were willing we should. So to be very slangy, 'It's +up to you, Captain!'"</p> + +<p>"But suppose this girl merely takes advantage of your kindness and +involves you all in another tangle?" remarked Mrs. Dean quietly. "It +seems to me that she proved herself wholly untrustworthy last year."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know it." Marjorie sighed. She would have liked to say that Mignon +had already tied an ugly snarl in her affairs. But loyalty to Mary +forbade the utterance. Then, brightening, she went on hopefully: "If we +never try to help her, we'll never know whether she really has a better +self. Sometimes it takes just a little thing to change a person's +heart."</p> + +<p>"You are a dear child," Mrs. Dean bent to press a kiss on Marjorie's +curly head, "and your argument is too generous to be downed. I give my +official consent to the proposed reform, and I hope, for all concerned, +that it will turn out beautifully."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Captain," Marjorie nestled closer, "you're too dear for words. +There's another reason for my wishing to be friendly with Mignon. Mary +has met her and likes her."</p> + +<p>"Mary!" Mrs. Dean looked her astonishment. "By the way, Marjorie, where +is Mary? I had quite forgotten her for the time being. You didn't +mention her as being with you at Sargent's."</p> + +<p>"She wasn't there," explained Marjorie. "She didn't wait for me after +school. She must have gone on with—with someone and stopped to talk. +I—I think she'll be here soon." A hurt look, of which she was entirely +unconscious, had driven the brightness from the face Marjorie turned to +her mother.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean was a wise woman. She discerned that there had been a hitch in +the programme of her daughter's daily affairs, but she asked no +questions. She never intruded upon Marjorie's little reserves. She knew +now that whatever her daughter had kept back had been done in accordance +with a code of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> living, the uprightness of which was seldom equalled in +a girl of her years. She, therefore, respected the reservation and made +no attempt to discover its nature.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do first in the way of reform, Lieutenant?" she +inquired brightly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought I would invite Mignon to my party, the one you said I +could give for Mary. I'd like to have it next Friday night. Friday's the +best time. We can all sleep a little later the next morning, you know."</p> + +<p>"Very well, you may," assented Mrs. Dean. "Does Mary know of the +contemplated reform?"</p> + +<p>"No. You see I hated to say much to her about Mignon, because it +wouldn't be very nice to discredit someone you were trying to help. +Don't you agree with me?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must. But what of Constance?"</p> + +<p>"That's the part that bothers me," was Marjorie's troubled reply. "I'm +going to write her all about it. I know she'll be with us. She's too +splendid to hold spite. I think it would be all right to invite Mignon +to my party, at any rate. But there's just one thing about it, Captain, +if Connie objects, then the reform will have to go on without me. You +understand the way I feel, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I believe you owe it to Constance to respect her wishes. She was +the chief sufferer at Mignon's hands."</p> + +<p>The confidential talk came to a sudden end with the ringing of the +doorbell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's Mary." Marjorie sprang to her feet. "I'll let her in."</p> + +<p>Hurrying to the door, Marjorie opened it to admit Mary Raymond. She +entered with an air of sulkiness that brought dread to Marjorie's heart.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mary, where were you?" she asked, trying to appear ignorant of her +chum's forbidding aspect.</p> + +<p>"I was with Mignon La Salle," returned Mary briefly. "Will you come +upstairs with me, please?"</p> + +<p>"I'd love to, Lieutenant Raymond. Thank you for your kind invitation." +Marjorie assumed a gaiety she did not feel.</p> + +<p>Without further remark Mary stolidly mounted the stairs. Marjorie +followed her in a distinctly worried state of mind. The quarrel was +going to begin over again. She was sure of that.</p> + +<p>Mary stalked past the half-open door of Marjorie's room and paused +before her own. "I'd rather talk to you in <em>my</em> room, if you please," +she said distantly.</p> + +<p>"All right," agreed Marjorie, with ready cheerfulness. She intended to +go on ignoring her chum's hostile attitude until she was forced to do +otherwise.</p> + +<p>Mary closed the door behind them and faced Marjorie with compressed +lips. The latter met her offended gaze with steady eyes.</p> + +<p>"I heard you and your friends making fun of Miss La Salle this +afternoon, and I am going to say right here that I think you were all +extremely unkind. She heard you, too. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself, Marjorie Dean!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, I don't remember making fun of Mignon!" exclaimed Marjorie. "What +do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Then your memory is very short," sneered Mary. "But I might have +expected you to deny it."</p> + +<p>It was Marjorie's turn to grow indignant. "How can you accuse me of not +telling the truth?" she flashed. "I did not——" She stopped, flushing +deeply. She recalled Jerry Macy's humorous remark about Mignon as they +stood talking in front of her locker. "I beg your pardon, Mary," she +apologized. "I <em>do</em> remember now that Mignon's name was mentioned while +we were standing there. But it was nothing very dreadful. We were saying +that if Miss Merton heard us talking she would scold us, and Jerry only +said that if Mignon chose to sing a solo at the top of her voice, in +front of <em>her</em> locker, Miss Merton wouldn't mind in the least. Everyone +knows that Mignon has always been a favorite of Miss Merton. I am sorry +if she overheard it, for truly we hadn't the least idea of making fun of +her. It was Jerry's funny way of saying it that made us laugh. I'll +explain that to her the first time I see her."</p> + +<p>Mary's tense features relaxed a trifle. She was not yet so firmly in the +toils of the French girl as to be entirely blind to Marjorie's +sincerity. Her good sense told her that she was making a mountain of a +mole hill. There was a ring of truth in Marjorie's voice that brought a +flush of shame to her cheeks. Still she would not allow it to sway her.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't nice in you to laugh," she muttered. "She was dreadfully +hurt. She feels very sensitive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> about being sent home from school. Of +course, she knows she deserved it. She said so. But——"</p> + +<p>"Did she really say that?" interrupted Marjorie eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I am not in the habit of saying what isn't true," retorted Mary coldly.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Mary." Marjorie's face was aglow with honest purpose. "I said +to you, you know, that if you wished Mignon for a friend I would be nice +to her, too. Captain has promised to let me give my party for you on +next Friday night. I am going to invite Mignon to it, and we are all +going to try to make her feel friendly toward us."</p> + +<p>"She won't come," predicted Mary contemptuously. "I wouldn't, either, if +I were in her place. I shall tell her not to come, too."</p> + +<p>"Then you will be proving yourself anything but a friend to her," flung +back Marjorie hotly, "because you will be advising her against doing +something that is for her good." With this clinching argument Marjorie +walked to the door and opened it.</p> + +<p>"Whether I say a word or not, she won't come," called Mary after her. +But Marjorie was halfway down the stairs, too greatly exasperated to +trust herself to further speech.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE COMMON FATE OF REFORMERS</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Nevertheless</span> the session behind closed doors had one beneficial effect. +It broke the ice that had lately formed over the long comradeship of the +two girls, and, although nothing was as of old, they were both secretly +relieved to still be on terms of conversation. Out of pure regard for +Mary, Marjorie treated her exactly as she had always done, and Mary +pretended to respond, <a name="simply" id="simply"></a><ins title="original had sinmply">simply</ins> because she had determined that +Mr. and Mrs. Dean should not become aware of any difference in their +relations. She affected an interest in planning for the party and kept +up a pretty show of concern which Marjorie alone knew to be false. +Privately Mary's deceitful attitude was a sore trial to her. Honest to +the core, she felt that she would rather her chum had maintained open +hostility than a farce of good will which was dropped the moment they +chanced to be alone. Still she resolved to bear it and look forward to a +happier day when Mary would relent.</p> + +<p>The invitations to the party had been mailed and duly accepted. Much to +Mary's secret surprise and chagrin, Mignon had not declined to shed the +light of her countenance upon the proposed festivity, but had written a +formal note of acceptance which amused Marjorie considerably, inasmuch +as the acceptances of the others had been verbal. Despite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> her hatred +for Marjorie Dean and her friends, Mignon had resolved to profit by the +sudden show of friendliness which, true to their compact, the five girls +had lost no time in carrying out. Ignoble of soul, she did not value the +favor of these girls as a concession which she had been fortunate enough +to receive. She decided to use it only as a wedge to reinstate herself +in a certain leadership which her bad behavior of last year had lost +her. She had no idea of the real reason for their interest in her. She +preferred to think that they had come to a realization of her vast +importance in the social life of Sanford. Was not her father the richest +man in the town? She had an idea that perhaps Mary Raymond might be +responsible for her sudden accession to favor. She had taken care to +impress her own importance upon Mary's mind, together with certain vague +insinuations as to her wrongs. After her first brief outburst against +Marjorie and Constance Stevens, she had decided that she would gain +infinitely more by playing the part of wronged innocence. When she +received her invitation she had already heard that Constance was in New +York and likely to remain there for a time. This influenced her to +accept Marjorie's hospitality. Her own consciousness of guilt would not +permit her to go to any place where she would meet the accusing scorn of +Constance's blue eyes. Then, too, she had still another motive in +attending the party. She had always looked upon Lawrence Armitage with +eyes of favor. He had never paid her a great deal of attention, but he +had shown her less since the advent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> of Constance Stevens in Sanford. +She resolved to show him that she was far more clever and likable than +the quiet girl who had taken such a strong hold on his boyish interest, +and with that end in view Mignon planned to make her reinstatement a +sweeping success.</p> + +<p>Friday afternoon was a lost session, so far as study went, to the +Sanford girls who were to make up the feminine portion of Marjorie's +party.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, I thought half-past three would never come!" grumbled +Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear as they filed decorously through the +corridor. "Let's make a quick dash for the locker-room. I've a pressing +engagement with the hair-dresser and I'm dying to get through with it +and sweep down to dinner in my new silver net party dress. It's a dream +and makes me look positively thin. You won't know me when you see me."</p> + +<p>"You're not the only one," put in Muriel Harding. "You won't be one, +two, three when I appear to-night in all my glory."</p> + +<p>"Listen to the conceited things," laughed Irma Linton. "'I won't speak +of myself,' as H. C. Anderson beautifully puts it."</p> + +<p>"Who's he?" demanded Jerry. "I know every boy in Sanford High, but I +never heard of him."</p> + +<p>A shout of laughter greeted her earnest assertion.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, Jerry," dimpled Susan Atwell. "H. C. stands for Hans +Christian. Now does the light begin to break?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you make me tired," retorted Jerry. "Irma did that on purpose. +That's worse than my favorite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> trap about letting it rain in Spain. How +was I to know what she meant?"</p> + +<p>"That's all because you don't cultivate literary tastes," teased Muriel.</p> + +<p>"I do cultivate them," grinned Jerry. "I've read the dictionary through +twice, without skipping a page!"</p> + +<p>"It must have been a pocket edition," murmured Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"Stop teasing me or I'll get cross and not come to your party," +threatened Jerry.</p> + +<p>"You mean nothing could keep you away," laughed Irma.</p> + +<p>"You're right. Nothing could. I'll be there, clad in costly raiment, to +spur the reform party on to deeds of might."</p> + +<p>"Do come early, all of you," urged Marjorie as she paused at her corner +to say good-bye.</p> + +<p>"We'll be there," chorused the quartette after her.</p> + +<p>"I hope everyone will have a nice time," was Marjorie's fervent +reflection as she hurried on her way. "I do wish Mary would walk home +with me once in a while, instead of always waiting for Mignon. I +wouldn't ask her to for worlds, though."</p> + +<p>To see Mary walk away with Mignon at the end of every session of school +had been a heavy cross for Marjorie to bear. Surrounded as she always +was with the four faithful members of her own little set, she was often +lonely. If only Constance had been in school she could have better borne +Mary's disloyalty, <a name="although" id="although"></a><ins title="original had atlhough">although</ins> the latter could never quite +fill the niche which years of companionship<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> had carved in her heart for +Mary. But Connie was far away, so she must go on enduring this bitter +sorrow and make no outward sign.</p> + +<p>Usually ready to bubble over with exhilaration when on the eve of +participating in so delightful an occasion as a party, it was a very +quiet Marjorie who tripped into the living-room that afternoon. The big, +cosy apartment had undergone a marked change. It was practically bare, +save for the piano in one corner, which had been moved from the +drawing-room, and a phonograph which was to do occasional duty, so that +the patient musicians might now and then rest from their labor.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean was giving a last direction to the men who had been hired to +move the furniture about as Marjorie entered.</p> + +<p>"Everything is ready, Lieutenant," smiled her mother. "We have all done +a strenuous day's work in a good cause."</p> + +<p>"Thank you over and over again, Captain. It's dear in you to take so +much trouble for me. I'm afraid you've worked too hard." Her lately +pensive mood vanishing as she viewed the newly waxed floor, Marjorie +executed a gay little <em>pas-seul</em> on its smooth surface and made a +running slide toward her mother, striking against her with considerable +force.</p> + +<p>"Steady, Lieutenant." Her mother passed an arm about her and gave her a +loving little squeeze. "Please have proper respect for the aged."</p> + +<p>"There are no such persons here," retorted Marjorie, "I see a young and +beautiful lady, who——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Must go straight to the kitchen and see what Delia is doing in the way +of dinner," finished Mrs. Dean. "Remember, we are to have it at +half-past five to-night, so don't wander away and be late. Your frock is +laid out on your bed, dear. You had better run along and dress before +dinner. Then you will be ready. The time will fairly fly afterward. +Where is Mary? Why doesn't she come home with you in the afternoon? For +the past week she has come in long after school is out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she stops to talk and walk with Mignon," replied Marjorie, with an +air of elaborate carelessness. "They are very good friends."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean seemed about to comment further on the subject when Delia +appeared in the doorway and distracted her attention to other matters.</p> + +<p>Marjorie breathed a sigh of relief as she went upstairs. She was glad to +escape the further questions concerning Mary which her mother seemed +disposed to ask. Her gaiety had been evanescent and she now experienced +a feeling of positive gloom as she entered her pretty room and prepared +to bathe and dress for the evening. She could not resist a thrill of +pleasure at the sheer beauty of the white chiffon frock spread out on +her bed. She wondered if Mary would wear her pale blue silk evening +frock, or the white one with the lace over-frock. They were both +beautiful. But she had always loved Mary in white. She wondered if she +dared ask her to wear the white lace gown.</p> + +<p>While she was dressing, through her half-opened door she heard Mary's +voice in the hall in conversation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> with her mother. Hastily slipping +into her pretty frock, she went to the door hooking it as she walked. +Mary was just appearing on the landing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mary," she called genially, "do wear your white. You will look so +lovely in it."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to wear my blue gown," returned Mary stolidly, and marched on +down the hall to her room, closing the door with a bang. "Just as though +I'd let her dictate to me what to wear," she muttered.</p> + +<p>The two young girls made a pretty picture as they took their places at +the dinner table.</p> + +<p>"I wish General were here to see you," sighed Mrs. Dean. Mr. Dean had +been called away on a business trip east.</p> + +<p>"So do I," echoed Marjorie. "Things won't be quite perfect without him."</p> + +<p>Neither girl ate much dinner. They were far too highly excited to do +justice to the meal. In spite of their estrangement they were both +looking forward to the dance.</p> + +<p>At half-past seven o'clock Jerry and the rest of the reform party +arrived, buzzing like a hive of bees.</p> + +<p>"Is she here yet?" whispered Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear, after paying +her respects to Mrs. Dean and Mary, who, with Marjorie, received their +guests in the palm-decorated hall.</p> + +<p>"No, she hasn't come. I suppose she will arrive late. You know she loves +to make a sensation." Marjorie could not resist this one little fling, +despite her good resolutions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>The guests continued to arrive in twos and threes and Marjorie was kept +busy greeting them. True to her prediction, it was after eight o'clock +when Mignon appeared. She wore an imported gown of peachblow satin that +must have been a considerable item of expense to her doting father. Her +elfish face glowed with suppressed excitement and her black eyes roved +about, with lightning glances, born of a curiosity to inspect every +detail of her unfamiliar surroundings.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you came," greeted Marjorie graciously, and presented Mignon +to her mother.</p> + +<p>The French girl acknowledged the introduction, then turning to Mary +began an eager, low-toned conversation, apparently forgetting her +hostess.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean betrayed no sign of what went on in her mind, but her thoughts +on the subject of Mignon were not flattering. Ill-bred, she mentally +<a name="styled" id="styled"></a><ins title="original had stayled">styled</ins> her, and decided that she would look into the matter +of her growing friendship with Mary.</p> + +<p>The dancing had already begun when, piloted by Mary, who had apparently +forgotten that she was of the receiving party, the two girls strolled +into the impromptu ballroom. Mary was immediately claimed as a partner +by Lawrence Armitage, who tried to console himself with the thought +that, at least, she looked like Constance. Mignon's face darkened as +they danced off. Lawrie had merely bowed to her. But he had asked Mary +to dance. That was because she resembled that odious Stevens girl. Her +resentment against Constance blazed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> forth afresh. She hoped Constance +would never return to Sanford.</p> + +<p>Thanks to a long lecture which Jerry had read to her brother Hal, Mignon +was not neglected. Although none of the Weston High boys really liked +her, she was asked to dance almost every number. Later in the evening +Lawrence Armitage asked her for a one-step, and she vainly imagined +that, after all, she had made an impression on him. Radiant with triumph +over her social success, Mignon saw herself firmly entrenched in the +leadership she dreamed would be hers. But her triumph was to be +short-lived.</p> + +<p>After supper, which was served at two long tables in the dining-room, +the guests returned to their dancing with the tireless ardor of first +youth. Chancing to be without a partner, Mignon slipped into a +palm-screened nook under the stairs for a chat with Mary, who had +followed her about all evening, more with a view of hurting Marjorie +than from an excess of devotion. From their position they could see all +that went on about them, yet be quite hidden from the unobservant. The +unobservant happened to be Marjorie and Jerry Macy, who had come from +the ballroom for a confidential talk and taken up their station directly +in front of the alcove. Save for the two girls behind the palms, the +hall was deserted.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess Mignon's having a good time," declared Jerry Macy in her +brisk, loud tones. "She ought to. I nearly talked myself hoarse to Hal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +before he'd promise to see that the boys asked her to dance. This reform +business is no joke."</p> + +<p>"Lower your voice, Jerry," warned Marjorie. "Someone might hear you."</p> + +<p>Mary Raymond made a sudden movement to rise. Stubborn she might be, but +she was not so dishonorable as to listen to a conversation not intended +for her ears. Mignon pulled her back with sudden savage strength. She +laid her finger to her lips, her black eyes gleaming with anger.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's no one around. Say, Marjorie, do you think it's really +worth while to go out of our way to reform Mignon? Look at her to-night. +You'd think she had conquered the universe. She was all smiles when +Laurie Armitage asked her to dance. He can't bear her, he told me so +last Hallowe'en, after she made all that fuss about her old bracelet. If +we hadn't banded ourselves together to find that better self which you +are so sure she's carrying around with her, I'd say call it off and +forget it. None of us really likes her. You know that, even if you won't +say so. She is——"</p> + +<p>The waltz time ended in a soft chord and the dancers began trooping +through the doorway to the big punch-bowl of lemonade in one corner of +the hall. They were just in time to see a lithe figure in pink spring +out, catlike, from behind the palm-screened alcove and hear a furious +voice cry out, "How dare you insult a guest by talking about her, the +moment her back is turned?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<br /> +<small>AN IRATE GUEST</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Jerry Macy</span> and Marjorie Dean whirled about at the sound of that wrathful +voice. Mignon La Salle confronted them, her eyes flashing, her fingers +closing and unclosing in nervous rage, looking for all the world like a +young tigress.</p> + +<p>"Oh, for goodness' sake, some one lead her away!" muttered the Crane to +Irma Linton. "I told Hal to-day that, with Mignon aboard the good old +party ship, we'd be sure to have fireworks. Real dynamite, too, and no +mistake. I wonder what's upset her sweet, retiring disposition?" His +boyish face indicated his deep disgust.</p> + +<p>"I heard every word you said!" screamed Mignon. Rage had stripped her of +the thin veneer of civilization. She was the same young savage who had +kicked and screamed her way to whatever she desired when years before +she had been the terror of the neighborhood. "So, that's the reason you +invited me to your old party! You got together and picked me to pieces +and decided to reform me! Just let me tell you that you had better look +to yourselves. I don't need your kind offices. You are a crowd of +hateful, deceitful, mean, horrible girls! I despise you all! Everyone of +you! Do you hear me? I despise you! And <em>you</em>, Jerry Macy, had better be +a little careful as to what you gossip about me. I can tell you——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>There came a sudden interruption to the tirade. Through the amazed +groups of young people who could not resist lingering to find out what +it was all about, Mrs. Dean resolutely made her way.</p> + +<p>"That will do, Miss La Salle," she commanded sternly. "I cannot allow +you to make such a disgraceful scene in my home, or insult my daughter +and her guests. If you will come quietly upstairs with me and state your +grievance, I shall do all in my power to rectify it. Marjorie," she +turned to her daughter, who stood looking on in wide-eyed distress, "ask +the musicians to start the music for the next dance."</p> + +<p>Marjorie obeyed and, somewhat ashamed of their curiosity, the dancers +forgot their thirst for lemonade and flocked into the ballroom. Only +Jerry Macy and Mary Raymond remained.</p> + +<p>"It's all my fault, Mrs. Dean," began Jerry contritely. "I didn't know +Mignon was in the alcove. I can't help saying she had no business to +listen, but——"</p> + +<p>"It <em>is</em> my business," began Mignon furiously. "I have a right——"</p> + +<p>"Don't begin this quarrel all over again." Mrs. Dean held up her hand +for silence. "I repeat," she continued, regarding Mignon with marked +displeasure, "if you will come upstairs with me——"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Dean, it's a shame the way Mignon has been treated to-night," +burst forth Mary Raymond, "and I for one don't intend to stand by and +see her insulted. Miss Macy said perfectly hateful things about her. I +heard them. Marjorie is just as much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> to blame. She listened to them and +never said a word to stop them."</p> + +<p>"Mary Raymond!" Mrs. Dean's voice held an ominous note that should have +warned Mary to hold her peace. Instead it angered her to open rebellion.</p> + +<p>"Don't 'Mary Raymond' me," she mocked in angry sarcasm. "I meant what I +said, every word of it. Mignon is my dear friend and I shall stand up +for her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, let me alone, all of you!" With an agile spring, Mignon gained the +stairway and sped up the stairs on winged feet. Two minutes later, +wrapped in her evening coat and scarf, she reappeared at the head and +ran down the steps two at a time. "Thank you so much for a delightful +evening," she bowed ironically. "I'm so sorry I haven't time to stay and +be lectured. It's too bad, isn't it, Miss Mary, that the reform couldn't +go on?" To Mary she held out her hand. "Come and spend the day with me +to-morrow, Mary. You may like it so well, you'll decide to stay. If you +do, why just come along whenever you feel disposed. I can assure you +that our house is a pleasanter place to live in than the one you are in +now." With this pointed fling she bowed again in mock courtesy to the +silent woman who had offended her and flounced out the door and into the +starlit night to where her own electric runabout was standing.</p> + +<p>"Can you beat that?" was the tribute that fell from Jerry Macy's lips.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean looked from one to the other of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> three girls. "Now, girls, +I demand an explanation of all this. Who of you is at fault in the +matter?"</p> + +<p>"I told you it was I," answered Jerry. "Marjorie and I were talking +about Mignon and saying that she was having a good time. Then I had to +go on and say some more things that I don't take back, but that weren't +intended for listeners. I didn't know Mignon and Mary were hidden in +that alcove. Do you suppose I'd have spoiled our reform, after all the +trouble we've had making it go, if I'd known they were there?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean could not repress a faint smile at Jerry's rueful admissions. +She liked this stout, matter-of-fact girl in spite of her rough, brusque +ways.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't suppose you would, but you were in the wrong, I am afraid. +You must learn to curb that sharp tongue, Jerry. It is likely, some day, +to involve you in serious trouble."</p> + +<p>"I know it." Jerry hung her head. "But, you see, Marjorie understands +me. That's why I say to her whatever I think."</p> + +<p>"Mary," Mrs. Dean gravely studied Mary's sulky face, "I am deeply hurt +and surprised. Later I shall have something to say to you and Marjorie. +Now go back to your friends, all of you, and try to make up to them for +this unpleasantness."</p> + +<p>Marjorie, who all this time had said nothing, now began timidly. She had +seldom seen her beloved Captain so stern. "Captain, we are——"</p> + +<p>"Not another word. I said, 'later.'"</p> + +<p>Jerry and Marjorie turned to the ballroom. Mary however, with a scornful +glance at Mrs. Dean, faced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> about and went upstairs. She had been imbued +with a naughty resolve and she determined to proceed at once to carry it +out.</p> + +<p>The dancing went on for a little, but the disagreeable happening had +dampened the ardor of the guests and they began leaving for home soon +afterward.</p> + +<p>It was midnight when the last sound of the footsteps of the departing +youngsters echoed down the walk. Side by side, Marjorie and her mother +watched them go, then the latter slipped her arm through that of her +daughter and said, "Now, Marjorie, we will get to the bottom of this +affair. Come with me to Mary's room."</p> + +<p>They reached it to find the door closed. Mrs. Dean knocked upon one of +the panels.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" inquired an angry voice.</p> + +<p>"We wish to come in, Mary," was Mrs. Dean's even response.</p> + +<p>There was a muttered exclamation, a hurry of light feet, then the door +was flung open.</p> + +<p>"You can come in for all I care," was Mary's rude greeting. "You might +as well know now that I'm not going to live here after to-night. I'm +going to Mignon's house to live." Piles of clothing scattered about and +a significantly yawning trunk bore out the assertion.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean knew that the time for action had come. Walking over to the +girl, she placed deliberate hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, Mary +Raymond," she said decisively. "You are <em>not</em> going one step out of this +house without my consent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> Your father intrusted you to my care, and I +shall endeavor to carry out his wishes. You know as well as I that he +would be displeased and sorry over your behavior. I had intended to talk +matters over with you and Marjorie now, but you are in no mood for +reason. Therefore we will allow this affair to rest until to-morrow. +But, once and for all, unless your father sanctions your removal in a +letter to me, you will stay here, under my roof. Come, Marjorie."</p> + +<p>With a sorrowful glance toward the tense, angry little figure, Marjorie +followed her mother from the room.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE PENALTY</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Marjorie</span> awoke the next morning with a dull ache in her heart. It was as +though she had been the victim of a bad dream. She stared gloomily about +her, struggling to recollect the cause of her depression. Then +remembrance rushed over her like a wave. No, she had not dreamed. Last +night had been only too real. If anyone had even intimated to her +beforehand that the party which had promised so much was fated to end so +disagreeably, she would have laughed the prediction to scorn. If only +Jerry had kept her unpleasantly candid remarks to herself! Yet, after +all, she could hardly blame her very much. What Jerry had said had been +intended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> for her ears alone. As hostess, however, she should not have +permitted Jerry to continue. Marjorie blamed herself heavily for this. +To be sure, it had been hardly fair in Mary and Mignon to listen. They +should have made known their presence. She wondered what she would have +done under the same circumstances. Her sense of honor answered her. She +knew she would have immediately come forward. She could not understand +why Mary had not done so. Loyal to the core, Marjorie's faith in her +chum refused to die. The Mary she had known for so many years had not +been lacking in honor. What she had feared from the first had come to +pass. Mary had been swayed by Mignon's baleful personality. The +much-talked-of reform had ended in a glaring fizzle.</p> + +<p>For some time Marjorie lay still, her thoughts busy with the disquieting +events of the previous night. She had longed to turn and comfort the +tense little figure standing immovable in the middle of her room, but +her Captain's word was law, and Marjorie could but sadly acknowledge to +herself that her mother had acted for the best. So she could do nothing +but follow her from the room with a heavy heart.</p> + +<p>What was to be the outcome of the affair she dared not even imagine. A +reconciliation with Mary was her earnest desire. This, however, could +hardly be brought about. Perhaps they would never again be friends. A +rush of tears blinded her brown eyes. Burying her face in the pillow, +Marjorie gave vent to the sorrow which overflowed her soul.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> + +<p>The sound of light, tapping fingers on the door caused her to sit up +hastily. "Come in," she called, trying to steady her voice.</p> + +<p>The door opened to admit Mary Raymond. Her babyish face looked white and +wan in the clear morning light. For hours after her door had closed upon +Marjorie and her mother she had sat on the edge of her bed in her pretty +blue party frock, brooding on her wrongs. When she had finally prepared +for sleep, it was only to toss and turn in her bed, wide-awake and +resentful. At daylight she had risen listlessly, then fixing upon a +certain plan of action, had bathed, put on a simple house gown and +knocked at Marjorie's door.</p> + +<p>A single glance at Marjorie's face was sufficient for her to determine +that her chum had been crying. She decided that she was glad of it. +Marjorie had made <em>her</em> unhappy, now she deserved a similar fate.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mary!" Marjorie sprang from the bed and advanced to meet her. +Involuntarily both arms were outstretched in tender appeal.</p> + +<p>Mary took no notice of the mutely pleading arms, save to step back with +a cold gesture of avoidance.</p> + +<p>"I haven't come here to be friends," she said with deliberate cruelty. +"I've come to ask you what you intend to say to your mother."</p> + +<p>"What <em>can</em> I say to her?" Marjorie's voice had a despairing note.</p> + +<p>"You can say nothing," retorted Mary. "That is what <em>I</em> intend to do. +Your friend, Jerry Macy, said too much last night. I cannot see why our +school affairs should be discussed in this house. I am sorry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> that +Mignon made a—a—disturbance last night. I didn't intend to listen, +but——" Her old-time frankness had almost overcome her newly hostile +bearing. She was on the point of saying that she had been ready to step +forth from behind the palms at Jerry's first speech. Then loyalty to +Mignon prevailed and she paused.</p> + +<p>Marjorie caught at a straw. "I <em>knew</em> you didn't intend to listen, +Mary." The assurance rang out earnestly. "I couldn't make myself believe +that you would. I wanted to stay last night and tell you how sorry I was +for—for everything, but I owed it to Captain to obey orders. Mary, +dear, can't we start over again? I'm sure it's all been a stupid +mistake. Let's be good soldiers and resolve to face that dreadful enemy, +Misunderstanding, together. Let's go to Captain and tell her every +single thing! Think how much better we'll both feel. It almost broke my +heart, last night, when you said you were going to Mignon's to live. If +Captain thinks it best, I'll break my promise to Connie and tell +you——"</p> + +<p>At the mention of Constance Stevens' name Mary's face darkened. Touched +by Marjorie's impassioned appeal she had been tempted to break down the +barrier that rose between them and take the girl she still adored into +her stubborn heart again. But the mere name of Constance had acted as a +spur to her rancor.</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble yourself about begging permission of Miss Stevens on <em>my</em> +account," she sneered. "I know a great deal too much of her already. +What do you suppose the girls and boys of Franklin High,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> who gave you +your butterfly pin, would say if they knew that you let the girl who +stole it from you wear it for months? If you had been honorable you +would have made her give it back and then dropped her forever."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's sorrow disappeared in wrath. "Mary Raymond, you don't know +what you are talking about," she flamed. "I can guess who told you that +untruth. It was Mignon La Salle. It was <em>not</em> Constance who took my +butterfly pin. It was——"</p> + +<p>Again she remembered her promise.</p> + +<p>"Well," jeered Mary, "who was it, then?"</p> + +<p>"I shall not say another word until I see Captain." Marjorie's tones +were freighted with decision.</p> + +<p>"You mean that you can't deny that your friend Constance was guilty," +cut in Mary scornfully. "Never mind. I don't care to hear anything more. +You needn't consult your mother, either. I'm never going to be friends +with you again, so it doesn't matter. But if you ever cared the least +bit for me you'll do as I ask and not tell tales to Captain—I mean Mrs. +Dean," she corrected haughtily. "If you do, then I repeat what I said +the other day. I'll never speak to you again—no, not if I live here +forever. But I won't have to do that, for I shall write to Father and +ask him to let me go to Mignon's to live. So there!"</p> + +<p>With this dire threat Mary flounced angrily from the room, well pleased +with the stand she had taken.</p> + +<p>It was a most unsociable trio that gathered at the breakfast table that +Saturday morning. Mary carried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> herself with open belligerence. Marjorie +looked as though she was on the point of bursting into tears, while Mrs. +Dean was unusually grave. A delicate task lay before her and she was +wondering as she poured the coffee how she had best begin. Still she had +determined to thresh the matter out speedily, and as soon as Delia had +served the breakfast and retired to the kitchen, she glanced from one to +the other of the two principals and said, "Now, girls, I am waiting to +hear about last night."</p> + +<p>A blank silence fell. Marjorie fixed her eyes on Mary. To her belonged +the first word.</p> + +<p>The silence continued.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mary," Mrs. Dean spoke at last, "what have you to say for +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," came the mutinous reply.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that you won't meet me frankly," commented Mrs. Dean. "I had +hoped to find you on duty." Her searching gaze rested on Marjorie +"Lieutenant, it is your turn, I think."</p> + +<p>Marjorie flushed with distress. She was between two fires. Obedience +won. She related what had transpired in the hall in a few brief words, +shielding Mary as far as was possible.</p> + +<p>"But I know all this," said Mrs. Dean, a trifle impatiently. "Jerry told +me last night. There is more to this affair than appears on the surface. +What has happened to estrange you two, who have been chums for so many +years? I have seen for some time that matters were not progressing +smoothly between you. Things cannot go on in this way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> You must take me +into your confidence. It is evident that a reform is needed here at +home."</p> + +<p>Mary stared fixedly at her plate. She was resolved not to be a party to +that reform. If Marjorie failed her, well—she knew the consequences.</p> + +<p>Marjorie saw the sullen, mutinous face through a mist of tears. She +tried to speak, but speech refused to come.</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed of my soldiers." Mrs. Dean spoke sadly. "What would +General say, if he were here?"</p> + +<p>The grave question rang like a clarion call in Marjorie's soul. A vision +of her father's merry, quizzical eyes grown suddenly sober and hurt over +the stubborn resistance of his little army was too much for her. One +mournfully appealing glance at the unyielding Mary and she burst forth +with, "I can't stand it any longer. I must speak. Last year, +when—when—Connie and I had so many unhappy days over my lost butterfly +pin I didn't write Mary about what was happening, because I felt +terribly and wished her to know only the pleasant side of my school +life. So she hadn't the least idea that Connie and I had become such +friends. She thought Connie was just a poor girl whom I tried to help +because I was sorry for her. When I asked Connie to come with us to the +station to meet Mary I was so happy to think they were going to meet +that I am afraid I made Mary believe that Connie had taken her place +with me. You know, Captain, that it couldn't be so. Mary has been and +always will be my dearest friend. I never dreamed she would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> become——" +Marjorie hesitated. She could not bring herself to say "jealous."</p> + +<p>A smile of contempt curved Mary's lips. "Why don't you say 'jealous'? +That's what you mean," she supplemented.</p> + +<p>"Very well, I will say it," rejoined Marjorie quietly. "I never dreamed +Mary would become jealous of my friendship with Connie. Before long I +noticed she was not quite her own dear self. Then she said something +that made me see that I ought to tell her all about last year, but I +didn't feel that it would be right until I had asked Connie's +permission. I told Mary I would do that very thing, but at Connie's +dance before I ever had a chance <em>she</em> asked me not to say anything. She +was still so hurt over that affair of my pin that she was afraid Mary +might not like her so much if she knew. I didn't know what to do, then. +If I were to say that Mary had asked me to tell her, well—I thought +Connie might think her curious."</p> + +<p>Mary made a half-stifled exclamation of anger. Then she shrugged her +shoulders with inimitable contempt and fixed her gaze on the opposite +wall, assuming an air of boredom she was far from feeling.</p> + +<p>"Go on," commanded Mrs. Dean. Marjorie had hesitated at the +interruption.</p> + +<p>"There isn't much more to tell," continued Marjorie bravely, "only that +Mignon came back to school and met Mary and made mischief. You know the +rest, Captain. You remember what I said to you the other day——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then you <em>had</em> told your mother things about me, already!" burst forth +Mary furiously. "Very well. You know what I said this morning. Just +remember it."</p> + +<p>Marjorie gazed piteously at the angry girl. She could not believe that +Mary intended to carry out her threat of the morning.</p> + +<p>"What did you say to Marjorie this morning?" inquired Mrs. Dean in cold +displeasure. She was endeavoring to be impartial, but her clear mental +vision pointed that it was not her daughter who was at fault.</p> + +<p>Mary's reply was flung defiantly forth. "I said I'd never speak to her +again, and I won't! I won't!"</p> + +<p>If Mary had expected Mrs. Dean either to order her to reconsider her +rash words or plead with her for reconciliation, she was doomed to +disappointment. "We will take you at your word, Mary," came the calm +answer. "Hereafter Marjorie must not speak to you unless you address her +first. Of course, it will be unpleasant for all of us, but I can see +nothing else to be done. You may write to your father if you choose. He +will undoubtedly write me in return, and naturally I shall tell him the +plain, unvarnished truth, together with several items of interest +concerning Mignon La Salle which cannot be withheld from him. I shall +not forbid you to continue your friendship with her. You are old enough +now to know right from wrong. So long as she does nothing to break the +conventions of society, I can condemn her only as a trouble-maker.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> My +advice to you would be to drop her acquaintance. When Constance returns +it would be well for you and Marjorie to invite her here and clear up +this difficulty. However, that rests with you. So far as General and I +are concerned, nothing is changed. We shall continue to the utmost to +fulfill your father's trust in us. Now, once and for all, we will drop +the subject. I must insist on no more bickering and quarreling in my +house. That applies to both of you."</p> + +<p>"Please let me say just one thing more, Captain." Marjorie turned +imploring eyes upon her mother. "If Mary will let me bring Connie here, +when she comes back, I'm sure every cloud can be cleared away. Mary," +her vibrant tones throbbed with tender sympathy, "won't you take back +what you've said and believe in me?"</p> + +<p>For answer Mary Raymond rose from the table and left the room, +obstinately trampling friendship and good will under her wayward feet. +She had begun to keep her vow.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<br /> +<small>A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> days following the final break in the friendship between the two +sophomores were dark indeed for Marjorie. The tale of Mignon's stormy +outbreak at her party had been retailed far and wide.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> It furnished +material for much speculative gossip among the students of Sanford High +School, and, as is always the case, grew out of proportion to truth with +each subsequent recital. Although the five girls who had banded +themselves together in the reform that met with such signal failure +refused to commit themselves, nevertheless the purpose of their compact, +revealed by Mignon's sarcastic tirade at the party, was no longer a +secret. Regarding the conscientiousness of their motives, opinions were +divided. Certain girls who had a wholesome respect for wealth, +personified in Mignon, murmured among themselves that it was a shame she +had been so badly treated, while under the Deans' roof. A few still +bolder spirits went so far as to criticize Mrs. Dean for interfering in +a school-girl's quarrel. They asserted that Mary Raymond had behaved +wisely in openly defending her. Marjorie Dean was a great baby to allow +her mother to run her affairs. There was no one quite so tiresome as a +goody-goody.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, Marjorie possessed many firm friends who defended +her, to the last word. For the time being discussion ran rife, for youth +loves to take up arms in any cause that promises excitement, without +stopping to consider dispassionately both sides of a story.</p> + +<p>After the party Mignon had lost no time in imparting to those who would +listen to her that the Deans had treated their guest with the utmost +cruelty and it was for her invalid mother's sake alone that Mary had +resigned herself to remain under their roof and go on with her school. +Her distortion of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> the truth grew with each recital and, as the autumn +days came and went, she found she had succeeded in dividing the +sophomore class far more effectually than she had divided it the +preceding year, when in its freshman infancy.</p> + +<p>At the Hallowe'en dance which the Weston boys always gave to their fair +Sanford schoolmates, dissension had reigned and broken forth in so many +petty jealousies that the boyish hosts had been filled with gloomy +disgust "at the way some of those girls acted," and vowed among +themselves never to give another party. There were exceptions, of +course, they had moodily agreed. Marjorie Dean and <em>her</em> crowd were "all +right" girls and "nothing was too good for them." As for some others, +well—"they'd wait a long time before the fellows broke their necks to +show 'em another good time."</p> + +<p>After a three weeks' absence Constance Stevens had returned to Sanford +and school. To her Marjorie confided her sorrows. So distressed was the +latter at the part she had unwittingly played in the jangle that she +wrote Mary Raymond an earnest little note, which was read and +contemptuously consigned to the waste-basket as unworthy of answer. Long +were the talks Constance and Marjorie had on the sore subject of Mary's +unreasonable stand, and many were the plans proposed by which they might +soften her stony little heart, but none of them were carried out. They +were voiced, only to be laid aside as futile.</p> + +<p>To Marjorie it was all a dreadful dream from which she forlornly hoped +she might at any moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> awaken. Three times a day she endured the +torture of sitting opposite Mary at meals, of hearing her talk with her +mother and father exactly as though she were not present. Mr. Dean had +returned from his Western trip. His wife had immediately advised him of +the painful situation, and, after due deliberation, he had decided that +the only one who could alter it was Mary herself. "Let her alone," he +counseled. "She has her father's disposition. You cannot drive her. You +were right in leaving her to work out her own salvation. It is hard on +Marjorie, poor child, but sooner or later Mary will wake up. When she +does she will be a very humble young woman. I wouldn't have her father +and mother know this for a good deal, and neither would she. You can +rest assured of that. Still you had better keep an eye on her. I don't +like her friendship with this La Salle girl. Mark me, some day she will +turn on Mary, and then see what happens! I'll have a talk with my +sore-hearted little Lieutenant and cheer her up, if I can."</p> + +<p>Mr. Dean kept his word, privately inviting his sober-eyed daughter to +meet him at his office after school and go for a long ride with him in +the crisp autumn air. Once they had left Sanford behind them, Marjorie, +who understood the purpose of the little expedition, opened her +sorrowing heart to her General. Sure of his sympathy, she spoke her +inmost thoughts, while he listened, commented, asked questions and +comforted, then repeated his prediction of a happy ending with a +positiveness that aroused in her new hope of better days yet to come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>Marjorie never forgot that ride. They tarried for dinner at a wayside +inn, justly famous for its cheer, and drove home happily under the +November stars. As she studied her lessons that night she experienced a +rush of buoyant good fellowship toward the world in general which for +many days had not been hers. Yes, she was certain now that the shadow +would be lifted. Sooner or later she and Mary would step, hand-in-hand, +into the clear sunlight of perfect understanding. She prayed that it +might dawn for her soon. As is usually the case with persons innocent of +blame, she took herself sharply to task for whatever part of the snarl +she had helped to make. She did not know that the stubborn soul of her +friend could be lifted to nobler things only by suffering; that Mary's +moment of awakening was still far distant.</p> + +<p>But while Marjorie prayed wistfully for reconciliation, Mary Raymond sat +in the next room, her straight brows puckered in a frown over a sheet of +paper she held in her hand. On it was written:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">"Dear Mary</span>:</p> + +<p>"Be sure to come to the practice game to-morrow. I think you will find +it interesting. If it is anything like the last one, several persons are +going to be surprised when it is over. I won't see you after school +to-day, as I am not coming back to the afternoon session.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">"Mignon."</span></p> +</div> + +<p>Mary stared at the paper with slightly troubled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> eyes. Estranged from +Marjorie, she and Mignon had become boon companions. Since that eventful +morning when she had chosen her own course, she had discovered a number +of things about the French girl not wholly to her liking. First of all +she had expected that her latest sturdy defiance of the Deans would +elicit the highest approbation on the part of Mignon. Greatly to her +disappointment, her new friend, in whose behalf she had renounced so +much, had received her bold announcement, "I'm done with Marjorie Dean +forever," quite as a matter of course. She had merely shrugged her +expressive shoulders and remarked, "I am glad you've come to your +senses," without even inquiring into the details. Ignoring Mary's +wrongs, which had now become an old story to her and therefore devoid of +interest, she had launched forth into a lengthy discussion of her own +plans, a subject of which she was never tired of talking. After that it +did not take long for the foolish little lieutenant, who had so +unfeelingly deserted her regiment, to see that Mignon was entirely +self-centered. Other revelations soon followed. Mignon was agreeable as +long as she could have her own way. She would not brook contradiction, +and she snapped her fingers at advice. She was a law unto herself, and +to be her chum meant to follow blindly and unquestioningly wherever she +chose to lead. Mary tried to bring herself to believe that she had made +a wise choice. It was an honor to be best friends with the richest girl +in Sanford High School. She owned an electric runabout and wore +expensive clothes. At home<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> she was the moving power about which the +houseful of servants meekly revolved. All this was very gratifying, to +be sure, but deep in her heart Mary knew that she would rather spend one +blessed hour of the old, carefree companionship with Marjorie than a +year with this strange, elfish girl with whom she had cast her lot. But +it was too late to retreat. She had burned her bridges behind her. She +must abide by that which she had chosen.</p> + +<p>To give her due credit, she still believed that Mignon had been +misjudged. She invested the French girl with a sense of honor which she +had never possessed, and to this Mary pinned her faith. Perhaps if she +had not been still sullenly incensed against Constance Stevens, the +scales might have fallen from her eyes. But her resentment against the +latter was exceeded only by Mignon's dislike for the gentle girl. Thus +the common bond of hatred held them together. She had only to mention +Constance's name and Mignon would rise to the bait with torrential +anger. This in itself was an unfailing solace to Mary.</p> + +<p>To-night, however, her conscience troubled her. For the past three weeks +basket ball had been the all-important topic of the hour with the +students of Sanford High School. It was the usual custom for the +instructor in gymnastics to hold basket ball try-outs among the aspiring +players of the various classes. Assisted by several seniors, she culled +the most skilful players to make the respective teams. But this year a +new departure had been declared. Miss Randall was no longer instructor. +She had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> resigned her position the previous June and passed on to other +fields. Her successor, Miss Davis, had ideas of her own on the subject +of basket ball and no sooner had she set foot in the gymnasium than she +proceeded to put them into effect. Instead of picking one team from the +freshman and sophomore classes, she selected two from each class. Then +she organized a series of practice games to determine which of the two +teams should represent their respective classes in the field of glory.</p> + +<p>Marjorie, Susan Atwell, Muriel Harding, a tall girl named Esther Lind, +and Harriet Delaney made one of the two teams. Mignon La Salle, +Elizabeth Meredith, Daisy Griggs, Louise Selden and Anne Easton, the +latter four devoted supporters of Mignon La Salle, composed the other. +There had been some little murmuring on the part of Marjorie's coterie +of followers over the choice. Miss Davis was a close friend of Miss +Merton and it was whispered that she had been posted beforehand in +choosing the second team. Otherwise, how had it happened to be made up +of Mignon's admiring satellites?</p> + +<p>Miss Davis had decreed that three practice games between the two +sophomore teams should be played to decide their prowess. The winners +should then be allowed to challenge the freshmen, who were being put +through a similar contest, to play a great deciding game for athletic +honors on the Saturday afternoon following Thanksgiving. She also +undertook to make basket ball plans for the juniors and seniors, but +these august persons declined to become<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> enthusiastic over the movement +and balked so vigorously at the first intimation of interference with +their affairs that Miss Davis retired gracefully from their horizon and +devoted her energy to the younger and more pliable pupils of the school.</p> + +<p>Not yet arrived at the dignity of the two upper classes, the sophomores +and freshmen were still too devoted to the game itself to resent being +managed. To find in Miss Davis an ardent devotee of basket ball was a +distinct gain. Miss Archer, although she attended the games played +between the various teams, was not, and had not been, wholly in favor of +the sport since that memorable afternoon of the year before when Mignon +had accused Ellen Seymour, now a junior, of purposely tripping her +during a wild rush for the ball. Privately, Miss Archer considered +basket ball rather a rough sport for girls and they knew that a +repetition of last year's disturbance meant death to basket ball in +Sanford High School.</p> + +<p>Two of the three practice games had been played by the sophomore teams. +The squad of which Marjorie was captain had easily won the first. This +had greatly incensed Captain Mignon and her players. A series of locker +and corner confabs had followed. Mary, who did not aspire to basket ball +honors, had been present at these talks. In the beginning the +discussions had merely been devoted to the devising of signals and the +various methods of scoring against their opponents. But gradually a new +and sinister note had crept in. Mignon did not actually counsel her team +to take unfair advantages, but she made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> many artful suggestions, backed +up by a play of her speaking shoulders that conveyed volumes to her +followers. It began to dawn upon Mary that these "clever tricks," as +Mignon was wont to designate them, were not only flagrant dishonesties +but dangerous means to the end, quite likely to result in physical harm. +Her sense of honor was by no means dead, although companionship with +Mignon had served to blunt it. She had remonstrated rather weakly with +the latter on one occasion, as they walked toward home together after +leaving the other girls, and had been ridiculed for her pains.</p> + +<p>She now stared at Mignon's irregular, disjointed writing, which in some +curious way suggested the girl's elfish personality, with unhappy eyes. +Just what did Mignon mean by intimating that several persons were "going +to be surprised" when to-morrow's practice game was over? It sounded +like a threat. No doubt it was. Suppose—some one were to be hurt +through this tricky playing of Mignon's team! Suppose that some one were +to be Marjorie! Mary shuddered. She remembered once reading in a +newspaper an account of a basket-ball game in which a girl had been +tripped by an opponent and had fallen. That girl had hurt her spine and +the physicians had decreed that she would never walk again. Mary put her +hands before her eyes as though to shut out the mental vision of +Marjorie, lying white and moaning on the gymnasium floor, the victim of +an unscrupulous adversary. What could she do? She could not warn +Marjorie to be on her guard. She had now passed out of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> former +chum's friendship of her own free will. She could not go privately to +Muriel or Susan or the other members of the team. No, indeed! Yet, +somehow, she must convey a message of warning.</p> + +<p>Seized with a sudden impulse to carry out her resolve, she picked up a +pencil and began to scrawl on a bit of paper in a curious, back-handed +fashion, quite different from her neat Spencerian hand. Over and over +she practiced this hand on a loosened sheet from her note-book. At +length she rose and, going to her chiffonier, took from the top drawer a +leather writing case. Tumbling its contents hastily over, she selected a +sheet of pale gray paper. There was a single envelope to match. Long it +had lain among her stationery, the last of a kind she had formerly used. +She was sure Marjorie had never seen it, so if it fell into her hands +she could not trace it to her. Once more she practiced the back-handed +scrawl. Then, with an energy born of the remorse which was to serve as a +continual <a name="penance" id="penance"></a><ins title="original had penace">penance</ins> for her folly, she wrote:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">"To the Sophomore Team</span>:</p> + +<p>"Be on your guard when you play to-morrow. If you are not very careful +you may be sorry. Beware of 'tricks.'</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">"One Who Knows."</span></p> +</div> + +<p>Folding the warning, Mary slipped it into its envelope. But now the +question again confronted her, "To whom shall I send it?" After a +moment's frowning thought she decided upon Harriet Delaney as the +recipient. But dared she trust it to the mail<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> service? Suppose it were +not delivered until afternoon? Then it would be too late. The Delaneys +lived only two blocks further up the street. It was not yet ten o'clock. +Mrs. Dean had gone to a lecture. Marjorie was in her room. If she met +General she would merely state that she was going to post a letter. That +would be entirely true. She would run all the way there and back. Once +she had reached Harriet's house she must take her chance of being +discovered.</p> + +<p>Drawing on her long blue coat, Mary crept noiselessly down the stairs. +General was not in sight. The living room was in darkness. Only the hall +lights burned. It took but an instant to softly open the door. Mary sped +down the walk and on her errand of honor like a frightened fawn. Fortune +favored her. No eye marked her cautious ascent of the Delaney's steps. +She breathed a faint sigh of relief as she slipped the envelope into the +letter slot in the middle of the front door. Then she turned and dashed +for home like a pursued criminal.</p> + +<p>She had hardly gained the shelter of her room when she heard the front +door open to the accompaniment of cheerful voices. Mr. Dean had +evidently gone forth to bring his wife home from the lecture. Mary threw +herself on the bed, her heart pounding with excitement and the energy of +her brisk run. And though she was conscious only of having done a good +deed for honor's sake, nevertheless she had faced about and taken a long +step in the right direction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<br /> +<small>A MYSTERIOUS WARNING</small></h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Good-morning</span>, Mrs. Dean. Is Marjorie here?" There was a hint of +suppressed excitement in the clear voice that asked the question.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Harriet. Come in." Mrs. Dean smiled pleasantly upon her +caller, as she ushered her into the hall. "You are out early this +morning. Yes, Marjorie is here. She hasn't come downstairs yet. She is a +little inclined to linger in bed on Saturday morning."</p> + +<p>"I can't blame her," laughed Harriet. "I am fond of doing the same. But +I've a special reason for being out early this morning. It's about +basket ball. You may be sure of that."</p> + +<p>"Basket-ball is enjoying its usual popularity. I hear a great deal about +it of late," returned Mrs. Dean. "Pardon me." Raising her voice, she +called up the stairway, "Mar-jorie!"</p> + +<p>"Coming down on the jump, Captain!" answered Marjorie's voice. Verifying +her words, she bounded lightly down the stairs, still in her dressing +gown, her hair falling in long loose curls about her lovely face. "I +knew who was here. I heard Harriet's voice."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Marjorie," burst forth Harriet, taking a quick step forward. +"I—something awfully queer has happened!" She glanced nervously about +her, but Mrs. Dean had already vanished through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> doorway, leading +into the dining room. She rarely intruded upon Marjorie's callers longer +than to welcome them.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Harriet?" fell wonderingly from Marjorie's lips. Her +friend's early call, coupled with her agitated manner, betokened +something unusual.</p> + +<p>"Read this!" Harriet thrust a sheet of pale gray note paper into +Marjorie's hand. "It's the strangest thing I ever heard of!"</p> + +<p>Marjorie swept the few scrawling lines of which the paper boasted with a +keen, comprehensive glance. As its import dawned upon her, her brown +eyes grew round with amazement. She re-read it twice. "Where did you +receive it?" came her sharp question, as she continued to hold it in her +hand.</p> + +<p>"I don't know when it came. Mother found it on the floor in the +vestibule this morning. I was still in bed. She sent Nora, our maid, +upstairs with it. You can imagine I didn't stop to finish my nap. I +hurried and dressed, ate about three bites of breakfast and started for +your house as fast as I could travel. I thought you ought to see it +first. What do you make of it?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what to think." Marjorie's glance strayed from Harriet's +perturbed face to the mysterious letter of warning. "Somehow, I don't +believe it was written for a joke. Do you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't." Harriet shook her head positively. "I think it was +intended for just what it is, a warning to be on our guard to-day. I'll +tell you something, Marjorie. I never mentioned it before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +because—well—you know I've never liked Mignon La Salle since she +nearly broke up basket ball at Sanford High last year, and I was afraid +it might sound hateful on my part, but the girls of Mignon's squad are +as tricky as can be. Twice, in the first practice game we played, I had +my own troubles with them. Once Daisy Griggs nearly knocked me over. She +pretended it was an accident, but it wasn't. Then, in the second half, +Mignon poked me in the side with her elbow. We were bunched so close +that not even the referee saw her. I almost had the ball, but my side +hurt me so that I missed it entirely. Susan Atwell was awfully cross +about something that day, too. I asked her what had happened, but she +only muttered that she hoped she'd get through the game without being +murdered. She wouldn't say another word, but you can guess from what +I've told you that she must have had good reason for getting mad. Did +she say anything to you?"</p> + +<p>"No; I wish she had." A flash of anger darkened Marjorie's delicate +features. "The girls of Mignon's team have played fairly enough with me. +They are rough, I'll say that, but, so far they've not overstepped the +rules."</p> + +<p>"They know better than to try their tricks on <em>you</em>!" exclaimed Harriet +hotly, "or on Muriel, either. Mignon's afraid of you because you are +everything that's good and noble!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," Marjorie grew red at this flattering assertion.</p> + +<p>"It's true, just the same. She's afraid of Muriel, too, because she +knows that Muriel would report<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> her to Miss Archer in a minute. She +thinks she can harass Esther and Susan and me and that we won't dare say +anything for fear Miss Archer will make a fuss. She knows how crazy we +are to play and that we'd stand a good deal of knocking about rather +than spoil everything. It's different with Muriel. If <em>she</em> got mad, she +would walk off the floor and straight to Miss Archer's office, and those +girls know it."</p> + +<p>Marjorie was silent. What Harriet said in regard to Muriel was +undoubtedly true. Since the latter had turned from Mignon La Salle to +her, she had been the soul of devotion. She had never forgiven Mignon +for her cowardly conduct on the day of the class picnic. Muriel +reverenced the heroic, and Mignon had disgraced herself forever in the +eyes of this impulsive, hero-worshipping girl.</p> + +<p>"We had better show this letter to the other girls," Marjorie said with +sudden decision. "Come upstairs to my house. I'll hurry and dress. +Suppose you have a few more bites of breakfast with me. Your early +morning rush must have made you hungry, and you ought to be well fed, if +you expect to do valiant work on the field of battle this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I <em>am</em> hungry," conceded Harriet, "and I won't wait to be urged. I'd +love to take breakfast with you." Then, lowering her voice, she asked: +"Is Mary going to the game?"</p> + +<p>A faint wistfulness tinged Marjorie's voice as she said slowly. "I don't +know. I haven't asked her. I suppose she is, though."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>Although it was whispered among Marjorie's close friends that the +unpleasant scene at her party had left a yawning gap between the two +friends, never, by so much as a word, had Marjorie intimated the true +state of affairs to any one except Constance and Jerry Macy. Not even +Susan Atwell and Muriel Harding knew just how matters stood. Harriet +remembered this in the same moment of her question, and, flushing at her +own inquisitiveness, remarked hurriedly, "Everyone in school is coming +to see us play."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of that." Marjorie had recovered again her usual cheerfulness, +and answered heartily. She kept up a lively stream of talk as she +completed her dressing. Tucking the letter inside her white silk blouse +she led the way downstairs to the dining room. She was slightly relieved +to see Mary's place at the table vacant. She guessed that the latter had +heard Harriet's voice and had purposely remained in her room. She had +not gone astray in this supposition. Mary <em>had</em> heard Harriet speak and +knew only too well what had brought her to the Deans' house so early +that morning.</p> + +<p>It was nine o'clock when Marjorie and Harriet left the house to call on +Susan Atwell, who lived nearest. Susan read the mysterious warning and +was duly impressed with its significance. She was equally at sea as to +the writer. It soon developed, however, that Harriet had been correct in +assuming that Susan's wrath at the first game played against Mignon's +team had been occasioned by their unfair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> tactics. She had been slyly +tripped by Louise Selden, she asserted, and had fallen heavily.</p> + +<p>"All this is news to me," declared Marjorie, frowning her disapproval. +"It must be stopped."</p> + +<p>"How?" inquired Susan almost sulkily.</p> + +<p>"If necessary, we must have an understanding with our opponents," was +the quiet response.</p> + +<p>"That is easy enough to say," retorted Susan, "but if we were to accuse +those girls of playing unfairly, they would simply laugh at us and call +us babies."</p> + +<p>"I'd rather be laughed at and called a baby than allow such unfairness +to go on." There was a ring of determination in Marjorie's reply.</p> + +<p>"Let us hurry on to Muriel and hear her views," suggested Harriet. "She +lives next door to Esther Lind, so we can call them together and show +them the letter."</p> + +<p>Once the team were together they spent an anxious session over the +letter left by an unseen hand. Discussion ran rife. With her usual +impetuosity Muriel announced her intention of taking Mignon to task +before the game. "I'm not afraid of her," she boasted. "I'd rather not +play than to feel that at any minute I might be laid up for repairs. I'm +much obliged to the one who wrote this. He or she must have had a +troubled conscience."</p> + +<p>Marjorie cast a startled glance at Muriel. Could it be possible that +Mary had written the note? And yet something about the gray stationery +had seemed familiar. She was not sure, but she thought she had at some +time or other received a letter from her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> chum written on gray note +paper. She resolved to look through Mary's letters to her as soon as she +reached home. If Mary had, indeed, sent the warning, it was because she +felt constrained to do the only honorable thing in her power. +Association with Mignon had not entirely deadened her sense of right and +wrong. A wave of love and longing brought the tears to Marjorie's eyes. +She winked them back. She must not betray herself to her schoolmates.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me, girls," she began earnestly. "We mustn't say a word to +our opponents before the game. I know I just said that we ought to have +an understanding, and I meant it. But we had better wait until the end +of the first half. If everything is all right, then so much the better. +If it isn't—well—we shall at least have given them their chance."</p> + +<p>The players lingered in the Hardings' living room to discuss the coming +contest, go over their signals and prepare themselves as effectually as +possible for the fray. It was almost noon when Marjorie sped up the +stairs to her room, there to put into execution the search she had +decided to make. Mary's letters to her, tied with a bit of blue ribbon, +reposed in a pretty lacquered box designed especially to hold them. +Marjorie untied the ribbon and fingered them with a sigh of regret for +the happy past. Most of them were written on white paper, a few were on +pale blue, Mary's color. Almost at the bottom of the box was one gray +envelope. The searcher drew a quick breath as she separated it from its +fellows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +Drawing the envelope from her blouse, she compared the two. They were +identical. The mysterious warning was no longer a mystery to her.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +<br /> +<small>A BOLD STAND FOR HONOR</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Thrilled</span> with the discovery she had just made, Marjorie's first impulse +was to seek admittance to the room so long denied her and confront Mary +with the knowledge of her good deed. Remembering her General's +injunction, "Let her alone," she refrained from yielding to that +impulse. Her pride, too, asserted itself. It was not her place to make +advances, all too likely to be rebuffed. No, she must keep her secret +until time had done its perfect work. Reconciliation lay in Mary's +hands, not hers. She decided, however, that the girls must never know +who had been the author of the warning. So far as she was concerned, it +must remain a mystery to them.</p> + +<p>"Where is Mary?" she inquired of her mother, as they sat down to +luncheon a little later. Mary's place at the table was vacant.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she was invited to luncheon at her friend Mignon's home," returned +Mrs. Dean, frowning slightly. "I suppose she is hoping that Mignon's +team will win the game this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," returned Marjorie absently. Her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> mind was still on her +discovery. Should she tell Captain about it? Perhaps it would be best. +Briefly she acquainted her mother with what she had so recently found +out.</p> + +<p>"I am not greatly surprised," was her mother's quiet comment. "Mary is +too good a girl at heart to persist for long in this ridiculous stand +she has taken. I am glad you said nothing of it to her. She must clear +her own path of the briars she has sown. When she does, she will have +learned a much-needed lesson."</p> + +<p>"But, Captain, it's dreadful to think of Christmas coming and Mary +and—I—not—friends," faltered Marjorie. "I can't give her a present, +and I'd love to. I suppose she doesn't care to give me one. We've always +exchanged gifts ever since we were little tots."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps everything will be all right by that time. If it isn't—well, I +have a plan—but I'm not going to say a word about it yet. Wait until +nearer Christmas. Then we shall see."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother, if only you could think of something that would make us +friends again, just for a day, I'd be so happy!" Marjorie clasped her +hands in fervent appeal.</p> + +<p>"Wait and see," smiled Mrs. Dean enigmatically.</p> + +<p>As Marjorie set out for the high school that afternoon she hummed a +jubilant snatch of song, due to the bright ray of sunlight that had +pierced the gloom. She could afford to wait, if waiting would bring +about the miracle that her mother had hinted might be wrought. She quite +forgot basket ball<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> until she reached the steps of the high school. +There her mind reverted to the coming contest and she set her lips in +silent determination. Her team must win to-day. She could not endure the +thought that Mignon's team should be the one to play against the +freshmen for sophomore honors.</p> + +<p>It was half past one o'clock when she entered the building and hurried +to the dressing room at one side of the gymnasium, which was reserved +for her squad. The first to arrive, she hastily prepared for the game. +Meanwhile, she kept up an earnest thinking as to the course she had best +pursue if Mignon and her supporters overstepped the bounds of fair play. +But she could make up her mind to nothing. Mere contemplation of the +subject was so disagreeable she hated to face it.</p> + +<p>While she pondered, Susan Atwell bustled in with Muriel Harding. The two +remaining members of the team appeared soon after and a lively dressing +and talking bee ensued. The sophomore team, which Marjorie captained, +had chosen to wear their black basket ball regalia of the year before, +but instead of the violet "F" that had ornamented their blouses, a +scarlet "S" now replaced it. Black and scarlet were the sophomore +colors. Should their team win, they could wear the same suits in the +more important game to come. It was reported, however, that Mignon's +team would shine resplendently in new suits of gray, ornamented with a +rose-colored "S," which Mignon had provided at her own expense. If they +won, she had promised her adherents the prettiest black and scarlet +suits that could be obtained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> for the Thanksgiving Day contest. It is +needless to say that they had also set their minds on carrying off the +victor's palm.</p> + +<p>The game had been set for half past two o'clock, but long before that +hour the gallery audience of Sanford School girls, with a fair +sprinkling of boys from Weston High, had begun to arrive. Opinion was +divided as to the prospective winners. Marjorie's team boasted of +seasoned players, whose work on the field was well known. Mignon had not +been so fortunate. Neither Daisy Griggs nor Anne Easton had played +basket ball, previous to the opening of the season. But Mignon herself +was counted a powerful adversary. The sympathy of the boys lay for the +most part with Marjorie's squad. The Weston High lads were decidedly +partial to the pretty, brown-eyed girl, whose modest, gracious ways had +soon won their boyish approbation. Among the girls, however, Mignon +could count on fairly strong support.</p> + +<p>As it was a practice game no special preparations in the way of songs or +the wearing of contestants' colors had been observed. That would come +later, on Thanksgiving Day. But excitement ran higher than usual in the +audience, for it had been whispered about that it was to be "some game."</p> + +<p>"It's twenty-five after, children," informed Jerry Macy, who, with Irma +Linton and Constance Stevens, had been accorded the privilege of +invading the dressing room of Marjorie's team. Jerry had elected to +become a safety deposit vault for a miscellaneous collection of pins, +rings, neck chains and other simple<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> jewelry dear to the heart of the +school girl. Marjorie's bracelet watch adorned one plump wrist, while +her own ornamented the other.</p> + +<p>"Look out, Jerry, or you'll make yourself cross-eyed trying to tell time +by both those watches at once," giggled Susan Atwell.</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe it," was Jerry's good-humored retort. "They're both +right to the minute."</p> + +<p>"Remember, girls, that we've just <em>got</em> to win," counseled Marjorie +fervently. "Keep your heads, and don't let a single thing get by you. +We've practiced our signals until I'm sure you all know them perfectly."</p> + +<p>"We'll win fast enough, if certain persons play fairly," nodded Muriel +Harding, "but look out for Mignon."</p> + +<p>A shrill blast from the referee's whistle followed Muriel's warning. It +called them to action.</p> + +<p>The next instant five black and scarlet figures flashed forth onto the +gymnasium floor to meet the gray-clad quintette that advanced from the +opposite side of the room.</p> + +<p>United cheering from the gallery constituents of both teams rent the +air. The contestants acknowledged the applause and ran to their +stations. A significant silence fell as the referee poised the ball for +the opening toss. Mignon La Salle's black eyes were fastened upon it +with almost savage intensity. She leaped like a cat for it as it left +the referee's hands. Again the screech of the whistle sounded. The game +had begun.</p> + +<p>It was Marjorie who won the toss-up, however.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> She had been just a shade +quicker than Mignon. Now she sent the ball flying toward Susan Atwell +with a sure aim that made the onlookers gasp with admiration. Before the +gray-clad girls could comprehend just how it had all happened, their +opponents had scored. But this was only the beginning of things. Buoyant +over their initial gain, the black and scarlet girls played as though +inspired and soon the score stood 8 to 0 in their favor.</p> + +<p>Mignon La Salle was furious at the unexpected turn matters had taken. +Her players, of whom she had expected wonders, were behaving like +dummies. They had evidently forgotten her fierce exhortations to fight +their way to victory regardless of expense. Well, she would soon show +them their work. It did not take her long to put her resolve into +execution. Joining a wild rush for the ball, which Harriet Delaney was +valiantly trying to throw to basket, Mignon made good her word. Just +what happened to her Harriet could not say. She knew only that a sly, +tripping foot, unseen in the turmoil, sent her crashing to the floor, +while the ball passed into the enemy's keeping, and they scored.</p> + +<p>Inspired by the sweetness of success, Mignon's "dummies" awoke and +carried out the instructions, so often impressed upon them in secret by +their unscrupulous leader, in a series of plays that for sly roughness +had never been equalled by any other team that had elected to take the +floor in that gymnasium. Yet so cleverly did they execute them that +beyond an occasional foul they managed to elude the supposedly-watchful +eyes of the referee, an upper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> class friend of the French girl's, and +rapidly piled up their score.</p> + +<p>When the whistle called the end of the first half it found the score +10–8 in favor of the grays. It also found a quintet of enraged +black-clad girls, nursing sundry bruises and vows of vengeance.</p> + +<p>"It's a burning shame!" cried Susan Atwell, the moment the teams had +reached the safety of their dressing room. "I won't stand it. My ankle +hurts so where some one kicked it that I thought I couldn't finish the +first half. And poor Harriet! You must have taken an awful fall."</p> + +<p>"I did." Harriet Delaney was half crying.</p> + +<p>Muriel Harding's dark eyes were snapping with rage and injury. She was +nursing a scraped elbow, which she had received in the melee. "I'm going +straight to Miss Archer," she threatened. "I won't play the second half +with such dishonorable girls. That Miss Dutton, the referee, must know +something of the rough way they are playing. But <em>she</em> is a friend of +Mignon's. I don't care much if Miss Archer forbids basket ball for the +rest of the season. I'd rather have it that way than be carried off the +floor, a wreck. I'm going now to find her. She's up in her office. Jerry +saw her just before she came to the gym. Didn't you, Jerry?" She turned +to the stout girl, who had just entered. At the beginning of the game, +Jerry, Constance and Irma had hurried to the gallery to watch it. +Seasoned fans, they had observed the playing with critical eyes that saw +much. The instant the first half<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> was over, they had descended to their +friends with precipitate haste.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's in her office." Jerry had appeared in time to hear Muriel's +tirade. "I think I <em>would</em> go to her, if I were you, Muriel. Those girls +are a disgrace to Sanford."</p> + +<p>"Let's all go," proposed Harriet Delaney, wrathfully. "I'd rather do +that than stay and be murdered."</p> + +<p>Marjorie stood regarding her players with brooding eyes. She smiled +faintly at Harriet's vehement utterance. "Girls," she said in a clear, +resolute voice, "I told you this morning that if anything like this +happened I'd go straight to Mignon and have an understanding. I'm going. +I wish you to go with me, though. I have a reason for it." She walked +determinedly to the door.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to say to them, Marjorie?" demanded Muriel. "You +might as well save your breath. They'll only laugh at you. Miss Archer +is the person to go to."</p> + +<p>"Not yet." Marjorie shook her head in gentle contradiction. "Please let +me try my way, Muriel. If it doesn't work, then I promise you that I'll +go with you to Miss Archer. Oh, yes. I wish you all to stand by me, but +don't say a word unless I ask you to. Will you trust me?" She glanced +wistfully at her little flock.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," ordered Muriel shortly. "We'll stand by you. Won't we, +girls?"</p> + +<p>Three heads nodded on emphatic assent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"All right. Come on. We haven't much time left. How many minutes, +Jerry?"</p> + +<p>"Eight," replied the stout girl. "Can Irma and Connie and I come, too?"</p> + +<p>"No. I'd rather you wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"We'll forgive you. Now beat it." Although Jerry was earnestly +endeavoring to eliminate slang from her vocabulary, she could not resist +this forceful advice.</p> + +<p>"Suppose we go around through the corridor and use that side door +nearest Mignon's dressing room," suggested Marjorie. "Then we won't be +noticed. I'd rather we weren't. This is really private, you know."</p> + +<p>Four black and scarlet figures gloomily followed their leader. There +were two doors to each dressing room. One led into the gymnasium, which +was situated in a wing of the school, the other led into the corridor. +Through the half-open door of Mignon's dressing room the sound of +exultant voices reached the advancing squad. She stood with her back +toward them.</p> + +<p>"We were a little too much for them." Mignon's boasting tones brought +fresh resentment to her injured opponents. "I told you that——"</p> + +<p>"Miss La Salle!" Marjorie's stern voice caused the French girl to whirl +about. "We heard what you were saying. We came over here to notify you +that we do not intend to play the second half of the game with you +unless you give us your promise to play fairly and without unnecessary +roughness."</p> + +<p>Mignon's black eyes blazed. "What do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> mean by stealing into our room +and listening to our private conversation?" she demanded passionately.</p> + +<p>Marjorie faced the furious girl with calm, contemptuous eyes. Before +their steady gaze, Mignon quailed a trifle.</p> + +<p>"We did not <em>steal</em> into your room. If you had not been so busy boasting +over your own unfairness you could have heard our approach. However, +that doesn't matter. What <em>does</em> matter is this. Come here, Muriel." She +beckoned Muriel to her side. "Show Miss La Salle your elbow," she +commanded.</p> + +<p>Muriel rolled back her loose sleeve and showed the raw, red spot on her +soft, white arm.</p> + +<p>Mignon laughed sarcastically and shrugged her scorn of the injury. "You +can't be a baby and play basket ball," she jeered.</p> + +<p>"Neither can you behave like a savage and expect it to pass +unnoticed—by at least a few persons," retorted Marjorie. She was +fighting hard to control the rush of temper which this heartless girl +always brought to the surface. "Harriet was badly shaken up, because +someone purposely tripped her. Some one else kicked Susan on the ankle. +It is too much. We won't endure it. Now I give you fair warning, if any +girl of my squad is handled roughly during the next half she intends to +call a halt in the game. The rest of us will then leave the floor and go +to Miss Archer's office. Think it over. That's all."</p> + +<p>Marjorie turned on her heel. Without so much as a glance toward the +discomfited girls of Mignon's team, she walked from the room, followed +by her silently obedient train.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, <em>what</em> do you think of that?" gasped Louise Selden. Nevertheless, +she had had the grace to turn very red during Marjorie's stern +arraignment.</p> + +<p>Mignon turned savagely upon the abashed members of her squad. "If you +pay any attention to <em>her</em>, you are all <em>babies</em>," she hissed. "You are +to play the second half just as I told you. Don't let that priggish Dean +girl scare you. <em>She</em> wouldn't go to Miss Archer. She knows better than +that."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong, Mignon. She meant every word she said." Daisy Griggs' +ruddy face had grown suddenly pale. "<em>I'm</em> going to be pretty careful +how I play the rest of this game."</p> + +<p>"So am I," echoed Elizabeth Meredith. "If Miss Dean went to Miss Archer +it would raise a regular riot."</p> + +<p>Anne Easton and Louise Selden nodded in solemn agreement with Daisy's +bold stand. In her heart each of them stood convicted of unworthiness. +The righteous gleam of Marjorie's clear eyes had made them feel most +uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"You're cowards, every one of you," burst forth Mignon, her dark face +distorted with rage, "and if——"</p> + +<p>"T-r-r-ill!" The referee's whistle was summoning them to the game.</p> + +<p>Mignon ran to her station resolved on vengeance. Four girls followed her +to their places divided between two fears. Awe of Miss Archer and the +disaster that would surely overtake them if they persisted in their +former tactics acted as a spur to their sleeping consciences. Fear of +Mignon became a secondary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> emotion. They vowed within themselves to play +fairly and they kept their vow.</p> + +<p>The second half of the game opened very well for Marjorie's team. She +passed the ball to Susan Atwell, who scored, thereby winning a salvo of +hearty applause from the gallery. The watchful spectators had not been +blind to the unfair methods of the grays. Two goals followed in their +favor. So far the grays had done nothing. Unnerved by Marjorie's just +censure and the fear of exposure, they paid little heed to Mignon's +glowering glances and frantic signals. They played in a half-hearted, +diffident fashion, quite the opposite of their whirlwind sweep during +the first half. The black and scarlet girls soon brought the score up to +14 to 10 in their favor, and from that moment on had things decidedly +their own way. Time after time Mignon cut in desperately for the basket +to receive a pass, but on each occasion her team-mates made a wild +throw. Marjorie's team, however, played with perfect unity, working in +several successful signal plays. Try as she might, the French girl could +do nothing to arouse her players. Their passing became so delinquent +that once or twice it brought derisive groans from the male spectators +in the gallery. As the second half neared its end, Muriel Harding made a +sensational throw to basket that aroused the gallery to wild enthusiasm. +It also served to take the faint remaining spirit from the disheartened +grays, and the game wound up with a score of 30 to 12 in favor of the +black and scarlet girls. They had won a complete<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> and sweeping victory +over their unworthy opponents.</p> + +<p>It was a proud moment for Marjorie Dean, as she stood surrounded by a +flock of jubilant boys and girls, who had rent the gallery air with +appreciative howls, then hustled from their places aloft to offer their +congratulations to the victors.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad you won, Marjorie," cried Ellen Seymour. Lowering her +voice, she added: "I could see a few things. I'm not the only one. But +what happened to them? They actually played fairly in the second +half—all except Mignon. But she couldn't do much by herself."</p> + +<p>Marjorie smiled faintly. "We must have discouraged them, I suppose. We +never before worked together so well as we played in that second half. +Wasn't that a wonderful throw to basket that Muriel made?"</p> + +<p>"Splendid," agreed Ellen warmly. "I predict an easy victory for the +sophomores on Thanksgiving Day."</p> + +<p>Marjorie breathed relief. "Are you coming to see us play, or are you +going away for Thanksgiving?" was her tactful question.</p> + +<p>Ellen plunged into a voluble recital of her Thanksgiving plans, quite +forgetting her curiosity over the sudden change of tactics of the +defeated grays. Several girls joined in the conversation, and thus the +talk drifted away from the subject Marjorie wished most to avoid.</p> + +<p>In Mignon's dressing room, however, a veritable tornado had burst. Four +sullen, gray-clad girls<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> bowed their heads before the storm of +passionate reproaches hurled upon them by their irate leader. They were +seeing and hearing Mignon at her worst, and they did not relish it. It +may be set down to their credit that not one of them took the trouble to +answer her. Beyond a mute exchange of meaning glances, they ignored her +scorn, slipping away like shadows when they had changed their basket +ball suits for street apparel. Outside the high school they congregated +and made solemn agreement that now and forever they were "through" with +Mignon.</p> + +<p>Several friends of the latter, including Miss Dutton, the referee, +dropped into the dressing room, and to them Mignon continued her tirade. +But the face of one hitherto ardent supporter was missing. Mary Raymond +had fled from the school the moment the game was ended. For once she had +seen too much of Mignon. She had tried to force herself to believe that +she was sorry for the latter's deserved defeat, but, in reality, she was +glad that Marjorie's team had won. She determined to go home and wait +for her chum. She would confess that she was sorry for the past and ask +Marjorie to forgive her.</p> + +<p>Putting her determination into swift action, she left the high school +behind her almost at a run. Once she had reached home she paused only to +hang her wraps on the hall rack, then posted herself in the living-room +window, an anxious little figure. When Marjorie came she would open the +hall door for her. She would say, "I surrender, Lieutenant. Please +forgive me." She smiled a trifle sadly to herself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> in anticipation of +the forgiving arms that Marjorie would extend to her. She was not sure +she merited forgiveness.</p> + +<p>But when at last Marjorie came in sight of the gate, Mary vented an +exclamation of pain and anger. Marjorie was not alone. Up the walk she +loitered, arm-in-arm with Constance Stevens. The old jealousy, forgotten +in Marjorie's hour of triumph, swept Mary like a blighting wind. She +turned and fled from the hated sight that met her eyes, a deserter to +her good intentions.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /> +<br /> +<small>HOISTING THE FLAG OF TRUCE</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Thanksgiving</span> Day walked in amid a flurry of snow, accompanied by a +boisterous wind, which roared a bleak reminiscence of that first +Thanksgiving Day on a storm rock-bound coast, when a few faithful souls +had braved his fury and gone forth to give thanks for life and liberty. +Despite his challenging roar, the boys of Weston High School played +their usual game of football against a neighboring eleven and emerged +from the field of conquest, battered and victorious, to rest in the +proud bosoms of their families and devour much turkey. In the afternoon, +the long-talked-of game of basket ball came off between the sophomores +and the freshmen. It was an occasion of energetic color-flaunting,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> in +which black and scarlet banners predominated. It seemed as though almost +every one in Sanford High School, with the exception of the freshmen +themselves, was devoted heart and soul to the sophomores. The rumor of +the unfair treatment they had received in the deciding practice game had +been noised abroad, and Marjorie and her team mates were in a fair way +to be lionized. A packed gallery, much jubilant singing and frantic +applause of every move they made, spurred the black and scarlet girls to +doughty deeds, and, although it was a hard-fought battle, in which the +freshmen played for dear life, the sophomores won.</p> + +<p>Altogether, it was a day long to be remembered, and Marjorie lived it +for all that lay within her energetic young body and mind. Only the one +flaw that marred its perfection and left her sober-eyed and +retrospective when the eventful holiday was ended. She felt that one +word of commendation from Mary would have been worth more than all the +praise she had received from admiring friends. But Mary was as stony and +implacable as ever, giving no sign of the surrender which Constance +Stevens had unconsciously nipped in the bud.</p> + +<p>Just how Mary spent that particular Thanksgiving Day Marjorie did not +learn until long afterward. She knew only that Mary had left the house +directly after dinner, merely stating that she intended making several +calls, and was seen no more until ten o'clock that night, when she +flitted into the house like a ghost and vanished up the stairs to her +own room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> + +<p>After Thanksgiving, basket ball echoes died out in the growing murmur of +coming Christmas joys, and like every young girl, Marjorie grew +impatient and enthusiastic over her holiday plans. She did not chatter +them as freely to General and Captain when at table as had been her +custom each year in the happy days when only they three had been +together. As her formerly lovable self, Marjorie would have felt no +reserve in Mary's presence, but this strange, new Mary with her white, +immobile face and indifferent eyes, chilled her and killed her desire to +exchange the usual gay badinage with her General, which had always made +meal-time a merry occasion.</p> + +<p>"I don't like Mary's effect on our little girl, Margaret. Of late, +Marjorie is as solemn as a judge," remarked Mr. Dean one evening as he +lingered at the dinner table after Mary and Marjorie had excused +themselves and gone upstairs on the plea of studying to-morrow's +lessons. "I counseled Marjorie, the night I took her to Devon Inn to +dinner, to let matters work out in their own way. That was some time +ago. Perhaps I'd better take a hand and see what I can do toward ending +this internal war. Christmas will soon be here. We can't have our Day of +Days spoiled by one youngster's perversity."</p> + +<p>"I have thought of that, too," returned Mrs. Dean, smiling, "and I have +a plan. I shall need your help to carry it out, though."</p> + +<p>When she had finished the laying out of her clever scheme for a +congenial Christmas all around, Mr. Dean threw back his head in a hearty +laugh. "It's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> decidedly ingenious, and in keeping," was his tribute. +"I'll help you put it through, with pleasure. But after Christmas——" +He paused, his laughing eyes growing grave.</p> + +<p>"After Christmas our services as peace advocates may not be needed," +supplemented Mrs. Dean. "At least, I hope they may not. I am still of +the opinion, however, that Mary must be left to repent of her own folly. +If she is coaxed and wheedled into good humor she will never realize how +badly she has behaved."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that is so. But, naturally, I am more interested in healing +our poor little soldier's hurts than in trying to bring a certain +stubborn young person to her senses. We will try out our idea. It will +insure one satisfactory day, I hope. Unless I prove a poor diplomat."</p> + +<p>Although Marjorie's blithe voice was too frequently stilled in Mary's +presence, she was uniformly sunny when she and her Captain were alone +together. Now fairly familiar with Sanford, Mrs. Dean had made it a part +of her daily life to seek and assist certain families among the poor of +the little northern city. Now that Christmas was so near she was making +a special effort to gladden the hearts of those to whom life had seemed +to grudge even daily bread. She had contrived wisely to interest +Marjorie in this charitable work, with the idea of taking her mind from +the bitter disappointment Mary's change of heart had brought her, and +had been touched and gratified at the unselfish eagerness with which +Marjorie had taken up the work. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> latter had aroused Jerry Macy's, as +well as Constance Stevens', interest in planning a merry Christmas for +the poor of Sanford. Constance was particularly desirous of helping. She +would never forget the previous Christmas <a name="eve" id="eve"></a><ins title="original had eve">Eve</ins>, when, laden with good +will and be-ribboned offerings, Marjorie had smilingly appeared at the +little gray house where Poverty reigned supreme and helped her transform +Charlie's rickety express wagon into a veritable fairy couch, piled high +with the precious tokens of unselfish love. She felt that the only way +in which she might show her lasting gratitude for the gifts of that +snowy Christmas Eve was to share her blessings with others who were in +need, and she quickly became Marjorie's most faithful servitor.</p> + +<p>Good-natured Jerry was also keen to bestow her time and world goods in +the Christmas cause, and almost every afternoon when school was over the +three girls conspired together in the cause of happiness. Marjorie +unearthed a trunk of her childish toys from an obscure corner of the +garret, and a great mending and refurbishing movement ensued. Jerry, not +to be outdone, canvassed among her friends for suitable gifts to lay at +the shrine of Christmas, which rose to life eternal when three wise men +placed their reverent offerings at the feet of a Holy Child long +centuries before. While Constance Stevens drew largely on a sum of +money, which her indulgent aunt had placed in the bank to her credit and +enjoyed to the full the blessedness of giving.</p> + +<p>"Maybe we haven't been busy little helpers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> though," declared Jerry +Macy one blustering afternoon, as the three girls sat in the Deans' +living room, surrounded by ribbon-bound packages of all shapes and +sizes. "Truly, I never had such a good time before in all my life."</p> + +<p>"That's just the way I feel," nodded Constance, as she tied an +astounding bow of red ribazine about an oblong package that +suggested a doll, and consulted a fat note book, lying wide spread on +the library table, for the address of the prospective possessor. +"Marjorie, will you ever forget how happy Charlie was last year?"</p> + +<p>"Dear little Charlie!" Marjorie's lips smiled tender reminiscence of the +tiny boy's jubilation over his wonderful discovery that Santa Claus had +not forgotten him. "His Christmas will be a merry one this year, even to +the good, strong leg that he hoped Santa would bring him."</p> + +<p>"He can't possibly be any happier than he was <em>last</em> Christmas morning," +was Constance's soft reply. "And it was all through you, Marjorie."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wasn't the only one. Your father and you and Uncle John gave him +things, and Delia popped the corn for his tree, and, don't you remember, +Laurie Armitage brought you the tree and the holly and ground pine?"</p> + +<p>Constance flushed slightly at the mention of Lawrence Armitage. A +sincere boy and girl friendship had sprung up between them that promised +later to ripen into perfect love.</p> + +<p>"That reminds me," broke in Jerry bluntly. "I've something to tell you, +girls. Hal told me. He's my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> most reliable source of information when it +comes to news of Weston High. Laurie is writing an operetta. He's going +to call it 'The Rebellious Princess,' and he would like to give a +performance of it in the spring. There's to be a big chorus and +Professor Harmon is going to pick a cast from the boys and girls of +Weston and Sanford High Schools."</p> + +<p>"Who is Professor Harmon?" asked Constance curiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's the musical director at Weston High," answered Jerry +offhandedly. "He looks after the singing and glee clubs there, just as +Miss Walters does at Sanford High. You can sing, Connie, and Laurie +knows it. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd get the leading part."</p> + +<p>"I'd be more surprised if I did," laughed Constance, "considering that I +don't even know Professor Harmon when I see him."</p> + +<p>"Laurie will introduce you to him, I guess," predicted Jerry +confidently. "Hal said something about a try-out of voices. I can't +remember what it was. I'll ask him when I go home."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I could even sing in a chorus," laughed Marjorie. "I +haven't a strong voice."</p> + +<p>"You can look pretty, though, and <em>that</em> counts," was Jerry's emphatic +consolation. "That's more than I can do. I can't see myself shine, even +in a chorus. I don't sing. I shout, and then I'm always getting off the +key," she ended gloomily.</p> + +<p>Constance and Marjorie giggled at Jerry's funny description of her vocal +powers. The stout girl's brief gloom vanished in a broad grin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Two more days and Christmas will be here!" exclaimed Marjorie with a +joyous little skip, which caused a pile of packages on the floor near +her to tumble in all directions.</p> + +<p>"Easy there!" warned Jerry. Secretly she was delighted at her friend's +lightsome mood. Marjorie had been altogether too serious of late. +Privately, she had frequently wished that Mary Raymond had never set +foot in Sanford.</p> + +<p>The early December dusk had fallen when, the last package wrapped, +Constance and Jerry said good-bye to Marjorie. "I'll be over bright and +early Christmas morning," reminded Constance. "Remember, you are coming +to Gray Gables on Christmas night, Marjorie. Charlie made me promise for +you ahead of time. I'd love to have you come, too, Jerry."</p> + +<p>"Can't do it. Thank you just the same, but the Macys far and near are +going to hold forth at our house and poor little Jerry will have to stay +at home and do the agreeable hostess act," declared Jerry, looking +comically rueful.</p> + +<p>"I'll surely be there, Connie. I'll bring my offerings with me. Don't +you forget that you are due at the Deans' residence on Christmas +morning. Bring Charlie with you."</p> + +<p>After her friends had gone, Marjorie went into the living room to +speculate for the hundredth time on the subject of Mary's present. It +was a beautiful little neckchain of tiny, square, gold links, similar to +one her Captain had given her on her last birthday. Mary had frequently +admired it in times<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> past and for months Marjorie had saved a portion +from her allowance with which to buy it. She had a theory that a gift to +one's dearest friends should entail self-sacrifice on the part of the +giver. Mary's changed attitude toward her had not counted. She was still +resolved upon giving her the chain. But how was she to do it? And +suppose when she offered it Mary were to refuse it?</p> + +<p>The entrance of her mother broke in upon her unhappy speculations. "I'm +glad you came, Captain," she said. "I've been trying to think how I had +best give Mary her present."</p> + +<p>"Then don't worry about it any longer," comforted Mrs. Dean. Stepping +over to the low chair in which Marjorie sat she passed her arm about her +troubled daughter and drew her close. "That is a part of my plan. Wait +until Christmas morning and you will know."</p> + +<p>"Tell me now," coaxed Marjorie, snuggling comfortably into the hollow of +the protecting arm.</p> + +<p>"That would be strictly against orders," came the laughing response. +"Have patience, Lieutenant."</p> + +<p>"All right, I will." Sturdily dismissing her curiosity, Marjorie began a +detailed account of the afternoon's labor, which lasted until Mr. Dean +came rollicking in and engaged Marjorie in a rough-and-tumble romp that +left her flushed and laughing.</p> + +<p>Despite her many errands of good will and charity, the next two days +dragged interminably. On Christmas Eve Mr. Dean took his family and Mary +to the theatre to see a play that had had a long, successful run in New +York City the previous season<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> and was now doomed to the road. After the +play they stopped at Sargent's for a late supper. Under Mr. Dean's +genial influence Mary thawed a trifle and even went so far as to address +Marjorie several times, to the latter's utter amazement. This was in +reality the beginning of Mrs. Dean's carefully laid plan. Marjorie +guessed as much and wondered hopefully as to what might happen next.</p> + +<p>Nothing special occurred that evening, however, except that Mary bade +her a curt "good night." But Marjorie hugged even that short utterance +to her heart and went to sleep in a buoyantly hopeful state of mind.</p> + +<p>She was awakened the next morning by a military tattoo, rapped on her +door by energetic fingers. "Report to the living room for duty," +commanded a purposely gruff voice, which she was not slow to recognize.</p> + +<p>"Merry Christmas, General," she called. "Lieutenant Dean will report in +the living room in about three minutes." Hopping out of bed she reached +for her bath robe. Then the sound of tapping fingers again came to her +ears. This time they were on Mary's door. Hastily drawing on stockings +and bed-room slippers, she sped from her room and down the stairs. Her +father stood stiffly at the foot of the stairway in his most +general-like manner. She saluted and came to attention. A moment or two +of waiting followed, then Mary appeared at the head of the stairs. She +began to descend slowly, but Mr. Dean called out, "No lagging in the +line,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> and long obedience to orders served to make her quicken her pace.</p> + +<p>"Twos right, march," ordered Mr. Dean, motioning toward the living room.</p> + +<p>Wonderingly the company of two obeyed. Then two pairs of eyes were +fastened upon a curious object that stood upright in the middle of the +living-room table. It was a good-sized flag of pure white.</p> + +<p>"Form ranks!" came the order.</p> + +<p>Two girlish figures lined up, side by side.</p> + +<p>"Salute the Flag of Truce," commanded the wily General.</p> + +<p>Mary gave an audible gasp of sheer amazement. Marjorie laughed outright.</p> + +<p>"Silence in the ranks," bellowed the stern commandant. "Pay strict +attention to what I am about to say. In time of war it sometimes becomes +necessary to hoist a flag of truce. This means a suspense of +hostilities. The flag of truce is hoisted in this house for all day. It +will remain so until twelve o'clock to-night. Respect it. Now break +ranks and we'll enjoy our Christmas presents. I hope my army hasn't +forgotten its worthy General!"</p> + +<p>"Mary," Marjorie's voice trembled. Tears blurred her brown eyes. "It's +Christmas morning. Will you kiss me?"</p> + +<p>Mary was possessed with a contrary desire to turn and rush upstairs. She +felt dimly that to kiss Marjorie was to declare peace against her will. +But her better nature whispered to her not to ruin the peace of +Yuletide. She would respect the flag of truce for one day. Then she +could give Marjorie the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> ring she had bought for her before coming to +Sanford and laid away for Christmas. Afterward she would show her that +she had softened merely for the time being. She returned Marjorie's +affectionate kiss rather coolly. Nevertheless, the ice was broken.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later she found herself running upstairs for her presents +for the Deans in an almost happy mood, and she joined in the present +giving with a heartiness that was far from forced. Once she had ceased +to resist Marjorie's winning advances she was completely drawn into the +divine spirit of the occasion, and she allowed herself to drift once +more into the dear channel of bygone friendship.</p> + +<p>Marjorie fairly bubbled over with exuberant happiness. The unbelievable +had come to pass. She and Mary were once more chums. She longed to tell +Mary all that was in her heart, but refrained. For to-day it was better +to live on the surface of things. Later there would be plenty of time +for confidences. After breakfast she mentioned rather timidly that she +expected a call from Constance and little Charlie.</p> + +<p>Mary received the statement with an apparent docility that brought +welcome relief to Marjorie. She was not sure of her chum on this one +point. When Constance and Charlie arrived at a little after ten o'clock, +burdened with gaily decked bundles, Marjorie's fears were set at rest. +To be sure, Mary showed no enthusiasm over Constance, but Charlie was a +different matter. She had conceived a strange, deep love for the quaint +little boy and spared no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> pains to entertain him. While she was putting +Marjorie's beautiful angora cat, Ruffle, through a series of cunning +little tricks, which he performed with sleepy indolence, Marjorie +managed to say to Constance, "I can't come to see you to-night, Connie. +I'll explain some day soon. You understand."</p> + +<p>Constance nodded wisely. Nothing could have induced her to mar the +reconciliation which had evidently taken place. "Come when you can," she +murmured. Generously leaving herself out of the question, she purposely +shortened her stay, although Charlie pleaded to remain.</p> + +<p>"I'll come again soon," he assured Mary, as he was being towed off by +his sister's determined hand. "I like you almost as well as Connie."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's glorious day was over all too soon. She hovered about Mary +with a friendly solicitude that could not be denied. The latter +graciously allowed her the privilege, but behind her pleasant manner +there was a hint of reserve, which did not dawn upon Marjorie until late +that evening. At first she reproached herself for even imagining it, but +as bedtime approached the conviction grew that when twelve o'clock came +Mary would again resume her hostile attitude.</p> + +<p>"It is time taps was sounded," reminded Mr. Dean, looking up from his +book, as the grandfather's clock in the living room pointed half past +eleven. Mrs. Dean sat placidly reading a periodical.</p> + +<p>"We'll obey you, General, as soon as we've finished our game." Marjorie +looked up from the backgammon board at which she and Mary were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> seated. +It had always been a favorite game with them and Marjorie had proposed +playing to relieve the curious sensation of apprehension that was +gradually settling down upon her.</p> + +<p>It was five minutes to twelve when she put the board away. Mary had +strolled to the living-room door. Pausing for an instant she said, as +though reciting a lesson, "I've had a lovely day. Thank you all for my +presents." Without waiting for replies, she turned and mounted the +stairs. The sound of a door, closed with certain decision, floated down +to the three in the living room.</p> + +<p>Marjorie walked slowly to the table, and drawing the flag of truce from +its improvised standard, handed it to her father. "I knew it would end +like that, General," she commented sadly. "I felt it coming all evening. +Just the same it was a splendid plan, and I thank you for it." She +lingered lovingly to kiss her father and mother good night, then marched +to her room with a brave face. But as she passed the door that had once +more been closed against her she vowed within herself that from this +moment forth she would cease to mourn for the "friendship" of a girl who +was so heartless as Mary Raymond.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE LAST STRAW</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> had been Mary Raymond's firm intention when she closed her door that +Christmas night to resume hostilities the next day. But when she met +Marjorie at breakfast the following morning, her desire for continued +warfare had vanished. Some tense chord within her stubborn soul had +snapped. Looking back on yesterday she realized that it had not been +worth while. Now her proud spirit cried for peace. She wished she had +not been so ready to doubt her chum's loyalty and with a curious +revulsion of feeling she began to long for a reinstatement into her +affections.</p> + +<p>But her perfunctory "good night" had cost her more than she dreamed. It +had awakened a tardy resentment in Marjorie's hitherto forgiving heart +that she could not readily efface. Outwardly Marjorie seemed the same. +She returned Mary's greeting pleasantly enough, showing nothing of the +surprise it had given her. Mary was not destined to learn for some time +to come that a reaction had taken place.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Dean were relieved to find that Marjorie's prediction was +not verified. To all appearances the two girls had definitely resumed +their old, friendly footing. Only Marjorie knew differently, but she did +not intend then or on any future occasion to betray herself, even to her +Captain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the winter days glided swiftly along the road to Spring, it was +circulated about among Marjorie's intimate friends that she and Mary had +settled their differences. Keen-eyed Jerry Macy, however, had seen +deeper than her classmates. Although Mary now occasionally walked home +with them or accompanied them to Sargent's, spending considerably less +time with Mignon, Jerry was quick to feel rather than note the slight +reserve Marjorie exhibited toward Mary. "Don't you believe they've made +up," she declared to Irma Linton. "Mary may think they have, but they +haven't. I guess Marjorie's grown tired of Mary's nonsense. I'm glad of +it. She's a silly little goose, I mean Mary, and she's lost more than +she thinks."</p> + +<p>It was on a sunny afternoon in late March, however, before Mary was +rudely jolted into the same conclusion. Mignon La Salle was also +possessed of "the seeing eye." Mary was no longer her devoted satellite, +although she still kept up an indifferent kind of friendship with the +French girl. Mignon soon divined the cause of her lagging allegiance. +"You are a little idiot, Mary Raymond, to follow Marjorie Dean about as +you do. She doesn't care a snap for you. She may treat you nicely, but +that's as far as it goes. She cares more for that miserable Stevens girl +in a minute than she cares for <em>you</em> in a whole year. Why can't you let +her alone and chum with some one who appreciates you."</p> + +<p>"I don't follow Marjorie about," contested Mary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> hotly. "I never go +anywhere with her unless she asks me."</p> + +<p>"She merely does that through courtesy," shrugged Mignon. "I suppose she +thinks it her duty. She's a prig and I despise her."</p> + +<p>Mary's face flamed at the obnoxious word "duty." In a flash her mind +reviewed all that had passed since that memorable Christmas day. Her +cheeks grew hotter at the brutal truth of Mignon's words.</p> + +<p>"If you think I care anything about her, you have made a mistake," she +retorted, stung to untruthfulness by the taunt. "I'll soon prove to you +that I don't."</p> + +<p>"Stop running around with her and her wonderful friends and I'll believe +you," sneered Mignon.</p> + +<p>"I will, if only to show you that I don't care," flung back the angry +girl.</p> + +<p>"That's the way to talk," approved Mignon. She had kept but few friends +among the sophomores since that fatal practice game and she did not +intend to lose Mary from her diminished circle. Besides, she was certain +that the Deans, one and all, did not approve of Mary's friendship with +her and it accorded her supreme pleasure to annoy them.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to give a fancy dress party two weeks from Friday night," she +went on, with an abrupt change of subject. "Nearly all the girls I'm +intending to invite are juniors and seniors. We'll have a glorious time. +I don't have to strip our living room of furniture for a place to dance. +I have a <em>real</em><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> ballroom in my home. I'll send you an invitation in a +day or two."</p> + +<p>Surely enough, three days after Mignon's announcement the invitation was +duly delivered to Mary through the mail. She read it listlessly. She was +not keen about attending the party. Marjorie merely smiled when Mary +showed her the invitation and briefly announced her intention of going. +She graciously offered the Snow White costume she had worn at the +masquerade of the previous Spring. Mary declined it coldly. She had not +forgotten Mignon's taunts. Since then she had kept strictly to herself, +steadily refusing Marjorie's polite invitations to accompany her here +and there. Earlier in the year Marjorie would have grieved in secret +over this frostiness, but Marjorie had hardened her gentle heart and now +fancied that Mary's movements were of small concern to her. And so the +wall of misunderstanding towered higher and higher.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean willingly helped Mary plan a cunning little girl costume, and +when on the night of the party she entered the living room in obedience +to her Captain's call, "Come here and let us see how you look, Mary," a +lump rose in Marjorie's throat. In her short, white, embroidered frock, +with its Dutch neck and wide, blue ribbon sash, she looked precisely +like the pretty child that she had been when she and Marjorie played +"house" together in the Raymonds' backyard. The blue silk stockings and +heelless, blue kid slippers emphasized the babyish effect of her +costume, and Marjorie had hard work to keep back her tears. But Mary +could not read<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> that sudden rush of emotion in the calm, uncritical face +which Marjorie turned to her.</p> + +<p>Mignon had sent her runabout for Mary and it was a trifle after eight +o'clock when the La Salle's chauffeur drove up the wide, handsome +driveway to Mignon's home. It was an unusually mild evening in April and +as they neared the port-cochere, a slim figure in gypsy dress ran down +the steps. "I've been watching for you," called Mignon, as Mary stepped +from the runabout. "The musicians are here and so are most of the girls. +I can't imagine why the boys don't come. Only six have appeared, so far. +We've had one dance," she went on crossly. "Some of the girls had to +dance together. Wasn't that horrid? Take off your cloak and let me see +your costume. It's sweet."</p> + +<p>The chauffeur had disappeared and the two girls stood for an instant at +the foot of the steps.</p> + +<p>Advancing suddenly out of the darkness marched a sturdy little figure. +Under its arm was thrust a diminutive violin case. "How do you do?" it +greeted with a quaint, bobbing bow. "I comed to play in the band."</p> + +<p>With a quick exclamation of surprise, Mary Raymond darted toward the +tiny youngster. "Charlie Stevens!" she gasped. "What are you doing away +over here after dark?"</p> + +<p>"I comed to play in the band," repeated Charlie with a jubilant wave of +his violin case that almost sent it hurtling from his baby fingers. +"Uncle John comed and so I comed, too."</p> + +<p><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a>Mary knelt on the driveway and gathered him into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> her round, young arms. +"Listen to Mary, dear little boy. Did Charlie run away?" She had heard +from Marjorie of Charlie's frequent attempts to sally forth to conquer +the world with his violin.</p> + +<p>The child's sensitive face clouded. His lip quivered. "Connie says I +have to always tell the truth," he wailed. "I runned away because I have +to play in the big band. A man comed to see Uncle John this afternoon. I +heard him talk about the band. Uncle John comed to play in it, so I +comed, too. Only he didn't see me. I kept behind him till he got to the +gate. Then after a while I comed, too!"</p> + +<p>Mignon La Salle stood watching the wailing aspirant for the "big band" +with frowning eyes. "I suppose this ridiculous child belongs to those +Stevens," she sneered.</p> + +<p>"Ain't a 'diclus child," contradicted Charlie with dignity. "I'm a +mesishun. I can play the fiddle. I like Mary. I don't like you."</p> + +<p>"I have heard that this Stevens boy was an idiot. Now I believe it," +snapped Mignon. "I suppose I'll have to take him in until some one comes +after him. I didn't know his uncle was to be one of the musicians. If I +had, I would have made the leader hire some other man. I sha'n't tell +his uncle that he's here. He's hired to play for my dance, not to waste +his time taking a simpleton home. It's a perfect nuisance."</p> + +<p>Her long hoop ear-rings swung and shook with the vehemence of her +displeasure.</p> + +<p>Mary Raymond's face changed from red to white as she listened to the +French girl's callous speech.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> A lover of all children, she could not +endure the slight put upon this tiny boy. She straightened up with an +alacrity that nearly threw Charlie off his balance. Her blue eyes +flashed with righteous wrath. "How can you be so harsh with this cunning +boy?" she cried. "He isn't an idiot or a simpleton! He's as bright +as—as——" (courtesy conquered) "as any child of his age. Why, he's +only a baby. He's not going into your house, either, to wait for his +family to find him. He's going home now, and I'm going to take him."</p> + +<p>"You can't go very far in that short dress and those thin slippers," +mocked Mignon. "Don't be a silly. Bring him in, I say, and hurry. I must +go back to my guests."</p> + +<p>"Please go to them," Mary spoke in icily dignified tones. "As for me, I +have my cloak." She held forth one bare arm on which swung her long, +gray evening cape. "I should never forgive myself if I neglected this +little tot. I'm sorry to be so rude, but I can't help it. I'm going now. +Good night. Come, Charlie." Wrapping her cloak about her, Mary gently +disengaged the violin case from Charlie's clutch, tucked it under one +arm and took firm hold of the youngster's hand. Charlie was still +regarding Mignon's swaying ear-rings with childish fascination.</p> + +<p>"You are a orful naughty girl," he pouted reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"If you leave me now to take that impudent child home, I'll never speak +to you again," threatened Mignon, her black eyes snapping.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Very well. You may do as you please," was Mary's laconic response over +her shoulder. She had already started down the driveway with her +venturesome charge. The little boy had been momentarily awed into +silence at Mignon's menacing features.</p> + +<p>"She's a cross girl," he observed calmly, as he marched along beside +Mary, "but we don't care, do we?"</p> + +<p>"<em>No</em>, we <em>don't</em>," came emphatically from Mary's lips. And she meant +it.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /> +<br /> +<small>FACE TO FACE WITH HERSELF</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Although</span> Mary Raymond had deliberately snapped the chain that bound her +to Mignon La Salle, she now found herself confronted by a far more +difficult task. How was she to return little Charlie to Gray Gables +without meeting Constance Stevens or another member of her family? It +was not yet nine o'clock. It was, therefore, barely possible that +Charlie had not been missed. Perhaps Constance and her aunt were not at +home. It stood to reason that if they had been, Charlie would never have +succeeded in slipping away and following John Roland to his evening's +assignment.</p> + +<p>Once outside the La Salle's gate, Mary paused uncertainly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> Charlie +tugged impatiently at her hand. "Come on, Mary. Take Charlie home," he +demanded.</p> + +<p>Apparently unmindful of the child's presence, Mary stood still, staring +thoughtfully up and down the moonlit street. It was an unusually mild +night for that time of year, and the ground was bare of snow. March was +in a deceptive, springlike mood, smiling and sunny by day, with the +merest touch of snappiness by night. Nevertheless, it was scarcely an +occasion for a walk in thin kid slippers and silk stockings, and Mary +shivered slightly as she stood there trying to decide what was to be +done.</p> + +<p>"Listen to Mary, Charlie boy," she began suddenly, bending down and +looking seriously into the child's bright, black eyes. "Where were +Connie and Auntie when you ran away?"</p> + +<p>"<em>They</em> runned away from Charlie," was the prompt reply, given with an +aggrieved pout. "Charlie wanted to go, too, and Connie said 'no.' They +wented to the the'ter where the band plays all the time."</p> + +<p>"And where was nurse?"</p> + +<p>"She wented away, too, but Connie didn't know it. She thought Charlie +didn't know, either. But she told Bessie, and Charlie heard."</p> + +<p>"So, that is the reason," murmured Mary. Then she said to Charlie, "If +Mary takes you home will you promise her something?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded Charlie.</p> + +<p>"Then promise Mary that you won't tell anyone you ran away, or that Mary +brought you home."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to tell Connie that Charlie was a naughty boy?" came +the anxious question.</p> + +<p>"No, not unless someone sees Charlie when he goes home and asks about +it."</p> + +<p>"Then Charlie won't tell, either," was the calm response. The boy was +proving himself anything but a simpleton.</p> + +<p>"All right. Now we must hurry." Mary took firm hold of the tiny hand and +the two started for Gray Gables as fast as the boy's small feet would +permit of walking. It was not far from the La Salle's home to Gray +Gables. Mary was thankful for that. Not in the least oppressed with a +sense of his own shortcomings, Charlie kept up an animated conversation +during the short walk. He even proposed stopping in the middle of the +street to demonstrate for her special edification his prowess as a +fiddler. Mary vetoed this proposal, however. She was bent on reaching +Gray Gables as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>Just inside the grounds she halted and viewed the house with speculative +eyes. Lights gleamed from the hall, the living room, and from one +upstairs window. Then, with Charlie's hand still in hers, she walked +boldly up the driveway and mounted the steps. Within the shielding +shadow of the veranda she paused for a long moment and listened. Turning +to the child she laid her finger on her lips with a gesture of silence. +Charlie beamed understandingly. Mary's strange behavior was as +interesting to him as though it were a new game invented for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> his +pleasure. He entered completely into the spirit of it.</p> + +<p>"Now," whispered the girl, "Mary is going to ring the bell and run away. +Charlie must stand still and wait until someone opens the door. If no +one comes, Charlie must ring the bell again. And remember, he mustn't +tell who brought him home!"</p> + +<p>"Charlie won't tell," gravely assured the youngster.</p> + +<p>Mary pressed a firm finger on the bell and held it there for a second. +Then she darted down the steps, around a corner of the house and across +a wide stretch of frozen lawn. She remembered that she could climb the +low fence at the back of the grounds, cut across a field which lay below +them and emerge on a small street not far from the Deans' home. She did +not pause for breath until she reached the street she had in mind. +Flushed and panting from her wild flight it was several minutes before +she could compose herself sufficiently to go on toward home. Luckily for +her she met but two persons, a boy of perhaps fifteen and a laboring +man. Neither gave her more than the merest glance.</p> + +<p>But her last ordeal was yet to come. What would Marjorie and her mother +think when they saw her? They would immediately guess that something +unusual must have happened to bring her home from the party before it +had hardly more than begun. Her recent experience had left her in no +mood for explanations. She decided to try slipping quietly in at the +rear door of the house. There was, of course,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> a possibility that it +might be locked, but if it were not—so much the better for her.</p> + +<p>There was an instant of breathless suspense as she noiselessly turned +the knob. It yielded to her touch, and she stole into the kitchen and up +the back stairs like an unsubstantial shadow of the night, rather than a +very tired and sore-hearted girl. Once in her room she sat down on her +bed to think things over. She dared not move about for fear of being +heard by Marjorie or her mother. Long she sat, moodily reviewing the +year that had promised so much, yet had yielded her nothing but +dissension and sorrow. One bare, ugly fact confronted her, looming up +like a hideous monster whose dreadful claws had shredded her peace of +mind and now waved at her the tattered fragments. It had all been her +fault. For the first time she saw herself as she really was. A jealous, +suspicious, hateful girl. It was she, not Marjorie, who had been +unfaithful to friendship. But she had gone on blindly, unreasoningly, +preferring to think the worst, until now it was too late to bridge the +gap that she had daily widened between herself and her chum by her +absurd jealousy. She could never regain her lost ground. She felt that +Marjorie's patience with her had long since been exhausted. She dared +not, could not, plead for reinstatement. All that remained to be done +was to go through the rest of that dreadful year alone. When she and +Marjorie had finished their sophomore course she would go quietly away, +and they would, perhaps, never meet again.</p> + +<p>Alone with her bitter remorse, Mary wept until<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> she could cry no more. +As is usually the case with youth, she was sweeping in her +self-condemnation. But that bitter hour of self-revelation did more to +arouse within her the determination to conquer herself and establish the +foundation for a noble womanhood than she could possibly believe.</p> + +<p>At last she pulled herself together to play the final scene in her +evening's drama. Mrs. Dean had given her a latchkey, in order that she +might let herself into the house, should she return from the party after +the Deans had retired. At half-past ten o'clock she heard Marjorie and +her mother come up the stairs to their rooms. Mr. Dean was away from +home on a business trip. When all sounds of conversation between the two +women had ceased and the house had apparently settled down for the +night, Mary crept softly out of her room and down the stairs. Opening +the hall door with stealthy fingers, she stepped into the vestibule. She +listened intently for a sign from above that her soft-footed journey +down the stairs had been discovered. But none came. Turning deliberately +about, she retraced her steps, closing the hall door with sufficient +force to announce her arrival. Without attempt at stealth she walked +across the hall, up the stairs and into the pretty blue room that she +had lately left. The closing of her own door purposely sounded her home +coming.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Mary?" called Marjorie's voice from the next room.</p> + +<p>Mary trembled with positive relief at the signal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> success of her +manoeuver. Steadying her voice, she replied, "Yes, it is I."</p> + +<p>"Did you have a nice time?"</p> + +<p>Mary read merely polite inquiry in the tone. It lacked Marjorie's former +warmth and affection.</p> + +<p>"Not particularly." Impulsively she added, "I missed you, Marjorie. I'm +sorry you weren't there." Breathlessly she waited for a response.</p> + +<p>But Marjorie was only human. Resentment against Mignon, rather than +Mary, permeated her reply. "It's nice in you to say so, but I am very +glad I wasn't there. I should consider an invitation to Mignon La +Salle's party as anything but an honor." It was the first deliberately +cutting speech that Marjorie Dean had ever uttered. Realizing its +cruelty she called out contritely, "That was hateful in me, Mary. Please +forget what I said."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it doesn't matter. Good night." Mary managed to force the +indifferent answer. She felt that she deserved even this and more. She +was rapidly learning to her sorrow that, when one plants nettles, in +time they are sure to grow up and sting.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> +<br /> +<small>FOR THE FAME OF SANFORD HIGH</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Marjorie Dean went down to breakfast the following morning it was +with the feeling that her sharp answer to Mary's unexpected comments of +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> night before had been unworthy of her better self. Mary's reply, +"Oh, it doesn't matter," had somehow sounded wistful rather than +indifferent. To be sure, Mary had literally forced upon her the reserved +stand which she had at last taken. Yet underneath her proud attitude of +distant courtesy toward the girl who had once taken first place in her +friendship still lurked the faint hope of reconciliation. But she had +made her last advance on that memorable Christmas day when Mary had +shown her so plainly that she respected the flag of truce for the day +only and had returned to her former state of antagonism at the first +opportunity. In the beginning it had been hard to stifle her impulsive +nature, and appear courteous yet wholly unconcerned regarding her chum's +welfare, but in time she found it comparatively easy. Friendship was +dying hard, yet it <em>was</em> dying, nevertheless. This thought had startled +Marjorie a little as she recalled how easy it had been to be +disagreeable, where once it would have seemed absolutely impossible to +allow those cutting words to pass her lips. It came soberly to her that +morning as she walked into the dining room that, after all, she did not +wish that friendship to die. Something must be done to keep it alive +until Mary was quite herself again.</p> + +<p>The faint line of concern which appeared between her dark brows deepened +as this latest conviction took hold of her. As she pondered, the object +of her thoughts appeared in the doorway. Mary's face wore an air of +listlessness that quite corresponded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> with her subdued, "Good morning, +Marjorie. Good morning, Captain."</p> + +<p>"You look all tired out, my dear," remarked Mrs. Dean solicitously. +There was a curiously pathetic droop to Mary's mouth which gave her the +appearance of a very tired child who had played too hard and was ready +to be put to bed, rather than to begin the day's round of events. "Did +you dance too much?"</p> + +<p>"No." A peculiar little smile flickered across the girl's pale features. +She wondered what Mrs. Dean would say if she told her just how she had +spent her evening.</p> + +<p>Marjorie regarded Mary almost curiously. In some indefinable way she had +changed. Then it flashed across her that Mary's usual stubborn +expression had given place to one of distinct sadness. With a kindly +endeavor toward lightening her chum's heavy mood, she tried to draw her +out to talk of the party. She met with little success. As Mary, in +reality, knew nothing further of it than the fact that Mignon had worn a +gypsy costume and that the majority of the boys invited had not put in +an appearance, she was hardly prepared to describe the affair. She, +therefore, answered Marjorie's questions in brief monosyllables and +volunteered no information whatever.</p> + +<p>"I am going over to see Jerry Macy this morning. Would you like to go +with me?" asked Marjorie, after her attempt to discuss the party had +proved futile.</p> + +<p>"No; I thank you just the same. I have several<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> things to buy at the +stores, and then I am going for a walk. I would ask you to go with me, +only you are going to Jerry's."</p> + +<p>"I'd love to," a touch of Marjorie's old heartiness came to the surface, +"but I promised Jerry I'd surely go to see her to-day."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we can take a walk some other day," remarked Mary vaguely as +they rose from the table.</p> + +<p>"I will take you both for a ride this afternoon, if you are good," +volunteered Mrs. Dean. She had been observing the signs. She decided, +within herself, that matters were assuming a more hopeful turn. Yet she +had long since left the two girls to work out their problem in their own +way.</p> + +<p>"That will be splendid!" cried Marjorie.</p> + +<p>"I should like to go," acceded Mary almost shyly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean smiled to herself and saw light ahead. The barrier seemed +about to crumble.</p> + +<p>But as the days went by, both she and Marjorie grew puzzled over the +change in blue-eyed Mary. She had, indeed, lost her belligerent spirit +of animosity, but a profound melancholy had settled down upon her like a +pall. Gradually it became noised about in school that Mary Raymond and +Mignon La Salle were no longer on speaking terms. Why this was so, no +one knew. Mary was mute on the subject. For once, also, the French girl +had nothing to say. As it happened, she believed that no one of the +guests had witnessed the scene between herself and Mary, and to try to +relate it, even with emendations of her own, would hardly redound to her +credit. She was too shrewd not to know that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> the average person resents +an affront against childhood. Then, too, Constance Stevens was making +rapid strides toward popularity among the girls of Sanford High School +and her cowardly nature warned her to be silent. But her chief reason +for silence lay in the fact that Mary had curtly informed her on the +Monday morning following the party that she had seen Charlie safely +home, that so far as she could learn his family did not know who had +escorted him home, and that if she, Mignon, were wise she would say +nothing whatever of the occurrence. Without further words, Mary had +walked away, but that same afternoon she had removed her wraps to +another locker, a significant sign that she was done with the French +girl forever.</p> + +<p>When it came to Marjorie's ears that Mary and Mignon had quarreled, she +decided a trifle sadly that Mary's melancholy was due to the French +girl's defection. She was sure that, whatever the quarrel had been +about, Mignon was to blame. Until then she had never quite believed in +the sincerity of Mary's affection for this unscrupulous, headstrong +girl, and it hurt her to see Mary take the estrangement so to heart.</p> + +<p>She said as much to Constance Stevens as they walked home from school +together on the Monday following the Easter vacation. To Marjorie the +Easter holidays had been a continuous succession of good times. She had +attended half a dozen parties given by her various schoolmates, and +numerous luncheons and teas. To all these Mary had received invitations +also. She had politely declined them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> however, going on long, lonely +walks by day and moping in the living room or her own room by night.</p> + +<p>"Somehow," Marjorie confided to Constance, "I never believed Mary could +be so deceived in a person. But she must think a lot of Mignon, or she +wouldn't be so dreadfully sad all the time."</p> + +<p>"It's queer," mused Constance. "I don't think she knows to this day the +truth about last year."</p> + +<p>"I am sure she doesn't. Mary is really too honorable to stand by +a—a—person that you and I know isn't worthy of loyalty. That sounds +rather hard, especially from one of the reform party. But I can't help +it. I am quite ready to say and mean it, Mignon La Salle hasn't a better +self. She never had one!"</p> + +<p>"It hasn't been very pleasant for you this year, has it?" was +Constance's sympathizing question. "It's too bad. After all the nice +things we had planned. Sometimes I think it is better not to make plans. +They never turn out as one hopes they will."</p> + +<p>"I know it," rejoined Marjorie with a sigh. "Jerry Macy says that Mary +has something on her mind besides Mignon."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is sorry that she——" Constance hesitated.</p> + +<p>"That we aren't chums any more?" finished Marjorie. "I don't think so. +If she had been truly sorry she would have come to me and said so. I +thought so the day after Mignon's party. Then I heard that they had +quarreled, and I changed my opinion." There was a faint touch of +bitterness in Marjorie's speech. "Suppose we don't talk of it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> any more. +I wish to forget it, if I can. It doesn't do much good to mourn over +what can't and won't be changed. Did Jerry tell you that Laurie Armitage +has finished his operetta? Professor Harmon is going to have a try-out +of voices in the gymnasium next Saturday morning."</p> + +<p>"Laurie told me himself. He brought the score of the operetta to Gray +Gables last night and we tried it over on the piano. The music is +beautiful. It is so tuneful it lingers. I've been humming snatches of it +ever since he played it for me. The 'Rebellious Princess' has some +wonderful songs. That clever young man, Eric Darrow, composed the +libretto and thought out the plot. It's about a princess who grew tired +of staying at home in her father's castle and going to state dinners and +receptions, so she put on the dress of a peasant girl and ran away from +the castle to see the world. She took some gold with her, but it was +stolen from her the very first thing. No one paid any attention to her +because she was poor, and she had a dreadfully hard time. But she was so +stubborn she wouldn't go back to her father and say she was sorry, so +she wandered on until her clothes were ragged and her shoes were worn +out. Then an old woman took the poor princess to live with her and she +had to work terribly hard and wait on the woman's daughter, who loved +nothing but pretty clothes and to have a good time. No one was good to +her except the woman's adopted son, who was left on her doorstep when he +was a baby. At last the princess grew so tired of it all she went back +to her father, but to punish her he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> pretended he didn't know her. So +she had to go away again, but the woman's son had followed her and when +he saw her leave the castle, crying, he told her he loved her and asked +her to marry him. She said 'yes,' because he was the only person in the +world who cared for her. But her father hadn't really intended that she +should go away. He sent his courtiers after her to bring her back to the +castle. She wanted to go back, but she wouldn't go unless the young man +went with her. When he found out that she was really a great princess he +said he would never dare to ask her to marry him. But she said that true +love was better than all the wealth in the world, and she would not go +back unless he went with her, and so he said he would go. That is where +the operetta ends. They sing a duet, 'True Love Is Best,' and you have +to imagine what the king said. There isn't so much in the plot, but it +is very sweet, and the music is delightful," finished Constance.</p> + +<p>"I know I shall love to hear it!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I do hope you +will be chosen to sing the part of the princess."</p> + +<p>Constance flushed. "Laurie wishes me to have it," she said almost +humbly. "But there are sure to be others who can sing it better than I. +However, the try-out will settle that. At any rate, I may be chosen for +a court lady in the chorus. I hope you'll be in it, too."</p> + +<p>"I can't sing well enough," laughed Marjorie. "But I'll be there on +Saturday, and perhaps I'll be lucky enough to get into it somehow. Won't +it be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> fun to rehearse? Hal Macy ought to have a part. He has a splendid +tenor voice, and the Crane can sing bass. I can hardly wait until +Saturday comes. I am so anxious to see who will be chosen."</p> + +<p>Marjorie's pleasant anxiety was shared by the majority of the girls of +Sanford High School. The proposed operetta became the chief topic for +discussion as the unusually long week dragged interminably along toward +that fateful Saturday. Even the high and mighty seniors condescended to +become interested. Among their number, more than one ambitious seeker +after fame secretly imagined herself as carrying off the rôle of the +Rebellious Princess, and conducted assiduous practice of much neglected +scales in the hope of glory to come.</p> + +<p>As the star singer of her class, Constance Stevens' name was often +brought up for discussion among her classmates as the possibly +successful contestant in the try-out. Besides, was it not Lawrence +Armitage's opera? It was generally known that the dark-haired, +dreamy-eyed lad had a decided predeliction for Constance's society. +Rumor, therefore, decreed that if Laurie Armitage had the say, Constance +would have no trouble in carrying off the leading rôle.</p> + +<p>But the most determined aspirant for fame was none other than Mignon La +Salle. With her usual slyness, she kept her own counsel. Nevertheless, +she believed she stood a fair chance of winning the prize of which she +dreamed. For Mignon could sing. From childhood her father had spared no +expense in the matter of her musical education. An<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> ardent lover of +music he had decreed that Mignon should be initiated into the mysteries +of the piano when a tiny girl, and, although Mr. La Salle had allowed +her undisputed liberty to grow up as she pleased, on one point he was +firm. Mignon must not merely study music; she must each day practice the +required number of hours. In the beginning she had rebelled, but finding +her too indulgent parent adamant in this one particular, she had been +forced to bow her obstinate head to his decree. In consequence she +profited by the enforced practice hours to the extent of becoming a +really creditable performer on the piano for a girl of her years. At +fourteen she had begun vocal training. Possessed of a strong, clear, +soprano voice, three years under the direction of competent instructors +had done much for her, and, although she was far too selfish to use her +fine voice merely to give pleasure to others, she never allowed an +opportunity to pass wherein she might win public approval by her +singing.</p> + +<p>The mere fact that "The Rebellious Princess" was Lawrence Armitage's own +composition served to spur her on to conquest. Given the leading rôle, +she believed that she might awaken in the young man a distinct +appreciation of herself which hitherto he had never demonstrated toward +her. Once she had brought him to a tardy realization of her superiority +over Constance Stevens, by outsinging the latter, along with all the +other contestants, she was certain that admiration for herself as a +singer would blot out any unpleasant impression he might earlier have +conceived of her. She had heard that "the Stevens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> girl" could sing. It +was to be doubted, however, if her voice amounted to much. Another point +in her favor lay in the fact that Professor Harmon was a close friend of +her father. He would surely give her the preference.</p> + +<p>But while she dreamed of triumphantly holding the center of the stage +before a spellbound audience, her rival to be, Constance Stevens, was +seriously debating within herself regarding the wisdom of even entering +the contest. Of a distinctly retiring nature, Constance was not eager to +enter the lists. On the Friday afternoon before the try-out she was +still undecided, and when the afternoon session of school was over, and +she and the five girls with whom she spent most of her leisure hours +were walking down the street, headed for Sargent's and its never-failing +supply of sweets, she was curiously silent amid the gay chatter of her +friends.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you girls know that our dear Mignon has designs on the +Princess," announced Jerry Macy, with the elaborate carelessness of one +who gives forth important news as the commonest every-day matter.</p> + +<p>"Mignon!" exclaimed Marjorie Dean in amazement. "I never even knew she +could sing."</p> + +<p>"She thinks she can," shrugged Muriel Harding. "Goodness knows she ought +to. She has studied for ages. I'm surprised to hear that she is going to +enter the try-out, considering it's Laurie's operetta. You know just how +much he likes her. She knows, too."</p> + +<p>"Who told you, Jerry?" quizzed Susan Atwell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> "The way you gather news +is positively marvelous. Was it big brother Hal?"</p> + +<p>"No, he doesn't know it. If I told him, he'd tell Laurie and Laurie +would promptly have a spasm. One of the girls in the senior class +mentioned it to me."</p> + +<p>"Mignon really sings well," put in Irma. "Don't you remember the time +she sang at Muriel's party, two years ago? She has been studying ever +since. She must have improved a good deal since then."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've heard her sing more than once," said Jerry Macy, "but I don't +like her voice. It's—well, it isn't sweet and sympathetic."</p> + +<p>"Neither is she," put in Susan with her customary giggle.</p> + +<p>"Wait until Connie sings at the try-out. Then someone can gently lead +Mignon to a back seat," predicted Jerry. "It would give me a good deal +of pleasure to be that 'someone.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall enter the try-out," remarked Constance, flushing.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" was the questioning chorus.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know, only I just don't care to. If I do, someone might say +that I went into it because——" She hesitated, and the flush on her +cheeks deepened.</p> + +<p>"Because you expected Laurie to choose you, you mean," finished Jerry.</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is what I meant," admitted Constance. "Of course, I know +there are other girls who are better singers than I, and that I couldn't +possibly be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> chosen. Still, I'd rather not go into it at all, unless I +could just be in the chorus."</p> + +<p>"You are a goose; a nice, dear goose, but a goose, just the same," was +Jerry's plain sentiment.</p> + +<p>"Connie Stevens, if you don't try for that part, I'll never speak to you +again," threatened Muriel.</p> + +<p>"I'll disown you," added Susan in mock menace.</p> + +<p>"Connie," Marjorie's voice vibrated with sudden energy, "I think you +<em>ought</em> to try for the Princess. I am almost sure no other girl in +Sanford High can sing so beautifully. Then there is Laurie. He has +always been nice to you. It would hurt his feelings dreadfully if you +didn't try for a part in his operetta. Besides, I know it sounds +hateful, but I can't help saying that I'd be glad to see you take the +Princess away from Mignon. That is, if she really stands a good chance +of winning it. I suppose that is what Miss Archer would call 'an ignoble +sentiment,' but I mean it, just the same." Marjorie glanced half +defiantly around the bright-eyed circle. They were now in Sargent's, +seated about their favorite table.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah for you, Marjorie!" cried Jerry, flourishing her hand as though +it were a pennant of triumph. "That's what I say, too. You are really a +human, everyday person, after all. I used to think you were almost too +forgiving toward certain persons, but now I can see that you aren't such +a model forgiver, after all."</p> + +<p>"That is rather a doubtful compliment, isn't it?" laughed Marjorie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Frankness is the soul of virtue," jeered Muriel.</p> + +<p>"Oh, now, you know what I mean," protested Jerry, looking somewhat +sheepish. "You girls do like to tease me. All right, I'll do the +forgiving act and order the refreshments. I'll pay for them, too. I've a +whole dollar. I am supposed to buy some stationery with it, but I'll +just let my correspondence languish and treat instead. Name your eat and +you can have it. Fifteen cents apiece is your limit. I need the other +ten to buy stamps."</p> + +<p>"What is the use in buying stamps if you don't intend to correspond?" +put in Irma mischievously.</p> + +<p>"I might need them some day," was Jerry's calm retort. "Besides, if I +don't spend the ten cents I may lose it. Now the bureau of information +is closed. Order your fifteen cents' worth!"</p> + +<p>After changing their minds several times in rapid succession to the +infinite disgust of the waitress, the sextette finally made unanimous +decision for a new concoction in the way of a fruit lemonade, known as +Sargent Nectar.</p> + +<p>"Now," announced Jerry, as the long-suffering waitress deposited the +tall glasses on the table and retired to the back of the room to grumble +uncomplimentary comments to a fellow-worker on the ways of high school +girls who didn't know their own minds, "let us all drink a toast to Miss +Connie Stevens, the celebrated star of 'The Rebellious Princess.' But +remember, we can't drink it until the star says she will shine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<div class="block"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"'Twinkle, twinkle, little star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we see you from afar?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the Sanford stage so shy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the fame of Sanford High.'<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi"><a name="who" id="who"></a><ins title="original omitted open quotation marks">"Who</ins> +says I'm not a poet?"</p> + +<p>"Connie, you can't resist that poetic appeal," giggled Susan.</p> + +<p>Constance's blue eyes shone misty affection upon the circle of fresh, +young faces, alight with the honest desire for her success. Her voice +trembled a little as she said: "I'll take it all back, girls. Now that I +know just how you feel about the try-out, <em>I'd</em> be an ungrateful girl to +say I wouldn't do my best. I'll sing to-morrow, but if I'm not chosen, +please don't be <a name="disappointed" id="disappointed"></a><ins title="original had disapponted"> +disappointed</ins>."</p> + +<p>"To Connie, our Princess! Long may she warble!" Jerry raised her glass +of lemonade. "Drink her down!"</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE MOMENT OF TRIUMPH</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was a buzzing and excited assemblage of young men and women that +gathered in the gymnasium of Weston High School on Saturday morning for +the much-discussed try-out. As it had been strictly enjoined upon the +students of both high schools that unless they desired to take part in +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> coming operetta their presence was not requested, nor would it be +permitted, on the momentous occasion, the great room was only +comfortably filled. Weston High School was represented by not more than +twenty-five or thirty ambitious aspirants for fame, but at least a +hundred girls from Sanford High cherished hopes of gaining admission to +the magic cast. After much discussion, Marjorie and her four friends had +decided to make a bold attempt at chorus celebrity, purely for the sake +of seeing what happened. Constance had earnestly urged them to do so, +declaring that she could not sing unless they were present to encourage +her.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if all this crowd expects to be chosen," was Jerry Macy's +blunt comment, as the sextette of girls stood grouped at one side of the +room, waiting for the affair to begin. "I hope I'm not asked to sing +alone. Not so much for my own sake. I hate to make other people feel +sad. I practised 'America' and 'Marching through Georgia' last night, +just to see what I could do. One of our maids came rushing into the +living room because she said she wondered who was making all that noise. +Then Hal poked his head in the door and asked if I was hurt. So I quit. +It was time."</p> + +<p>Jerry's painful experience as a soloist provoked a burst of laughter +from her friends. It had hardly died away when Professor Harmon, a +stout, little man, with a shock of bushy hair and an expression of being +always on the alert, bustled in. With him came Lawrence Armitage and a +tall, dark-haired young man, a stranger to those present. The professor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +trotted to the piano, opened it, held a hurried conference with his +companions, then, stepping forward, ran a searching eye over the +assembled boys and girls. The more ambitious contestants of both sexes +carried music rolls containing the selections they intended to offer, +but the majority of that carefree congregation aspired to nothing higher +than the chorus, looking upon the whole affair as a grand lark.</p> + +<p>Professor Harmon proceeded to make a short speech, briefly outlining the +plot of the opera and stating the nature of the try-out. "We shall ask +those who wish to try for principals to step to that side of the room," +he said, indicating the left. "I wish to hear them sing, first. +Afterward, I shall select the chorus, and hear them sing together."</p> + +<p>"That <a name="lets" id="lets"></a><ins title="original had let's">lets</ins> me out," was Jerry's relieved, inelegant comment to +Susan Atwell, as she moved to the right. Susan stifled an irrepressible +chuckle and sobered her face for what was to come.</p> + +<p>Over among the groups of possible principals Constance became obsessed +with sudden shyness. The majority of the girls were of the upper +classes, and she felt lonely and ill at ease. She noted that she and +Mignon La Salle were the only representatives of the sophomore class. +Mignon, looking radiant self-possession in a smart old-rose suit and hat +to match, carried herself with the air of one whose success was already +assured. Her black eyes were snapping with excitement as they darted +from the professor to the two young men standing beside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> the piano. She +fingered her gray morocco music roll nervously, her thin fingers never +still.</p> + +<p>Stepping over to the piano the professor seated himself. "That young +lady on the right, please come to the piano." The girl indicated, a +dignified senior, obeyed the summons, coolly handed the professor her +music, stationed herself at his side and awaited trial with the air of a +Spartan. After a short prelude she began to sing a popular air that was +at that time going the round of Sanford. She sang one verse, then the +professor dropped his hands from the keys, inquired her name, made a +memorandum on a pad, and, dismissing her, signaled another girl to take +her place.</p> + +<p>The try-out proceeded with a business-like snap that bade fair to end it +with speedy commission. So far nothing startling in the way of voices +had been discovered. Constance listened to the various girl soloists and +wondered if she could do as well as they. Mignon leaned far forward with +breathless interest. She was firmly convinced that her singing would +create a sensation. When at last her turn came, she walked boldly +forward. Professor Harmon smiled approval and encouragement. He desired +particularly to see her carry off the honor of the leading rôle. She +darted a lightning glance at Lawrence Armitage as she approached the +piano, but in his impassive features she could read neither approval nor +indifference.</p> + +<p>She had chosen a French song, full of difficult runs and trills, and it +may be set down here to her credit that she sang it well. As her clear, +but somewhat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> unsympathetic voice rang out, a faint murmur of +approbation swept the listeners. Her long training now stood her in good +stead. Professor Harmon allowed her to go on with her song, instead of +halting her in the middle of it, as he had in the case of the previous +aspirants. When she had finished singing, she was greeted with a round +of genuine applause, the first accorded to a singer since the beginning +of the try-out. The brilliancy of her performance could not be denied, +even by those who had reason to dislike her.</p> + +<p>"Excellent, Miss La Salle," was Professor Harmon's tribute, as he handed +her her music. Flushing with pride of achievement, the French girl +returned to her place among the others, tingling with the sweetness of +her success.</p> + +<p>There now remained not more than half a dozen untried soloists. +Constance Stevens was among that number. By this time Marjorie was +becoming a trifle anxious. There was just a chance that Connie might be +overlooked. Naturally retiring, she would be quite likely to make no +sign, were Professor Harmon to pass her by, under the impression that +she had already sung. But Marjorie's fears were needless. Constance had +a staunch friend at court. During the try-out Lawrence Armitage's blue +eyes had been frequently directed toward the quiet, fair-haired girl of +his choice. Locked in his boyish heart was a secret knowledge that he +had composed the operetta chiefly because he had wished Constance to +have the opportunity of singing the part of the Princess. He had +consented to the try-out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> merely to please Professor Harmon. He was +convinced that no other girl could compare with Constance in the matter +of voice. He was glad that she was to sing last, and a smile of proud +expectation played about his mouth as Professor Harmon abruptly cut off +an enterprising senior, the last contestant before Constance, in the +midst of a high note.</p> + +<p>The smile quickly faded to an expression of dismay as he saw the +professor rise from the piano, his eyes on his memorandum pad. At the +same instant a faint ripple of consternation was heard from a group of +girls of which Marjorie formed the center. The latter took a hurried +step forward. Marjorie was determined that Connie must not be cheated of +her chance. She had caught a glimpse of Mignon, her black eyes blazing +with insolent triumph and positive joy at the possibility of this +unexpected elimination of the girl she hated.</p> + +<p>But Marjorie's intended protest in behalf of her friend was never +uttered. Laurie Armitage had come to the rescue. She saw him halt +Professor Harmon, as he was about to address the company. She saw the +little man's eyebrows elevate themselves in a glance toward Constance, +following Laurie's low, energetic communication. Then she felt herself +trembling with relief as Professor Harmon announced apologetically, "I +understand that I almost made the mistake of overlooking one of +Sanford's promising young singers. Will Miss Stevens please come +forward?"</p> + +<p>Pink with the embarrassment of the professor's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> words, Constance made no +move to comply with the request. Good-natured Ellen Seymour, who was one +of the contestants, pushed her gently forward. Ellen's light touch awoke +Constance to motion. She walked mechanically toward the piano, as though +propelled against her will by an unseen force. The humiliation of being +even accidentally passed by looked forth from her sensitive features. +Quick to note it, Lawrence Armitage advanced toward her, took her +tightly rolled music from her hand, and, conducting her to the piano, +introduced her to Professor Harmon, apparently unmindful of the many +pairs of eyes intently watching the little scene.</p> + +<p>"Now we are ready." The professor nodded to Constance, who stood with +her small hands loosely clasped, her grave eyes fastened upon him. He +half smiled, as his experienced fingers began the first soft notes of +Mendelssohn's Spring Song. Long ago her foster father had written a set +of exquisitely tender words that had exactly seemed to fit those +unforgettable strains, so familiar to every true lover of music. +Constance had sung them so many times that she knew them by heart. Now +she fixed her eyes on the east wall of the gymnasium, and, leaving the +world behind her, rendered the beautiful selection as though she were in +her own home, with only her dear ones to listen to the flood of +ravishing melody that issued from her white throat.</p> + +<p>Marjorie Dean felt a swift rush of tears flood her brown eyes as she +listened to her friend. She recalled the time when she had halted at the +door of the little gray house, in wonder at that glorious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> voice. +Conquering her emotion, she began to take stock of the effect of the +song upon those assembled. She saw the proud flash of gladness that +leaped to Laurie's fine face. His faith in Connie's powers was being +amply fulfilled. She read the profound surprise and admiration of +Professor Harmon, as he accompanied the singing girl. She glimpsed +enthusiastic admiration in the countenances of the spell-bound students, +many of whom had never before heard Constance sing. Then her gaze +centered upon Mignon. Anger, surprise and chagrin swept the elfish face +of the French girl. She read vocalization more flawless than her own, as +well as greater sweetness and an intense sympathy, which she lacked, in +the full, sweet, rounded tones that issued from her rival's lips. This +was the voice of a great artist.</p> + +<p>Professor Harmon turned from the piano as the last golden note died away +and held out his hand. "Allow me to congratulate you, Miss Stevens. +You——" His voice was drowned in tumult of noisy and fervent +approbation on the part of the delighted audience. Boys and girls forgot +the dignity of the occasion, and the next instant the surprised +Constance found herself surrounded by as admiring a throng as ever did +honor to a triumphant basket-ball or football star. If signs were true +presagers of victory, if the united acclamation of the majority counted, +then Constance Stevens had, indeed, come into her own.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /> +<br /> +<small>AN UNHAPPY PRINCESS</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> took Professor Harmon several minutes to reduce the noisy enthusiasts +to the decorous state of order in which they had entered the gymnasium. +Far from being elated over her triumph, Constance Stevens received the +ovation with the shyness of a child brought before an audience against +its will to speak its first piece. She heaved an audible sigh of relief +when at last she was left to herself and retired behind Marjorie and her +friends with a flushed, embarrassed face.</p> + +<p>The boys' try-out was shortened considerably by the fact that there were +fewer singers to be heard. When it was over it was announced that Hal +Macy had carried off the rôle of the poor, neglected son, which was in +reality the male lead. The Crane was selected for the king, while +freckle-faced Daniel Seabrooke was chosen for the jester, greatly to his +delight and surprise. There was an emphatic round of applause when +Professor Harmon announced that Constance Stevens had been selected to +sing the Princess. Ellen Seymour captured the rôle of the queen, and to +Mignon La Salle was <a name="allotted" id="allotted"></a><ins title="original had alloted">allotted</ins> the part of the disagreeable +step-sister. It was second in importance to that of the Princess, but +the French girl's face was a study as she received the announcement. She +tried to smile, but the baffled anger and keen disappointment which was +hers blazed forth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> from her elfish eyes. The minor parts were soon given +out, and then came the trial of the chorus.</p> + +<p>The hope of Marjorie and her four friends that they might be chosen was +fulfilled. A number of the girls who had sung solos were also selected, +and, with one or two disgruntled exceptions, resigned themselves to the +lesser glory, gratefully accepting what was offered them. It was +evident, however, that pretty faces had much to do with the Professor's +choice of the chorus, and when he had gathered the elect together and +heard them sing "The Star Spangled Banner" as a test, he expressed +himself as satisfied, and appointed a rehearsal for the following +Tuesday afternoon at four o'clock.</p> + +<p>With the exception of Constance, it was a most jubilant sextette that +set out for Sargent's, at Marjorie's invitation, after the try-out was +over. She was still somewhat dazed over her success. Although she smiled +as the five girls paid her affectionate tribute, she had little to say.</p> + +<p>"Girls, did you see Mignon's face when Connie was singing?" began Muriel +Harding, as soon as they were out of earshot of any possible +participants in the try-out.</p> + +<p>"Did we see it? Well, I guess so." Jerry made prompt answer. "At least, +I did. While Connie was singing I was dividing my seeing power between +her and the fair but frowning Mignon. Maybe she wasn't mad! She tried to +pretend she wasn't listening, but she never missed a note. She had sense +enough to know good singing when she heard it."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was watching her, too," nodded Muriel Harding. "Her eyes positively +glittered when Professor Harmon almost missed hearing Connie sing. I +knew she was hoping he would. Then Laurie Armitage came to the rescue."</p> + +<p>"I was going to say something," was Marjorie's quiet comment. "I had +made up my mind that Connie shouldn't be overlooked. I was so glad when +Laurie spoke to the professor."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were," declared Jerry. "I was going to say something, if +no one else did."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe any one of us could have stood there and seen Connie +miss her turn without making a fuss," said gentle Irma Linton. "I am so +glad it all came out nicely. Laurie Armitage is a splendid boy."</p> + +<p>"So is the Crane," put in Jerry slyly.</p> + +<p>"Of course he is," agreed Irma, placidly ignoring Jerry's attempt to +tease. "So is your brother Hal. There are lots of nice boys in Weston +High."</p> + +<p>Jerry merely grinned cheerfully at this retort and returned to the +subject of the coming opera. "Is Laurie going to help you with your +songs?" she asked, addressing Constance.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Constance simply. "He said he would. I can't quite +believe yet that I am to sing the Princess. I may be able to manage the +songs, but I can't act. I imagine Mignon would make a better actress +than I."</p> + +<p>"She ought to," jeered Muriel Harding, who could never resist a thrust +at the French girl. "She never does anything else. I don't believe she'd +know her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> real self if she came face to face with it in broad daylight."</p> + +<p>"Oh, forget Mignon. Who was that tall, dark man with Laurie and +Professor Harmon?" interposed Susan Atwell. "You ought to know, Connie. +I saw Laurie introduce you to him."</p> + +<p>"His name is Atwell," answered Constance. "He is an actor, I believe. I +don't know why he happened to be at the try-out to-day. Perhaps +Professor Harmon invited him."</p> + +<p>"I'll find out all about him and tell you," volunteered Jerry. "Hal may +know. If he doesn't, some one else will."</p> + +<p>"For further information, ask brother Hal," giggled Susan.</p> + +<p>It was not until Marjorie and Constance had said good-bye to the others +and were strolling home in the spring sunshine that the latter asked, +"Where was Mary to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." Marjorie spoke soberly. "She left the house before I did +this morning. She said last night that she wasn't interested in the +try-out. I thought perhaps she might like to be in the chorus, but she +doesn't appear to care about it. She has a sweet, soprano voice and can +sing well."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," was Constance's brief answer.</p> + +<p>"So am I." Marjorie did not continue the painful subject. They had +talked it over so many times, there was nothing left to be said. "I am +glad you were chosen for the Princess," she said after a little silence, +during which the two girls were busy with their own thoughts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am going to try to sing well, if only to please you and Laurie," was +Constance's earnest avowal.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad Mignon didn't get the part. It won't be very pleasant for you +to have to sing with her. I wouldn't say this to anyone else, but if I +were you I would keep a watchful eye on her, Connie."</p> + +<p>"If she tries to be disagreeable, I shall simply pay no attention to +her."</p> + +<p>"That will be best," nodded Marjorie. Nevertheless, she reflected that +as a member of the chorus she would have opportunity to observe the +French girl and mentally decided to keep an eye on her.</p> + +<p>"Has Mary come in, Delia?" was Marjorie's quick question, as the maid +answered her ring.</p> + +<p>"Here I am," called Mary from the living room. She had heard Marjorie's +question. Now she appeared in the doorway of the living room, viewing +her former chum with sombre gravity. "Who is going to sing the +Princess?" she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Connie was chosen. She sang beautifully."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad Mignon didn't get the part," muttered Mary. Wheeling about, +she walked into the living room, and, taking up a book she had turned +face downward on the table, became, to all appearances, absorbed in its +pages.</p> + +<p>For a moment Marjorie stood watching her through the half-drawn +portieres. She would have liked to continue the conversation, but pride +forbade her to do so. Mary's mood presaged rebuff. Later, at luncheon, +she unbent sufficiently to question Marjorie further regarding the +try-out. Although she did not say so, she was sorry that Mignon had +been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> given a principal's part in the operetta. Privately, she wished +she had made an attempt to get into the chorus. She, too, was of the +opinion that the French girl would bear watching. Failure to carry off +the highest honors would act as a spur to Mignon's unscrupulous nature, +and sooner or later some one would pay for her defeat.</p> + +<p>Mary was quite correct in her conjecture that Mignon would not allow +matters to rest as they were. From the moment that Constance had been +announced as the Princess she had made a vow that by either fair or +unfair means she would supplant "that white-faced cat of a Stevens +girl," who had been awarded the honor that should have been hers. The +first step consisted in holding a private session with Professor Harmon +after the others had gone, to ascertain if by any chance he might be +relied upon to help her. She found him engaged in conversation with the +dark young man. He eyed her with interest, bowed affably when presented +to her by the professor, and expressed somewhat profuse pleasure at +meeting her. In the presence of a stranger, Mignon dared not ask +Professor Harmon openly to reconsider his recent decision in her favor. +Three minutes' conversation with him showed her that, had she made the +request, it would have availed her nothing. The brisk little man's mind +was made up. He congratulated her on capturing second honors with a +finality that could not be assailed. Then a brilliant idea entered her +wily brain.</p> + +<p>"Professor Harmon," she began, with a pretty show of girlish confusion, +quite foreign to her usual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> bold method of reaching out for whatever she +coveted, "I would like to ask you if I might understudy the Princess. Of +course, I know that I can't sing as Miss Stevens sings, and I wouldn't +for the world wish anything to happen to prevent her from singing on the +great night, but I am so fond of music that it would be a pleasure to +understudy the rôle. I shouldn't like anyone to know that I was doing +so, though. It is just a fancy on my part."</p> + +<p>"Certainly you may, Miss La Salle," was the professor's hearty response. +"Your idea is excellent. It is a mistake, even in an amateur production, +not to provide an understudy for an important rôle, such as Miss Stevens +will sing. I must provide an understudy for Mr. Macy, and others of the +cast, also. But you are too modest in your request that no one else must +know. I am sure Mr. Armitage will be pleased with your suggestion."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't tell him!" exclaimed Mignon. A shade of alarm crossed +her dark face, which was not lost on the professor's companion, Ronald +Atwell. A mere acquaintance of Professor Harmon's, he had lately arrived +in Sanford, at the close of a season as leading man in a popular musical +comedy, to visit a cousin. Brought up in that hard school of experience, +the stage, he was an adept at reading signs, and he was by no means +deceived as to the true character of the girl who stood before him. Far +from being displeased with his deductions, he became mildly interested +in her and mentally characterized her as being worth cultivating. He had +watched her during the try-out, and he had glimpsed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> her true self in +the varying expressions that animated her dark face. He had attended the +try-out on the polite invitation of Professor Harmon, and at the +latter's earnest solicitation had agreed to take charge of the stage +direction of the operetta. The professor had congratulated himself on +obtaining such valuable assistance, while the actor looked upon the +affair as a pastime which would serve to lighten his stay with his +rather dull cousin. He had come to Sanford for a period of relaxation +before going to New York to begin rehearsals with a summer show, and the +prospect of directing the operetta promised to be amusing.</p> + +<p>"Very well, I will say nothing," promised the professor amiably. He had +come to the try-out, hoping to see the daughter of his friend capture +the rôle of the Princess, but the enthusiasm of the artist had driven +that hope from his mind when he had heard Constance sing. Now he dwelt +only on the success of the operetta, and was distinctly relieved to find +that Mignon was in an amiable frame of mind over the unexpected change +in his plans. Knowing her tempestuous disposition, he decided that it +would be policy to humor her whim.</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much," beamed Mignon. "I must go now. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"I find I must leave you, also," said Ronald Atwell, glancing at his +watch, "or I shall be late for luncheon."</p> + +<p>Mignon had already walked toward the east door of the gymnasium. With a +hurried "Good-bye, Professor. I will be here for rehearsal on Tuesday,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +the dark, young man strode after Mignon and overtook her in the +corridor.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if our ways lie in the same direction," he said pleasantly. "I +am the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Horton. Mr. Horton is a cousin of mine."</p> + +<p>"I pass their house on my way home," was the prompt reply.</p> + +<p>Elated at receiving the marked attention of this distinguished stranger, +Mignon exerted herself to the utmost to be agreeable during their walk. +From the few words she had heard pass between the professor and Mr. +Atwell as she approached them, she had gathered the information that the +latter was to manage the stage and coach the actors in the operetta. She +determined that, if it were possible, she would enlist his services in +her behalf. She had counted on Professor Harmon, and he had failed her. +In this good-looking, affable young man she foresaw a valuable ally. The +presentation of "The Rebellious Princess" was still four weeks distant. +A great many things might happen in that time.</p> + +<p>Her companion's suave comment, "I think Professor Harmon made a mistake +in assigning the Princess to the young woman who sang last," uttered +with just the exact shade of regret, caused Mignon to thrill with new +hope. Mr. Atwell, at least, was of the same mind as herself. She +brightened visibly when he went on to say that as stage manager he would +try to give her every advantage that lay in his power. "I am certain +that you have within you the possibilities which go to make a great +actress, Miss La Salle," was his parting remark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> to her, and these +flattering words, which were, in reality, merely idle on the part of the +actor, she accepted as gospel truth. It was always very easy for her to +accept that which she wished to believe, for self-analysis was not one +of her strong points.</p> + +<p>When the cast and chorus for the operetta met in the gymnasium the +following Tuesday afternoon, it did not take the lynx-eyed feminine +contingent long to discover that Mignon La Salle had a friend at court. +Laurie Armitage, also, soon became aware of the fact. He was secretly +displeased that Mignon had been chosen to sing in his operetta, and +almost on first acquaintance he had formed a dislike for Ronald Atwell. +Behind his polished manners he read insincerity, and he was sorry that +Professor Harmon had asked this newcomer to assist in managing the +production. But, manlike, he kept his prejudice to himself, admitting +reluctantly that Atwell seemed to know what he was about.</p> + +<p>In the frequent rehearsals that followed, however, many irritating +incidents occurred to try his boyish soul. Most of all he disapproved of +the actor manager's brusque manner toward Constance Stevens. He found +fault continually with her in the matter of the speaking of her lines, +and developed a habit of rehearsing her over and over again in a single +scene until she was ready to cry of sheer humiliation at her own failure +to please him. More than once Laurie made private protest to Professor +Harmon, but the latter invariably reminded him that despite Miss +Stevens' beautiful voice, she was far from grasping the principles of +acting, and that Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> Atwell was a striking example of a conscientious +director.</p> + +<p>Lawrence Armitage was not the only one whose resentment against the too +conscientious stage manager had been aroused. His unfair attitude toward +Constance was the subject of many indignant discussions on the part of +the girls who comprised her coterie of intimate friends.</p> + +<p>"It's a shame," burst forth Jerry Macy in an undertone to Marjorie, as +they stood together at one side of the gymnasium and watched the +impatient manner in which the actor ordered their idol about. "I +wouldn't stand it, if I were Connie. I guess you know who is to blame +for it, don't you?"</p> + +<p>Marjorie nodded. A faint touch of scorn curved her red lips. Mignon's +growing friendship with Ronald Atwell was the talk of the cast. He +frequently accompanied her home from school, invited her to Sargent's, +and it was rumored that he was often a guest at dinner or luncheon at +her home. Proud of the fact that his daughter was to sing an important +rôle in "young Armitage's opera," Mr. La Salle had treated his +daughter's new acquaintance with considerable deference and allowed +Mignon to do as she pleased in the matter of entertaining him.</p> + +<p>"Laurie told Hal that he was sorry Professor Harmon had asked that old +crank to help. Laurie didn't say 'old crank,' but I say it, and I mean +it," continued Jerry vindictively. "Don't breathe it to anyone, though. +It was a brotherly confidence and Hal would rave if he knew I repeated +it."</p> + +<p>"Jerry," whispered Marjorie. Her brief scorn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> had faded into a faint +frown of anxiety. "I don't think Mr. Atwell is really the best sort of +person for Mignon to go around with. He is ever so much older than she +and, somehow, he doesn't seem sincere. Someone told Muriel that he told +Mignon she would make a wonderful actress. Mignon was boasting of it. +Suppose she were to get an idea of going on the stage. She is so +headstrong she might run away from home and do that very thing if she +happened to feel like it. I don't like her, but I can't help being just +a little bit sorry for her. You know, she hasn't any mother to help her +and love her and advise her. Her father is so busy making money, he +doesn't pay much attention to her. Fathers are splendid, but mothers are +simply splendiferous. I don't know what I'd do without my Captain." +Marjorie sighed in sweet sympathy for all the motherless girls in the +universe.</p> + +<p>"Mothers are a grand institution," agreed Jerry, looking a trifle +solemn. "I think mine is just about right. I never thought of Mignon in +that way before. Now, I suppose I'll have to be sorry for her, too. She +doesn't look as though she needed much sympathy just now. She's so +pleased with the way Connie is being ordered about that she can't see +straight. There, he's through with the poor child at last. Come on. It's +time for the chorus to perform. Try to imagine that this good old gym is +the king's palace and that our mutual friend the Crane is a kingly king. +He looks more like a clothes-pole!"</p> + +<p>Marjorie was forced to laugh at Jerry's uncomplimentary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> comparison. +They had no further opportunity for conversation in the busy hour that +followed. Professor Harmon drilled them rigidly, his short hair +positively standing erect with energy, and they were quite ready to +gather their little band together and hurry off to Sargent's for rest +and ice cream when the rehearsal was at last over.</p> + +<p>"See here, Connie, why don't you tell that Atwell man to mind his own +business," sputtered Jerry as the six girls walked down the street in +the direction of their favorite haunt.</p> + +<p>"He <em>is</em> minding his business," returned Constance ruefully. Her small +face was very pale and her blue eyes were strained and unhappy. "It is +my fault. But he makes me nervous, and then I can't act. When I am at +home I can say my lines just as I ought, but the minute he begins to +tell me what to do, everything goes wrong. Then he finds fault and +almost makes me cry. I wish I hadn't tried for a part. If it weren't so +late I'd resign from the cast."</p> + +<p>"And let Mignon sing the Princess!" came from Muriel in deep disgust.</p> + +<p>"Don't you do it," advised Susan. "That's precisely what she'd like you +to do."</p> + +<p>"It's a plot between Mignon and Mr. Snapwell—I mean Atwell," declared +Jerry. "She's crazy to be the Princess and he is trying to help her +along. A blind man could see that."</p> + +<p>"I think so, too," said Irma Linton slowly. "You must try not to mind +him, Connie, then you won't be nervous."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ask Laurie to interfere?" proposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> Jerry. "He looked +crosser than I look when I'm mad when that Atwell man was worrying you +about your lines this afternoon. I'll ask him myself, if you say so."</p> + +<p>"No." Constance shook her head. "I wouldn't for the world complain to +Laurie. He has enough to think of now, without bothering his head over +my troubles. I suppose I am too easily hurt. I must learn not to mind +such things, if ever I expect to become a real artist."</p> + +<p>"That's the way you ought to feel, Connie," put in Marjorie's soft +voice. She had been thinking seriously, while the others talked, as to +what she might say to cheer up her disconsolate schoolmate. "You were +chosen to sing the part of the Princess, and I am sure no one else can +sing it half so well. Try to think that, all the time you are +rehearsing. Remember, Laurie believes in you, and so do we. When the +great night comes you won't have to listen to that horrid Mr. Atwell's +nagging, or say your lines over and over again. You will truly be the +Princess, and that will make you forget everything else. If you believe +in yourself, nothing can make you fail. For your own sake, don't think +for a minute of giving up the part."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> +<br /> +<small>MAKING RESTITUTION</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Greatly</span> to Mr. Ronald Atwell's chagrin, Constance Stevens began suddenly +to show a marked improvement in her work that did not in the least +coincide with his plans. Influenced by Mignon's tale of her wrongs, laid +principally at Constance's door, albeit Marjorie, too, came in for her +share of blame, he had taken a dislike to the gentle girl and lost no +opportunity to humiliate her. Privately, he regarded the entire cast, +Mignon included, as a set of silly children, and his only regard for +Mignon lay in a wholesome respect for her father's money. At heart he +was not a scoundrel, he was merely vain and selfish, and imbued with a +profound sense of his own importance. It had pleased his fancy to assume +the charge of the staging of the operetta, but now he was growing rather +tired of it and wished that it were over.</p> + +<p>Long before this he and Mignon had come to a definite understanding +regarding the operetta. Mignon had informed him boldly that she wished +to sing the part of the Princess, and he had assured her that he would +arrange matters to her satisfaction. It, therefore, became incumbent +upon him to keep his word. He had begun his persistent annoying of +Constance, convinced that, unable to endure it, she would resign and +leave the field of honor free to the French girl. But Constance did +nothing of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> sort. She stood her ground, half-heartedly at first, but +afterward, with Marjorie's words ringing in her ears, she exhibited a +steadiness of purpose that he could not shake.</p> + +<p>At the dress rehearsal, the last before the public performance, she was +a brilliant success, compelling even his reluctant admiration. It was +now too late even to consider the possibility of Mignon replacing her, +and he informed the latter rather sheepishly of this, as he rode home +with her in her electric runabout.</p> + +<p>For the first and last time he had the pleasure of seeing Mignon in a +royal rage, and when they reached her home, he declined her sullen offer +to send him home in her automobile, and made his escape with due speed. +Deciding he had had enough of amateurs and amateur operettas, he mailed +a note to Professor Harmon excusing himself from further service on the +plea of a telegram summoning him to New York. Whether the telegram were +a myth, history does not record. Sufficient to say that he actually went +to New York the following afternoon. And thus "The Rebellious Princess" +lost a stage manager and Mignon the hitherto chief factor in her plans. +She was also the recipient of an apologetic note from the actor, which +caused her to clench her hands in rage, then shrug her thin shoulders +with a gesture that did not spell defeat. Somehow, in some way, she +would accomplish her purpose. Even at the eleventh hour she would not +acknowledge herself beaten. Yet as the day wore on toward evening she +could think of nothing to do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> that would bring her her unreasonable +desire.</p> + +<p>The operetta was to be sung in the Sanford Theatre, where the dress +rehearsal had been held. Furious almost to tears at her inability to +bring about the impossible, Mignon at last ordered her runabout and made +sulky preparations to start for the theatre. The possession of an +automobile gave her the advantage of being able to don her first act +costume at home, but her really attractive appearance in the fanciful +gown of the heartless step-sister afforded her no pleasure. She hooked +it up pettishly, made a face at herself in the mirror of her dressing +table, and, drawing her evening cloak about her, flounced downstairs to +her runabout, completely out of humor with the world in general.</p> + +<p>She drove along recklessly, as was her custom, and when half way to the +theatre narrowly missed running down a small, sturdy figure that was +marching across the street.</p> + +<p>"Naughty old wagon," screamed a familiar voice after her.</p> + +<p>At sound of that piping voice, Mignon stopped her car and peered out. +Trotting along the sidewalk a little to her rear was a small boy with a +diminutive violin case tucked under his arm. Little Charlie Stevens had +come forth once more to see the world. In a flash wicked inspiration +came to Mignon. The Stevens child was running away again, but this time +he had chosen an evening exactly to her liking. Slipping out of her car +she ran toward the boy. "Why, good evening, little boy," she called +pleasantly. "Where are <em>you</em> going?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know you. You're a naughty girl!" observed Charlie with more truth +than courtesy. He braced himself defiantly and regarded Mignon with +patent disapproval.</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry you think so." Mignon affected a sadness which she was +far from feeling at this unvarnished statement. "I was going to take you +for a ride and buy you some ice cream."</p> + +<p>Charlie considered this astonishing offer in silence. He stared +frowningly at Mignon. "Is it chok'lit ice cream?" he asked, eyeing her +in open disbelief.</p> + +<p>"Of course it is. As much as you can eat."</p> + +<p>"All right. I want some. But you're a naughty girl, just the same. Mary +said so."</p> + +<p>Mignon shrugged indifferently. She was not greatly concerned at either +his or Mary's opinion of her. "Come on, if you want a ride," she urged.</p> + +<p>Charlie obeyed with some show of reluctance. He was not sure that even +the prospect of ice cream warranted his surrender. Mignon caught him up +and swung him into the runabout. Her wrist watch pointed to fifteen +minutes past seven. She had no time to lose. She drove rapidly through +the town to a small confectioner's store at the other end. Charlie kept +up a lively chatter as they rolled along. Stopping before it she lifted +the boy from the automobile, and, taking his hand, hurried him into the +brightly lighted store. Seating him at a table, she ordered two plates +of chocolate ice cream and sat down opposite the boy, her black eyes +glittering as she watched him eat. From time to time she glanced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> at her +watch. When the child had finished his plate of cream, she pushed her +own toward him. "Eat it," she commanded.</p> + +<p>Charlie responded nobly to the command. When she saw the last spoonful +vanish, she smiled elfishly. It was eight o'clock. The operetta began at +half past eight. Allowing herself fifteen minutes to reach the theatre +and carry out the last step in her plan, she would arrive there at +fifteen minutes past eight.</p> + +<p>The wandering musician made strenuous objection, however, to leaving the +ice cream parlor. "I could eat more chok'lit cream," he informed her.</p> + +<p>"You are a greedy boy," she said, her former friendliness vanishing into +angry impatience. "Come with me this minute."</p> + +<p>"You're a cross old elefunt," was Charlie's crushing but inappropriate +retort.</p> + +<p>Mignon was in no mood for an exchange of pleasantries. Seizing Charlie +by the arm she hustled him out of the shop into her runabout, and was +off like the wind. When half way between the shop and the theatre, she +halted her car. Lifting the boy out she set him on the sidewalk before +he had time to protest. "Now go where you please. I'll tell Connie to +come and find you," was her malicious farewell. Stepping into the +runabout she drove away, leaving Charlie Stevens to take care of himself +as best he might.</p> + +<p>Although Mignon was unaware of the fact, there had been an amazed +witness to the final scene in her little drama. A fair-haired girl had +come up just in time to hear her heartless speech and see her drive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +away, leaving a small, perplexed youngster on the sidewalk. That girl +was Mary Raymond. She had steadily refused Marjorie's earnest plea that +she attend the much-talked-of performance of "The Rebellious Princess," +and directly after dinner that evening, on the plea of mailing a letter, +had slipped from the house on one of her melancholy, soul-searching +walks which she had become so fond of taking. Convinced that she was an +utter failure, imbued with a daily growing sense of her own unfitness to +be the friend of a girl like Marjorie Dean, Mary was plunged into the +depths of humiliation and unhappiness. This alone had been the cause of +the marked change in her that Marjorie had innocently attributed to +Mignon's defection. In her sad little soul there was now no bitterness +against Constance Stevens. Quite by chance she had one day not long past +encountered Jerry Macy in Sargent's, alone. Touched by her woe-begone +air, Jerry had taken pains to draw her out. With her usual shrewdness +the stout girl had discovered the real cause of Mary's depression, and +kindly advised her to have a heart-to-heart talk with Marjorie. Jerry +had also made it a point to inform Mary, so far as she knew the details, +of the trouble over the butterfly pins during Marjorie's freshman year, +and of Mignon's cruel treatment of Constance. Distinctly to Jerry's +credit, she told no one afterward of that chance meeting, yet she +secretly hoped that what she had said would have its effect upon Mary.</p> + +<p>Overwhelmed with shame, Mary had left the talkative, stout girl and +dragged herself home, in an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> agony of humiliation that can be better +imagined than described. She felt that she could never forgive herself +for the ignoble thoughts she had harbored against innocent Constance +Stevens, and she was still more certain that she could never ask either +Marjorie or Constance to forgive <em>her</em>. Again and again she had tried to +bring herself to approach Marjorie and humbly sue for pardon. The weight +of her own troubled conscience prevented her from yielding, and thus she +kept her sorrow locked in her aching heart and waited dejectedly for the +day when she must leave the Deans' pleasant home, taking with her +nothing but bitter self-reproach for her own folly.</p> + +<p>It was in this black mood that Mary had wandered forth that evening and +straight into the path of the very thing that was destined to bring her +peace. Mignon had hardly driven away when Mary caught the venturesome +youngster in her arms. The boy gave a jubilant little shout as he saw +who held him. Mary, however, was still at a loss regarding the meaning +of what she had seen.</p> + +<p>"Every time the cross girl scolds Charlie, you come and get him," was +the joyful exclamation. "She wasn't cross all the time. She gave Charlie +a ride and lots of ice cream. Then she wented away. She said she'd tell +Connie to come and find me. Connie's gone to the the'tre. I wented, too, +but the naughty girl got Charlie."</p> + +<p>"Charlie boy, try to tell Mary, where was he when the cross girl got +him?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Way over there." Charlie waved an indefinite hand in the wrong +direction.</p> + +<p>Mary stood still, in a perplexed endeavor to read meaning in the nature +of Mignon's strange action. Suddenly the light burst upon her. "Oh!" she +cried, dismay written on every feature. "Now I begin to understand!" She +glanced wildly about her. Far up the street shone the light of an +oncoming street-car. Seizing Charlie by the hand she hurried him to the +corner. It was not more than two minutes until the car came to a +creaking stop before them. Mary helped Charlie into it and fumbled in +her purse. She had just two nickels. Breathing her relief, she paid the +fares, deposited Charlie on a seat beside her, then stared out the +window in an anxious watch of the streets.</p> + +<p>But while Mary Raymond was making a desperate attempt to redeem herself +by at least one kind act, Mignon La Salle had reached the theatre. +Dropping all appearance of haste, she strolled past the groups of gaily +attired boys and girls, nodding condescendingly to this one and that, +and switched downstairs to the dressing room which she occupied with +several other girls. Leisurely removing her cloak, she plumed herself +before the mirror. Her black eyes constantly sought her watch, however. +At last she turned from the mirror with a peculiar smile and abruptly +left the room. Straight to the star's dressing room she walked. Her thin +fingers beat a sharp tattoo on the door. It opened, and she stood face +to face with Constance Stevens, who was just about to take her place in +the wings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> preparatory to the beginning of the opera. She was to make +her first entrance directly after the opening chorus.</p> + +<p>"I came to tell you, Miss Stevens," said Mignon with an indescribable +smile of pure malice, "that I saw your brother, Charlie, wandering along +the street as I drove to the theatre. I suppose he has run away."</p> + +<p>With a frightened cry, Constance dashed past her and up the stairs. +Mignon laughed aloud as she watched the vanishing figure. "That settles +her," she muttered. "Harriet Delaney can sing my part. She has +understudied it." Springing into sudden action she ran to her dressing +room, eluding a collision with the feminine portion of the chorus who +were scurrying for the stage in obedience to a gong that summoned them +to the wings. Reaching to a hook in the wall, from which depended her +several costumes, hung over one another, she took from under them an +almost exact copy of the gown Constance Stevens was wearing in the first +act and held it up with a murmur of satisfaction. Stripping off the gown +she wore she hastily donned this other costume. Then she sat down to +await what she believed would happen.</p> + +<p>But while Mignon busied herself with her own affairs, Constance was +making a hurried search for Laurie Armitage. Unluckily, he had gone, for +the moment, to the front of the house. Professor Harmon, too, was not in +sight. He also had gone to the front to take his place in the orchestra +pit. What could she do? The performance was about to begin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> To leave +the theatre on a search for Charlie meant disaster to Laurie's operetta. +To leave Charlie to wander about the streets alone was even more +terrifying. She flitted past the waiting choristers, drawn up for +action, without a word of explanation. Marjorie Dean caught one look at +her friend's terrified face. It was enough to convince her that +something unusual had happened. Slipping out of her place in the line +she followed Constance, who was making directly for the stage door. +Marjorie saw her fling it open and glance wildly into the night. She ran +toward Connie, calling out, "What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>As the question crossed her lips both girls saw a familiar girlish +figure, strangely burdened, running toward them as fast as the weight +she carried would permit her to run. With a cry which rang in Marjorie's +ears for days afterwards Constance darted forward. She wrapped the girl +and her burden in a tumultuous embrace, laughing and crying in the same +breath.</p> + +<p>"The cross girl got Charlie, then she runned away and Mary comed and +found him. Charlie's goin' to the the'tre to play in the band. Mary said +so." He wriggled from the tangle of encircling arms to the stone walk. +"Hello, Marj'ry," he greeted genially.</p> + +<p>Marjorie turned from the marvelous sight of the two she loved best in +each other's arms. It was too wonderful for belief. Tardy remembrance +caused her to utter a dismayed, "You'll be late, Connie! Hurry in. Mary +and I will take care of Charlie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> It doesn't matter if I do miss the +opening number."</p> + +<p>With a swift glance at Mary that contained untold gratitude, Constance +faltered, "I—love—you—Mary, for taking care of Charlie! I'll see you +again as soon as I can. Good-bye!"</p> + +<p>She was gone in a flash, leaving Mary and Marjorie to face each other +with full hearts.</p> + +<p>"You are my own, dear Mary again." Marjorie's clear voice was husky with +emotion, "and my very first and best chum, forever!"</p> + +<p>Mary nodded dumbly, her blue eyes overflowing. +"I've—come—back—to—you—to stay," she whispered. And on the stone +steps, worn by the passing of the feet of those who had entered the +theatre to play many parts, these two young players in Life's varied +drama enacted a little scene of love and forgiveness that was entirely +their own.</p> + + + +<p class="back"><a href="#contents">Back to contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> +<br /> +<small>THE FULFILLMENT</small></h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> chorus were tunefully lifting up their voices in their initial +number, their watchful eyes on Professor Harmon's baton, when the +belated Princess hurried to her position in the wings. Laurie Armitage +had returned to the stage and was instituting a wild search for +Constance. Failing to find her upstairs, he had hastened below, and was +rushing desperately up and down the corridors, peering into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> the open +doorways of the deserted dressing rooms. Only one door was closed. +Behind it a black-haired girl awaited a call to fame. He called +Constance by name, again and again, then, receiving no answer, he dashed +up the stairs, encountering the object of his search at the very height +of his alarm. Marjorie Dean stood on guard beside her. She advanced +toward the excited composer, saying briefly, "Let her alone, Laurie. +She's awfully nervous and upset. She has just had a dreadful fright. +I'll tell you about it later."</p> + +<p>Constance cast a reassuring glance at Laurie. She had heard Marjorie's +protecting words. "I'm all right now," she nodded. "I won't fail you."</p> + +<p>The dulcet notes of her opening song, "I'm tired of being a Princess," +brought immeasurable relief to Lawrence and Marjorie, as they stood in +the wings, their anxious gaze fixed upon Constance. In one of the +dressing rooms below, the silver strains came faintly to the ears of +Mignon La Salle. During her interval of waiting she had been softly +humming that very song, confident of the summons she believed she would +receive. She had no doubt that her cowardly plan had worked only too +well. Knowing Constance Stevens' deep affection for her tiny foster +brother, she could readily see a vision of the terrified girl rushing +out into the night in search of him, her duty to the operetta completely +forgotten. As the sound of that hated voice reached her, she sprang to +the door of her dressing room and half opening it, halted to listen. A +wave of black rage swept over her. Forgetting her recent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> change of +costume, she took the stairs, two at a time, and ran squarely against +Lawrence Armitage and Marjorie Dean.</p> + +<p>Marjorie could not resist a low laugh of contemptuous scorn as she +viewed the stormy-eyed girl whose unscrupulous plan had failed. The +contempt in her pretty face deepened as her quick eyes took in the +details of Mignon's costume. The French girl's indiscreet haste to make +ready had convicted her. Marjorie had already learned from Mary all that +had occurred. It needed this one proof to complete the evidence. +Lawrence Armitage was regarding Mignon with perplexed brow. "That is not +the costume you wore last night, Miss La Salle," he said with cold +abruptness. Scrutinizing her closely, amazement began to dawn on his +clear-cut features. "When did you——"</p> + +<p>With a low cry of mingled humiliation and fury, Mignon turned and ran +down the stairs, her slender body trembling with the anger of a defeat +born of the failure of her plan and her own betraying haste. Gaining the +shelter of her dressing room, she gave herself up to a paroxysm of rage +that ended in a burst of hysterical sobs.</p> + +<p>The end of the first act brought a troop of hurrying, laughing girls +downstairs. Instead of the alert, self-possessed Mignon who had swept +proudly into the dressing room that night, those who shared the room +with her found a convulsive weeper lying face downward on the floor.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" was the concerted cry.</p> + +<p>A good-natured senior took Mignon gently by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> shoulders. "Get up, +Mignon," she commanded. "If you don't stop crying, you won't be able to +go on when your cue comes, let alone trying to sing." Mignon's first +entrance took place in the second act and occurred directly after the +rise of the curtain.</p> + +<p>The French girl half raised herself at this reminder, then sank back to +her original position with a fresh burst of racking sobs. Finding her +good-natured ministrations ineffectual, the senior left Mignon to +herself and began to change methodically to her peasant costume of the +second act, the scene of which was laid in a village and in front of the +cottage where she supposedly dwelt.</p> + +<p>"Ten minutes," called the warning tones of the freshman who was serving +as call boy. Still Mignon refused to heed the admonitions of her +companions.</p> + +<p>"Better call Laurie Armitage," suggested one girl. "She can't possibly +go on. Harriet Delaney will have to take her place. Mignon isn't even +dressed for her part. Where do you suppose——" The senior did not +finish her sentence. Something in the familiar details of the gown +Mignon wore aroused an unpleasant suspicion in her active brain. A +swift-footed messenger had already sped away to find the young composer, +who, with the departure of Ronald Atwell had taken the arduous duties of +stage manager upon his capable shoulders.</p> + +<p>When the information of Mignon's collapse reached him, he made no move +to go to her. Instead, he beckoned to Harriet Delaney, who had just come +upstairs, and whispered a few words to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> which caused her colorful +face to pale, then turn pinker than usual.</p> + +<p>"But I haven't a suitable costume," several girls heard her protest.</p> + +<p>"Go on as you are. Your costume is suitable," reassured Laurie.</p> + +<p>But down in the dressing room Mignon had struggled to her feet. The +knowledge that her unfairness was to cost her her own part in the +operetta aroused her to action. In feverish haste she began to tear off +the gown she wore.</p> + +<p>"Second act," rang out through the corridor. With a low wail of genuine +grief, Mignon dropped into a chair. She heard Harriet Delaney begin her +first song. Unable to bear the chagrin that was hers, she sprang up. +Readjusting the gown she had partly thrown off, she seized her cloak and +wrapped it about her. Then she fled up the stairway, and into the calm, +starlit night to where her runabout awaited her, the victim of her own +wrong-doing.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>It was a happy trio of girls that, shortly before midnight, climbed into +the Deans' automobile, in which Mr. and Mrs. Dean sat patiently awaiting +their exit from the stage door. Lawrence Armitage's operetta had been an +artistic as well as a financial success. It had been a "Standing Room +Only" audience, and the proceeds were to be given to the Sanford +Hospital for Children. Laurie had decreed this as a quiet memento to +Constance's devotion to little Charlie during his days of infirmity. The +audience had not been chary of their applause.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> The principals had +received numerous curtain calls, Constance had received an enthusiastic +ovation, and many beautiful floral tokens from her admiring friends. +Laurie had been assailed with cries of "Composer! Speech! Speech!" and +had been obliged to respond. Even the chorus came in for its share of +approbation, and to her intense amazement Marjorie Dean received two +immense bouquets of roses, a fitting tribute to her fresh, young beauty. +One of them bore Hal Macy's card, the other she afterward learned was +the joint contribution of a number of her school friends.</p> + +<p>Only one person left the theatre that night who did not share in the +enthusiasm of the Sanford folks over the creditable work of their town +boys and girls. Mignon La Salle's father had, for once, put business +aside and come out to hear his daughter sing. Why she had not appeared +on the stage, he could not guess. His first thought was that she had +told him an untruth, but the printed programme carried her name as a +principal. He arrived home to be greeted with the servant's assertions +that Miss La Salle was ill and had retired. Going to her room to inquire +into the nature of her sudden illness, he was refused admittance, and +shrewdly deciding that his daughter had been worsted in a schoolgirl's +dispute in which she appeared always to be engaged, he left her to +herself. It was not until long afterward, when came the inevitable day +of reckoning, which was to make Mignon over, that he learned the true +story of that particular night.</p> + +<p>It had been arranged beforehand that Constance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> was to spend the night +with Marjorie. Shortly after Charlie had been comfortably established in +Constance's dressing room, Uncle John Roland had appeared at the stage +door of the theatre, his placid face filled with genuine alarm. He had +been left in charge of Charlie, and the child had eluded his somewhat +lax guardianship and run away. Finding the little violin missing, he +guessed that the boy had made his usual attempt to find the theatre, and +the old man had hastened directly there. Charlie was sent home with him, +despite his wailing plea to remain, thus leaving Constance free to carry +out her original plan.</p> + +<p>The Deans exchanged significant smiles at sight of Marjorie, Mary and +Constance approaching the automobile, three abreast, arms firmly linked.</p> + +<p>"Attention!" called Mr. Dean. "Salute your officers!" Two hands went up +in instant obedience of the order. Constance hesitated, then followed +suit.</p> + +<p>"I see my regiment has increased," remarked Mr. Dean, as he sprang out +to assist the three into the car.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Connie has joined the company," rejoiced Marjorie. "I am answering +for her. She needs military discipline."</p> + +<p>"Three soldiers are ever so much more interesting than two," put in Mary +shyly. Her earnest eyes sought the face of her Captain, as though to ask +mute pardon for her errors. Mrs. Dean's affectionate smile carried with +it the absolution Mary craved,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> and Mr. Dean's firm clasp of her hand, +as he helped her into the car, was equally reassuring.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dean had ordered a light repast especially on account of Constance +and Marjorie. She had not counted on Mary, but she was a most welcome +addition. Their faithful maid, Delia, had insisted on staying up to make +cocoa and serve the supper party.</p> + +<p>"Captain," begged Marjorie, as the three girls appeared in her room, +after going upstairs, "please let us stay up as late as we wish +to-night? We simply must talk things out. To-morrow is Saturday, you +know."</p> + +<p>"For once I will withdraw all objections. You may stay up as late as you +please." The three girls kissed her in turn. Mary was last. Mrs. Dean +drew her close and kissed her twice. "Have you won the fight, +Lieutenant?" she whispered.</p> + +<p>Mary simply nodded, her blue eyes misty. She could not trust herself to +speak. "To-morrow—I'll—tell you," she faltered, then hurried to +overtake Constance and Marjorie, who were half-way upstairs.</p> + +<p>The "talk" lasted until two o'clock that morning. It was interspersed +with laughter, fond embracing and a few tears. When it ended, Marjorie's +dream of friendship had come true.</p> + +<p>Mary had more to say than the others. She confessed to writing the +letter of warning that had so mystified the basket-ball team.</p> + +<p>"I knew you wrote it," Marjorie said quietly. "I found it out by +comparing the paper it was written<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> on with a letter I had received from +you. I was so glad. I knew you couldn't be like Mignon, even if you were +her friend."</p> + +<p>"I was never her friend, nor she mine," asserted Mary with a positive +shake of her head. "I was jealous of Constance and was glad to find +someone besides myself who didn't like her. I never knew the true story +of the pin until Jerry——" She paused, coloring deeply.</p> + +<p>"So Jerry told you. That is just like her. She is the kindest-hearted +girl in the world. Next to you two, I like her best of all my +schoolmates." Marjorie's affectionate tones bespoke her deep regard for +the stout girl whose matter-of-fact ways and funny sayings were a +perpetual joy.</p> + +<p>"If only I had listened to you and Connie in the first place." Mary +sighed. "I've spoiled my sophomore year and tried hard enough to spoil +yours. And there's so little of it left! I won't have time to show you +how sorry I am and how much I care."</p> + +<p>"We will begin now and make the most of what is left of it," proposed +Marjorie gently. Then she added, "Jerry didn't know all that happened +last year. I would like to tell you about it."</p> + +<p>"Please do," urged Mary humbly.</p> + +<p>Marjorie told the story of her first year in Sanford, frequently turning +to Constance for confirmation. When she had finished Mary was silent. +She had no words with which to express her utter contrition.</p> + +<p>"Now you know our sad history," smiled Marjorie,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> with a kindly attempt +at lightening the burden of self-reproach Mary bore.</p> + +<p>"But neither of you has told <em>me</em> how Mary happened to find Charlie +to-night," reminded Constance. "I am anxious to know. This is the first +time he ever ran so far away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you forget the night he went to Mignon's——" Mary broke off +shortly, red with <a name="embarrassment" id="embarrassment"></a><ins title="original had embarassment">embarrassment</ins>. +She had not intended to +speak of this. Constance's positive assertion had caught her off her +guard.</p> + +<p>"Went to Mignon's?" was the questioning chorus of her two listeners.</p> + +<p>Mary was obliged to enlighten them. "I wondered if he ever told you, +Connie. He promised he wouldn't," she ended.</p> + +<p>"And he never told, the little rascal," was Constance's quick reply. "No +one except the maid knew it, and you may be sure she never said a word."</p> + +<p>"It was that night I came to my senses." Mary smiled a trifle wistfully. +"I saw myself as others saw me. You thought I was grieving over Mignon, +Marjorie. But I wasn't. It was my own shortcomings that bothered me. Now +I must tell you about to-night, and then you will know everything about +me."</p> + +<p>Constance received the account of Mignon's attempt to supplant her in +the operetta with no trace of resentment. "I ought to be angry with her, +but I can't. She has suffered more to-night than I would have if her +plan had succeeded. Poor Mignon, I wonder if she will ever wake up?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's hard to say. At any rate, she did some good, even if she didn't +intend to," reminded Marjorie. "I'm going to try to keep my junior year +in high school free of snarls. There is no use in mourning for the past. +Let us set our faces to the future and be glad that we three are done +with misunderstandings. Marjorie Dean, High School Junior, is going to +be a better soldier than <a name="marjorie" id="marjorie"></a><ins title="original had comma after Marjorie">Marjorie +Dean</ins>, High School Sophomore +has ever been."</p> + +<p>Both Constance Stevens and Mary Raymond smiled at this earnest resolve. +In their hearts they felt that Marjorie Dean need make no vows. She +stood already on the heights of loyalty and truth, steadfast and +unassailable.</p> + +<p>How fully Marjorie Dean carried out her resolve and what happened to her +as a junior in Sanford High School will be told in "Marjorie Dean, High +School Junior," a story which every friend of this delightful girl will +surely welcome.</p> + + +<h3 class="mt2">THE END</h3> + + + +<div id="tn"> +<p class="tntext center mt"><strong>Transcriber's Note:</strong></p> + +<hr class="hrtn" /> + +<p class="tntext">A table of <a href="#contents">contents</a> has been added.</p> + +<p class="tntext">Alternative spelling and variations in hyphenated words +have been retained as in the original publication.<br /> +<br /> +The following changes have been made:</p> +<ul> +<li>who were <a href="#making">maknig</a> the <em>changed to</em> who were <span class="u">making</span></li> + +<li><a href="#do">Do</a> you miss anyone? <em>changed to</em> <span class="u">"Do</span> you miss anyone?</li> + +<li><a href="#raucous">racuous</a> voice <em>changed to</em> <span class="u">raucous</span> voice</li> + +<li><a href="#automobile">atuomobile</a>, and when <em>changed to</em> <span class="u">automobile</span> and when</li> + +<li><a href="#aspirin">asperin</a> tablets <em>changed to</em> aspirin tablets</li> + +<li>strange <a href="#predilection">predeliction</a> <em>changed to</em> strange <span class="u">predilection</span></li> + +<li><a href="#simply">sinmply</a> because she <em>changed to</em> <span class="u">simply</span> because she</li> + +<li><a href="#although">atlhough</a> the latter <em>changed to</em> <span class="u">although</span> the latter</li> + +<li><a href="#styled">stayled</a> her, and <em>changed to</em> <span class="u">styled</span> her,</li> + +<li>continual <a href="#penance">penace</a> for <em>changed to</em> continual <span class="u">penance</span> for</li> + +<li>the previous Christmas <a href="#eve">eve</a> <em>changed to</em> the previous Chistmas <span class="u">Eve</span></li> + +<li>please don't be <a href="#disappointed">disapponted</a> <em>changed to</em> please don't be <span class="u">disappointed</span></li> + +<li><a href="#who">Who</a> says I'm not a poet <em>changed to</em> <span class="u">"Who</span> says I'm not a poet</li> + +<li>That <a href="#lets">let's</a> me out <em>changed to</em> That <span class="u">lets</span> me out</li> + +<li>was <a href="#allotted">alloted</a> the part <em>changed to</em> was <span class="u">allotted</span></li> + +<li>red with <a href="#embarrassment">embarassment</a> <em>changed to</em> red with <span class="u">embarrassment</span></li> + +<li>soldier than <a href="#marjorie">Marjorie, Dean</a> <em>changed to</em> soldier than <span class="u">Marjorie Dean</span></li> +</ul> + +</div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Marjorie Dean, by Pauline Lester + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN *** + +***** This file should be named 27985-h.htm or 27985-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/8/27985/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Marjorie Dean + High School Sophomore + +Author: Pauline Lester + +Release Date: February 4, 2009 [EBook #27985] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: MARY KNELT ON THE DRIVEWAY AND GATHERED CHARLIE INTO HER +ARMS. _Marjorie Dean High School Sophomore._] + + + + + MARJORIE DEAN + High School Sophomore + + By PAULINE LESTER + + AUTHOR OF + + "Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman" + "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 SOPHOMORE + +CHAPTER I + +WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE + + +"Come on in, Connie. The water's fine!" invited Marjorie Dean, beckoning +with one round, dripping arm to the girl on the sands, while with the +other she kept herself lazily afloat. + +The sun of a perfect August morning poured down upon the white beach, +dotted here and there with ambitious bathers, who had grasped Time +firmly by his venerated forelock, and fared forth with the proverbial +early bird for a morning dip in a deceitfully dimpled and smiling sea. + +It was not yet nine o'clock, but, fearful of losing a minute of her +precious seaside vacation, Marjorie Dean had come down to her favorite +playground for her usual early morning swim. + +"I know it's fine," laughed Constance Stevens, "but this nice white sand +is even finer." + +"You'll never learn to swim if you just sit on the beach and dream," +reminded Marjorie. "I feel that it's my stern duty to see that your +education as a water paddler is not neglected. So here goes!" + +With a few skilful strokes she brought up in shallow water. There was a +quick rush of lithe feet, the sound of sweet, high laughter, then a +little, good-natured gurgle of protest from the golden-haired, blue-eyed +girl curled up on the sand as she found herself being dragged into the +water by a pair of sturdy young arms. + +"Now--sink or swim, survive or perish!" panted Marjorie, as the lapping +shallows broke over the yielding figure of her friend. "You'll simply +have to be a water baby, Connie, dear. It's as important as being a +sophomore in Sanford High, and you know just how important that is! Now, +watch me and do likewise." + +Her day dream thus rudely interrupted, Constance Stevens laughingly +resigned herself to Marjorie's energetic commands, and, now thoroughly +awake to the important business at hand, tried her best to follow her +friend's instructions. A fifteen minutes' lesson in the art of learning +to float followed, and at the end of that time, by common consent, the +two girls waded ashore and flung themselves on the warm sand. + +"I'll never learn to swim. I feel it in my bones," asserted Constance, +as she lazily rose, wrung the water from her bathing suit and seated +herself on the white beach beside Marjorie, who lay stretched at full +length, her head propped upon her elbows, her alert gaze upon the few +bathers who were disporting themselves in the water. + +"Then your bones are false prophets," declared Marjorie calmly. "You +know how to float already, and that's half the battle. We'll rest a +little and talk some more, and then we'll try it again. Next time I'll +teach you an easy stroke. Isn't it funny, Connie, we never seem to get +'talked out.' We've been here together five whole weeks and yet there +always seems to be something new to say. You are really a most +entertaining person." + +"That's precisely my opinion of you." Constance's blue eyes twinkled. + +The two girls laughed joyously. Two wet hands stretched forth and met in +a loving little squeeze. + +"It's been wonderful to be here with you, Marjorie. Last year at this +time I never dreamed that anything so wonderful could possibly happen to +me." The golden-haired girl's voice was not quite steady. + +"And I've loved being here with you. What a lot of things can happen in +a year," mused Marjorie. "Why, at this time last year I never even knew +that there was a town called Sanford on the map, and when I found out +there was really such a place, and that I was going to live there +instead of staying in B---- and going to Franklin High, I felt perfectly +_awful_ about it." + +It had, indeed, been a most unhappy period for sunny, lovable Marjorie +Dean when the call of her father's business had made it necessary for +him to remove his family from the beautiful city of B----, where +Marjorie had been born and lived sixteen untroubled years of life, to +the smaller northern city of Sanford, where she didn't know a soul. + +All that happened to Marjorie Dean from the first day in her new home +has been faithfully recorded in "MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN." +In that narrative was set forth her trials, which had been many, and her +triumphs, which had been proportionately greater, as a freshman in +Sanford High School. How she had become acquainted with Constance +Stevens and how, after never-to-be-forgotten days of storm and sunshine, +the friendship between the two young girls had flowered into perfect +understanding, formed a story of more than ordinary interest. + +Now, after several happy weeks at the seashore, where the Deans had +rented a cottage and were spending their usual summer outing with +Constance as their guest, the two friends were enjoying the last perfect +days of mid-summer before returning to Sanford, where, in September, +Constance and Marjorie were to enter the delightful realm of the +sophomore, to which they had won admission the previous June. + +There had been only one shadow to mar Marjorie's bliss. She had hoped +that her childhood friend and companion, Mary Raymond, might be with +them at the seashore, but, owing to the ill-health of Mary's mother, the +Raymonds had been obliged to summer in the mountains, where Mary was +needed at her mother's side. That Constance and Mary should meet and +become friends had ever been Marjorie's most ardent desire. It was +Constance's remarkable resemblance to Mary that had drawn her toward the +girl in the very beginning. + +"It's all been so perfectly beautiful, Connie." Marjorie gave a little +sigh of sheer happiness. "I've only one regret." + +"I know--you mean your chum, Mary," supplemented Constance, with quick +sympathy. + +Marjorie nodded. + +"It seems strange I haven't heard from her. She hasn't written me for +over two weeks. I hope her mother isn't worse." + +"No news is good news," comforted Constance. + +"Perhaps there will be a letter for me from her when we get back to the +cottage. Suppose there should be! Wouldn't that be glorious?" + +"Perhaps we'd better go up now and see," suggested Constance. "It must +be time for the postman." + +"We're not going until after you've had fifteen more minutes' +instruction in the noble art of swimming, you rascal," laughed +Marjorie. "See how self-sacrificing I am! You don't appreciate +my noble efforts in your direction." + +"Of course I appreciate them, Marjorie Dean." Constance's habitually +wistful expression broke up in a radiant smile that set her blue eyes +dancing. "But I must confess, this minute, that I can live and be happy +if I never learn to swim." + +"That settles it. In you go again." + +Marjorie sprang energetically to her feet, and began dragging her +protesting friend down the beach to the water. Another fifteen +minutes' instruction followed, punctuated by much laughter on the +part of the two girls. + +"There! I'll let you off for to-day," conceded Marjorie, at last. "Now, +come on. I have a hunch that there _is_ a letter for me. I haven't had +any letters for two whole days." + +It was only a few rods from the bathing beach to the "Sea Gull," the +cottage in which the Deans were living. As they neared it, a +gray-uniformed figure was seen hurrying down the walk. + +"It's the postman! What did I tell you?" Marjorie broke into a run, +Constance following close at her heels. + +The two girls brought up flushed and laughing at the pretty, +vine-covered veranda, where Mrs. Dean sat, in the act of opening a +letter. Half a dozen other postmarked envelopes lay in her lap. + +"Oh, Captain," Marjorie touched a hand to her bathing cap, "how many of +them are for me?" + +"All of them except this, Lieutenant," smiled her mother, holding up the +letter she had been reading. "But why all this haste? I hardly expected +you back so soon. Five minutes before luncheon is your usual time for +reappearing," she slyly reminded. + +"Oh, I had an unmistakable hunch that there was a letter here for me +from Mary, so I let Connie off easy on her lesson. I'll make up for it +to-morrow." + +By this time Marjorie held in her hand the half-dozen envelopes, each +bearing its own special message from the various friends who held more +or less important places in her regard, and was rapidly going over them. + +"Here's one from Jerry and one from Hal." The pink in her cheeks +deepened at sight of the familiar boyish hand. "One from Marcia Arnold, +another from Muriel Harding. Here's a tiresome advertisement." She threw +the fifth envelope disdainfully on the wicker table at her side. +"And--yes, here it is, in Mary's very own handwriting!" + +Laying the other letters on the table with a carefulness that bespoke +their value, Marjorie hastily tore open the envelope that contained news +of her friend and drawing out a single closely written sheet of paper +said apologetically, "You won't mind if I read this now, will you, +Connie and Mother?" + +"Go ahead," urged Constance. "We couldn't be so hard-hearted as to +object." + +Mrs. Dean smiled her assent. Marjorie's thoughtfulness of others was +always a secret source of joy to her. + +Marjorie read down the page, then uttered a little squeal of delight. +"Mother!" she exclaimed joyously, "just listen to this: + + "DEAREST MARJORIE: + + "You will wonder, perhaps, what has happened to me. I know I + have owed you a letter for over two weeks, but I have been so + busy taking care of mother that I haven't had very much time to + write. Of course, we have a nurse, but, still, there are so many + little things to be done for her, which she likes to have me do. + She is much better, but our doctor says she must go to a famous + health resort in the West for the winter. She will start for + Colorado in about two weeks, and now comes the part of my + letter which I hope you will like to read. I am going to make + you a visit. Father and I are coming to see you on a very + mysterious mission. I won't tell you anything more about it + until I see you. Part of it is sad and part of it glad, and it + all depends upon three persons whether it will ever happen. + There! That ought to keep you guessing. + + "You wrote me that you would be at home in Sanford by the last + of next week. Please writs me at once and let me know just + exactly when you expect to reach there. We shall not try to come + to the seashore, as father prefers to wait until you are back in + Sanford again. With much love to you and your mother, + + "Yours Mysteriously, + "MARY." + +Marjorie finished the last word with a jubilant wave of the letter. + +"What do you think of that, Captain? What do you suppose this mysterious +mission can be?" Marjorie's face was alight with affectionate curiosity. + +"I am not good at guessing," Mrs. Dean smiled tolerantly. The ways of +schoolgirls were usually shrouded with a profound mystery, which +disappeared into nothingness when confronted with reality. + +"It must be something extraordinary. She says it's part sad and part +glad. I hope it's mostly glad. I know _I'm_ glad that I'm going to see +her. Why, it's almost a year since we said good-bye to each other! Oh, +Connie," she turned rapturously to Constance, "you two girls, my dearest +friends, who look alike, will actually meet at last! You'll love Mary. +You can't help yourself, and she'll love you. She can't do anything +else." + +"I hope she will like me," said Constance a trifle soberly. "I know I +shall like her, because she is your friend, Marjorie." + +"You'll like her for yourself, Connie," predicted Marjorie loyally, and +secure in the belief that neither of these two girls, whose friendship +she held above rubies, could fail her, Marjorie Dean dreamed of a +kingdom of fellowship into which the three were fated to enter only +after scaling the steep and difficult walls of misunderstanding. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SHADOW + + +"Listen, Connie! Do you hear that train whistling? I'm sure it's Mary's +train." + +Marjorie Dean peered anxiously up the track in the direction of the +sound. In the distance her alert eyes spied the smoke of the approaching +train before it rounded the bend and appeared in full view, and her +heart beat high with the thought that the longer-for moment had come at +last. + +Since her return to Sanford, five days before, Marjorie had been in a +quiver of affectionate impatience. How slowly the days dragged! She +read and re-read Mary's latest letter, stating that she and her father +would arrive at Sanford on Wednesday on the 4.30 train and her +impatience grew. It was not alone that she desired to see Mary. There +was the "mysterious mission" to be considered. What girl does not love a +mystery? And Marjorie was no exception. At that moment, however, as she +waited for her childhood's friend, all thought of the mystery was swept +aside in the longing to see Mary again. + +As the train rumbled into the station and after many groans and shudders +stopped with a last protesting creak of wheels, Marjorie's anxious gaze +traveled up and down its length. Suddenly, at the far end, she spied a +tall, familiar figure descending the car steps. Close behind him +followed a slender girl in blue. With a cluck of joy and a "There she +is!" Marjorie fairly raced up the station platform. Constance followed, +but proceeded more slowly. To Marjorie belonged the right to the first +rapturous moments with her chum. In her girlish soul lurked no trace of +jealousy. She understood that with Marjorie, Mary must always be first, +and she was filled with an unselfish happiness for the pleasure of the +girl who had braved all things for her and would forever mean all that +was best and highest to her. + +"Mary!" Marjorie exclaimed, her clear voice trembling with emotion. + +"Oh, Marjorie, it's been ages," quavered Mary Raymond. Then the two +became locked in a tempestuous embrace. + +"Here, here, where do I come in?" asked an injured voice, as the two +young women continued to croon over each other, all else forgotten. + +Marjorie gently disengaged herself from Mary's detaining arms and turned +to give her hand to Mr. Raymond. + +"I'm so glad to see you," she said fervently. "Mother is waiting in our +car, just the other side of the station. But first, let me introduce my +friend, Constance Stevens. Why, where is she? I thought she was right +behind me. Oh, here she comes. Hurry up, Connie!" + +Constance approached rather shyly. In spite of the fact that the old +days of poverty and heartache lay behind her like a bad dream, she was +still curiously reserved and diffident in the presence of strangers. The +decision of her aunt, Miss Susan Allison, to take up her abode in +Sanford in order that Constance might finish her high school course with +Marjorie had brought many changes into the life of the once friendless +girl. Miss Allison had purchased a handsome property on the outskirts of +Sanford, and, after much persuasion, had, with one exception, induced +the occupants of the little gray house to share it with her. Soon +afterward Mr. Stevens, Constance's foster-father, whose name she still +bore and refused to change, had accepted a position as first violin in a +symphony orchestra and had gone to fulfill his destiny in the world of +music which he loved. Uncle John Roland and little Charlie, once puny +and crippled, but now strong and rosy, had, with Constance, come into +the lonely old woman's household at a time when she most needed them, +and, in her contrition for the lost years of happiness which she had so +stubbornly thrust aside, she was in a fair way to spoil her little flock +by too much petting. + +The fact that from a mere nobody Constance Stevens had become the social +equal of Sanford's most exclusive contingent did not impress the girl in +the least. Naturally humble and self-effacing, she had no ambition to +shine socially. Her one aim was to become a great singer, and it was +understood between herself and her aunt that when she was graduated from +high school she was to enter a conservatory of music and study voice +culture under the best masters. + +It seemed to Constance that she now had everything in the world that she +could possibly hope for or desire, but of the great good which had come +to her in one short year she felt that above all she prized the +friendship of Marjorie Dean and in whatever lay Marjorie's happiness, +there must hers lie also. + +This was her thought as she now stepped forward to meet Mary Raymond. +She was prepared to give this girl who was Marjorie's dearest friend a +loyalty and devotion, second only to that which she accorded Marjorie +herself. + +"At last my dearest wish has come true!" exclaimed Marjorie when +Constance had been presented to Mr. Raymond and she and Mary had clasped +hands. "I've been so anxious for you two to know each other. Now that +you're here together I can see that resemblance I've told you of. +Connie, you look like Mary and Mary looks like you. You might easily +pass for sisters." + +Constance smiled with shy sweetness at Mary and Mary returned the smile, +but in her blue eyes there flashed a sudden, half-startled expression, +which neither Constance nor Marjorie noted. Then she said in a tone +intended to be cordial, but which somehow lacked heart, "I'm awfully +glad to know you, Miss Stevens. Marjorie has written me often of you." + +"And she has talked to me over and over again of you," returned +Constance warmly. + +"Now that you know each other, you can postpone getting chummy until +later," laughed Marjorie. "Mother will wonder what has happened to us. +She'll think you didn't come on that train if we don't put in an +appearance." + +Possessing herself of Mary's traveling bag she led the way with Mary +through the station and out to the opposite side where Mrs. Dean awaited +them. Constance followed with Mr. Raymond. In her heart she experienced +an odd disappointment. Was it her imagination, or did Mary's cordiality +seem a trifle forced? Perhaps it would have been better if she had not +accompanied Marjorie to the station to meet Mary. Perhaps Mary was a +trifle hurt that her chum had not come alone. She decided that she would +not ride to Marjorie's home with the party, although she had been +invited to dine with them that night. She could not bear to think of +intruding. She managed to answer Mr. Raymond's courteous remarks, but +her thoughts were not centered upon what he was saying. Without warning, +her old-time diffidence settled down upon her like an enveloping cloak, +and her one object was to slip away as quickly and as unobtrusively as +possible. + +"I think I had better not go home with you, Marjorie," she said in a low +voice. They had reached the waiting automobile and Mary and Mrs. Dean +were exchanging affectionate greetings. + +"Oh, why not, Connie?" Marjorie's happy face clouded. "You know we'd +love to have you, wouldn't we, Mary?" + +"Of course." Mary again smiled at Constance, but again her smile lacked +warmth. + +Constance shook her head almost obstinately. + +"I think I had better not come," she repeated, and in her speech there +was a shadowy return of the old baffling reserve that had so greatly +disturbed Marjorie in the early stages of their friendship. + +"But you promised to take dinner with us to-night," remarked Marjorie. + +"I--I have changed my mind. It will be best for me to go home, I think. +I'll come over to-morrow." + +Mrs. Dean added her persuasions, but Constance was firm, and, after +bidding a courteous farewell to the Deans' guests, she hurried away, +more agitated than she cared to admit. + +"Why, what ails Constance, Marjorie?" asked Mrs. Dean in surprise. + +"Nothing--that is, I don't know." Marjorie looked after her friend's +rapidly disappearing figure, a puzzled expression in her brown eyes. + +Mary Raymond viewed Marjorie with a faint frown. It was rather provoking +in Marjorie to express so much concern over this Constance Stevens. +After their long separation she felt that her chum's every thought ought +to be for her alone. And in that instant a certain fabled green-eyed +monster, that Mary had never believed could exist for her, suddenly +sprang into life and whispered to her that, perhaps, after all, she was +not first in Marjorie Dean's heart. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SOWING THE SEED OF DISCORD + + +"Before you talk of another single thing, Mary Raymond, please tell me +what you mean by a 'mysterious mission' that is 'part sad and part +glad,'" exclaimed Marjorie. + +Mr. Raymond was occupying the front seat of the automobile, beside Mrs. +Dean, who drove the car, a birthday present from her husband, and the +two girls had the tonneau of the automobile to themselves. They had +scarcely deposited Mary's luggage on the floor of the car and settled +themselves for the short ride to the Deans' home when Marjorie had made +her eager inquiry into the nature of the "mysterious mission" that had +so aroused her curiosity. + +"Well," began Mary, brightening, "father and I _have_ come to see you on +a mission, but the only mystery about it is that you don't as yet know +why we've come. I thought 'mysterious mission' looked rather well on +paper so I set it down." + +"But you're going to tell me about it this instant, you wicked, +tantalizing girl," insisted Marjorie with pretended sternness. + +"I thought perhaps you might be able to guess certain things from my +letter," continued Mary. "You see, I wrote you that mother would have to +go to Colorado for the winter and----" + +"You are going with her," supplemented Marjorie. + +"No, that's a wild guess. I'm not going west with her. Father says I +must stay in the East and go through my sophomore year in high school." + +"But you can't stay at home by yourself, Mary. Just think how dreadful +that would be for you, with your father away most of the time," reminded +Marjorie. + +Mary's father was a traveling salesman for a large furniture +manufactory, and spent the greater part of his time on the road. + +"That's just the point," responded Mary. "I know I can't stay at home +alone. Mother's illness and what is to become of me when father goes on +the road again is the sad part of it, but the glad part is--oh, +Marjorie, can't you guess now?" Mary caught Marjorie's hand in hers. +"We've come all the way to Sanford to see if," her voice rose high with +excitement, "there isn't a little corner in the Dean barracks that a +certain lieutenant can call her own for this year and----" + +"Mary!" It was Marjorie's turn to become excited. "Do you really mean +that you wish to come to live with me and enter Sanford High? That we'll +be sophomores together?" + +Mary clung to Marjorie's hand and nodded. For a moment she was too near +to tears for speech. But they were tears of happiness. Marjorie really +desired her for a best friend after all. Her sudden jealousy of +Constance Stevens vanished. + +"I should say that was a _glad_ part of your mission," laughed Marjorie +happily. "I don't know what I've ever done to deserve such good fortune. +Mother will be glad, too. She loves you almost as much as she loves me." + +"Oh, Mother," Marjorie leaned impulsively forward, "Mary's coming to +live with me this year while her mother is in Colorado. You'll have two +lieutenants instead of one to look after. We are going to win sophomore +honors together and be promoted to be captains next June!" + +"There," declared Mr. Raymond with comical resignment, "now you have let +the cat out of the bag with a vengeance, Mary Raymond. All this time I +had been planning to ask Mrs. Dean, in my most ingratiating manner, if +she thought she might possibly make room for a certain very frisky +member of my family for a while. I had intended to proceed carefully and +diplomatically so that she wouldn't be too much shocked at such a +prospect, but now----" + +"It's all settled, isn't it, Mother?" interrupted Marjorie. "You are +just as anxious as I for Mary to come and live with us, aren't you?" + +"Shall I stop the car in the middle of the street and assure you of my +willingness to increase my regiment?" laughed Mrs. Dean. + +"No, no," protested Marjorie. "Let's hurry home as fast as we can and +talk it over. We're only two squares from our house now. Besides, I've +planned everything already. Mary can have the spare bedroom next to my +house." Marjorie always referred to her room as her "house." "There's +only the bath between and we'll use that together, and have a regular +house of our own. Oh, Mary, won't it be perfectly splendid?" + +Regardless of what passersby might think, Mary and Marjorie embraced +with an enthusiasm that threatened to land them both in the tonneau of +the rapidly moving car, while their elders smiled at this reckless +display of affection. + +The automobile had hardly come to a full stop on the broad driveway, +that wound through the wide stretch of lawn that was one of the chief +beauties of the Deans' pretty home, when Marjorie swung open the door +and skipped nimbly out of the car with, "Welcome home, Mary!" + +Mary was only an instant behind Marjorie in leaving the car, and the two +hugged each other afresh out of pure joy of living. + +"Take Mary up to her room at once, dear," directed Mrs. Dean. "I'm sure +she must be tired and hungry after her long ride in the train. We will +have an early dinner to-night. I expect Mr. Dean home at almost any +moment," she continued, turning to Mr. Raymond. + +"Come on, Mary." Marjorie had lifted Mary's bag from the automobile. Now +she stretched forth an inviting hand to Mary, and piloted her across the +lawn and up the short stretch of stone walk to the front door. The door +opened and a trim, rosy-cheeked maid appeared as by magic. She reached +for Mary's bag, but Marjorie waved her gently aside. + +"I'll do the honors, Delia. You can look after mother and Mr. Raymond. +We are very self-sufficient persons who don't need anything except a +chance to go upstairs and talk ourselves hoarse." + +A wide smile irradiated the maid's goodnatured face, as she stepped +aside to allow Marjorie and Mary to enter the hall. + +"What a darling house!" Mary's glance traveled about the pretty Dutch +hall to the large, comfortable living room beyond. "You have oceans of +room here, haven't you?" + +Marjorie nodded. "Yes; when first we came here I felt lost. It was +actually lonesome. It took me a whole week to grow accustomed to looking +out without seeing rows of brick houses across the street and on each +side of me. Don't you remember, I wrote you all about it? You see, I +didn't enter high school until we'd been here almost two weeks, and in +all that time I never met a single girl. I felt like a shipwrecked +sailor on a great, big, lonely, old island. Shall we go upstairs now? +I'm so anxious to have you see my 'house.' It's a house within a house, +you know. Mother had it all done up in pink and white for me, and I +spent hours in it. Your house is blue. I made general and captain let +me have one of the spare bedrooms done in blue, so that when you came to +visit me you'd feel at home. And now it's going to be your very own for +a whole year! It's too good to be true." + +Releasing Mary's hand, Marjorie led the way up the stairs to the second +floor and down the short hall to her "house." Mary cried out in +admiration at her friend's dainty room. She walked about, exclaiming +over its perfect details after the manner of girls, then three minutes +later the two somehow found themselves seated side by side on Marjorie's +pretty white bed, their arms about each other's waists, and fairly +launched into one of the good, old-time confabs they were wont to +indulge in when the top step of the Deans' veranda in B---- had been +their favorite trysting place. + +Half an hour later Mrs. Dean entered the room to find them still talking +at an alarming rate, the rest of their world apparently forgotten. + +"I might have known it," she smiled. "Why, you haven't even taken off +your hats, and dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Marjorie, you are a +most neglectful hostess." + +"Oh, we don't mind having dinner with our hats on," returned Marjorie +cheerfully. Then, rising, she took off her broad-brimmed Panama, and +began gently pulling the pins from Mary's hat. "Make it fifteen minutes, +instead of ten, Captain, and we'll be as spick and span as you please." + +"Discipline seems to be very lax in these barracks," commented Mrs. +Dean. "I am afraid I ought to call upon General to help me enforce my +orders. Under the circumstances I'll be lenient, though, and stretch the +time to fifteen minutes. There, I hear General downstairs now!" + +She disappeared from the doorway and immediately a great scurrying about +began, punctuated with much talk and laughter. To Marjorie it seemed as +though she had not been so happy for ages. It was wonderful to know that +her beloved Mary was actually with her once more, and still more +wonderful that she would continue to be with her indefinitely. + +At dinner she beamed joyously across the table at the little blue-eyed +girl, while their elders discussed and settled her destiny for the +coming year. Mr. and Mrs. Dean met Mr. Raymond's request in behalf of +his daughter with the whole-heartedness that so characterized them. In +fact, they were highly in favor of receiving Mary as a member of their +little household. + +"Two soldiers are better than one," asserted Mr. Dean humorously. "I +believe in preparedness. 'In times of peace prepare for war,' you know. +With such a valiant army under my command I could do wonders if attacked +by the enemy." + +After dinner they all repaired to the living room, where the discussion +of the all-important subject was continued, and when at eleven o'clock +two sleepy, but blissfully happy, lieutenants climbed the stairs to bed, +Mary Raymond lacked nothing except actual adoption papers, signed and +sealed, to admit her into the Deans' hospitable fold. + +Yet there was one tiny drawback to Mary's joy. Try as she might she +could not forget Constance Stevens and Marjorie's too evident fondness +for her. From Marjorie's early letters she had formed the conclusion +that Constance was merely a poor nobody, whom her chum, with her usual +spirit of generosity had tried to befriend. Marjorie's later letters had +contained little pertaining to Constance. Mary had not known of the long +period of estrangement between Constance and Marjorie that had so nearly +wrecked their budding friendship, and of the many changes that time had +wrought in the life of the girl who looked like her. She had, therefore, +been quite unprepared to meet the dainty, well-dressed young woman whom +Marjorie appeared to hold in such strong affection. She reflected that +night, a trifle resentfully, after Marjorie had kissed her good-night +and left her, that it was very strange in Marjorie not to have put her +in possession of the real facts of the case. Still, it was really not +her affair. If Marjorie chose to become chummy with Constance without +even writing a word of it to her, there was nothing to do except to be +silent over the whole affair. Perhaps Marjorie would tell her all about +it later. Certainly she would ask no questions. And then and there, +little, blue-eyed Mary Raymond made her first mistake, and sowed a tiny +seed of discord in her jealous heart that was fated later to bear bitter +fruit. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +INTRODUCING MARY TO THE GIRLS + + +"We've come for a last inspection, Captain. How do we look?" + +Marjorie Dean danced into her mother's room, her brown eyes sparkling +with anticipation, her charming face all smiles. Mary Raymond followed +her excited chum. + +"Halt! Company, attention!" commanded Mrs. Dean, as she turned from her +dressing table to pass an opinion upon the waiting brigade of two. Her +brown eyes rested approvingly upon the trim figures drawn up in their +most soldierly attitude before her. Marjorie's frock of pink linen, with +its wide lace collar and cuffs, exactly suited her dark eyes and hair, +while Mary's gown of pale blue of the same material served to accentuate +the fairness of her skin and the gold of her curls. + +"Shall we do, Captain? Are we absolutely spick and span?" Marjorie +turned slowly about, then made a laughing dive at her mother and +enveloped her in a devastating embrace. + +"Now see the havoc you've wrought," complained Mrs. Dean. "I shall have +to do my hair over again. Never mind. I'll forgive you, and, being +magnanimous, will state that I am very proud of the appearance of my +army." + +"You're a gallant officer and a dear, all in one." Marjorie caught her +mother's hand in hers. "Now, we must be on our way. We are going to +school early because Mary will have to see Miss Archer. Besides, I'm +anxious for her to meet Jerry Macy and some of the other girls. If only +she had come to Sanford sooner, I'd have loved to give a party for her. +Then she'd know every one of my friends. Oh, well, there is plenty of +time for that. Good-bye, Captain. We'll be back before long. There is +never very much to do in school on the first day." + +Dropping a gay little kiss on her mother's smooth cheek, Marjorie left +the room, followed by Mary, who stopped just long enough to kiss Mrs. +Dean good-bye. + +Three weeks had slipped by since Mr. Raymond and Mary had come to +Sanford upon the so-called mysterious mission that had made Mary Raymond +a member of the Dean household. They had returned to the city of +B---- the following day. From there Mr. Raymond had gone directly to the +mountains, for his wife, who, in spite of her ill-health, had insisted +on returning to her home to oversee the making of Mary's gowns and the +choosing of her wardrobe in general. Two days before coming to Sanford, +Mary had seen her mother off on her journey to Colorado in quest of +health. She had put on a brave face and smiled when she wished to cry, +and it was alone the thought that she was going to live with Marjorie +during her mother's absence that kept her from breaking down at the last +sad moment of farewell. + +It was a sober-faced, sad-eyed Mary that Marjorie had met at the train, +but, under the irresistible sunniness of Marjorie's nature, Mary had +soon emerged from her cloud, and now the prospect of entering Sanford +High School filled her with lively anticipation. + +As Marjorie and Mary emerged from the house and swung down the stone +walk in perfect step, they beheld a stout, and to Marjorie, a decidedly +familiar figure turning in at the gate. In the same instant a joyous +"Hello" rent the air, and the stout girl cantered up the walk at a +surprising rate of speed. There was a delighted gurgle from Marjorie, +that ended in a fervent embrace of the two young women. + +"Oh, Jerry, I'm so glad to see you! I was afraid you wouldn't be back in +Sanford before school opened. I saw Irma day before yesterday and she +said she hadn't heard a word from you for over a week." + +"We didn't get here until last night at ten o'clock Maybe I'm not glad +to see _you_." Jerry beamed affectionately upon Marjorie. + +"This is my friend, Mary Raymond, Jerry," introduced Marjorie. "She is +going to live with us this winter and be a sophomore at dear old Sanford +High. There will be six of us instead of five now." + +"I'm glad to know you." Jerry smiled and stretched forth a plump hand in +greeting. "I've heard a lot about you." + +"I've heard Marjorie speak of you, too. I'm ever so pleased to meet +you." Mary exhibited a friendliness toward Jerry Macy that had been +quite lacking in her greeting of Constance Stevens. + +As the three stood for a moment at the gate Jerry's eyes suddenly grew +very round. + +"Why, Marjorie, your friend looks like Connie, doesn't she?" + +"Of course she does," replied Marjorie happily. "Don't you remember I +told you long ago that that was why I felt so drawn toward Connie in the +first place?" + +"Yes, I remember it now. Isn't it funny that your two dearest friends +should look alike? Have you met Constance, Mary? I'm going to call you +Mary. I never call a girl 'Miss' unless I can't bear her. I'm sure I'm +going to like you. Not only because you're Marjorie's chum, but for +yourself, you know. If you turn out to be even one half as nice as +Constance Stevens, I'll adore you. Connie is a dear and no mistake +about it." + +The shadow of a frown touched Mary's forehead. Why must she be compelled +to hear continually of Constance Stevens? And why should this Jerry Macy +place her and Constance on the same plane in Marjorie's affection? She +did not propose to share her place in her chum's heart with anyone. Of +course, this girl could not possibly know just how much she and Marjorie +had always been to each other. Later on they would understand. They +would soon see that Marjorie preferred her above all others. + +Comforted by this reflection the shadow passed from Mary's face and the +trio started down the street for school, chatting and laughing as only +carefree schoolgirls can. + +Once inside the school building, Jerry said good-bye to them and turned +down the corridor toward the study hall. Marjorie smiled with tender +reminiscence as she and Mary climbed the familiar broad stairway to the +second floor. She was thinking of another Monday morning that belonged +to the past, when a timid stranger had climbed those same stairs and +diffidently inquired the way to the principal's office. How far away +that day seemed, and how much had happened within those same walls since +that fateful morning. + +"I'll never forget my first morning here," she said to Mary, as they +walked down the corridor toward their destination--the last room on the +east side. "Captain had a headache and couldn't come with me. I had to +march into Miss Archer's office all by myself. I felt like a forlorn +stranger in a strange, unfriendly land. Then I met such a nice girl, +Ellen Seymour, a friend of mine now, and she took me to the office and +introduced me to Miss Archer." + +Before Mary had time to reply they had entered the cheerful living-room +office that had so greatly impressed Marjorie on her first introduction +to Sanford High. A tall, dark girl, seated at a desk at one end of the +room, glanced up at the sound of the opening door. She hurried forward +with a little exclamation of delighted surprise. "Why, Marjorie!" she +exclaimed. "I was just thinking of you. I was wondering if you'd be in +for the first day. I had made up my mind to run down to the study hall a +little later and see." She now had Marjorie's hands in an affectionate +clasp. + +"I've been wondering about you, too," nodded Marjorie. "You are another +stray who didn't come back until the last minute." + +"I'm a working girl, you know," reminded Marcia. "Doctor Bernard was +dreadfully disappointed because I wouldn't give up high school and keep +on being his secretary. But I couldn't do that." + +"Of course you couldn't," agreed Marjorie, "especially now that you are +a senior." + +Mary Raymond had drawn back a little while Marjorie and Marcia Arnold, +Miss Archer's once disagreeable secretary, but now a changed girl +through the influence of Marjorie, exchanged greetings. Marjorie turned +and drew her chum forward, introducing her to Marcia, who bowed and +extended her hand in friendly fashion. + +"Is Miss Archer busy, Marcia?" asked Marjorie, after she had explained +that Mary was to become a pupil of Sanford High School. + +"Wait a moment, I'll see." Marcia went into the inner office, returning +almost instantly with, "Go right in. She is anxious to see you, +Marjorie." + +Miss Archer's affectionate welcome of Marjorie Dean brought a blush of +sheer pleasure to the girl's cheeks. Her heart thrilled with joy at the +thought that there was now no veil of misunderstanding between her and +her beloved principal. + +"And so this is Mary Raymond." Miss Archer took the newcomer's hand in +both her own. "We are glad to welcome you into our school, my dear. Your +principal at Franklin High School has already written me of you. How +long have you been in Sanford?" + +Mary answered rather shyly, explaining her situation, while Marjorie +looked on with affectionate eyes. She was anxious that Miss Archer +should learn to know and love Mary. + +"I will put you in Marjorie's hands," declared Miss Archer, after a few +moments' pleasant conversation. "She will take you to the study hall and +see that you are made to feel at home. We wish our girls to look upon +their school as their second home, considering they spend so much of +their time here. Please tell your mother, Marjorie," she added, as the +two girls turned to leave the room, "that I shall try to call on her +this week." + +"How do you like Miss Archer? Isn't she splendid?" were the quick +questions Marjorie put, as they retraced their steps down the long +corridor. + +"I know I'm going to love her," returned Mary fervently. "I hope I'll be +happy here, Marjorie." There was a wistful note in her voice that caused +Marjorie to glance sharply at her friend. Mary's charming face was set +in unusually sober lines. + +"Poor Mary," was her reflection. "She's thinking of her mother." But +Mary Raymond's thoughts were far from the subject of her mother. +Instead, they were fixed upon what Jerry Macy had said that morning +about Constance Stevens. Miss Archer had asked about Constance, too. She +had spoken of her as though she and Marjorie were best friends. What had +she meant when she said, "Well, Marjorie, you and Constance deserve fair +sophomore weather after last year's storms." The flame of jealousy, +which Mary had sought to stifle after her first meeting with Constance, +was kindled afresh. + +"What did Miss Archer mean when she spoke of you and Miss Stevens--and +last year's storms?" she asked abruptly. + +"Oh, I can't explain now. It's too long a story. Here we are at the +study hall." Her mind occupied with school, Marjorie had not caught the +strained note in Mary's voice. + +"She doesn't wish me to know," was Mary's jealous thought. "She is +keeping secrets from me. All right. Let her keep them. Only I know one +thing, and that is--I'll _never_, _never_, _never_ be friends with +Constance Stevens, not even to please Marjorie!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN UNCALLED-FOR REBUFF + + +The great study hall which Marjorie and Mary entered had little of the +atmosphere supposed to pervade a hall of learning. A loud buzz of +conversation greeted their ears. It came from the groups of girls +collected in various parts of the hall, who were making the most of +their opportunities to talk until called to order. Marjorie gave one +swift glance toward the lonely desk on the platform. It had always +reminded her of an island in the midst of a great sea. She breathed a +little sigh of relief. Her pet aversion, Miss Merton, was not occupying +the chair behind it. This, no doubt, accounted for the general air of +relaxation that pervaded the room. Her alert eyes searched the room for +Constance Stevens. She was not present. She gave another sigh, this time +it was one of disappointment. She had seen Constance only twice since +Mary's arrival. On one occasion she had taken dinner at the Deans' home. +The three girls had spent, what seemed to Marjorie, an unusually +pleasant evening. Constance, feeling dimly that Mary did not quite +approve of her, had dropped her usually reticent manner and exerted +herself to please. So well had she succeeded that Mary had rather +unwillingly succumbed to her charm and grown fairly cordial. + +Totally unconscious of the shadow which had darkened the pleasure of +Constance's first meeting with Mary, and equally ignorant of Mary's +secret resentment of her new friend, Marjorie had retired that night +inwardly rejoicing in both girls and planning all sorts of good times +that they three might have together. + +Several days later Constance had entertained them at luncheon at "Gray +Gables," the beautiful, old-fashioned house Miss Allison had purchased, +on the outskirts of Sanford. Mary had been secretly impressed with its +luxury and had instantly made friends with little Charlie. The quaint +child had gravely informed her that she looked like Connie and +immediately taken her into his confidence regarding his aspirations +toward some day playing in "a big band." He had also obligingly favored +her with a solo of marvelous shrieks and squawks on his much tortured +"fiddle." Mary loved children, and this, perhaps, went far toward +stilling the jealousy, which, so far, only faintly stirring, bade fair +to one day burst forth into bitter words. + +"I'll see you in school on Monday," Marjorie had called over her +shoulder, as she and Mary had taken their departure from Constance's +home that afternoon. But now Monday had come and there was no sign of +the girl Marjorie held so dear in the study hall. + +"Connie had better hurry. It's five minutes to nine. She'll be late." +Marjorie's gaze traveled anxiously toward the door. An unmistakable +frown puckered Mary's brows, but Marjorie did not see it. + +"Oh, Marjorie Dean, here you are at last. We've been waiting for you." +Susan Atwell left a group of girls with which she had been hob-nobbing +and hurried down the aisle. "Come over here, you dear thing. We've been +looking our eyes out for you." She stopped short and stared hard at +Mary. "Why, I thought----" she began. + +"You thought it was Connie, didn't you?" laughed Marjorie. She +introduced Mary to Susan. + +"The girls over there thought you were Constance Stevens, too," smiled +Susan, showing her dimples. "You see, Marjorie and Connie are +inseparable, so, of course, we naturally mistook you for her. I never +saw two girls look so much alike. If we have a fancy dress party this +year you two can surely go as the Siamese Twins. Wouldn't that be +great?" + +Mary smiled perfunctorily. She had her own views in the matter, and +they did not in the least coincide with Susan's. + +A moment later they were hemmed in by an enthusiastic bevy of girls, +each one trying to make herself heard above the others. Marjorie was +besieged on all sides with eager inquiries. The girls had discovered, as +she neared them, that her companion was not Constance Stevens. Marjorie, +at once, did the honors and Mary found herself nodding in quick +succession to half a dozen girls. + +"You fooled us all for a minute, Miss Raymond," cried Muriel Harding. + +"She didn't fool me," announced Jerry Macy, who had joined them just in +time to hear Muriel's remark. "I knew she was coming, but I kept still +because I wanted to see you girls stare." + +"Look around the room, Marjorie," observed Irma Linton in a guarded +tone. "Do you miss anyone? Not Constance. I wonder where she is?" + +"I don't know." Marjorie's eyes took in the big room, then again sought +the door. "She said she would meet me here this morning. Let me see. Do +I miss anyone? Do you mean a girl in our class, Irma?" + +Irma nodded. + +Marjorie cast another quick look about her. "Why, no. Oh, now I know. +You mean Mignon." + +Again Irma nodded. Under cover of a burst of laughter from the others +she murmured, "Mignon won't be with us this year. You will observe, if +you look hard, that I'm not weeping over our loss." + +Marjorie was silent for a moment. The past rode before her like a +panorama, as the thought of the elfish-faced French girl and of how +deeply she had caused both herself and Constance Stevens to suffer. Her +pretty face hardened a trifle as she said, in a low voice, "I'm not +sorry, either, Irma. But why won't she be in high school this year? Has +she moved away from Sanford? I haven't seen her since we came home from +the beach." + +"She has gone away to boarding school," answered Irma. "Between you and +me, I think she was ashamed to come back here this year. Susan told me +that her father wanted her to stay in high school and go to college, but +she teased and teased to go away to school, so finally he said she +might. She left here over two weeks ago. One of the girls received a +letter from her last week. In it she said she was so glad she didn't +have to go to a common high school and that the girls in her school were +not milk-and-water babies, but had a great deal of spirit and daring." + +Marjorie's lip curled unconsciously. "I'd rather be a 'milk-and-water +baby' than as cruel and heartless as she. I'll never forgive her for the +way she treated Connie. Let's not talk of her, Irma. It makes me feel +cross and horrid, and, of all days, I'd like to be happy to-day. There's +so much to be happy over, and I'm so glad to see all of you. Life would +be a desert waste without high school, wouldn't it?" + +Marjorie's soft hand found Irma's. She was very fond of this quiet, +fair-haired girl, who, with Jerry Macy, had stood by her so resolutely +through dark days. + +"Here she comes--our dear teacher. Look out, girls, or you'll be ushered +out of Sanford High before you've had a chance to look at the bulletin +board," warned Muriel Harding's high-pitched voice. Her sarcastic +remarks carried farther than she had intended they should, as a sudden +hush had fallen upon the study hall. Miss Merton, Marjorie's pet +aversion, had stalked into the great room. She cast a malignant glance, +not at Muriel, but straight at Marjorie Dean. + +"Oh," gasped Muriel and Marjorie in united consternation. + +"That's the time you did it, Muriel," muttered Jerry Macy. "I always +told you that you ought to be an orator or an oratress or something. +Your voice carries a good deal farther than it ought to. Only Miss +Merton didn't think it was you who made those smart remarks. She thought +it was Marjorie. Now she'll have a new grievance to nurse this year." + +"I'm awfully sorry." Muriel was the picture of contrition. "I didn't +intend she should hear me--but to blame you for it! That's dreadful. +I'll go straight and tell her that I said it." + +Muriel made a quick movement as though to carry out her intention. +Marjorie caught her by the arm. "You'll do nothing of the sort, Muriel +Harding. My sophomore shoulders are broad enough to beat it. Perhaps she +didn't really hear what you said. She can't dislike me any more for that +than she did before she thought I said it." + +"Young ladies, I am waiting for you to come to order. Will you kindly +cease talking and take seats?" Miss Merton's raucous voice broke +harshly upon the abashed group of girls. They scuttled into the +nearest seats at hand like a bevy of startled partridges. + +"What a horrid woman," was Mary Raymond's thought, as she slipped into a +seat in front of Marjorie, and stared resentfully at the rigid figure, +so devoid of womanly beauty, in its severe brown linen dress, unrelieved +by even a touch of white at the neck. + +With a final glare at Marjorie, the teacher proceeded at once to the +business at hand. Within the next few minutes she had arranged the girls +of the freshman class in the section of the study hall they were to +occupy during the coming year. Marjorie awaited the turn of the +sophomores to be assigned to a seat with inward trepidation. She had had +no opportunity to introduce Mary to Miss Merton. What should she do? She +half rose from the seat, then sat down undecidedly. + +Miss Merton had arranged the freshmen to her satisfaction. Now she was +calling for the sophomores to rise. Perhaps she would not notice Mary. +If she did not, then Mary could pass with the sophomores to their +section. As soon as the session was dismissed, she would introduce her +to Miss Merton. + +But Miss Merton was lynx-eyed. "That girl there in the blue dress," she +blared forth. "You were not in the freshman class last year." + +Mary turned in her seat and shot a glance of appeal to Marjorie. The +girl rose bravely in friend's behalf. + +"Miss Merton," she said in her clear, young voice, "I brought Miss +Raymond here with me. She----" + +"You are not supposed to bring visitors to school, Miss Dean," was the +teacher's sarcastic reminder. + +Marjorie's eyes kindled with wrath. Then, mastering her anger, she made +courteous reply. "She is not a visitor. She expects to enter the +sophomore class." + +"Come down to this front seat, young woman," ordered Miss Merton, +ignoring Marjorie's explanation. "I'll attend to you later." + +Mary sat still, surveying Miss Merton out of two belligerent blue eyes. + +"Do as she says, Mary," whispered Marjorie. + +Mary obeyed. Walking down the aisle with maddening deliberation, she +seated herself on the bench indicated. + +"No talking," rasped Miss Merton, as a faint murmur went up from the +girls in the sophomore section. + +Once the classes had been assigned to their places for the year there +was little more to be done. Nettled by her recent resentment against +Marjorie, Miss Merton took occasion to deliver a sharp lecture on good +conduct in general, making several pointed remarks, which caused +Marjorie to color hotly. More than one pair of young eyes glared their +resentment of this harsh teacher who had never lost an opportunity in +the past school year of censuring their favorite. + +The moment the short session was over the girls of her particular set +gravitated toward Marjorie. + +"Well, of all the old cranks!" scolded Geraldine Macy. + +"She's the most hateful teacher in the world," was Muriel Harding's +tribute. + +"I wouldn't pay any attention to her, Marjorie. I'd go straight to Miss +Archer," advised Susan Atwell. "Just see her now! She looks as though +she'd actually snap at your friend." + +Miss Merton was engaged in interviewing the still belligerent Mary, who +stood listening to her, a sulky droop to her pretty mouth. + +"Oh, I must go and help Mary out. Wait for me outside, girls." + +"Do you need any help?" inquired Jerry. "I never was afraid of Miss +Merton, if you'll remember." + +"Oh, no." Marjorie hurried toward her friend, and stood quietly at +Mary's side. + +"Well, Miss Dean, what is it?" Miss Merton eyed Marjorie with her most +disagreeable expression. + +"I came to tell you, Miss Merton," began Marjorie in her direct fashion, +"that Miss Raymond saw Miss Archer this morning before we came to the +study hall. She sent us----" + +"That will do, Miss Dean," interrupted Miss Merton. "I hope Miss Raymond +is capable of attending to her affairs without your assistance. I should +greatly prefer that you go on about your own business and leave this +matter to me. I believe I have been a teacher in Sanford High School +long enough to be trusted to manage my own work." + +A bitter retort rose to Marjorie's lips. She forced it back and with a +dignified bow to Miss Merton and, "I will wait for you in the corridor, +Mary," walked from the room, her head held high, her eyes burning with +resentful tears. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MARY'S DISTURBING DISCOVERY + + +Once outside the study hall Marjorie Dean's proud manner left her. Her +recent joy in returning to high school gave place to a feeling of deep +dejection. Everything had certainly gone wrong. She had had so many +pleasant little thrills of anticipation that she had quite forgotten +Miss Merton and the teacher's unreasoning dislike for her, which she had +never taken pains to conceal. Muriel's injudicious remarks had made a +bad matter worse. Marjorie knew that from now on she would have to be +doubly on her guard. It was evident that Miss Merton intended to take +her to task whenever the slightest opportunity presented itself. +Marjorie even had her suspicions that Miss Merton had known that it was +Muriel instead of herself who had uttered those distinctly unflattering +words. + +"I'll have to be very careful not to offend Miss Merton," she ruminated +gloomily, as she stood waiting for Mary, her eyes fastened on the big +study-hall door. Then her thoughts switched from Miss Merton to +Constance Stevens. Why hadn't Connie come to school? Surely she could +not be ill. Perhaps Charlie was sick. + +The opening of the study-hall door interrupted her worried reflections. +Mary emerged from the hall, looking like a young thundercloud. She +closed the door after her with a resounding bang, which conveyed more +than words. + +"Of all the hateful old tyrants!" she exclaimed, as she hurried toward +Marjorie. "I despise her. How dared she treat you so?" + +"Oh, never mind," soothed Marjorie. "Let us forget her. Tell me, are you +or are you not a sophomore? Or must we go to Miss Archer to straighten +things?" + +"I'm a sophomore all right enough," said Mary grimly. "I told her what +Miss Archer said, and after that she treated me more civilly. Such a +teacher is a disgrace to a school. Why is she so bitter against you, +Marjorie?" + +Marjorie shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. She has always acted +like that toward me. It's just a natural dislike, I suppose. Sometimes, +after a teacher has taught school a great many years, she takes sudden +likes and dislikes. I've been in her black books since my very first day +in Sanford High." + +"Poor old Lieutenant." Mary patted Marjorie's hand with sympathetic +affection. + +"Oh, it doesn't matter. I don't really care much. There are so many nice +teachers here who _do_ like me that I'm not going to worry over Miss +Merton. Come along." She linked her arm in Mary's. "The girls will be +waiting for us outside. We are all going down to Sargent's for ice +cream. Then we'll go home and report to Captain. After luncheon, I think +we had better walk over to Gray Gables. I am afraid Connie or, perhaps, +little Charlie is sick. You know Connie promised us, when we were there +on Friday, that she'd see us at school." + +Mary's face clouded. "I--I think I won't go to Gray Gables with you. I +must write to mother. Besides, you and Constance may wish to be by +yourselves." + +Marjorie's brown eyes opened wide. "Why should we?" she asked. "You know +you are always first with me. I haven't any secrets from you." + +Mary's face brightened. Perhaps she had been too hasty in her +conclusions. "I wish you would tell me all about yourself and +Constance," she said slowly. "You promised you would." + +"Well, I will," began Marjorie. Then she paused and flushed slightly. It +had suddenly come to her that perhaps Constance would not care to have +Mary know of the clouds of suspicion that had hung so heavily over her +freshman year. "I'd love to tell you about it now, Mary, but I think I +had better ask Constance first if she is willing for me to do so. You +see, it concerns her more than me. I am almost sure she wouldn't mind, +but I'd rather be perfectly fair and ask her first. You know Captain and +General have always said to us, 'Never break a confidence.'" + +A hurt look crept into Mary's face. "Oh, never mind," she managed to +say with a brave assumption of indifference. "I don't wish to know about +it if you don't care to tell me." + +"But I _do_ care to tell you, and I will if Connie says I may," assured +Marjorie earnestly. + +Mary had no time for further remark. They had reached the double +entrance doors to the building and were hailed by a crowd of girls at +the foot of the steps. + +"Oh, Connie," Marjorie Dean cried out delightedly. She had spied her +friend among them. + +Constance ran forward to meet Marjorie and Mary. "I couldn't come +before. I've been to the train. Father is here. He's going to be at home +for two days. And what do you think he wishes me to do?" + +"You are not going away with him?" asked Marjorie in sudden alarm. + +"No, indeed. I couldn't give up my sophomore year here, even for him. It +isn't anything so serious. He proposed that as long as he was here to +play for us, it would be a good idea to----" + +"Give a dance," ended Jerry Macy. "Hurrah for Mr. Stevens! Long may he +wave!" + +"Yes, you have guessed it, Jerry," laughed Constance. "I'm going to give +a party in honor of Mary. I was so excited over it that I left him to go +on to Gray Gables by himself, while I rushed over here as fast as I +could come. I wanted to catch you girls together so I could invite you +in a body. Jerry, do you suppose Hal would be willing to see Lawrie and +the Crane and some of our boys? It will have to be a strictly informal +hop, for I haven't time to send out invitations." + +"Of course he'll round up the crowd," assured Jerry slangily. "If he +doesn't, I will. I guess I won't go to Sargent's with you. What is mere +ice cream when compared to a dance? Besides, it's fattening--the ice +cream, I mean. I've lost five pounds this summer and I'm not going to +find them again at Sargent's if I can help it. So long, I'll see you all +to-night." + +Jerry bustled off on her errand, leaving her friends engaged in an eager +discussion of the coming festivity. A little later they trooped down the +street to their favorite rendezvous, where most of their pocket money +found a resting place. + +"We won't have a single bit of appetite for luncheon," commented +Marjorie to Mary, when, an hour later, they set out for home. + +"I suppose not," assented Mary indifferently. Her thoughts were far from +the subject of luncheon. Her jealousy of Constance Stevens was +thoroughly aroused and flaming. She wished Marjorie had never seen nor +heard of this hateful girl. And to think that Constance had announced +that she was going to give a party in honor of _her_, the very person +she had robbed of her best friend! It was insufferable. What could she +do? If she refused to go, Marjorie and all those girls would wonder. She +could give no reasonable excuse for declining to go at this late day. +She told herself she would rather die than have Marjorie know how deeply +she had hurt her. Oh, well, she was not the first martyr to the cause +of friendship. She would try to bear it. Perhaps, some day, Marjorie, +too, would know the bitterness of being supplanted. + +It was an unusually quiet Mary who slipped into her place at luncheon +that day. + +"What is the matter, dear?" asked Mrs. Dean, noting the girl's silence. +"Don't you feel well?" + +"Oh, I am all right," she made reply, torturing her sober little face +into a smile. + +"Mary had troubles of her own this morning, Captain," explained +Marjorie. Then she launched forth into an account of the morning's +happenings. + +Mrs. Dean looked her indignation as her daughter's recital progressed. +She had met Miss Merton and disliked her on sight. + +"I have no wish to interfere in your school life, Marjorie," she said +with a touch of sternness, when Marjorie had finished, "but I will not +hear of either of you being imposed upon. If Miss Merton continues her +unjust treatment I shall insist that you tell me of it. I shall take +measures to have it stopped." + +"Captain won't stand having her army abused," laughed Marjorie. + +"At least you must admit that I'm a conscientious officer," was her +mother's reply. "To change the subject, would you like to go shopping +with me this afternoon?" + +"Oh, yes," chorused the two. Even Mary forgot her grievances for the +moment. As little girls they had always hailed the idea of shopping with +their beloved captain. + +The shopping tour took up the greater part of the afternoon, and it was +after five o'clock when the two started for home. + +"No lingering at the dinner table to-night for this army," declared +Marjorie, finishing her dessert in a hurry. "It's almost seven, Mary. +We'll have to hurry upstairs to dress for the dance." + +"You didn't apply to me for a leave of absence," reminded Mr. Dean. "You +know the penalty for deserting." + +"We've forgotten it, General. You can tell us what it is to-morrow," +retorted Marjorie. "Come on, Mary. Salute your officers and away we go." + +In the excitement of dressing for the dance Mary almost forgot that she +was about to enter the house of the girl she now believed she disliked. +Marjorie's praise of her pretty white chiffon evening frock almost +restored her to good humor. Marjorie herself was radiant in a gown of +apricot Georgette crepe and filmy lace. + +Mrs. Dean had elected to drive them to their destination in the +automobile, and when they alighted from the machine at the gate +to Gray Gables, waving her a gay good night, Mary felt almost glad +that she had come and that the dance was to be given in her honor. + +"I've been watching for you." A slender figure in pale blue ran down the +steps to meet them. Out of pure sentiment Constance Stevens had chosen +to wear the blue chiffon dress--Marjorie's gracious gift to her. She had +taken the utmost care of it, and it looked almost as fresh as on the +night she had first worn it. + +Mary Raymond stared at her in amazement Could it be--yes, it was the +very gown that Marjorie's aunt had given her a year ago as a +commencement present. Had not Marjorie declared over and over again that +she would never part with it? And now she had deliberately given it to +Constance. This proved beyond a doubt where Marjorie's true affection +lay. Mary was obsessed with a wild desire to turn and run down the drive +and away from this hateful girl. This was, indeed, the last straw. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE PROMISE + + +Mary Raymond wondered, as she walked up the steps of Gray Gables, +between Constance and Marjorie, and into the brightly lighted reception +hall, how she could manage to endure the long evening ahead of her. She +was seized with an insane desire to break from Marjorie's light hold on +her arm and rush out of the house of this girl who had stolen her +dearest possession, Marjorie's friendship. How well she remembered the +day on which Marjorie had received the blue dress which Constance was +wearing so unconcernedly. It had come by express in a huge white +pasteboard box, while she and Marjorie were seated on the Deans' step +engaged in one of their long confabs. How excited they had been over it! +How they had exclaimed as Marjorie drew the blue wonder from its +pasteboard nest. Then a great trying-on had followed. She recalled with +jealous clearness how great Marjorie's disappointment had been when she +found it too small for her. Then Marjorie had said as she lovingly +patted its soft folds, "Never mind, I'll keep it always, just to look +at. It was awfully dear in Aunt Louise to send it to me and I wouldn't +let her know for worlds that it doesn't fit me." And now, after all she +had said, she had lightly given it away--and to Constance Stevens. + +Mary forced herself to smile and reply to the friendly greeting of Miss +Allison, who stood in the big, old-fashioned hall helping to receive her +niece's guests. A moment more and she was surrounded by Geraldine Macy, +Irma Linton and Susan Atwell, who had come forth in a body from the +long, palm-decorated parlor off the hall to welcome her, accompanied by +a singularly handsome youth, a very tall, merry-faced young man and a +black-haired, blue-eyed lad, with clean cut, sensitive features. + +She was presented in turn to Harold Macy, Sherman Norwood, known as the +Crane to his intimate associates, and Lawrence Armitage. + +"So, _you_ are Marjorie's friend, Mary Raymond, of whom she has spoken +to me so often," smiled Hal Macy. "We are very glad to welcome you to +Sanford, Miss Raymond." + +"Thank you," Mary returned, almost forgetting her first bitter moment. +Hal Macy's direct hand-clasp and frank, bright smile of welcome stamped +him with sincerity and truth. She liked equally well Lawrence +Armitage's deferential greeting and she found the Crane's wide, boyish +grin irresistible as he bowed low over her small hand. Yes, the Sanford +boys were certainly nice. She was not so sure that she liked the girls. +They made too much of Marjorie, and Marjorie had proved herself disloyal +to her sworn comrade and playmate of years. + +Once inside the drawing-room, which had been transformed into an +impromptu ball-room by taking up the rugs and moving the piano to one +end of it, introductions followed in rapid succession. + +"Mary, you must meet my foster father." Constance slipped her arm +through Mary's and conducted her to the piano where stood a man with an +immense shock of snow-white hair, sorting high piles of music arranged +on top. "Father." + +The man at the piano wheeled at the sound of the soft voice. His stern, +almost sad face broke into a radiant smile that completely transformed +it. + +"This is Mary Raymond. Mary, my father, Mr. Stevens," introduced +Constance. "And this is my uncle, Mr. Roland." + +Both men bowed and took Mary's hand in turn, expressing their pleasure +at meeting her. Old John Roland's faded blue eyes contained a puzzled +look. "You are very familiar," he said. "Where have I seen you before?" + +"Look sharply, Uncle John," laughed Marjorie, who had joined them. "You +have never seen Mary before. She is like someone you know." + +"'Someone you know,'" repeated the old man faithfully. He would never +outgrow his quaint habit of repetition, although he had improved +immensely in other ways since the change in Constance's fortune had +released him from the clutch of poverty. + +Mary eyed him curiously. Then her gaze rested on Mr. Stevens. What +peculiar persons they were. And Marjorie had never written her of them. +They must have a strange history. She made up her mind that she would +never ask her fickle chum about them. She would find out whatever she +wished to know from others. Now that she was a pupil of Sanford High she +would soon become acquainted with girls of her class other than those +she had already met. Perhaps she might learn to like some one better +than---- Her sober reflections stopped there. She could not bring +herself to the point of breaking her long comradeship with the girl who +had failed her. + +Uncle John Roland was still staring at her and smilingly shaking his +gray head. "I don't know. I can't think, and yet----" + +Suddenly a jubilant little shout rent the air, causing the group about +the piano to smile. In the same instant Mary felt a small hand slip into +hers. "I knew you comed to see Charlie again. Charlie wouldn't go to bed +because Connie said you'd surely come. Charlie loves you a whole lot. +You look like Connie." + +"Look like Connie," muttered Uncle John. Then his faded eyes flashed +sudden intelligence. "I know. Of course she's like Connie. I guessed it, +didn't I?" He glanced triumphantly at Marjorie. + +"So you did, Uncle John," nodded Marjorie brightly. + +Mr. Stevens gazed searchingly at the young girl so like his foster +daughter. Mary felt her color rising under that penetrating gaze. It was +as though this dreamy-eyed man with the dark, sad face had read her very +soul. For a brief instant she sensed dimly the ignobleness of her +jealousy of his daughter. She felt that she would rather die than have +him know it. Perhaps, after all, she was in the wrong. She would try to +dismiss it and do her best to enter into the spirit of the merry-making. +An impatient tug at her hand caused her to remember Charlie's presence. + +"Talk to me," demanded the child. "Connie says I have to go to bed in a +minute, so hurry up." + +Mary stooped and wound her arms about the tiny, insistent youngster. She +clasped Charlie tightly to her and kissed his eager face. And that +embrace sealed the beginning of an affection between them, the very +purity of which was one day to lead her from the terrible Valley of +Doubt into the sunlight of belief. + +"Now you've done it," was Marjorie's merry accusation. "You've stolen my +cavalier. Oh, Charlie, I thought I was your very best girl." She made +reproachful eyes at Charlie, who, delighted at receiving so much +attention, sidled over to her with a ridiculous air of importance and +took her hand. + +"Everybody likes Charlie," he observed complacently. "Now he can stay up +all night and listen to the band." + +"You'd go to sleep and never hear the band at all," laughed Constance. +"No, Charlie must go to bed and sleep and sleep, or he will never grow +big enough and strong enough to play in the band." + +The half pout on Charlie's babyish mouth, born of Constance's dread +edict, died suddenly. Even the joys of staying up all night were not to +be compared with the glories of that far-off future. + +"All right, I'll go," he sighed. "But you and Marjorie must come again +soon in the daytime when I don't have to go to bed. I'll play a new +piece for you on my fiddle. Uncle John says it's a marv'lus +compysishun." + +A burst of laughter rose from the group around him at this calm +statement. After kissing everyone in his immediate vicinity, Charlie +made a quaint little bow and marched off beside Constance, well pleased +with himself. + +"Isn't he a perfect darling?" was Mary's involuntary tribute. + +"Yes, I adore Charlie," returned Marjorie. "I used to feel so dreadfully +for him when he was crippled. Isn't it splendid, Mr. Stevens, to see him +so well and lively?" She turned radiantly to the white-haired musician. +His face lighted again in that wonderful smile. He was about to answer +Marjorie, when Constance, who had seen Charlie to the door where he had +been taken in charge by a white-capped nurse, returned to them, saying: + +"What shall we have first, girls, a one step?" + +"Oh, yes, do!" exclaimed Jerry Macy, who had come up in time to hear +Constance's question, in company with a mischievous-eyed, +freckled-faced youth who rejoiced in the dignified cognomen of Daniel +Webster Seabrooke, but who was most appropriately nicknamed the Gadfly. + +"Mr. Seabrooke, Miss Raymond," introduced Jerry. + +The freckled-faced boy put on a preternaturally solemn expression and +begged the pleasure of the first dance with Mary. Mr. Stevens had +already handed the old violinist the music for the dance and placed his +own score in position upon the piano. The slow, fascinating strains of +the one step rang out and a great scurrying for partners began. + +Marjorie found herself dancing off with Hal Macy, while Lawrence +Armitage swung Constance into the rapidly growing circle of dancers. +Irma Linton and the Crane danced together, while Jerry Macy, who danced +extremely well for a stout girl, was claimed by Arthur Standish, one of +her brother's classmates. + +Once the hop had fairly begun, dance followed dance in rapid succession. +Much to Mary's secret satisfaction there were no gaps in her programme. +As it was, there were no wall flowers. An even number of boys and girls +had been invited and every one had put in an appearance. At eleven +o'clock a dainty repast, best calculated to suit the appetites of hungry +school girls and boys, was served at small tables on the side veranda, +which extended almost the length of the house. + +It was not until after supper, when the dancing was again at its +height, that Marjorie and Constance found time for a few words together. + +The two girls had slipped away to Constance's pretty blue and white +bedroom to repair a torn frill of Marjorie's gown. + +"Isn't it splendid that we can have a minute to ourselves?" laughed +Constance. "I'm glad you happened to need repairing. I hope Mary is +having a good time. As long as it's her party I'm anxious that she +should enjoy herself." + +"Of course she's having a good time. How could she help it?" returned +Marjorie staunchly. "All the boys have been perfectly lovely to her and +so have the girls. I knew everyone would like her. You and Mary and I +will have lots of fun going about together this winter." + +Constance smiled an answer to Marjorie's joyous prediction. Then her +pretty face sobered. "Marjorie," she said, then paused. + +Marjorie glanced up from the flounce she was setting to rights. +Something in Constance's tone commanded her attention. "What is it, +Connie?" + +"Have you ever said anything to Mary about you--and me--and things last +year?" + +"Why, no. I wouldn't think of doing so unless I asked you if I might. +I----" + +"Please don't, then," interrupted Constance. "I had rather she didn't +know. It is all past, and, as long as so few persons know about it, +don't you think it would be better to let it rest?" + +Marjorie bent her head over her work to conceal the sudden disturbing +flush that rose to her face. She had intended telling Constance that +very night of the remark that Miss Archer had made in Mary's presence +about their freshman year. She had felt dimly that, perhaps, Mary ought +to be put in possession of the story, although she had not the remotest +suspicion of the jealousy that was already warping her chum's thoughts. +Her one idea had been to answer all her questions as freely as she had +done in the past. She intended to put the matter to Constance in this +light. But now Constance had forestalled her and was asking her to be +silent on the very matters she wished to impart to Mary. + +"It isn't as though it is something which Mary ought to know," continued +Constance, quite unaware of Marjorie's inward agitation. "It wouldn't +make her happier to learn it and--and--she might not think so well of +me. I wish her to like me, Marjorie, just because she is your dearest +friend. Don't you think I am right about it? You wouldn't care to have +even the friend of your best friend know all the little intimate details +of your life. Now, would you?" Constance slipped to her knees beside +Marjorie, one arm across her shoulder, and regarded her with pleading +eyes. + +Marjorie stared thoughtfully into the earnest face of the girl at her +side. What should she say? If she told Constance that Mary had twice +asked questions regarding her affairs, Constance might think Mary unduly +curious. Perhaps, after all, silence was wisest. Mary might forget all +about it, and, in any case, she was far too sensible to feel hurt or +indignant because she, Marjorie, was not free to tell her of the +private affairs of another. + +"Promise me, Marjorie, that you won't say anything," urged Constance. +Her natural reticence made her dread taking even Mary into confidence +regarding herself. + +"I promise, Connie," said Marjorie with a half sigh. "There, I guess +that flounce will stay in place. I've sewed it over and over." + +The two girls returned to the dance floor arm in arm. Mary Raymond's +blue eyes were turned on them resentfully as they entered the room. They +had been having a talk together, and hadn't asked her to join them. Then +her face cleared. She thought she knew what that talk was about. +Marjorie had been asking Constance's permission to tell her everything. +She would hear the great secret on the way home, no doubt. Her spirits +rose at the prospect of the comfy chat they would have in the automobile +and for the rest of the evening she put aside all doubts and fears, and +danced as only sweet and seventeen can. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LATEST SOPHOMORE ARRIVAL + + +Though the evening of the dance had been deceitfully clear and balmy, +dark clouds banked the autumn sky before morning and the day broke in a +downpour of rain. It was a doubly dreary morning to poor little Mary +Raymond and over and over again Longfellow's plaintive lines, + + "Into each life some rain must fall, + Some days must be dark and dreary," + +repeated themselves in her brain. Yes, rain had indeed fallen into her +life. The bitter rain of false friendship. All the days must from now on +be dark and dreary. Last night she had danced the hours away, secure in +the thought that Marjorie would not fail her. And Marjorie had spoken no +word of explanation. During the drive home she had talked gaily of the +dance and of the boys and girls who had attended it. She had related +bright bits of freshman history concerning them, but on the subject of +Constance Stevens and her affairs she had been mute. Mary fancied she +had purposely avoided the subject. In this respect she was quite +correct. Marjorie, still a little disturbed over her promise to +Constance, had tried to direct Mary's mind to other matters. Deeply +hurt, rather than jealous, Mary had listened to Marjorie in silence. She +managed to make a few comments on the dance, and pleading that she was +too sleepy for a night-owl talk, had kissed Marjorie good night rather +coldly and hurried to her room. Stopping only to lock the door, she had +thrown herself on her bed in her pretty evening frock and given vent to +long, tearless sobs that left her wide awake and mourning, far into the +night. It was, therefore, not strange that lack of sleep, coupled with +her supposed dire wrongs, had caused her to awaken that morning in a +mood quite suited to the gloom of the day. + +A vigorous rattling of the door knob caused her to spring from her bed +with a half petulant exclamation. + +"Let me in, Mary," called Marjorie's fresh young voice from the hall. +"Whatever made you lock your door? I guess you were so sleepy you didn't +know what you were about." + +Mary turned the key and opened the door with a jerk. Marjorie pounced +upon her like a frolicsome puppy. Wrapping her arms around her chum, she +whirled her about and half the length of the room in a wild dance. + +"Let me alone, please." Mary pulled herself pettishly from Marjorie's +clinging arms. + +"Why, Lieutenant, what's the matter? You aren't sick, are you? If you +are, I'm sorry I was so rough. If you're just sleepy, then I'm not. You +needed waking up. It's a quarter to eight now and we'll have to hustle. +Captain let us sleep until the last minute. Now, which are you, sick or +sleepy?" + +"Both," returned Mary laconically. "I--that is--my head aches." + +"Poor darling. Was Marjorie a naughty girl to tease her when her was so +sick?" Marjorie sought to comfort her chum, but Mary eluded her +sympathetic caress and said almost crossly, "Don't baby me. I--I hate +being babied and you know it." + +Marjorie's arms dropped to her sides. "I didn't mean to tease you. I'm +sorry. I'll go down and ask Captain to give you something to cure your +headache." She turned abruptly and left the room, deeply puzzled and +slightly hurt. What on earth ailed Mary? + +The moment the door closed Mary pattered into the bathroom and banged +the door. She hurried through her bath and was partly dressed when +Marjorie returned with a little bottle of aspirin tablets. "One of +these will fix up your head," she declared cheerily. + +"I don't want it," muttered Mary. "My head is all right now." + +"That is what I would call a marvelous recovery," laughed Marjorie. "I +wish Captain's headaches would take wing so easily. You know what +dreadful sick headaches she sometimes has. She had one on the first day +I went to Sanford High, and I had to go alone." + +"I remember," nodded Mary carelessly. "That was one of the things you +_did_ write me." + +"I wrote you lots of things," retorted Marjorie lightly, failing to +catch the significance of Mary's words. "But now you are here, I don't +have to write them. I can _say_ them." + +"Then, why don't you?" was on Mary's tongue, but she did not say it. +Instead, she maintained a half sulky silence, as she walked to the +wardrobe and began fingering the gowns hung there. Selecting a blue +serge dress, made sailor fashion, she slipped into it and began +fastening it as she walked to the mirror. Marjorie stood watching her, +with a half frown. She did not understand this new mood of Mary's. The +Mary she had formerly known had been sunny and light-hearted. The girl +who stood before the mirror, grave and unsmiling, was a stranger. + +"I'm ready to go downstairs." Mary turned slowly from the mirror and +walked toward the door. Beneath her quiet exterior, a silent struggle +was going on. Should she speak her mind once and for all to Marjorie, or +should she go on enduring in silence? Perhaps it would be best to speak +and have things out. Then, at least, they would understand each other. +Then her pride whispered to her that it was Marjorie's and not her place +to speak. Marjorie must know something of her state of mind. At heart +she must be just the least bit ashamed of herself for shutting her out +of her personal affairs. Had they not sworn long ago to tell each other +their secrets. _She_ had always kept her word. It was Marjorie who had +failed to do so. No, she would not humble herself. Marjorie might keep +her secrets, for all _she_ cared. She was sorry that she had ever come +to Sanford. Now that she was here she would have to stay. If she wrote +her father to take her away, her mother would have to be told. Mary was +resolved that no matter what happened to her, her mother must be spared +all anxiety. She would try to bear it. Marjorie should never know how +deeply she was wounded. She would pretend that all was as it had been +before. + +Mrs. Dean looked up from her letters, as the two girls entered the +dining room. + +"Hurry, children," she admonished. "You haven't much time to spare. +These social affairs completely break up army discipline. Look out you +don't go to sleep at your post this morning." + +"Who's sleepy? Not I," boasted Marjorie. "I feel as though I'd slept for +hours and hours. Your army is ready for duty, Captain. Lieutenant Mary's +headache has been put to rout and everything is lovely." + +"Are you sure you feel quite well, dear?" questioned Mrs. Dean +anxiously. She noted that Mary was very pale and that her eyes looked +strained and tired. + +"I'm quite well now, thank you." The ghost of a smile flickered on her +pale face. + +"Did you enjoy the dance? It was nice in Connie to give it in your +honor. We are all very fond of her and of little Charlie." + +Mary's wan face brightened at the mention of the child's name. "Isn't he +dear?" she asked impulsively. + +"Mary has stolen Charlie from me," put in Marjorie. "He adores her +already. I don't blame him. So do I, and so does Connie, too. We three +are going to have splendid times together this winter." + +During the rest of the breakfast Marjorie regaled her mother with an +account of the dance. Mary said little or nothing, but amid her friend's +merry chatter her silence passed unnoticed. + +"Wear your raincoats," called Mrs. Dean after them, as, their breakfast +finished, they ran upstairs for their wraps. + +Fifteen minutes later they had joined the bobbing umbrella procession +that wended its way into the high school building. + +"You'll have to go to Miss Merton, Mary, and be assigned to a seat. She +didn't give you one yesterday, did she?" asked Marjorie. "You can put +your wraps in our locker. We are to have the same lockers we had last +year. Connie and I have a locker together. There is lots of room in it +for your things, too. I'll task Marcia Arnold to let you in with us. She +has charge of the lockers." + +Mary's first impulse was to decline this friendly offer. On second +thought she closed her lips tightly, resolved to make no protest. +Later--well, there was no telling what might happen. + +"Don't be afraid of Miss Merton," was Marjorie's whispered counsel, as +they crossed the threshold of the study hall. "She can't eat you." + +"I'm not afraid." Mary's lip curled a trifle scornfully. Marjorie +treated her as though she were a baby. + +"I have come to you for my seat," was her terse statement, as she paused +squarely before Miss Merton's desk. + +Miss Merton glanced up to meet the unflinching gaze of two purposely +cold blue eyes. Something in their direct gaze made her answer with +undue civility, "Very well. I will assign you to one. Come with me." + +She stalked down the aisle, Mary following, to the last seat in one of +the two sophomore rows, and paused before it. "This will be your seat +for the year," she said. + +"Thank you." Mary sat down and took account of her surroundings. Across +the aisle on one side, Susan Atwell's dimpled face flashed her a +welcome. On the other side sat a tall, severe junior who wore +eye-glasses. The seat in front of her was vacant. Marjorie sat far down +the same row. Mary could just see the top of her curly head. It still +lacked five minutes of opening time and the students were, for the most +part, conversing in low tones. Now and then an accidentally loud note +caused Miss Merton to raise her head from her writing and glare severely +at the offender. + +Susan Atwell leaned across the aisle and patted Mary's hand in friendly +fashion. "I'm so glad you are going to sit here," she said in an +undertone. "I was afraid Miss Merton would put some old slow-poke there +who wouldn't say 'boo' or pass notes or do anything to help the +sophomore cause along." + +"I'm glad she put me near you," returned Mary affably. She had made up +her mind to win friends. They would be indispensable to her now that all +was over between her and Marjorie. "I don't imagine that tall girl is +very sociable." + +"She's a dig and a prig," giggled Susan. "You'd get no recreation from +labor from that quarter." + +Mary echoed Susan's infectious giggle. "Who sits in front of me?" she +asked. + +"No one, yet. Who knows what manner of girl is in store for us? That's +the only vacant seat in the section. The first late arrival into our +midst will get it. I don't believe we'll have any more girls, though, +unless someone comes into school late as Marjorie came last year. It's +too bad. It makes an awkward stretch if one wants to pass a note. I +always am caught if I throw one. Last year I threw one and hit Miss +Merton in the back. She was standing quite a little way down the aisle. +I thought it was a splendid opportunity. I'd been waiting to send one to +Irma Linton, who sat two seats in front of me. The girl between us +wouldn't pass it. So I threw it, and it went further than I thought." +Susan's fascinating giggle burst forth anew. She rocked to and fro in +merriment at the recollection. + +Mary found herself laughing in concert. Just then the opening bell +clanged forth its harsh note of warning. The low buzz of voices in the +great study hall died into silence. Every pair of eyes faced front. Miss +Merton rose from her chair to conduct the opening exercises. A sudden +murmur that swept the hall caused her to say sternly, "Silence." Then, +noting that the eyes of her pupils were fixed in concerted gaze on the +study-hall door, she turned sharply. + +A black-haired, black-eyed girl, whose elfish face wore an expression of +mingled contempt and amusement, advanced into the room with a decided +air of one who wishes to create an impression. + +"Mignon!" gasped Susan. "Well, _what_ do you think of that?" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE BLINDNESS OF JEALOUSY + + +At sight of the newcomer Miss Merton's severe face underwent a lightning +change. She stepped from the platform and hurried toward the dark-eyed +girl with outstretched hand. Her harsh voice sounded almost pleasant, as +she said, "Why, Mignon, I am delighted to see you!" + +Mignon La Salle tossed her head with an air of triumph as she took Miss +Merton's hand. In her, at least, she had a powerful ally. Lowering her +voice, the teacher asked her several questions. Mignon answered them in +equally guarded tones, accompanied by the frequent significant gestures +which are involuntary in those of foreign birth. + +A subdued buzzing arose from different parts of the study hall. +Apparently engrossed in her conversation with the girl who had been her +favorite pupil during her freshman year, Miss Merton paid no attention +to the sounds provoked by Mignon La Salle's unexpected arrival. As a +matter of fact, she was quite aware of them, but chose to ignore them +solely on Mignon's account. To rebuke the whisperers would tend toward +embarrassing the French girl. + +"There is just one vacant place in the sophomore section," she informed +Mignon. "I think I must have reserved it specially for you." She +contorted her face into what she believed to be an affable smile. + +Mignon answered it in kind, with an inimitable lifting of the eyebrows +and a significant shrug. + +"Look at her," muttered Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear. "Miss +Merton is taffying her up in great style. She always puts on +her cat-that-ate-the-canary expression when she's pleased. +And to think that we've got to stand for _her_ again this +year!" Jerry gave a positive snort of disgust. + +"Shh! They'll hear you, Jerry," warned Marjorie. + +"Don't care if they do. Wish they would," grumbled the disgruntled +Jerry. "I'll bet you ten to one she was sent home from boarding school." + +There was a general turning of heads and craning of necks as Miss Merton +conducted Mignon down the aisle to the vacant seat in front of Mary +Raymond. There was a brief exchange of low-toned words between the two, +then Mignon seated herself, while Miss Merton marched stolidly back to +her desk and without further delay began the interrupted morning +exercises. + +Mary Raymond viewed the black, curly head and silken-clad shoulders of +the newcomer with some curiosity. The subdued ripple of astonishment +that had passed over the roomful of girls told her that here was no +ordinary pupil. Mignon's expensive frock of dark green Georgette crepe, +elaborately trimmed, also pointed to affluence. Mary reasoned that she +must be known to the others. A stranger would not have created such a +buzz of comment. Then, she remembered Susan's amazed exclamation. She +turned to the latter and made a gesture of inquiry, Susan shook her +head. Her lips formed a silent, "After school," and Mary nodded +understandingly. + +"Young ladies, you will arrange your programme of recitations this +morning as speedily as possible," was Miss Merton's command the moment +opening exercises were over. "You will be given until ten o'clock to do +so. Then there will be twenty-minute classes for the rest of the +morning. Classes will occupy the usual period of time during the +afternoon. Try to arrange your studies so that you will not have to +waste valuable time in making changes. Please avoid asking unnecessary +questions. The bulletin board will tell you everything, if you take +pains to examine it carefully. Let there be no loud talking or personal +conversation." + +Miss Merton sat down with the air of one who has done her duty, and +glared severely at the rows of attentive young faces. She was not in +sympathy with these girls. Their youth was a distinct affront to her +narrow soul. + +The business of arranging the term's studies began in quiet, orderly +fashion. The majority of the pupils had long since decided upon their +courses of study. Their main duty now lay in making satisfactory +arrangements of their classes and the hours on which their various +recitations fell. + +Marjorie Dean studied the bulletin board with a serious face. She had +successfully carried five studies during her freshman year. She decided +that she would do so again, provided the fifth subject held interest +enough to warrant the extra effort it meant. Plane geometry, of course, +she would have to take. Then there was second year French. She and +Constance intended to go on with the language of which they were so +fond. Her General had insisted that she must begin Latin. She should +have begun it in her freshman year. That made three. Then there was +chemistry. Should she choose a fifth subject? Yes, there was English +Literature. It would not be hard work. She was sure she would love it. +Besides, she wished to be in Miss Flint's class. + +Once she had decided upon her subjects, she studied the board anew for a +proper arrangement of her recitation hours. For a wonder they fitted +into one another beautifully, leaving her that last coveted period in +the afternoon, free for study. She sat back at last with a faint breath +of satisfaction. She wondered how Mary was getting on and what she +intended to study. They had agreed beforehand on Chemistry. Only the day +before Mr. Dean had half-promised to fit out a tiny laboratory for them +in a small room at the rear of the house. + +Mary, however, was frowning darkly at the board. She wondered in which +section Marjorie intended to recite geometry. She had been so busy with +her own woes that gloomy morning that she had quite forgotten to plan +with Marjorie. Oh, well, she reflected, what difference did it make? +Marjorie wouldn't care whether they recited together or not. Very likely +she had already made plans with that odious Constance Stevens that would +leave her out. Marjorie had already said that she and Constance +intended to go on with French together. Then there were Caesar's +Commentaries. She had finished first-year Latin. She would have to take +them next. Suddenly a naughty idea came into her perverse little brain. +Why not purposely leave Marjorie out of her calculations? Marjorie had +wished her to take chemistry. Very well. She would disappoint her by +choosing something else. Then if Mr. Dean fitted out a laboratory, his +daughter would have the pleasure of working in it all by herself. She +would show a certain person what it meant to cast aside a lifelong +friendship. Oh, yes, Marjorie was anxious for her to take English +literature. She would take rhetoric instead. She would go still further. +If when classes assembled she found herself in the same geometry section +with her chum she would make an excuse and change to another period of +recitation. The frown deepened on her smooth forehead as she jotted down +her subjects on the sheet of paper before her. + +Suddenly conscious of the intent regard of someone, she raised her head. +A pair of elfish black eyes were fixed upon her in curious intent. + +"Who are you?" asked Mignon La Salle with cool impudence. "You look like +that priggish Miss Stevens. I hope for your sake you are not a relative +of hers." + +"Most certainly I am not," retorted Mary, flushing angrily. It was too +provoking. Why must she be constantly reminded of her resemblance to one +she disliked so intensely? In her annoyance at the nature of the French +girl's remarks, she quite overlooked the impertinence of her address. + +A gleam of satisfaction flashed across Mignon's face. "Then there is +hope," she returned, holding up her forefinger in an impish imitation of +a world-wide advertisement. "Say it again. I can't believe the evidence +of my own ears." + +"I am not a relative of Miss Stevens," repeated Mary a trifle stiffly. +The French girl's mocking tones were distinctly unpleasant. "Why do you +ask?" + +"Because I wish to know," shrugged Mignon Then she added tactfully, +"Please don't think me rude. I am always too frank in expressing my +opinions. If I dislike anyone I can't smile deceitfully and pretend them +to be my dearest friend." + +Mary's sullen face cleared. Here at last was a girl who seemed to be +sincere. She unbent slightly and smiled. Mignon returned the smile in +her most amiable fashion. + +"Pardon me for a moment." Mignon turned in her seat and began fumbling +in a little leather bag that lay on her desk. + +Mary felt a quick, light touch on her arm. Susan Atwell began making +violent signs at her behind Mignon's back. She desisted as suddenly as +she began. The French girl had turned again toward Mary with the quick, +cat-like manner that so characterized all her movements. + +"Here is my card," she offered, placing a bit of engraved pasteboard on +Mary's desk. + +The latter picked it up and read, "Mignon Adrienne La Salle." + +"What a pretty name!" was her soft exclamation. + +"I'm glad you like it," beamed Mignon. "But you haven't told me yours." + +"I haven't any cards with me," apologized Mary. "My name is Mary +Raymond." + +"Have you lived long in Sanford?" inquired Mignon suavely. She had +already decided that a girl who was in sympathy with her on one point +might prove to be worth cultivating. + +"Only a short time. My mother is in Colorado for her health and I am +living in Marjorie Dean's home until Mother returns next summer." + +Mary's innocent words had an electrical effect on the French girl. Her +heavy brows drew together in a scowl and her dark face set in hard +lines. + +"Then that settles it," she said coldly. "You and I can _never_ be +friends." She switched about in her seat with an angry jerk. + +Mary leaned forward and touched her on the shoulder. "I don't +understand," she murmured. "Please tell me what you mean." + +The French girl swung halfway about. She regarded Mary with narrowed +eyes. Was it possible that Marjorie Dean had never mentioned her to her +friend? + +"Hasn't Miss Dean ever spoken to you of me?" she asked abruptly. + +Mary shook her head. "No, I am sure I never before heard of you. I don't +know many Sanford girls yet. I have met Miss Atwell and Miss Macy and a +few others who were at Miss Stevens' dance last night." + +"So, Miss Stevens is doing social stunts," sneered Mignon. "Quite a +change from last year, I should say. I used to be friends with Susan +Atwell and Jerry Macy, but this Stevens girl made mischief between us +and broke up our old crowd entirely. Your friend, Miss Dean, took sides +with them, too, and helped the thing along. She made a perfect idiot of +herself over Constance Stevens. Oh, well, never mind. I'm not going to +say another word about it. I'm sorry we can't be friends. I'm sure we'd +get along famously together. It is impossible, though. Miss Dean +wouldn't let you." + +Mary suddenly sat very erect. She had listened in amazement to Mignon's +recital. Could she believe her ears? Had her hitherto-beloved Marjorie +been guilty of trouble-making? And all for the sake of Constance +Stevens. Marjorie must indeed care a great deal for her. She had not +been mistaken, then, in her belief that she had been supplanted in her +chum's heart. And now Mignon was suggesting that Marjorie would not +allow her to be friends with the girl whom she had wronged. Mary did not +stop to consider that there are always two sides to a story. Swayed by +her resentment against Constance, she preferred to believe anything +which she might hear against her. + +"Please understand, once and for all, that Marjorie has nothing to say +about whoever I choose to have for a friend," she said with decision. "I +hope I am free to do as I please. I shall be very glad to know you +better, Miss La Salle, and I am sorry that you have been so badly +treated." + +The ringing of the first recitation-bell broke in upon the conversation. + +"Oh, gracious, I haven't looked at the bulletin board. Excuse me, Miss +Raymond. I'll see you later and we'll have a nice long talk. I'm sure I +shall be pleased to have _you_ for a friend." + +"Are you going to recite geometry in this first section?" asked Mary +eagerly. The students were already filing out of the great room. + +"Let me see." Mignon consulted the bulletin board. "Why, yes, I might as +well." + +"Oh, splendid!" glowed Mary. "Then you can show me the way to the +geometry classroom." + +"Delighted, I'm sure," returned Mignon. Her black eyes sparkled with +triumph. At last she had found a way to even her score with Marjorie +Dean. With almost uncanny shrewdness she had divined what Marjorie +herself had not discovered. This blue-eyed baby of a girl, for Mignon +mentally characterized her as such, was jealous of Marjorie's friendship +with the Stevens girl. Very well. She would take a hand and help matters +along. Of course there was a strong chance that it might all come to +nothing. Marjorie might take Mary in charge the moment school was over +and tell her a few things. Yet that was hardly possible. Much as she +hated the brown-eyed girl who had worsted her at every point, in her own +cowardly heart lurked a respect for Marjorie's high standard of honor. +So far Mary knew nothing against her. Perhaps she would never know. +Perhaps if Marjorie and Jerry and Irma tried to prejudice Mary against +her, the girl would rebel and send them about their business. She had +looked stupidly obstinate when she said, "I hope I am free to do as I +please." Mignon smiled maliciously as she walked down the long aisle +ahead of Mary. + +Marjorie had risen from her seat at the sound of the first bell. Now she +gazed anxiously up the aisle toward Mary's seat. She looked relieved as +she saw her chum approaching. She bowed coldly to Mignon as she passed. +"Oh, Mary," she said, "I was looking for you. If you are going to recite +geometry now, then please don't go. Wait and recite in my section. You +know, we said we'd recite it together." + +Mary's blue eyes glowed resentfully. "I've made up my programme," she +answered with cool defiance. "I can't change it now. Miss La Salle is +going to show me the way to the geometry classroom. I'll see you later." + +Without waiting for a reply she marched on, leaving Marjorie to stare +after her with troubled eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE VALLEY OF MISUNDERSTANDING + + +For a brief instant Marjorie continued to stare after the retreating +form of her chum, oblivious to the steady stream of girls passing by +her. Then, seized with a sudden idea, she slipped into her seat and +hastily consulted the bulletin board. The ringing of the third bell +found her hurrying from the aisle toward the door. That brief survey of +the schedule had resulted in an entire change of her programme. She had +decided to recite geometry in the morning section. It meant giving up +the cherished last hour in the afternoon which she had reserved for +study. She would have to recite Latin at that time. Well, that did not +matter so much. Reciting geometry in the same section with Mary was what +counted. She had experienced a curious feeling of alarm as she had +watched Mary and Mignon La Salle disappear through the big doorway side +by side. Mignon was the last person she had supposed Mary would meet. To +be sure, there was nothing particularly alarming in their meeting. As +yet they were comparative strangers to each other. She had noted that +Miss Merton had assigned the French girl to the seat in front of Mary. +It was, therefore, quite probable that Mary had inquired the way to the +geometry classroom and Mignon had volunteered to conduct her to it. + +Marjorie's sober face lightened a little as she hastened down the +corridor to the geometry room. Miss Nelson, the instructor in +mathematics, was on the point of closing the door as she hurriedly +approached. She smiled as she saw the pretty sophomore, and continued to +hold the door open until Marjorie had crossed the threshold. The latter +gave an eager glance about the room. The classrooms were provided with +rows of single desks similar to those in the study hall. Mary was +occupying one of them well toward the front of the room. Directly ahead +of her sat the French girl. On one of the back seats was Jerry Macy, +glaring in her most savage manner, her angry eyes fixed on the black, +curly head of the girl she despised. + +There was no vacant seat near Mary. Marjorie noted all these facts in +that one comprehensive glance. It also seemed to her that the French +girl's face wore an expression of mocking triumph. And was it her +imagination, or had Mary glanced up as she entered and then turned away +her eyes? What did it all mean? Marjorie took the nearest vacant seat at +hand, the prey of many emotions. Then, as Miss Nelson stepped forward to +address the class, she resolutely put away all personal matters and, +with the fine attention to the business of study which had endeared her +to her various teachers during her freshman year, she strove to center +her troubled mind on what Miss Nelson was saying. + +After a short preliminary talk on the importance of the study the class +was about to begin, Miss Nelson proceeded to the business of registering +her pupils and giving out the text books. Miss Nelson laid particular +stress on the thorough learning of all definitions pertaining to the +study in hand. "You must know these definitions so well that you could +say them backward if I requested it," she emphasized. "They will be of +greatest importance in your work to come." Then she heartlessly gave out +several pages of them for the advance lesson. The rest of the period she +spent in going over and explaining these same definitions in her usual +thorough manner, ending with the stern injunction that she expected a +letter-perfect recitation on the following morning. + +"Miss Nelson doesn't want much," grumbled Jerry Macy in Irma Linton's +ear, as they filed out of class at the ringing of the bell which ended +the period. Then, before Irma had time to reply, she continued: "_What_ +do you think of Mignon? Isn't it a shame she's back again? And did you +see her march in here with Mary Raymond? It's a pretty sure thing that +neither of them knows who is who in Sanford. I suppose Mary, poor +innocent, asked her the way to the classroom. Where was Marjorie all +that time, I wonder? I'll bet you a box of Huyler's that they won't walk +into geometry again to-morrow morning. Hurry up, there's Marjorie just +ahead of us with Mary now. The fair Mignon has vanished. I can see her +away ahead of them. I guess Marjorie didn't know who piloted Mary into +class. She came in last, you know." + +Irma laid a detaining hand on Jerry's arm. + +"Oh, wait until after school, Jerry," she counseled. This quiet, +unobtrusive girl was a keen observer. She had noted Marjorie's +half-troubled expression as she entered the room. The suspicion that +Marjorie knew and was not pleased had already come to her. + +"All right, I will. Wish school was out now. Those geometry definitions +make me tired. I'm worn out already and school hasn't fairly begun yet. +I hate mathematics. Wouldn't look at a geometry if I could graduate +without it." + +But while Jerry was anathematizing mathematics, Marjorie was saying +earnestly to Mary, whom she had joined at the door, "I am so sorry I +didn't come back to your seat in the study hall before the first bell +rang. I really ought to have asked permission to do so, but I was afraid +Miss Merton would say 'no.' She never loses a chance to be horrid to me. +When you said you were going to recite in this section I hurried and +changed my programme to make things come right for us." + +Marjorie's earnest little speech, so full of apparent good will, brought +a quick flush of contrition to Mary's cheeks. She experienced a swift +spasm of regret for her bitter suspicion of Marjorie. Her tense face +softened. Why not unburden herself to her chum now and find relief from +her torture of doubt? + +"Marjorie," she began, laying her hand lightly on her friend's arm, "I +wish you would tell me something. Miss La Salle said that Constance +Stevens----" + +"Mary!" Marjorie's sunny face had suddenly grown very stern. "I am sorry +to have to speak harshly of any girl in Sanford High, but as your chum +I feel it my duty to ask you to have nothing to do with Mignon La Salle, +or pay the slightest attention to her. She made us all very unhappy last +year, particularly Constance and myself. I can't help saying it, but I +am sorry that she has come back to Sanford. I understood that she was at +boarding school. I am sure I wish she had stayed there." Marjorie spoke +with a bitterness quite foreign to her generous nature. + +Mary's lips tightened obstinately as she listened. Her brief impulse +toward a frank understanding died with Marjorie's emphatic utterance. +She was inwardly furious at her chum's sharp interruption. + +"I am very well aware that you would stand up for Miss Stevens, whether +she were in the right or in the wrong," she said with cold sarcasm. +"I've been seeing that ever since I came to Sanford. But just because +she is perfect in _your_ eyes is not reason why _I_ should think so. For +my part, I like Miss La Salle. She was awfully sweet to me this morning, +and I don't think it is nice in you to talk about her behind her back." + +In the intensity of the moment both girls had stopped short in the +corridor, oblivious of the passing students. Mary's flashing blue eyes +fixed Marjorie's amazed brown ones in an angry gaze. + +"Why, Ma-a-ry!" stammered Marjorie. "What _is_ the matter? I don't +understand you." Her bewilderment served only to increase the rancor +that had been smouldering in Mary's heart. Now it burst forth in a fury +of words. + +"Don't pretend, Marjorie Dean. You know perfectly well what I mean. It +isn't necessary for me to tell you, either. When I came to Sanford to +live with you I thought I'd be the happiest girl in the world because I +was going to live at your house and go to school with you. If I had +known as much when Father and I came to see you as I know now--well, I +wouldn't--ever--have come back again!" Her anger-choked tones faltered. +She turned away her head. Then pulling herself sharply together, she +turned and hurried down the corridor. + +For a second Marjorie stood rooted to the spot. Could she believe her +ears? Was it really Mary, her soldier chum, with whom she had stood +shoulder to shoulder for so many years, who had thus arraigned her? Her +instant of inaction past, she darted down the corridor after Mary. But +the latter passed into the study hall before she could overtake her. She +could do nothing now to straighten the tangle in which they had so +suddenly become involved until the morning session of school was over. +She glanced anxiously toward Mary's seat the moment she stepped across +the threshold of the study hall, only to see her friend in earnest +conversation with Mignon La Salle. An angry little furrow settled on her +usually placid brow. Mignon had lost no time in living up to her +reputation. Mary must be rescued from her baleful influence at once. +When they reached home that day she would tell her chum the whole story +of last year. Once Mary learned Mignon's true character she would see +matters in a different light. But what had the French girl said about +Constance? If only she had held her peace and not interrupted Mary. Even +as a little girl Marjorie remembered how hard it had been, once Mary was +angry, to discover the cause. In spite of her usual good-nature she was +unyieldingly stubborn. When, at rare intervals, she became displeased or +hurt over a fancied grievance, she would nurse her anger for days in +sulky silence. + +"I'll tell her all about last year the minute we get into the house this +noon," resolved Marjorie. "When she knows how badly Mignon behaved +toward Connie----" The little girl drew a sharp breath of dismay. Into +her mind flashed her recent promise to Constance Stevens. She could tell +Mary nothing until she had permission to do so. That meant that for the +day, at least, she must remain mute, for Constance was not in school +that morning, nor would she be in during the day. She had received +special permission from Miss Archer to be excused from lessons while her +foster father was at Gray Gables. + +It was a very sober little girl who wended her way to the French class, +her next recitation. Out of an apparently clear sky the miserable set of +circumstances frowned upon her dawning sophomore year. But it must come +right. She would go to Gray Gables that very afternoon and ask Constance +to release her from her promise. Connie would surely be willing to do +so, when she knew all. Comforted by this thought, Marjorie brightened +again. + +"_Bon jour_, Mademoiselle Dean," greeted the cheerful voice of Professor +Fontaine as she entered his classroom. "It is with a great plaisure +that I see you again. Let us 'ope that you haf not forgottaine your +French, I trost you haf sometimes remembered _la belle langue_ during +your vacation." The little man beamed delightedly upon Marjorie. + +"I am afraid I have forgotten a great deal of it, Professor Fontaine." +Marjorie spoke with the pretty deference that she always accorded this +long-suffering professor, whose strongly accented English and foreign +eccentricities made him the subject of many ill-timed jests on the part +of his thoughtless pupils. "I'm going to study hard, though, and it will +soon come back to me." + +"Ah! These are the words it makes happiness to hear," he returned +amiably. "Some day, when you haf learned to spik the French as the +English, you will be glad that you haf persevered." + +"I'm sure I shall," smiled Marjorie. Then, as several entering pupils +claimed the little man's attention, she passed on and took a vacant seat +at the back of the room. + +Professor Fontaine had begun to address the class when the door opened +and Mignon La Salle sauntered in. She threw a quick, derisive glance at +his back, which caused several girls to giggle, then strolled calmly to +a seat. A shade of annoyance clouded the instructor's genial face. He +eyed his countrywoman severely for an instant, then went on with his +speech. + +Marjorie received little benefit that morning from the professor's +gallant efforts to impress the importance of the study of his language +on the minds of his class. Her thoughts were with Mary and what she had +best say to conciliate her. She had as yet no inkling of the truth. She +did not dream that jealousy of Constance had prompted Mary's outburst. +She believed that the whole trouble lay in whatever Mignon had told +Mary. + +She was more hurt than surprised when at the last period in the morning +she failed to find Mary in the chemistry room. Of course she might have +expected it. Nothing would be right until she had chased away the black +clouds of misunderstanding that hung over them. Still, it grieved her to +think that Mary had not trusted her enough to weigh her loyalty against +the gossip of a stranger. + +The hands of the study hall clock, pointing the hour of twelve, brought +relief to the worried sophomore. The instant the closing bell rang she +made for the locker room. It would be better to wait for Mary there, +rather than in the corridor. If Mary's mood had not changed, she +preferred not to run the risk of a possible rebuff in so prominent a +place. There were too many curious eyes ready to note their slightest +act. It would be dreadful if some lynx-eyed girl were to mark them and +circulate a report that they were quarreling. + +Arrived at the locker-room, she opened her locker and took out her +wraps. A faint gasp of astonishment broke from her. Only one rain-coat, +one hat and one pair of rubbers were there, where at the beginning of +the morning there had been two. Mary Raymond's belongings were gone. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHOOSING HER OWN WAY + + +Marjorie stood staring at her locker as one in a dream. + +"Hurry up, Marjorie!" Jerry Macy's loud, matter-of-fact tones broke the +spell. Behind her were Irma Linton and Susan Atwell. The faces of the +three were alive with suppressed excitement. Jerry caught sight of the +tell-tale locker and emitted an indignant snort. + +"Mary took her advice, Susie! If I were the President of the United +States I'd have that Mignon La Salle deported to the South Sea Islands, +or Kamchatka, or some place where she couldn't get back in a hurry. It +would be a good deal farther than boarding school, I can just tell you," +she ended with an angry sputter. + +Marjorie faced the battery of indignant young faces. "What is the +trouble, girls?" She tried to keep her voice steady, though she was at +the point of tears. + +"What's the matter with your friend, Mary Raymond, Marjorie?" continued +Jerry in a slightly lower key. "Has she gone suddenly crazy or--or----" +Jerry hesitated. She could not voice the other question which rose to +her lips. + +"Girls," Marjorie viewed her friends with brave, direct eyes, "you know +something that I don't about Mary. What is it?" + +"It's about Mignon," blurted Jerry. "Susie says that the minute she +landed in her seat she began talking to Mary." + +"I made signs to Mary to pay no attention to her," broke in Susan +Atwell, "but she didn't understand what I meant and I couldn't explain, +with Mignon sitting right there. The next thing I saw, they were walking +down the aisle together as though they'd known each other all their +lives." + +"Yes, and they came into geometry together, too," supplemented Jerry. +"But that's not the worst. Tell Marjorie what you overheard, Susie." + +"Well," began Susan, looking important, "when I came back to the study +hall just before the last class was called, they were both there ahead +of me. Just as I was going to sit down at my desk I heard Mignon tell +Mary she'd love to have her share her locker. Mary was looking awfully +sober and pretty cross, too, as though she were mad about something. I +heard her say, 'How can I get my wraps?' and Mignon said, 'Go to Marcia +Arnold and see if you can borrow Miss Stevens' key for a minute. If she +hasn't come back to school yet, very likely Marcia has it. Tell her you +want to take something from it and don't care to bother Miss Dean. You +can easily do it, because you haven't a recitation at this hour. I'd get +it for you, but I haven't any good reason for asking her for it.' I +couldn't hear what Mary said, but she left her seat and I saw her stop +at Miss Merton's desk. Miss Merton nodded her head and Mary went on out +of the study hall. Mignon saw me looking after her and smiled that +hateful smile of hers. I was so cross I made a face at her. Then the +third bell rang and I had to go to class. I wasn't sure whether Mary did +as Mignon told her to do until we saw you staring into your locker and +Jerry called my attention to it." + +Marjorie listened gravely to Susan's recital. She stood surveying the +three girls in silence. + +"What has happened, Marjorie?" questioned Jerry impatiently. "Or isn't +it any of our business? If it isn't, then forget that I asked you." + +"Girls," Marjorie's clear voice trembled a little, "I think I'd better +tell you about it. At first I thought I couldn't bear to tell anyone, +but as long as you all know something of what happened to Connie and I +last year, you might as well know this, too. Miss Archer made a remark +to me about our misunderstanding yesterday when Mary was with me. Mary +asked me afterward what she meant. I wanted to tell her, but I didn't +feel as though I had the right to, until I asked Connie if I could. I +was going to ask her last night, but before I had a chance she asked me +not to tell Mary about it. She was afraid Mary might not understand +and--and blame her. Of course, I knew that Mary wouldn't mind in the +least, but Connie seemed so worried that I promised I wouldn't." + +Jerry Macy's frown deepened. Susan Atwell made a faint gesture of +consternation, while Irma Linton looked distressed and sympathetic. + +"I thought perhaps Mary would forget about Constance," went on Marjorie. +"I never dreamed that Mignon was coming back, let alone she and Mary +becoming friendly. I saw them go down the aisle to geometry class +together and followed them. You see, Mary and I had planned to recite in +the same section. I asked her to wait and recite later, but she +wouldn't. Then I changed my hour so as to be in her class. After class I +caught up with her. She began to tell me something about what Mignon had +said of Connie. It made me so cross that I interrupted her, almost +before she had started. I told her she must have nothing to say to +Mignon and--she--I guess I hurt her feelings, for she walked off +and--left--me." Marjorie ended with a half sob. She turned her face to +the locker and leaned against it. The tears that she had bravely forced +back now came thick and fast. + +"What a shame!" burst forth Jerry. "Don't cry, dear. We'll straighten +things out for you. I'll go to Mary my own self and give her Mignon's +history in a few well chosen words." She patted the shoulder of the +weeping girl. + +"You might know that Mignon would bring trouble, hateful girl," was +Susan's indignant cry. "Never mind, we'll fix her." + +"I'll do all I can to help you, Marjorie," soothed Irma, who was known +throughout the school as a peace-maker. + +With a long, quivering sigh Marjorie turned slowly and faced her +friends. + +"You are very sweet to me, every one of you," she said gratefully, "but, +girls, you mustn't say a word. I promised Connie, and I'll keep my word +until she releases me from that promise. I'm going over to see her +to-night to ask her to do that very thing. She'll say 'yes,' I know. +Then I can tell Mary and it will be all right. I'm sorry I made such a +baby of myself, but Mary and I have been chums for years--and----" Her +voice broke again. + +Jerry wound her plump arms about the girl she adored. "You poor kid," +she comforted slangily. "If you must cry, cry on my shoulder. It's nice +and fat and not half so hard as that old locker." + +"You are a ridiculous Jerry," Marjorie laughed through her tears. +"There, I feel better now. I'm not going to cry another tear. Are my +eyes very red? I don't care to have the public gape at my grief. Come +on, children. It must be long after twelve. I suppose Mary is home by +this time. Naturally she wouldn't wait for me," she added wistfully. + +As a matter of fact, Mary had waited. Once she had removed her wraps to +Mignon's locker she had been seized with a sharp attack of conscience. +She felt a trifle ashamed of herself and decided that she would ask her +chum to forgive her and allow her to put her wraps in Marjorie's locker +again. At the close of the session she made a hasty excuse to Mignon, +seized her belongings and hurrying out of the building, took up her +stand across the street. When at twenty minutes past twelve Marjorie did +not appear, her good resolutions took wing, and sulkily setting her face +toward home, Mary left the school and the chance for reconciliation +behind, and angrily went her way alone, thus widening the gap that +already yawned between herself and Marjorie. + +It was twenty minutes to one when the latter ran up the steps of her +home in an almost cheerful frame of mind. The hall door yielded to her +touch and she rushed into the hall, her clear call of "Mary!" re-echoing +through the quiet house. + +"I'll be down in a minute," answered a cold voice from the head of the +stairs. + +"I'll be up in a second," laughed Marjorie, making a dive for the +stairs. The next instant she had caught the immovable little figure at +the landing in an impulsive embrace. "Poor old Lieutenant, I'm so +sorry," was her contrite cry. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. +Listen, dear. I'm going over to see Connie this afternoon after school +and ask her to let me tell you everything you wished to know about last +year. Then you will understand why----" + +Mary freed herself from the clinging arms with a jerk. "If you say a +word to Constance Stevens, I'll never forgive you!" she cried +passionately. "I won't be made ridiculous. Do you understand me? You +could tell me without asking her, if you cared to. I'd never say a word +and she'd never know the difference." + +"But, Mary, I promised her----" Marjorie stopped in confusion. She had +not meant to mention her promise to Constance. She had spoken before she +thought. + +"So _that's_ the reason, is it?" choked Mary, her cheeks flaming with +the humiliating knowledge. "Thank you, I don't care to hear your old +secrets. You may keep them, for all I care!" She whirled and started +toward her room. + +Marjorie caught her arm. "I haven't any secrets that I wish to keep from +you, Mary," she said with quiet dignity. "Last night at the dance +Constance asked me to promise I wouldn't say anything to you about the +trouble she had with Mignon La Salle during our freshman year. We were +upstairs in her room. I was mending my flounce. It got torn when we were +dancing. I had intended asking her permission then to tell you, and when +she spoke of it first I hardly knew what to do. I didn't like to let her +think that you were curious and----" + +"How dare you call me curious!" Mary stamped her foot in a sudden fury +of temper. "I'm not. I wouldn't listen to your miserable secret if you +begged me to. Now I truly believe what Miss La Salle told me. You and +your friend Constance ought to be ashamed of the way you treated that +poor girl last year. I'm sorry I ever came to your house to live. I'd +write to Father to come and take me away, but Mother would have to know. +She sha'n't be worried, no matter what I have to stand. You needn't be +afraid, I'll not make a fuss, either, so that General and Captain will +know. I'll try to pretend before them that we're just the same chums as +ever, and you'd better pretend it, too. But we won't be. From to-day on +I'll go _my_ way and choose _my_ friends and you can do the same." + +"Mary Raymond, listen to me." Marjorie's hands found the shoulders of +her angry chum. The brown eyes held the blue ones in a long, steadfast +gaze. "Mignon La Salle is only trying to make trouble. If you knew her +as well as I know her, you wouldn't pay any attention to her. We've +been best friends and comrades since we were little tots, Mary, and I +think you ought to trust me. No one can ever be so dear to me as you +are." + +"Except Constance Stevens," put in Mary sarcastically, twisting from +Marjorie's hold. "Why, that very first day when you came to the train to +meet me I could see you liked her best. You can imagine how I felt when +even your friends spoke of it. If you really cared about me, you would +have written to me of every single thing that happened last year. You +promised you would. You are very anxious to keep a promise to Constance, +but you didn't care whether you kept one to me. As for what you say of +Miss La Salle, I don't believe you. I'd far rather trust her than your +dear Miss Stevens!" + +"What has happened to my brigade?" called Mrs. Dean from the foot of the +stairs. "It is five minutes to one, girls. Come to luncheon at once." + +"We are coming, Captain," answered Marjorie in as steady a tone as she +could command. Then she said sorrowfully to her companion, "Mary, I feel +just the same toward you as always, only I am terribly hurt. I wish your +way to be my way and your friends mine. If you are sure that you would +like Mignon for a friend, then I am going to try to like her for your +sake. But we mustn't quarrel or--not--not speak--or--let General and +Captain know--that----" Marjorie's words died in a half-sob. + +"It doesn't make any difference to me whether you like Miss La Salle or +not," retorted Mary, ignoring Marjorie's distress, "but if you say a +single word to either General or Captain about us, I'll never speak to +you again." With this threat the incensed lieutenant ran heartlessly +down the stairs, leaving her sadly wounded comrade to follow when she +would. + +Luncheon was a dismal failure as far as Marjorie was concerned. She +tried to talk and laugh in her usual cheery manner, but she was unused +to dissembling, and it hurt her to play a part before her Captain, of +all persons. Mary, however, found a certain wicked satisfaction in the +situation she had brought about. Now that she had spoken her mind she +would go on in the way she had chosen. Marjorie would be very sorry. +There would come a time when she would be only too glad to plead for the +friendship she had cast aside. But it would be too late. + +The moment the two girls left the house for the afternoon session of +school, a blank silence fell upon them. It was broken only by a cool +"Good-bye" from Mary as they separated in the locker room. But during +that silent walk Marjorie had been thinking busily. Hers was a nature +that no amount of disagreeable shocks could dismay for long. No sooner +did a pet ideal totter than she steadied it with patient, tender hands. +True always to the highest, she was laying a foundation that would +weather the stress of years. Now she dwelt not so much upon her own +hurts, but rather on how she should bind up the wounds of her comrades. +What had been obscure was now plain. Mary was jealous of her friendship +with Constance. She had completely misunderstood. If only she, Marjorie, +had known in the beginning! And then there was Mignon. If she had stayed +away from Sanford, all might have been well in time. Mary was determined +to be friends with her. Marjorie knew her friend too well not to believe +that Mary would now cultivate the French girl from sheer obstinacy. +There was just one thing to do. She had said to Mary that she would try +to like Mignon for her sake. She stood ready to keep her promise. +Perhaps, far under her mischief-making exterior, Mignon's better self +lay dormant, waiting for some chance, kindly word or act to awaken it +into life. What was it her General had said about the worst person +having some good in his nature that sooner or later was sure to manifest +itself? How glorious it would be to help Mignon find that better self! +But she could not accomplish much alone. She needed the support of the +girls of her own particular little circle. She was fairly sure they +would help her. But how had they better begin? Suddenly Marjorie's sober +face broke into a radiant smile. She gave a chuckle born of sheer +good-will. "I know the very way," she murmured, half aloud. "If only the +girls will see it, too. But they _must_! It's a splendid plan, and if it +doesn't work it won't be from lack of trying on my part." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE COMPACT + + + "DEAR IRMA," wrote Marjorie, the moment she reached her desk, + "will you meet me across the street from school this afternoon? + I have something very important to say to you. + + "MARJORIE." + +She wrote similar notes to Muriel Harding, Susan Atwell and Jerry Macy, +managing in spite of the watchful eyes of Miss Merton to convey them, +through the medium of willing hands, to her schoolmates. This done, she +made a valiant effort to dismiss her personal affairs from her thoughts +and settled down to her lessons. The first period in the afternoon was +now her study hour, due to the change she had made in her geometry +recitation. + +Marjorie managed to study diligently for at least twenty minutes, on the +definitions in geometry given out by Miss Nelson as an advance lesson. +Then her attention flagged. She found herself wondering what she had +better do in regard to asking Constance to release her from her promise. +She was sure Connie would do it. Then, if Mary could be coaxed to listen +to her, she would---- Marjorie took a deep breath of sheer dismay. Of +what use would it be to plan to help Mignon find her better self, then +deliberately turn the one girl who liked her against her by relating +her past misdeeds? Here indeed was a problem. She knitted her brows in +troubled thought over this new knot in the tangle. One thing she was +resolved upon, however. She would open her heart to Connie. Perhaps she +might be able to suggest a satisfactory adjustment. + +The afternoon dragged interminably to the perplexed sophomore and she +hailed the ringing of the closing bell with thankfulness. She had caught +distant glimpses of Mary during the session and in each instance had +seen her in conversation with the French girl. Mignon was losing no +time. That was certain. + +As Marjorie rose from her seat to leave the study hall she had half a +mind to wait just outside the door for Mary. Then a flash of wounded +pride held her back. Mary would undoubtedly pass out with Mignon. If she +spoke to her chum, she was almost sure to be rebuffed. She could imagine +just how delighted Mignon would look at her discomfiture. Unconsciously +lifting her head, Marjorie left the study hall without so much as a +backward glance. + +Outside the door she encountered Jerry Macy. + +"Your note said, 'Wait across the street,' but this is a lot better," +greeted Jerry. "Let's hurry and get our wraps. Irma and Susie will +probably steer straight for your locker. I haven't seen Muriel to speak +to this afternoon, but she'll be on the scene, I guess. The sooner we +collect the sooner we'll hear what's on your mind. I can just about tell +you what you're going to say, though." + +"Then you're a mind-reader," laughed Marjorie. Nevertheless, a quick +flash rose to her face at Jerry's significant speech. + +"I can add two and two, anyhow," asserted Jerry. + +True to Jerry's prediction, three curious young women stood grouped in +front of Marjorie's locker, impatiently awaiting her arrival. + +"Wait until we are outside, girls. I'll be ready in a jiffy." Marjorie +slipped into her raincoat and pulled her blue velour hat over her curls. +"We can't talk here. Miss Merton is likely to wander down, and then you +know what will happen." + +"Oh, bother Miss Merton!" grumbled Jerry. "I can stand anything she says +and live. Still, I don't blame you, Marjorie. It tickles her to pieces +to get a chance to snap at you. Now if Mignon La Salle wanted to sing a +solo in front of her locker at the top of her voice, Miss Merton would +encore it." + +Susan Atwell giggled. "I can just hear Mignon lifting up her voice in +song with Miss Merton as an appreciative audience." + +The quartette thoughtlessly echoed her merriment. So intent were they +upon their own affairs that they did not notice the two girls who were +almost hidden behind an open locker at the end of the room. The black +eyes of one of them gleamed with rage. She turned to the fair-haired +girl at her side with a gesture which said more plainly than words, "You +see for yourself." The other nodded. Mignon laid a finger on her lips. +Then noiselessly as two shadows they flitted through the open door +without having been observed by the group at the other end. + +For the moment Marjorie's back had been turned toward that end of the +room. She whirled about just too late to see Mignon and Mary as they +hurried away. Unusually sensitive to impressions, she had perhaps felt +their presence, for she asked abruptly, "Girls, have you seen Mary? She +can't have gone, for I'm sure I left the study hall before she did. I +ought to wait for her, but I don't know what to do." She glanced +irresolutely about her. Then, her pride again coming to her rescue, she +said, "Never mind. Suppose we go on. Perhaps I'd better not try to see +her now, because I must tell you my plan and I--well--I can't--if she is +with us." + +Muriel Harding elevated her eyebrows in surprise. Of the four girls who +had received Marjorie's notes, she alone had no suspicion of the purpose +which had brought them together. + +Five pairs of bright eyes scanned the street across from the school +building as the little party came down the wide stone steps. + +"The coast is clear," commented Jerry. "Now do tell us what's the +matter, Marjorie. No, wait a minute." Jerry fumbled energetically in a +small leather bag. "Hooray! Here's a real life fifty-cent piece! I can +see it vanishing in the shape of five sundaes, at ten cents per eat. We +can't go to Sargent's. They cost fifteen----" + +"I've a quarter," insinuated Irma. + +"All contributions thankfully received," beamed Jerry. "On to Sargent's! +We'll talk about the weather until we get there. It's been such a +lovely day," she grimaced. "If it rains much more we'll have to do as +they do in Spain." + +"What do they do in Spain?" Susan Atwell rose to the bait, despite a +warning poke from Irma. + +"They let it rain," grinned Jerry. "Aren't you an innocent child?" + +Well pleased with her success in putting over this time-worn joke on one +more victim, Jerry continued with a lively stream of nonsense that +lasted during the brief walk to Sargent's. + +Once seated about a small round table at the back of the room, which +from long patronage they had come to look upon almost as their own, an +expectant murmur went the round of the little circle as Marjorie leaned +forward a trifle and began in a low, earnest tone. "Girls, I am going to +ask you to do something for me that perhaps you won't wish to do. All of +you know what happened last year to Connie and me. You know, too, that +if anyone has good reason to cut Mignon La Salle's acquaintance, we +would be justified in doing it. I was awfully surprised to see her come +into the study hall this morning, and I said to myself that aside from +bowing to her if I met her on the street, I would steer clear of her. +But since then something has happened to make me change my mind. Mary +wishes Mignon for a friend, and so----" + +"What a little goose!" interrupted Jerry disgustedly. "I beg your +pardon, Marjorie, but I can't help saying it." + +"This _is_ news!" exclaimed Muriel Harding. "Come to think of it, I +_did_ see your friend Mary walking into geometry with Mignon, Marjorie. +Why don't you enlighten her on the subject of Mignon and her doings?" + +"That's just it." Marjorie repeated briefly what she had said to the +others at noon. "I'm going to Gray Gables to see Constance before I go +home," she continued, addressing the group. "You see, it's like this. +Even if Connie says I may tell Mary everything, will it be quite fair to +Mignon? And now I'm coming to the reason I asked you to come here with +me. Sometimes when a girl has done wrong and been hateful and no one +likes her, another girl comes along and begins to be friendly with her. +That makes the girl who has done wrong feel ashamed of herself and then +perhaps she resolves to be more agreeable because of it." + +"Not Mignon, if you mean her," muttered Jerry. + +"I do mean Mignon," was Marjorie's grave response. "Every girl has a +better self, I'm sure, but if she doesn't know it she will never find it +unless someone helps her. We've never even stopped to consider whether +Mignon had any good qualities. We've judged her for the dishonorable +things she has done. I can't help saying that I don't like her very +well. You can't blame me, either. Still, if we are going to be sophomore +sisters we must all stand together." She glanced appealingly about her +circle, but on each young face she read plain disapproval. + +"You might as well try to carry water in a sieve as to reform Mignon," +shrugged Muriel Harding. + +"You can't tame a wildcat," commented Susan Atwell. + +"Look here, Marjorie," burst forth Jerry Macy. "We know that you are the +dearest, nicest girl ever, but you are going to waste your time if you +try to go exploring for Mignon's better self. She never had one. If you +try to be nice to her she'll just take advantage of your goodness and +make fun of you behind your back. Let me tell you something. You know +Miss Elkins, who sews for people. Well, she's at our house to-day. She +is making some silk blouses for me, and when I went upstairs to the +sewing-room for a fitting to-day she asked me if Mignon was in school. +Her sister is the housekeeper at the La Salle's and she told Miss Elkins +that Mignon was expelled from boarding school because she wouldn't pay +attention to the rules. She was threatened with dismissal twice, and the +other night she coaxed a lot of the girls to slip out of the dormitory +and go to the city to the theatre without a sign of a chaperon. One of +the girls had a key to the front door and she lost it. They didn't get +home until after one o'clock, and then they couldn't get into the +dormitory. The night watchman finally had to let them in and he reported +them. She and two others were expelled because they planned the affair. +I don't know what happened to the rest of them. Anyway, that's why our +dear Mignon is with us once more. I only wish that girl hadn't lost the +key." Jerry's face registered her disgust. + +"I don't believe Mother would like to have me associate with Mignon." +This from gentle Irma Linton, who was usually the soul of toleration. + +"And you, too, Irma!" was Marjorie's reproachful cry. "Then there isn't +much use is asking you girls to help me." + +This was too much for the impulsive Jerry. + +"Don't look at us like that. As though you had lost your last friend. +Just let me tell you, you haven't. I take it all back. I'll promise to +go on a hunting expedition for Mignon's better self any old time you +say." + +"Sieves _have_ been known to hold water," acknowledged Muriel, not to be +outdone by Jerry's burst of loyalty. + +"And wildcats have sometimes become household pets," added Susan with +her infectious giggle. + +"So have mothers been known to change their minds," put in Irma. "I'm +ashamed of myself for being a quitter before I've even heard your plan." + +Marjorie's dark eyes shone with affection. "You are splendid," she +praised with a little catch in her voice. "I can't help telling you now. +After all, it isn't a very great plan, but it's the best I could think +of just now, and this is it. Mother said I might give a party for Mary +when she first came to live with us, but I wished to wait until she got +acquainted with the girls in school. Then Connie gave her dance. So I +thought it would be nice to have mine in about two weeks, after we were +settled in our classes and didn't have so much to worry us. But now I've +changed my mind. I'm going to give my party next week and I shall invite +Mignon to it You girls can help me by being nice to her and making her +have a pleasant evening. If we are really determined to carry out our +plan we will have to invite her to our parties and luncheons, too, and +ask her to share our good times. The only way we can help her is to make +her one of us. If we draw away from her she will never be different. She +will just become more disagreeable and some day we might be very sorry +we didn't do our best for her." + +The eloquence of Marjorie's plea had its effect on her listeners. + +"I guess you are on the right track," conceded Jerry Macy warmly. "I am +willing to try to be a busy little helper. We might call ourselves the +S. F. R. M.--Society For Reforming Mignon, you know." + +This proposal evoked a ripple of laughter. + +"Irma, do you suppose your mother wouldn't like you to--to--be friendly +with Mignon?" asked Marjorie anxiously. "We mustn't pledge ourselves to +anything to which our mothers might say 'no.'" + +"I think I can fix that part of it," said Irma slowly. "If I explain +things to Mother, she'll understand." + +"Perhaps we all ought to talk it over with our mothers," suggested +Susan. + +"I guess we'd better," nodded Jerry. "But what about Connie? Suppose she +shouldn't be in favor of the S. F. R. M.? You couldn't blame her much if +she wasn't." + +"I'm going to see her to-night, after dinner. I intended to go to Gray +Gables after school, but you see me here instead," returned Marjorie. +"I am almost sure she'll say 'yes.'" + +"How are we going to begin our reform movement?" asked Muriel Harding. + +"That's what I'd like to know. Who is willing to be the first martyr to +the cause? Let me tell you right now, I'd just as soon make friends with +a snapping turtle. Only the snapper would probably be more polite." + +"You are a wicked Jerry," reproved Marjorie smilingly, "and you know you +don't mean half you say." + +"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't. Anyhow, on in the cause of Mignon! I +feel like one of the knights of old who buckled on his armor and went +forth to the fray with his lady's colors tied to his sleeve, or his +lance, or some of his belongings. I've forgotten just what the style +was. We are gallant knights, going forth to battle, wearing Marjorie's +colors, and Mignon will have to look out or she'll be reformed before +she has time to turn up her nose and shrug her shoulders." + +"Suppose we start by being as nice to her as we can in school +to-morrow," proposed Irma Linton thoughtfully. "If she meets us in the +same spirit, maybe something will happen that will show us what to do +next." + +"That wouldn't be a bad idea," declared Susan Atwell. "I sit near her, +so I'll be the first one to hold out the olive branch. But if you hear +something drop on the floor with a dull, sickening thud, you'll know +that my particular variety of olive branch was rejected." + +"Somehow, I have an idea she won't be so very scornful," said Marjorie +hopefully. + +"Being expelled from boarding school may have a soothing effect on her," +agreed Jerry grimly. "I suppose it really isn't very knightly to say +snippy things about a person one intends to reform." + +"I think you are right, Jerry," broke in Marjorie with sweet +earnestness. "We must try to think and say only kind things of Mignon if +we are to succeed." Taking in the circle of girls with a quick, bright +glance, she asked: "Then you are agreed to my plan? It is really a +compact?" + +Four emphatic nods answered her questions. + +"Hurrah for the S. F. R. M.!" exclaimed Jerry. "Long may it wave! Only +there's one glorious truth that I feel it my duty to impress on your +minds. The way of the reformer is hard." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN DEFENCE OF MIGNON + + +"Here are two letters for you, Lieutenant," called her mother, as +Marjorie burst into the living-room, her cheeks pink from a brisk run up +the drive. After leaving her schoolmates Marjorie had set off for home +as fast as her light feet would carry her. She managed to keep to a +decorous walk until she had swung the gate behind her, then she had +sped up the drive like a fawn. + +"Oh, lovely!" cried Marjorie. "Your permission, Captain." She touched +her hand to her hat brim in a gay little salute. Her spirits had been +rising from the moment she had left the girls, carrying with her the +precious security that they were now banded together in a worthy cause. +Surely the snarl would straighten itself in a short time. Mary would +soon see that she intended to keep her word about being friends with +Mignon. Then she would understand that she, Marjorie, was loyal in spite +of her unjust accusations. Then all would be as it had been before. +Perhaps Mary wouldn't be quite her old, sunny self for a few days, but +the shadow would pass--it must. + +"Why, it's from Connie!" she cried out in surprise, as her eyes sought +the writing on the upper-most envelope. It was in Constance's irregular, +girlish hand. She hastily tore it open and read. + + "DEAREST MARJORIE: + + "Last night at my dance I didn't know that father was to be + concertmeister in the symphony orchestra. It is a great honor + and we are all very happy over it. He kept it to himself until + the last minute, because he knew that if he told me, I would + insist on going back to New York with him for his opening + concert. But I'm going with him just the same. I shall be away + from Sanford for a week or so, for I want to be with him until + he goes to Boston. I'll study hard and catch up in school when + I come back. I wish you were going, too, but later in the season + he will be in New York City again. Then Auntie says she will + take you and Mary and me there to hear him play. Won't that be + glorious? I'll write you again as soon as I reach New York and + you must answer with a long letter, telling me about school and + everything. I am so sorry I can't see you to say good-bye, but I + won't have time. Don't forget to answer as soon as I write you. + + "Lovingly, + "CONSTANCE." + +Marjorie's cheerful face grew blank. Certainly she was glad that Connie +would experience the happiness of hearing her father play before a vast +assemblage who would gather to do him honor. Nevertheless she was just a +trifle cast down over the unexpected flight of her friend to New York. +With a start of dismay she remembered that she had intended going to see +Constance with the object of clearing away the clouds of +misunderstanding. Now she would have to wait until Connie returned. And +then, there was Mignon. She felt that it would be hardly fair to begin +her crusade without consulting the girl whom Mignon had wronged most +deeply. She had perfect faith in the quality of her friend's charity. +Constance was too generous of spirit to hold a grudge. Through suffering +she had grown great of soul. Still, it was right that she should be +asked to decide the question. If she refused outright to sanction the +proposed campaign for reform, or even demurred at the proposal, Marjorie +was resolved not to carry it forward, even for Mary's or Mignon's sake. + +Suddenly she recollected her adjuration to the girls to gain their +mothers' consent before going on with their plan. Her brows drew +together in a perplexed frown. Had not Mary threatened, in the heat of +her anger, that if Marjorie told her mother of their disagreement she +would never speak to her again? How could she inform Captain of the +compact she and her friends had made without involving Mary in it? Her +mother would naturally inquire the reason for this rather remarkable +movement. She might be displeased, as well as surprised, over Mary's +strange predilection for the French girl. Her Captain knew all that had +happened during her freshman year. On that memorable day when she had +leaped into the river to rescue Marcia Arnold, and afterward come home, +a curious little figure clad in Jerry Macy's ample garments, the recital +of those stormy days when she had doubted, yet clung to Constance, had +taken place. She recalled that long, confidential talk at her mother's +knee, and the peace it had brought her. + +All at once her face cleared. She would tell her mother about the +compact, but she would leave out the disagreeable scenes that had +occurred between herself and Mary. "I'll tell her now and have it over +with," she decided. + +"What makes you look so solemn, dear?" Her mother had glanced up from +her embroidery, and was affectionately scanning her daughter's grave +face. "Does your letter from Connie contain bad news? I hope nothing +unpleasant has happened to the child." + +"Oh, no, Captain. Quite the contrary. It's something nice," returned +Marjorie quickly. "Let me read you her letter." She turned to the first +page and read aloud rapidly Constance's little note. "I'm so glad for +her sake," she sighed, as she finished, "but I shall miss her +dreadfully." + +"I suppose you will. Good fortune seems to have followed the Stevens +family since the day when my lieutenant went out of her way to help a +little girl in distress." + +"Perhaps I'm a mascot, Captain. If I am, then you ought to take good +care of me, feed me on a special diet of plum pudding and chocolate +cake, keep me on your best embroidered cushion and cherish me +generally," laughed Marjorie, with a view toward turning the subject +from her own generous acts, the mention of which invariably embarrassed +her. + +"And give you indigestion and see you ossify for want of exercise under +my indulgent eye," retorted her mother. + +"I guess you had better go on cherishing me in the good old way," +decided Marjorie. "But you won't mind my sitting on one of your everyday +cushions, just as close to you as I can get, will you?" Reaching for one +of the fat green velvet cushions which stood up sturdily at each end of +the davenport, Marjorie dropped it beside her mother's chair and curled +up on it. + +"I've something to report, Captain," she said, her bantering tone +changing to seriousness. "You remember last year--and Mignon La Salle?" + +Mrs. Dean frowned slightly at the mention of the French girl's name. +Mother-like, she had never quite forgiven Mignon for the needless sorrow +she had wrought in the lives of those she held so dear. + +Marjorie caught the significance of that frown. "I know how you feel +about things, dearest," she nodded. "Perhaps you won't give your consent +to the plan I--that is, we--have made. But I have to tell you, anyway, +so here goes. Mignon La Salle went away to boarding school, but +she--well she was sent home, and now she's back in Sanford High again. +This afternoon Jerry, Irma, Susan, Muriel Harding and I went together to +Sargent's for ice cream. While we were there we decided that we ought to +forgive the past and try to help Mignon find her better self. The only +way we can help her is to treat her well and invite her to our parties +and luncheons. If she finds we are ready to begin all over again with +her, perhaps she'll be different. We made a solemn compact to do it, +provided our mothers were willing we should. So to be very slangy, 'It's +up to you, Captain!'" + +"But suppose this girl merely takes advantage of your kindness and +involves you all in another tangle?" remarked Mrs. Dean quietly. "It +seems to me that she proved herself wholly untrustworthy last year." + +"I know it." Marjorie sighed. She would have liked to say that Mignon +had already tied an ugly snarl in her affairs. But loyalty to Mary +forbade the utterance. Then, brightening, she went on hopefully: "If we +never try to help her, we'll never know whether she really has a better +self. Sometimes it takes just a little thing to change a person's +heart." + +"You are a dear child," Mrs. Dean bent to press a kiss on Marjorie's +curly head, "and your argument is too generous to be downed. I give my +official consent to the proposed reform, and I hope, for all concerned, +that it will turn out beautifully." + +"Oh, Captain," Marjorie nestled closer, "you're too dear for words. +There's another reason for my wishing to be friendly with Mignon. Mary +has met her and likes her." + +"Mary!" Mrs. Dean looked her astonishment. "By the way, Marjorie, where +is Mary? I had quite forgotten her for the time being. You didn't +mention her as being with you at Sargent's." + +"She wasn't there," explained Marjorie. "She didn't wait for me after +school. She must have gone on with--with someone and stopped to talk. +I--I think she'll be here soon." A hurt look, of which she was entirely +unconscious, had driven the brightness from the face Marjorie turned to +her mother. + +Mrs. Dean was a wise woman. She discerned that there had been a hitch in +the programme of her daughter's daily affairs, but she asked no +questions. She never intruded upon Marjorie's little reserves. She knew +now that whatever her daughter had kept back had been done in accordance +with a code of living, the uprightness of which was seldom equalled in +a girl of her years. She, therefore, respected the reservation and made +no attempt to discover its nature. + +"What are you going to do first in the way of reform, Lieutenant?" she +inquired brightly. + +"Well, I thought I would invite Mignon to my party, the one you said I +could give for Mary. I'd like to have it next Friday night. Friday's the +best time. We can all sleep a little later the next morning, you know." + +"Very well, you may," assented Mrs. Dean. "Does Mary know of the +contemplated reform?" + +"No. You see I hated to say much to her about Mignon, because it +wouldn't be very nice to discredit someone you were trying to help. +Don't you agree with me?" + +"I suppose I must. But what of Constance?" + +"That's the part that bothers me," was Marjorie's troubled reply. "I'm +going to write her all about it. I know she'll be with us. She's too +splendid to hold spite. I think it would be all right to invite Mignon +to my party, at any rate. But there's just one thing about it, Captain, +if Connie objects, then the reform will have to go on without me. You +understand the way I feel, don't you?" + +"Yes. I believe you owe it to Constance to respect her wishes. She was +the chief sufferer at Mignon's hands." + +The confidential talk came to a sudden end with the ringing of the +doorbell. + +"It's Mary." Marjorie sprang to her feet. "I'll let her in." + +Hurrying to the door, Marjorie opened it to admit Mary Raymond. She +entered with an air of sulkiness that brought dread to Marjorie's heart. + +"Oh, Mary, where were you?" she asked, trying to appear ignorant of her +chum's forbidding aspect. + +"I was with Mignon La Salle," returned Mary briefly. "Will you come +upstairs with me, please?" + +"I'd love to, Lieutenant Raymond. Thank you for your kind invitation." +Marjorie assumed a gaiety she did not feel. + +Without further remark Mary stolidly mounted the stairs. Marjorie +followed her in a distinctly worried state of mind. The quarrel was +going to begin over again. She was sure of that. + +Mary stalked past the half-open door of Marjorie's room and paused +before her own. "I'd rather talk to you in _my_ room, if you please," +she said distantly. + +"All right," agreed Marjorie, with ready cheerfulness. She intended to +go on ignoring her chum's hostile attitude until she was forced to do +otherwise. + +Mary closed the door behind them and faced Marjorie with compressed +lips. The latter met her offended gaze with steady eyes. + +"I heard you and your friends making fun of Miss La Salle this +afternoon, and I am going to say right here that I think you were all +extremely unkind. She heard you, too. You ought to be ashamed of +yourself, Marjorie Dean!" + +"Why, I don't remember making fun of Mignon!" exclaimed Marjorie. "What +do you mean?" + +"Then your memory is very short," sneered Mary. "But I might have +expected you to deny it." + +It was Marjorie's turn to grow indignant. "How can you accuse me of not +telling the truth?" she flashed. "I did not----" She stopped, flushing +deeply. She recalled Jerry Macy's humorous remark about Mignon as they +stood talking in front of her locker. "I beg your pardon, Mary," she +apologized. "I _do_ remember now that Mignon's name was mentioned while +we were standing there. But it was nothing very dreadful. We were saying +that if Miss Merton heard us talking she would scold us, and Jerry only +said that if Mignon chose to sing a solo at the top of her voice, in +front of _her_ locker, Miss Merton wouldn't mind in the least. Everyone +knows that Mignon has always been a favorite of Miss Merton. I am sorry +if she overheard it, for truly we hadn't the least idea of making fun of +her. It was Jerry's funny way of saying it that made us laugh. I'll +explain that to her the first time I see her." + +Mary's tense features relaxed a trifle. She was not yet so firmly in the +toils of the French girl as to be entirely blind to Marjorie's +sincerity. Her good sense told her that she was making a mountain of a +mole hill. There was a ring of truth in Marjorie's voice that brought a +flush of shame to her cheeks. Still she would not allow it to sway her. + +"It wasn't nice in you to laugh," she muttered. "She was dreadfully +hurt. She feels very sensitive about being sent home from school. Of +course, she knows she deserved it. She said so. But----" + +"Did she really say that?" interrupted Marjorie eagerly. + +"I am not in the habit of saying what isn't true," retorted Mary coldly. + +"Listen, Mary." Marjorie's face was aglow with honest purpose. "I said +to you, you know, that if you wished Mignon for a friend I would be nice +to her, too. Captain has promised to let me give my party for you on +next Friday night. I am going to invite Mignon to it, and we are all +going to try to make her feel friendly toward us." + +"She won't come," predicted Mary contemptuously. "I wouldn't, either, if +I were in her place. I shall tell her not to come, too." + +"Then you will be proving yourself anything but a friend to her," flung +back Marjorie hotly, "because you will be advising her against doing +something that is for her good." With this clinching argument Marjorie +walked to the door and opened it. + +"Whether I say a word or not, she won't come," called Mary after her. +But Marjorie was halfway down the stairs, too greatly exasperated to +trust herself to further speech. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE COMMON FATE OF REFORMERS + + +Nevertheless the session behind closed doors had one beneficial effect. +It broke the ice that had lately formed over the long comradeship of the +two girls, and, although nothing was as of old, they were both secretly +relieved to still be on terms of conversation. Out of pure regard for +Mary, Marjorie treated her exactly as she had always done, and Mary +pretended to respond, simply because she had determined that Mr. and +Mrs. Dean should not become aware of any difference in their relations. +She affected an interest in planning for the party and kept up a pretty +show of concern which Marjorie alone knew to be false. Privately Mary's +deceitful attitude was a sore trial to her. Honest to the core, she felt +that she would rather her chum had maintained open hostility than a +farce of good will which was dropped the moment they chanced to be +alone. Still she resolved to bear it and look forward to a happier day +when Mary would relent. + +The invitations to the party had been mailed and duly accepted. Much to +Mary's secret surprise and chagrin, Mignon had not declined to shed the +light of her countenance upon the proposed festivity, but had written a +formal note of acceptance which amused Marjorie considerably, inasmuch +as the acceptances of the others had been verbal. Despite her hatred +for Marjorie Dean and her friends, Mignon had resolved to profit by the +sudden show of friendliness which, true to their compact, the five girls +had lost no time in carrying out. Ignoble of soul, she did not value the +favor of these girls as a concession which she had been fortunate enough +to receive. She decided to use it only as a wedge to reinstate herself +in a certain leadership which her bad behavior of last year had lost +her. She had no idea of the real reason for their interest in her. She +preferred to think that they had come to a realization of her vast +importance in the social life of Sanford. Was not her father the richest +man in the town? She had an idea that perhaps Mary Raymond might be +responsible for her sudden accession to favor. She had taken care to +impress her own importance upon Mary's mind, together with certain vague +insinuations as to her wrongs. After her first brief outburst against +Marjorie and Constance Stevens, she had decided that she would gain +infinitely more by playing the part of wronged innocence. When she +received her invitation she had already heard that Constance was in New +York and likely to remain there for a time. This influenced her to +accept Marjorie's hospitality. Her own consciousness of guilt would not +permit her to go to any place where she would meet the accusing scorn of +Constance's blue eyes. Then, too, she had still another motive in +attending the party. She had always looked upon Lawrence Armitage with +eyes of favor. He had never paid her a great deal of attention, but he +had shown her less since the advent of Constance Stevens in Sanford. +She resolved to show him that she was far more clever and likable than +the quiet girl who had taken such a strong hold on his boyish interest, +and with that end in view Mignon planned to make her reinstatement a +sweeping success. + +Friday afternoon was a lost session, so far as study went, to the +Sanford girls who were to make up the feminine portion of Marjorie's +party. + +"Good gracious, I thought half-past three would never come!" grumbled +Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear as they filed decorously through the +corridor. "Let's make a quick dash for the locker-room. I've a pressing +engagement with the hair-dresser and I'm dying to get through with it +and sweep down to dinner in my new silver net party dress. It's a dream +and makes me look positively thin. You won't know me when you see me." + +"You're not the only one," put in Muriel Harding. "You won't be one, +two, three when I appear to-night in all my glory." + +"Listen to the conceited things," laughed Irma Linton. "'I won't speak +of myself,' as H. C. Anderson beautifully puts it." + +"Who's he?" demanded Jerry. "I know every boy in Sanford High, but I +never heard of him." + +A shout of laughter greeted her earnest assertion. + +"Wake up, Jerry," dimpled Susan Atwell. "H. C. stands for Hans +Christian. Now does the light begin to break?" + +"Oh, you make me tired," retorted Jerry. "Irma did that on purpose. +That's worse than my favorite trap about letting it rain in Spain. How +was I to know what she meant?" + +"That's all because you don't cultivate literary tastes," teased Muriel. + +"I do cultivate them," grinned Jerry. "I've read the dictionary through +twice, without skipping a page!" + +"It must have been a pocket edition," murmured Marjorie. + +"Stop teasing me or I'll get cross and not come to your party," +threatened Jerry. + +"You mean nothing could keep you away," laughed Irma. + +"You're right. Nothing could. I'll be there, clad in costly raiment, to +spur the reform party on to deeds of might." + +"Do come early, all of you," urged Marjorie as she paused at her corner +to say good-bye. + +"We'll be there," chorused the quartette after her. + +"I hope everyone will have a nice time," was Marjorie's fervent +reflection as she hurried on her way. "I do wish Mary would walk home +with me once in a while, instead of always waiting for Mignon. I +wouldn't ask her to for worlds, though." + +To see Mary walk away with Mignon at the end of every session of school +had been a heavy cross for Marjorie to bear. Surrounded as she always +was with the four faithful members of her own little set, she was often +lonely. If only Constance had been in school she could have better borne +Mary's disloyalty, although the latter could never quite fill the niche +which years of companionship had carved in her heart for Mary. But +Connie was far away, so she must go on enduring this bitter sorrow and +make no outward sign. + +Usually ready to bubble over with exhilaration when on the eve of +participating in so delightful an occasion as a party, it was a very +quiet Marjorie who tripped into the living-room that afternoon. The big, +cosy apartment had undergone a marked change. It was practically bare, +save for the piano in one corner, which had been moved from the +drawing-room, and a phonograph which was to do occasional duty, so that +the patient musicians might now and then rest from their labor. + +Mrs. Dean was giving a last direction to the men who had been hired to +move the furniture about as Marjorie entered. + +"Everything is ready, Lieutenant," smiled her mother. "We have all done +a strenuous day's work in a good cause." + +"Thank you over and over again, Captain. It's dear in you to take so +much trouble for me. I'm afraid you've worked too hard." Her lately +pensive mood vanishing as she viewed the newly waxed floor, Marjorie +executed a gay little _pas-seul_ on its smooth surface and made a +running slide toward her mother, striking against her with considerable +force. + +"Steady, Lieutenant." Her mother passed an arm about her and gave her a +loving little squeeze. "Please have proper respect for the aged." + +"There are no such persons here," retorted Marjorie, "I see a young and +beautiful lady, who----" + +"Must go straight to the kitchen and see what Delia is doing in the way +of dinner," finished Mrs. Dean. "Remember, we are to have it at +half-past five to-night, so don't wander away and be late. Your frock is +laid out on your bed, dear. You had better run along and dress before +dinner. Then you will be ready. The time will fairly fly afterward. +Where is Mary? Why doesn't she come home with you in the afternoon? For +the past week she has come in long after school is out." + +"Oh, she stops to talk and walk with Mignon," replied Marjorie, with an +air of elaborate carelessness. "They are very good friends." + +Mrs. Dean seemed about to comment further on the subject when Delia +appeared in the doorway and distracted her attention to other matters. + +Marjorie breathed a sigh of relief as she went upstairs. She was glad to +escape the further questions concerning Mary which her mother seemed +disposed to ask. Her gaiety had been evanescent and she now experienced +a feeling of positive gloom as she entered her pretty room and prepared +to bathe and dress for the evening. She could not resist a thrill of +pleasure at the sheer beauty of the white chiffon frock spread out on +her bed. She wondered if Mary would wear her pale blue silk evening +frock, or the white one with the lace over-frock. They were both +beautiful. But she had always loved Mary in white. She wondered if she +dared ask her to wear the white lace gown. + +While she was dressing, through her half-opened door she heard Mary's +voice in the hall in conversation with her mother. Hastily slipping +into her pretty frock, she went to the door hooking it as she walked. +Mary was just appearing on the landing. + +"Oh, Mary," she called genially, "do wear your white. You will look so +lovely in it." + +"I'm going to wear my blue gown," returned Mary stolidly, and marched on +down the hall to her room, closing the door with a bang. "Just as though +I'd let her dictate to me what to wear," she muttered. + +The two young girls made a pretty picture as they took their places at +the dinner table. + +"I wish General were here to see you," sighed Mrs. Dean. Mr. Dean had +been called away on a business trip east. + +"So do I," echoed Marjorie. "Things won't be quite perfect without him." + +Neither girl ate much dinner. They were far too highly excited to do +justice to the meal. In spite of their estrangement they were both +looking forward to the dance. + +At half-past seven o'clock Jerry and the rest of the reform party +arrived, buzzing like a hive of bees. + +"Is she here yet?" whispered Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear, after paying +her respects to Mrs. Dean and Mary, who, with Marjorie, received their +guests in the palm-decorated hall. + +"No, she hasn't come. I suppose she will arrive late. You know she loves +to make a sensation." Marjorie could not resist this one little fling, +despite her good resolutions. + +The guests continued to arrive in twos and threes and Marjorie was kept +busy greeting them. True to her prediction, it was after eight o'clock +when Mignon appeared. She wore an imported gown of peachblow satin that +must have been a considerable item of expense to her doting father. Her +elfish face glowed with suppressed excitement and her black eyes roved +about, with lightning glances, born of a curiosity to inspect every +detail of her unfamiliar surroundings. + +"I am glad you came," greeted Marjorie graciously, and presented Mignon +to her mother. + +The French girl acknowledged the introduction, then turning to Mary +began an eager, low-toned conversation, apparently forgetting her +hostess. + +Mrs. Dean betrayed no sign of what went on in her mind, but her thoughts +on the subject of Mignon were not flattering. Ill-bred, she mentally +styled her, and decided that she would look into the matter of her +growing friendship with Mary. + +The dancing had already begun when, piloted by Mary, who had apparently +forgotten that she was of the receiving party, the two girls strolled +into the impromptu ballroom. Mary was immediately claimed as a partner +by Lawrence Armitage, who tried to console himself with the thought +that, at least, she looked like Constance. Mignon's face darkened as +they danced off. Lawrie had merely bowed to her. But he had asked Mary +to dance. That was because she resembled that odious Stevens girl. Her +resentment against Constance blazed forth afresh. She hoped Constance +would never return to Sanford. + +Thanks to a long lecture which Jerry had read to her brother Hal, Mignon +was not neglected. Although none of the Weston High boys really liked +her, she was asked to dance almost every number. Later in the evening +Lawrence Armitage asked her for a one-step, and she vainly imagined +that, after all, she had made an impression on him. Radiant with triumph +over her social success, Mignon saw herself firmly entrenched in the +leadership she dreamed would be hers. But her triumph was to be +short-lived. + +After supper, which was served at two long tables in the dining-room, +the guests returned to their dancing with the tireless ardor of first +youth. Chancing to be without a partner, Mignon slipped into a +palm-screened nook under the stairs for a chat with Mary, who had +followed her about all evening, more with a view of hurting Marjorie +than from an excess of devotion. From their position they could see all +that went on about them, yet be quite hidden from the unobservant. The +unobservant happened to be Marjorie and Jerry Macy, who had come from +the ballroom for a confidential talk and taken up their station directly +in front of the alcove. Save for the two girls behind the palms, the +hall was deserted. + +"Well, I guess Mignon's having a good time," declared Jerry Macy in her +brisk, loud tones. "She ought to. I nearly talked myself hoarse to Hal +before he'd promise to see that the boys asked her to dance. This reform +business is no joke." + +"Lower your voice, Jerry," warned Marjorie. "Someone might hear you." + +Mary Raymond made a sudden movement to rise. Stubborn she might be, but +she was not so dishonorable as to listen to a conversation not intended +for her ears. Mignon pulled her back with sudden savage strength. She +laid her finger to her lips, her black eyes gleaming with anger. + +"Oh, there's no one around. Say, Marjorie, do you think it's really +worth while to go out of our way to reform Mignon? Look at her to-night. +You'd think she had conquered the universe. She was all smiles when +Laurie Armitage asked her to dance. He can't bear her, he told me so +last Hallowe'en, after she made all that fuss about her old bracelet. If +we hadn't banded ourselves together to find that better self which you +are so sure she's carrying around with her, I'd say call it off and +forget it. None of us really likes her. You know that, even if you won't +say so. She is----" + +The waltz time ended in a soft chord and the dancers began trooping +through the doorway to the big punch-bowl of lemonade in one corner of +the hall. They were just in time to see a lithe figure in pink spring +out, catlike, from behind the palm-screened alcove and hear a furious +voice cry out, "How dare you insult a guest by talking about her, the +moment her back is turned?" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN IRATE GUEST + + +Jerry Macy and Marjorie Dean whirled about at the sound of that wrathful +voice. Mignon La Salle confronted them, her eyes flashing, her fingers +closing and unclosing in nervous rage, looking for all the world like a +young tigress. + +"Oh, for goodness' sake, some one lead her away!" muttered the Crane to +Irma Linton. "I told Hal to-day that, with Mignon aboard the good old +party ship, we'd be sure to have fireworks. Real dynamite, too, and no +mistake. I wonder what's upset her sweet, retiring disposition?" His +boyish face indicated his deep disgust. + +"I heard every word you said!" screamed Mignon. Rage had stripped her of +the thin veneer of civilization. She was the same young savage who had +kicked and screamed her way to whatever she desired when years before +she had been the terror of the neighborhood. "So, that's the reason you +invited me to your old party! You got together and picked me to pieces +and decided to reform me! Just let me tell you that you had better look +to yourselves. I don't need your kind offices. You are a crowd of +hateful, deceitful, mean, horrible girls! I despise you all! Everyone of +you! Do you hear me? I despise you! And _you_, Jerry Macy, had better be +a little careful as to what you gossip about me. I can tell you----" + +There came a sudden interruption to the tirade. Through the amazed +groups of young people who could not resist lingering to find out what +it was all about, Mrs. Dean resolutely made her way. + +"That will do, Miss La Salle," she commanded sternly. "I cannot allow +you to make such a disgraceful scene in my home, or insult my daughter +and her guests. If you will come quietly upstairs with me and state your +grievance, I shall do all in my power to rectify it. Marjorie," she +turned to her daughter, who stood looking on in wide-eyed distress, "ask +the musicians to start the music for the next dance." + +Marjorie obeyed and, somewhat ashamed of their curiosity, the dancers +forgot their thirst for lemonade and flocked into the ballroom. Only +Jerry Macy and Mary Raymond remained. + +"It's all my fault, Mrs. Dean," began Jerry contritely. "I didn't know +Mignon was in the alcove. I can't help saying she had no business to +listen, but----" + +"It _is_ my business," began Mignon furiously. "I have a right----" + +"Don't begin this quarrel all over again." Mrs. Dean held up her hand +for silence. "I repeat," she continued, regarding Mignon with marked +displeasure, "if you will come upstairs with me----" + +"Mrs. Dean, it's a shame the way Mignon has been treated to-night," +burst forth Mary Raymond, "and I for one don't intend to stand by and +see her insulted. Miss Macy said perfectly hateful things about her. I +heard them. Marjorie is just as much to blame. She listened to them and +never said a word to stop them." + +"Mary Raymond!" Mrs. Dean's voice held an ominous note that should have +warned Mary to hold her peace. Instead it angered her to open rebellion. + +"Don't 'Mary Raymond' me," she mocked in angry sarcasm. "I meant what I +said, every word of it. Mignon is my dear friend and I shall stand up +for her." + +"Oh, let me alone, all of you!" With an agile spring, Mignon gained the +stairway and sped up the stairs on winged feet. Two minutes later, +wrapped in her evening coat and scarf, she reappeared at the head and +ran down the steps two at a time. "Thank you so much for a delightful +evening," she bowed ironically. "I'm so sorry I haven't time to stay and +be lectured. It's too bad, isn't it, Miss Mary, that the reform couldn't +go on?" To Mary she held out her hand. "Come and spend the day with me +to-morrow, Mary. You may like it so well, you'll decide to stay. If you +do, why just come along whenever you feel disposed. I can assure you +that our house is a pleasanter place to live in than the one you are in +now." With this pointed fling she bowed again in mock courtesy to the +silent woman who had offended her and flounced out the door and into the +starlit night to where her own electric runabout was standing. + +"Can you beat that?" was the tribute that fell from Jerry Macy's lips. + +Mrs. Dean looked from one to the other of the three girls. "Now, girls, +I demand an explanation of all this. Who of you is at fault in the +matter?" + +"I told you it was I," answered Jerry. "Marjorie and I were talking +about Mignon and saying that she was having a good time. Then I had to +go on and say some more things that I don't take back, but that weren't +intended for listeners. I didn't know Mignon and Mary were hidden in +that alcove. Do you suppose I'd have spoiled our reform, after all the +trouble we've had making it go, if I'd known they were there?" + +Mrs. Dean could not repress a faint smile at Jerry's rueful admissions. +She liked this stout, matter-of-fact girl in spite of her rough, brusque +ways. + +"No, I don't suppose you would, but you were in the wrong, I am afraid. +You must learn to curb that sharp tongue, Jerry. It is likely, some day, +to involve you in serious trouble." + +"I know it." Jerry hung her head. "But, you see, Marjorie understands +me. That's why I say to her whatever I think." + +"Mary," Mrs. Dean gravely studied Mary's sulky face, "I am deeply hurt +and surprised. Later I shall have something to say to you and Marjorie. +Now go back to your friends, all of you, and try to make up to them for +this unpleasantness." + +Marjorie, who all this time had said nothing, now began timidly. She had +seldom seen her beloved Captain so stern. "Captain, we are----" + +"Not another word. I said, 'later.'" + +Jerry and Marjorie turned to the ballroom. Mary however, with a scornful +glance at Mrs. Dean, faced about and went upstairs. She had been imbued +with a naughty resolve and she determined to proceed at once to carry it +out. + +The dancing went on for a little, but the disagreeable happening had +dampened the ardor of the guests and they began leaving for home soon +afterward. + +It was midnight when the last sound of the footsteps of the departing +youngsters echoed down the walk. Side by side, Marjorie and her mother +watched them go, then the latter slipped her arm through that of her +daughter and said, "Now, Marjorie, we will get to the bottom of this +affair. Come with me to Mary's room." + +They reached it to find the door closed. Mrs. Dean knocked upon one of +the panels. + +"What do you want?" inquired an angry voice. + +"We wish to come in, Mary," was Mrs. Dean's even response. + +There was a muttered exclamation, a hurry of light feet, then the door +was flung open. + +"You can come in for all I care," was Mary's rude greeting. "You might +as well know now that I'm not going to live here after to-night. I'm +going to Mignon's house to live." Piles of clothing scattered about and +a significantly yawning trunk bore out the assertion. + +Mrs. Dean knew that the time for action had come. Walking over to the +girl, she placed deliberate hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, Mary +Raymond," she said decisively. "You are _not_ going one step out of this +house without my consent. Your father intrusted you to my care, and I +shall endeavor to carry out his wishes. You know as well as I that he +would be displeased and sorry over your behavior. I had intended to talk +matters over with you and Marjorie now, but you are in no mood for +reason. Therefore we will allow this affair to rest until to-morrow. +But, once and for all, unless your father sanctions your removal in a +letter to me, you will stay here, under my roof. Come, Marjorie." + +With a sorrowful glance toward the tense, angry little figure, Marjorie +followed her mother from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE PENALTY + + +Marjorie awoke the next morning with a dull ache in her heart. It was as +though she had been the victim of a bad dream. She stared gloomily about +her, struggling to recollect the cause of her depression. Then +remembrance rushed over her like a wave. No, she had not dreamed. Last +night had been only too real. If anyone had even intimated to her +beforehand that the party which had promised so much was fated to end so +disagreeably, she would have laughed the prediction to scorn. If only +Jerry had kept her unpleasantly candid remarks to herself! Yet, after +all, she could hardly blame her very much. What Jerry had said had been +intended for her ears alone. As hostess, however, she should not have +permitted Jerry to continue. Marjorie blamed herself heavily for this. +To be sure, it had been hardly fair in Mary and Mignon to listen. They +should have made known their presence. She wondered what she would have +done under the same circumstances. Her sense of honor answered her. She +knew she would have immediately come forward. She could not understand +why Mary had not done so. Loyal to the core, Marjorie's faith in her +chum refused to die. The Mary she had known for so many years had not +been lacking in honor. What she had feared from the first had come to +pass. Mary had been swayed by Mignon's baleful personality. The +much-talked-of reform had ended in a glaring fizzle. + +For some time Marjorie lay still, her thoughts busy with the disquieting +events of the previous night. She had longed to turn and comfort the +tense little figure standing immovable in the middle of her room, but +her Captain's word was law, and Marjorie could but sadly acknowledge to +herself that her mother had acted for the best. So she could do nothing +but follow her from the room with a heavy heart. + +What was to be the outcome of the affair she dared not even imagine. A +reconciliation with Mary was her earnest desire. This, however, could +hardly be brought about. Perhaps they would never again be friends. A +rush of tears blinded her brown eyes. Burying her face in the pillow, +Marjorie gave vent to the sorrow which overflowed her soul. + +The sound of light, tapping fingers on the door caused her to sit up +hastily. "Come in," she called, trying to steady her voice. + +The door opened to admit Mary Raymond. Her babyish face looked white and +wan in the clear morning light. For hours after her door had closed upon +Marjorie and her mother she had sat on the edge of her bed in her pretty +blue party frock, brooding on her wrongs. When she had finally prepared +for sleep, it was only to toss and turn in her bed, wide-awake and +resentful. At daylight she had risen listlessly, then fixing upon a +certain plan of action, had bathed, put on a simple house gown and +knocked at Marjorie's door. + +A single glance at Marjorie's face was sufficient for her to determine +that her chum had been crying. She decided that she was glad of it. +Marjorie had made _her_ unhappy, now she deserved a similar fate. + +"Why, Mary!" Marjorie sprang from the bed and advanced to meet her. +Involuntarily both arms were outstretched in tender appeal. + +Mary took no notice of the mutely pleading arms, save to step back with +a cold gesture of avoidance. + +"I haven't come here to be friends," she said with deliberate cruelty. +"I've come to ask you what you intend to say to your mother." + +"What _can_ I say to her?" Marjorie's voice had a despairing note. + +"You can say nothing," retorted Mary. "That is what _I_ intend to do. +Your friend, Jerry Macy, said too much last night. I cannot see why our +school affairs should be discussed in this house. I am sorry that +Mignon made a--a--disturbance last night. I didn't intend to listen, +but----" Her old-time frankness had almost overcome her newly hostile +bearing. She was on the point of saying that she had been ready to step +forth from behind the palms at Jerry's first speech. Then loyalty to +Mignon prevailed and she paused. + +Marjorie caught at a straw. "I _knew_ you didn't intend to listen, +Mary." The assurance rang out earnestly. "I couldn't make myself believe +that you would. I wanted to stay last night and tell you how sorry I was +for--for everything, but I owed it to Captain to obey orders. Mary, +dear, can't we start over again? I'm sure it's all been a stupid +mistake. Let's be good soldiers and resolve to face that dreadful enemy, +Misunderstanding, together. Let's go to Captain and tell her every +single thing! Think how much better we'll both feel. It almost broke my +heart, last night, when you said you were going to Mignon's to live. If +Captain thinks it best, I'll break my promise to Connie and tell +you----" + +At the mention of Constance Stevens' name Mary's face darkened. Touched +by Marjorie's impassioned appeal she had been tempted to break down the +barrier that rose between them and take the girl she still adored into +her stubborn heart again. But the mere name of Constance had acted as a +spur to her rancor. + +"Don't trouble yourself about begging permission of Miss Stevens on _my_ +account," she sneered. "I know a great deal too much of her already. +What do you suppose the girls and boys of Franklin High, who gave you +your butterfly pin, would say if they knew that you let the girl who +stole it from you wear it for months? If you had been honorable you +would have made her give it back and then dropped her forever." + +Marjorie's sorrow disappeared in wrath. "Mary Raymond, you don't know +what you are talking about," she flamed. "I can guess who told you that +untruth. It was Mignon La Salle. It was _not_ Constance who took my +butterfly pin. It was----" + +Again she remembered her promise. + +"Well," jeered Mary, "who was it, then?" + +"I shall not say another word until I see Captain." Marjorie's tones +were freighted with decision. + +"You mean that you can't deny that your friend Constance was guilty," +cut in Mary scornfully. "Never mind. I don't care to hear anything more. +You needn't consult your mother, either. I'm never going to be friends +with you again, so it doesn't matter. But if you ever cared the least +bit for me you'll do as I ask and not tell tales to Captain--I mean Mrs. +Dean," she corrected haughtily. "If you do, then I repeat what I said +the other day. I'll never speak to you again--no, not if I live here +forever. But I won't have to do that, for I shall write to Father and +ask him to let me go to Mignon's to live. So there!" + +With this dire threat Mary flounced angrily from the room, well pleased +with the stand she had taken. + +It was a most unsociable trio that gathered at the breakfast table that +Saturday morning. Mary carried herself with open belligerence. Marjorie +looked as though she was on the point of bursting into tears, while Mrs. +Dean was unusually grave. A delicate task lay before her and she was +wondering as she poured the coffee how she had best begin. Still she had +determined to thresh the matter out speedily, and as soon as Delia had +served the breakfast and retired to the kitchen, she glanced from one to +the other of the two principals and said, "Now, girls, I am waiting to +hear about last night." + +A blank silence fell. Marjorie fixed her eyes on Mary. To her belonged +the first word. + +The silence continued. + +"Well, Mary," Mrs. Dean spoke at last, "what have you to say for +yourself?" + +"Nothing," came the mutinous reply. + +"I am sorry that you won't meet me frankly," commented Mrs. Dean. "I had +hoped to find you on duty." Her searching gaze rested on Marjorie +"Lieutenant, it is your turn, I think." + +Marjorie flushed with distress. She was between two fires. Obedience +won. She related what had transpired in the hall in a few brief words, +shielding Mary as far as was possible. + +"But I know all this," said Mrs. Dean, a trifle impatiently. "Jerry told +me last night. There is more to this affair than appears on the surface. +What has happened to estrange you two, who have been chums for so many +years? I have seen for some time that matters were not progressing +smoothly between you. Things cannot go on in this way. You must take me +into your confidence. It is evident that a reform is needed here at +home." + +Mary stared fixedly at her plate. She was resolved not to be a party to +that reform. If Marjorie failed her, well--she knew the consequences. + +Marjorie saw the sullen, mutinous face through a mist of tears. She +tried to speak, but speech refused to come. + +"I am ashamed of my soldiers." Mrs. Dean spoke sadly. "What would +General say, if he were here?" + +The grave question rang like a clarion call in Marjorie's soul. A vision +of her father's merry, quizzical eyes grown suddenly sober and hurt over +the stubborn resistance of his little army was too much for her. One +mournfully appealing glance at the unyielding Mary and she burst forth +with, "I can't stand it any longer. I must speak. Last year, +when--when--Connie and I had so many unhappy days over my lost butterfly +pin I didn't write Mary about what was happening, because I felt +terribly and wished her to know only the pleasant side of my school +life. So she hadn't the least idea that Connie and I had become such +friends. She thought Connie was just a poor girl whom I tried to help +because I was sorry for her. When I asked Connie to come with us to the +station to meet Mary I was so happy to think they were going to meet +that I am afraid I made Mary believe that Connie had taken her place +with me. You know, Captain, that it couldn't be so. Mary has been and +always will be my dearest friend. I never dreamed she would become----" +Marjorie hesitated. She could not bring herself to say "jealous." + +A smile of contempt curved Mary's lips. "Why don't you say 'jealous'? +That's what you mean," she supplemented. + +"Very well, I will say it," rejoined Marjorie quietly. "I never dreamed +Mary would become jealous of my friendship with Connie. Before long I +noticed she was not quite her own dear self. Then she said something +that made me see that I ought to tell her all about last year, but I +didn't feel that it would be right until I had asked Connie's +permission. I told Mary I would do that very thing, but at Connie's +dance before I ever had a chance _she_ asked me not to say anything. She +was still so hurt over that affair of my pin that she was afraid Mary +might not like her so much if she knew. I didn't know what to do, then. +If I were to say that Mary had asked me to tell her, well--I thought +Connie might think her curious." + +Mary made a half-stifled exclamation of anger. Then she shrugged her +shoulders with inimitable contempt and fixed her gaze on the opposite +wall, assuming an air of boredom she was far from feeling. + +"Go on," commanded Mrs. Dean. Marjorie had hesitated at the +interruption. + +"There isn't much more to tell," continued Marjorie bravely, "only that +Mignon came back to school and met Mary and made mischief. You know the +rest, Captain. You remember what I said to you the other day----" + +"Then you _had_ told your mother things about me, already!" burst forth +Mary furiously. "Very well. You know what I said this morning. Just +remember it." + +Marjorie gazed piteously at the angry girl. She could not believe that +Mary intended to carry out her threat of the morning. + +"What did you say to Marjorie this morning?" inquired Mrs. Dean in cold +displeasure. She was endeavoring to be impartial, but her clear mental +vision pointed that it was not her daughter who was at fault. + +Mary's reply was flung defiantly forth. "I said I'd never speak to her +again, and I won't! I won't!" + +If Mary had expected Mrs. Dean either to order her to reconsider her +rash words or plead with her for reconciliation, she was doomed to +disappointment. "We will take you at your word, Mary," came the calm +answer. "Hereafter Marjorie must not speak to you unless you address her +first. Of course, it will be unpleasant for all of us, but I can see +nothing else to be done. You may write to your father if you choose. He +will undoubtedly write me in return, and naturally I shall tell him the +plain, unvarnished truth, together with several items of interest +concerning Mignon La Salle which cannot be withheld from him. I shall +not forbid you to continue your friendship with her. You are old enough +now to know right from wrong. So long as she does nothing to break the +conventions of society, I can condemn her only as a trouble-maker. My +advice to you would be to drop her acquaintance. When Constance returns +it would be well for you and Marjorie to invite her here and clear up +this difficulty. However, that rests with you. So far as General and I +are concerned, nothing is changed. We shall continue to the utmost to +fulfill your father's trust in us. Now, once and for all, we will drop +the subject. I must insist on no more bickering and quarreling in my +house. That applies to both of you." + +"Please let me say just one thing more, Captain." Marjorie turned +imploring eyes upon her mother. "If Mary will let me bring Connie here, +when she comes back, I'm sure every cloud can be cleared away. Mary," +her vibrant tones throbbed with tender sympathy, "won't you take back +what you've said and believe in me?" + +For answer Mary Raymond rose from the table and left the room, +obstinately trampling friendship and good will under her wayward feet. +She had begun to keep her vow. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION + + +The days following the final break in the friendship between the two +sophomores were dark indeed for Marjorie. The tale of Mignon's stormy +outbreak at her party had been retailed far and wide. It furnished +material for much speculative gossip among the students of Sanford High +School, and, as is always the case, grew out of proportion to truth with +each subsequent recital. Although the five girls who had banded +themselves together in the reform that met with such signal failure +refused to commit themselves, nevertheless the purpose of their compact, +revealed by Mignon's sarcastic tirade at the party, was no longer a +secret. Regarding the conscientiousness of their motives, opinions were +divided. Certain girls who had a wholesome respect for wealth, +personified in Mignon, murmured among themselves that it was a shame she +had been so badly treated, while under the Deans' roof. A few still +bolder spirits went so far as to criticize Mrs. Dean for interfering in +a school-girl's quarrel. They asserted that Mary Raymond had behaved +wisely in openly defending her. Marjorie Dean was a great baby to allow +her mother to run her affairs. There was no one quite so tiresome as a +goody-goody. + +On the other hand, Marjorie possessed many firm friends who defended +her, to the last word. For the time being discussion ran rife, for youth +loves to take up arms in any cause that promises excitement, without +stopping to consider dispassionately both sides of a story. + +After the party Mignon had lost no time in imparting to those who would +listen to her that the Deans had treated their guest with the utmost +cruelty and it was for her invalid mother's sake alone that Mary had +resigned herself to remain under their roof and go on with her school. +Her distortion of the truth grew with each recital and, as the autumn +days came and went, she found she had succeeded in dividing the +sophomore class far more effectually than she had divided it the +preceding year, when in its freshman infancy. + +At the Hallowe'en dance which the Weston boys always gave to their fair +Sanford schoolmates, dissension had reigned and broken forth in so many +petty jealousies that the boyish hosts had been filled with gloomy +disgust "at the way some of those girls acted," and vowed among +themselves never to give another party. There were exceptions, of +course, they had moodily agreed. Marjorie Dean and _her_ crowd were "all +right" girls and "nothing was too good for them." As for some others, +well--"they'd wait a long time before the fellows broke their necks to +show 'em another good time." + +After a three weeks' absence Constance Stevens had returned to Sanford +and school. To her Marjorie confided her sorrows. So distressed was the +latter at the part she had unwittingly played in the jangle that she +wrote Mary Raymond an earnest little note, which was read and +contemptuously consigned to the waste-basket as unworthy of answer. Long +were the talks Constance and Marjorie had on the sore subject of Mary's +unreasonable stand, and many were the plans proposed by which they might +soften her stony little heart, but none of them were carried out. They +were voiced, only to be laid aside as futile. + +To Marjorie it was all a dreadful dream from which she forlornly hoped +she might at any moment awaken. Three times a day she endured the +torture of sitting opposite Mary at meals, of hearing her talk with her +mother and father exactly as though she were not present. Mr. Dean had +returned from his Western trip. His wife had immediately advised him of +the painful situation, and, after due deliberation, he had decided that +the only one who could alter it was Mary herself. "Let her alone," he +counseled. "She has her father's disposition. You cannot drive her. You +were right in leaving her to work out her own salvation. It is hard on +Marjorie, poor child, but sooner or later Mary will wake up. When she +does she will be a very humble young woman. I wouldn't have her father +and mother know this for a good deal, and neither would she. You can +rest assured of that. Still you had better keep an eye on her. I don't +like her friendship with this La Salle girl. Mark me, some day she will +turn on Mary, and then see what happens! I'll have a talk with my +sore-hearted little Lieutenant and cheer her up, if I can." + +Mr. Dean kept his word, privately inviting his sober-eyed daughter to +meet him at his office after school and go for a long ride with him in +the crisp autumn air. Once they had left Sanford behind them, Marjorie, +who understood the purpose of the little expedition, opened her +sorrowing heart to her General. Sure of his sympathy, she spoke her +inmost thoughts, while he listened, commented, asked questions and +comforted, then repeated his prediction of a happy ending with a +positiveness that aroused in her new hope of better days yet to come. + +Marjorie never forgot that ride. They tarried for dinner at a wayside +inn, justly famous for its cheer, and drove home happily under the +November stars. As she studied her lessons that night she experienced a +rush of buoyant good fellowship toward the world in general which for +many days had not been hers. Yes, she was certain now that the shadow +would be lifted. Sooner or later she and Mary would step, hand-in-hand, +into the clear sunlight of perfect understanding. She prayed that it +might dawn for her soon. As is usually the case with persons innocent of +blame, she took herself sharply to task for whatever part of the snarl +she had helped to make. She did not know that the stubborn soul of her +friend could be lifted to nobler things only by suffering; that Mary's +moment of awakening was still far distant. + +But while Marjorie prayed wistfully for reconciliation, Mary Raymond sat +in the next room, her straight brows puckered in a frown over a sheet of +paper she held in her hand. On it was written: + + "DEAR MARY: + + "Be sure to come to the practice game to-morrow. I think you + will find it interesting. If it is anything like the last one, + several persons are going to be surprised when it is over. I + won't see you after school to-day, as I am not coming back to + the afternoon session. + + "MIGNON." + +Mary stared at the paper with slightly troubled eyes. Estranged from +Marjorie, she and Mignon had become boon companions. Since that eventful +morning when she had chosen her own course, she had discovered a number +of things about the French girl not wholly to her liking. First of all +she had expected that her latest sturdy defiance of the Deans would +elicit the highest approbation on the part of Mignon. Greatly to her +disappointment, her new friend, in whose behalf she had renounced so +much, had received her bold announcement, "I'm done with Marjorie Dean +forever," quite as a matter of course. She had merely shrugged her +expressive shoulders and remarked, "I am glad you've come to your +senses," without even inquiring into the details. Ignoring Mary's +wrongs, which had now become an old story to her and therefore devoid of +interest, she had launched forth into a lengthy discussion of her own +plans, a subject of which she was never tired of talking. After that it +did not take long for the foolish little lieutenant, who had so +unfeelingly deserted her regiment, to see that Mignon was entirely +self-centered. Other revelations soon followed. Mignon was agreeable as +long as she could have her own way. She would not brook contradiction, +and she snapped her fingers at advice. She was a law unto herself, and +to be her chum meant to follow blindly and unquestioningly wherever she +chose to lead. Mary tried to bring herself to believe that she had made +a wise choice. It was an honor to be best friends with the richest girl +in Sanford High School. She owned an electric runabout and wore +expensive clothes. At home she was the moving power about which the +houseful of servants meekly revolved. All this was very gratifying, to +be sure, but deep in her heart Mary knew that she would rather spend one +blessed hour of the old, carefree companionship with Marjorie than a +year with this strange, elfish girl with whom she had cast her lot. But +it was too late to retreat. She had burned her bridges behind her. She +must abide by that which she had chosen. + +To give her due credit, she still believed that Mignon had been +misjudged. She invested the French girl with a sense of honor which she +had never possessed, and to this Mary pinned her faith. Perhaps if she +had not been still sullenly incensed against Constance Stevens, the +scales might have fallen from her eyes. But her resentment against the +latter was exceeded only by Mignon's dislike for the gentle girl. Thus +the common bond of hatred held them together. She had only to mention +Constance's name and Mignon would rise to the bait with torrential +anger. This in itself was an unfailing solace to Mary. + +To-night, however, her conscience troubled her. For the past three weeks +basket ball had been the all-important topic of the hour with the +students of Sanford High School. It was the usual custom for the +instructor in gymnastics to hold basket ball try-outs among the aspiring +players of the various classes. Assisted by several seniors, she culled +the most skilful players to make the respective teams. But this year a +new departure had been declared. Miss Randall was no longer instructor. +She had resigned her position the previous June and passed on to other +fields. Her successor, Miss Davis, had ideas of her own on the subject +of basket ball and no sooner had she set foot in the gymnasium than she +proceeded to put them into effect. Instead of picking one team from the +freshman and sophomore classes, she selected two from each class. Then +she organized a series of practice games to determine which of the two +teams should represent their respective classes in the field of glory. + +Marjorie, Susan Atwell, Muriel Harding, a tall girl named Esther Lind, +and Harriet Delaney made one of the two teams. Mignon La Salle, +Elizabeth Meredith, Daisy Griggs, Louise Selden and Anne Easton, the +latter four devoted supporters of Mignon La Salle, composed the other. +There had been some little murmuring on the part of Marjorie's coterie +of followers over the choice. Miss Davis was a close friend of Miss +Merton and it was whispered that she had been posted beforehand in +choosing the second team. Otherwise, how had it happened to be made up +of Mignon's admiring satellites? + +Miss Davis had decreed that three practice games between the two +sophomore teams should be played to decide their prowess. The winners +should then be allowed to challenge the freshmen, who were being put +through a similar contest, to play a great deciding game for athletic +honors on the Saturday afternoon following Thanksgiving. She also +undertook to make basket ball plans for the juniors and seniors, but +these august persons declined to become enthusiastic over the movement +and balked so vigorously at the first intimation of interference with +their affairs that Miss Davis retired gracefully from their horizon and +devoted her energy to the younger and more pliable pupils of the school. + +Not yet arrived at the dignity of the two upper classes, the sophomores +and freshmen were still too devoted to the game itself to resent being +managed. To find in Miss Davis an ardent devotee of basket ball was a +distinct gain. Miss Archer, although she attended the games played +between the various teams, was not, and had not been, wholly in favor of +the sport since that memorable afternoon of the year before when Mignon +had accused Ellen Seymour, now a junior, of purposely tripping her +during a wild rush for the ball. Privately, Miss Archer considered +basket ball rather a rough sport for girls and they knew that a +repetition of last year's disturbance meant death to basket ball in +Sanford High School. + +Two of the three practice games had been played by the sophomore teams. +The squad of which Marjorie was captain had easily won the first. This +had greatly incensed Captain Mignon and her players. A series of locker +and corner confabs had followed. Mary, who did not aspire to basket ball +honors, had been present at these talks. In the beginning the +discussions had merely been devoted to the devising of signals and the +various methods of scoring against their opponents. But gradually a new +and sinister note had crept in. Mignon did not actually counsel her team +to take unfair advantages, but she made many artful suggestions, backed +up by a play of her speaking shoulders that conveyed volumes to her +followers. It began to dawn upon Mary that these "clever tricks," as +Mignon was wont to designate them, were not only flagrant dishonesties +but dangerous means to the end, quite likely to result in physical harm. +Her sense of honor was by no means dead, although companionship with +Mignon had served to blunt it. She had remonstrated rather weakly with +the latter on one occasion, as they walked toward home together after +leaving the other girls, and had been ridiculed for her pains. + +She now stared at Mignon's irregular, disjointed writing, which in some +curious way suggested the girl's elfish personality, with unhappy eyes. +Just what did Mignon mean by intimating that several persons were "going +to be surprised" when to-morrow's practice game was over? It sounded +like a threat. No doubt it was. Suppose--some one were to be hurt +through this tricky playing of Mignon's team! Suppose that some one were +to be Marjorie! Mary shuddered. She remembered once reading in a +newspaper an account of a basket-ball game in which a girl had been +tripped by an opponent and had fallen. That girl had hurt her spine and +the physicians had decreed that she would never walk again. Mary put her +hands before her eyes as though to shut out the mental vision of +Marjorie, lying white and moaning on the gymnasium floor, the victim of +an unscrupulous adversary. What could she do? She could not warn +Marjorie to be on her guard. She had now passed out of her former +chum's friendship of her own free will. She could not go privately to +Muriel or Susan or the other members of the team. No, indeed! Yet, +somehow, she must convey a message of warning. + +Seized with a sudden impulse to carry out her resolve, she picked up a +pencil and began to scrawl on a bit of paper in a curious, back-handed +fashion, quite different from her neat Spencerian hand. Over and over +she practiced this hand on a loosened sheet from her note-book. At +length she rose and, going to her chiffonier, took from the top drawer a +leather writing case. Tumbling its contents hastily over, she selected a +sheet of pale gray paper. There was a single envelope to match. Long it +had lain among her stationery, the last of a kind she had formerly used. +She was sure Marjorie had never seen it, so if it fell into her hands +she could not trace it to her. Once more she practiced the back-handed +scrawl. Then, with an energy born of the remorse which was to serve as a +continual penance for her folly, she wrote: + + "TO THE SOPHOMORE TEAM: + + "Be on your guard when you play to-morrow. If you are not very + careful you may be sorry. Beware of 'tricks.' + + "ONE WHO KNOWS." + +Folding the warning, Mary slipped it into its envelope. But now the +question again confronted her, "To whom shall I send it?" After a +moment's frowning thought she decided upon Harriet Delaney as the +recipient. But dared she trust it to the mail service? Suppose it were +not delivered until afternoon? Then it would be too late. The Delaneys +lived only two blocks further up the street. It was not yet ten o'clock. +Mrs. Dean had gone to a lecture. Marjorie was in her room. If she met +General she would merely state that she was going to post a letter. That +would be entirely true. She would run all the way there and back. Once +she had reached Harriet's house she must take her chance of being +discovered. + +Drawing on her long blue coat, Mary crept noiselessly down the stairs. +General was not in sight. The living room was in darkness. Only the hall +lights burned. It took but an instant to softly open the door. Mary sped +down the walk and on her errand of honor like a frightened fawn. Fortune +favored her. No eye marked her cautious ascent of the Delaney's steps. +She breathed a faint sigh of relief as she slipped the envelope into the +letter slot in the middle of the front door. Then she turned and dashed +for home like a pursued criminal. + +She had hardly gained the shelter of her room when she heard the front +door open to the accompaniment of cheerful voices. Mr. Dean had +evidently gone forth to bring his wife home from the lecture. Mary threw +herself on the bed, her heart pounding with excitement and the energy of +her brisk run. And though she was conscious only of having done a good +deed for honor's sake, nevertheless she had faced about and taken a long +step in the right direction. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A MYSTERIOUS WARNING + + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Dean. Is Marjorie here?" There was a hint of +suppressed excitement in the clear voice that asked the question. + +"Good morning, Harriet. Come in." Mrs. Dean smiled pleasantly upon her +caller, as she ushered her into the hall. "You are out early this +morning. Yes, Marjorie is here. She hasn't come downstairs yet. She is a +little inclined to linger in bed on Saturday morning." + +"I can't blame her," laughed Harriet. "I am fond of doing the same. But +I've a special reason for being out early this morning. It's about +basket ball. You may be sure of that." + +"Basket-ball is enjoying its usual popularity. I hear a great deal about +it of late," returned Mrs. Dean. "Pardon me." Raising her voice, she +called up the stairway, "Mar-jorie!" + +"Coming down on the jump, Captain!" answered Marjorie's voice. Verifying +her words, she bounded lightly down the stairs, still in her dressing +gown, her hair falling in long loose curls about her lovely face. "I +knew who was here. I heard Harriet's voice." + +"Oh, Marjorie," burst forth Harriet, taking a quick step forward. +"I--something awfully queer has happened!" She glanced nervously about +her, but Mrs. Dean had already vanished through the doorway, leading +into the dining room. She rarely intruded upon Marjorie's callers longer +than to welcome them. + +"What is it, Harriet?" fell wonderingly from Marjorie's lips. Her +friend's early call, coupled with her agitated manner, betokened +something unusual. + +"Read this!" Harriet thrust a sheet of pale gray note paper into +Marjorie's hand. "It's the strangest thing I ever heard of!" + +Marjorie swept the few scrawling lines of which the paper boasted with a +keen, comprehensive glance. As its import dawned upon her, her brown +eyes grew round with amazement. She re-read it twice. "Where did you +receive it?" came her sharp question, as she continued to hold it in her +hand. + +"I don't know when it came. Mother found it on the floor in the +vestibule this morning. I was still in bed. She sent Nora, our maid, +upstairs with it. You can imagine I didn't stop to finish my nap. I +hurried and dressed, ate about three bites of breakfast and started for +your house as fast as I could travel. I thought you ought to see it +first. What do you make of it?" + +"I hardly know what to think." Marjorie's glance strayed from Harriet's +perturbed face to the mysterious letter of warning. "Somehow, I don't +believe it was written for a joke. Do you?" + +"No, I don't." Harriet shook her head positively. "I think it was +intended for just what it is, a warning to be on our guard to-day. I'll +tell you something, Marjorie. I never mentioned it before +because--well--you know I've never liked Mignon La Salle since she +nearly broke up basket ball at Sanford High last year, and I was afraid +it might sound hateful on my part, but the girls of Mignon's squad are +as tricky as can be. Twice, in the first practice game we played, I had +my own troubles with them. Once Daisy Griggs nearly knocked me over. She +pretended it was an accident, but it wasn't. Then, in the second half, +Mignon poked me in the side with her elbow. We were bunched so close +that not even the referee saw her. I almost had the ball, but my side +hurt me so that I missed it entirely. Susan Atwell was awfully cross +about something that day, too. I asked her what had happened, but she +only muttered that she hoped she'd get through the game without being +murdered. She wouldn't say another word, but you can guess from what +I've told you that she must have had good reason for getting mad. Did +she say anything to you?" + +"No; I wish she had." A flash of anger darkened Marjorie's delicate +features. "The girls of Mignon's team have played fairly enough with me. +They are rough, I'll say that, but, so far they've not overstepped the +rules." + +"They know better than to try their tricks on _you_!" exclaimed Harriet +hotly, "or on Muriel, either. Mignon's afraid of you because you are +everything that's good and noble!" + +"Nonsense," Marjorie grew red at this flattering assertion. + +"It's true, just the same. She's afraid of Muriel, too, because she +knows that Muriel would report her to Miss Archer in a minute. She +thinks she can harass Esther and Susan and me and that we won't dare say +anything for fear Miss Archer will make a fuss. She knows how crazy we +are to play and that we'd stand a good deal of knocking about rather +than spoil everything. It's different with Muriel. If _she_ got mad, she +would walk off the floor and straight to Miss Archer's office, and those +girls know it." + +Marjorie was silent. What Harriet said in regard to Muriel was +undoubtedly true. Since the latter had turned from Mignon La Salle to +her, she had been the soul of devotion. She had never forgiven Mignon +for her cowardly conduct on the day of the class picnic. Muriel +reverenced the heroic, and Mignon had disgraced herself forever in the +eyes of this impulsive, hero-worshipping girl. + +"We had better show this letter to the other girls," Marjorie said with +sudden decision. "Come upstairs to my house. I'll hurry and dress. +Suppose you have a few more bites of breakfast with me. Your early +morning rush must have made you hungry, and you ought to be well fed, if +you expect to do valiant work on the field of battle this afternoon." + +"I _am_ hungry," conceded Harriet, "and I won't wait to be urged. I'd +love to take breakfast with you." Then, lowering her voice, she asked: +"Is Mary going to the game?" + +A faint wistfulness tinged Marjorie's voice as she said slowly. "I don't +know. I haven't asked her. I suppose she is, though." + +Although it was whispered among Marjorie's close friends that the +unpleasant scene at her party had left a yawning gap between the two +friends, never, by so much as a word, had Marjorie intimated the true +state of affairs to any one except Constance and Jerry Macy. Not even +Susan Atwell and Muriel Harding knew just how matters stood. Harriet +remembered this in the same moment of her question, and, flushing at her +own inquisitiveness, remarked hurriedly, "Everyone in school is coming +to see us play." + +"I'm glad of that." Marjorie had recovered again her usual cheerfulness, +and answered heartily. She kept up a lively stream of talk as she +completed her dressing. Tucking the letter inside her white silk blouse +she led the way downstairs to the dining room. She was slightly relieved +to see Mary's place at the table vacant. She guessed that the latter had +heard Harriet's voice and had purposely remained in her room. She had +not gone astray in this supposition. Mary _had_ heard Harriet speak and +knew only too well what had brought her to the Deans' house so early +that morning. + +It was nine o'clock when Marjorie and Harriet left the house to call on +Susan Atwell, who lived nearest. Susan read the mysterious warning and +was duly impressed with its significance. She was equally at sea as to +the writer. It soon developed, however, that Harriet had been correct in +assuming that Susan's wrath at the first game played against Mignon's +team had been occasioned by their unfair tactics. She had been slyly +tripped by Louise Selden, she asserted, and had fallen heavily. + +"All this is news to me," declared Marjorie, frowning her disapproval. +"It must be stopped." + +"How?" inquired Susan almost sulkily. + +"If necessary, we must have an understanding with our opponents," was +the quiet response. + +"That is easy enough to say," retorted Susan, "but if we were to accuse +those girls of playing unfairly, they would simply laugh at us and call +us babies." + +"I'd rather be laughed at and called a baby than allow such unfairness +to go on." There was a ring of determination in Marjorie's reply. + +"Let us hurry on to Muriel and hear her views," suggested Harriet. "She +lives next door to Esther Lind, so we can call them together and show +them the letter." + +Once the team were together they spent an anxious session over the +letter left by an unseen hand. Discussion ran rife. With her usual +impetuosity Muriel announced her intention of taking Mignon to task +before the game. "I'm not afraid of her," she boasted. "I'd rather not +play than to feel that at any minute I might be laid up for repairs. I'm +much obliged to the one who wrote this. He or she must have had a +troubled conscience." + +Marjorie cast a startled glance at Muriel. Could it be possible that +Mary had written the note? And yet something about the gray stationery +had seemed familiar. She was not sure, but she thought she had at some +time or other received a letter from her chum written on gray note +paper. She resolved to look through Mary's letters to her as soon as she +reached home. If Mary had, indeed, sent the warning, it was because she +felt constrained to do the only honorable thing in her power. +Association with Mignon had not entirely deadened her sense of right and +wrong. A wave of love and longing brought the tears to Marjorie's eyes. +She winked them back. She must not betray herself to her schoolmates. + +"Listen to me, girls," she began earnestly. "We mustn't say a word to +our opponents before the game. I know I just said that we ought to have +an understanding, and I meant it. But we had better wait until the end +of the first half. If everything is all right, then so much the better. +If it isn't--well--we shall at least have given them their chance." + +The players lingered in the Hardings' living room to discuss the coming +contest, go over their signals and prepare themselves as effectually as +possible for the fray. It was almost noon when Marjorie sped up the +stairs to her room, there to put into execution the search she had +decided to make. Mary's letters to her, tied with a bit of blue ribbon, +reposed in a pretty lacquered box designed especially to hold them. +Marjorie untied the ribbon and fingered them with a sigh of regret for +the happy past. Most of them were written on white paper, a few were on +pale blue, Mary's color. Almost at the bottom of the box was one gray +envelope. The searcher drew a quick breath as she separated it from its +fellows. Drawing the envelope from her blouse, she compared the two. +They were identical. The mysterious warning was no longer a mystery +to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +A BOLD STAND FOR HONOR + + +Thrilled with the discovery she had just made, Marjorie's first impulse +was to seek admittance to the room so long denied her and confront Mary +with the knowledge of her good deed. Remembering her General's +injunction, "Let her alone," she refrained from yielding to that +impulse. Her pride, too, asserted itself. It was not her place to make +advances, all too likely to be rebuffed. No, she must keep her secret +until time had done its perfect work. Reconciliation lay in Mary's +hands, not hers. She decided, however, that the girls must never know +who had been the author of the warning. So far as she was concerned, it +must remain a mystery to them. + +"Where is Mary?" she inquired of her mother, as they sat down to +luncheon a little later. Mary's place at the table was vacant. + +"Oh, she was invited to luncheon at her friend Mignon's home," returned +Mrs. Dean, frowning slightly. "I suppose she is hoping that Mignon's +team will win the game this afternoon." + +"I suppose so," returned Marjorie absently. Her mind was still on her +discovery. Should she tell Captain about it? Perhaps it would be best. +Briefly she acquainted her mother with what she had so recently found +out. + +"I am not greatly surprised," was her mother's quiet comment. "Mary is +too good a girl at heart to persist for long in this ridiculous stand +she has taken. I am glad you said nothing of it to her. She must clear +her own path of the briars she has sown. When she does, she will have +learned a much-needed lesson." + +"But, Captain, it's dreadful to think of Christmas coming and Mary +and--I--not--friends," faltered Marjorie. "I can't give her a present, +and I'd love to. I suppose she doesn't care to give me one. We've always +exchanged gifts ever since we were little tots." + +"Perhaps everything will be all right by that time. If it isn't--well, I +have a plan--but I'm not going to say a word about it yet. Wait until +nearer Christmas. Then we shall see." + +"Oh, Mother, if only you could think of something that would make us +friends again, just for a day, I'd be so happy!" Marjorie clasped her +hands in fervent appeal. + +"Wait and see," smiled Mrs. Dean enigmatically. + +As Marjorie set out for the high school that afternoon she hummed a +jubilant snatch of song, due to the bright ray of sunlight that had +pierced the gloom. She could afford to wait, if waiting would bring +about the miracle that her mother had hinted might be wrought. She quite +forgot basket ball until she reached the steps of the high school. +There her mind reverted to the coming contest and she set her lips in +silent determination. Her team must win to-day. She could not endure the +thought that Mignon's team should be the one to play against the +freshmen for sophomore honors. + +It was half past one o'clock when she entered the building and hurried +to the dressing room at one side of the gymnasium, which was reserved +for her squad. The first to arrive, she hastily prepared for the game. +Meanwhile, she kept up an earnest thinking as to the course she had best +pursue if Mignon and her supporters overstepped the bounds of fair play. +But she could make up her mind to nothing. Mere contemplation of the +subject was so disagreeable she hated to face it. + +While she pondered, Susan Atwell bustled in with Muriel Harding. The two +remaining members of the team appeared soon after and a lively dressing +and talking bee ensued. The sophomore team, which Marjorie captained, +had chosen to wear their black basket ball regalia of the year before, +but instead of the violet "F" that had ornamented their blouses, a +scarlet "S" now replaced it. Black and scarlet were the sophomore +colors. Should their team win, they could wear the same suits in the +more important game to come. It was reported, however, that Mignon's +team would shine resplendently in new suits of gray, ornamented with a +rose-colored "S," which Mignon had provided at her own expense. If they +won, she had promised her adherents the prettiest black and scarlet +suits that could be obtained for the Thanksgiving Day contest. It is +needless to say that they had also set their minds on carrying off the +victor's palm. + +The game had been set for half past two o'clock, but long before that +hour the gallery audience of Sanford School girls, with a fair +sprinkling of boys from Weston High, had begun to arrive. Opinion was +divided as to the prospective winners. Marjorie's team boasted of +seasoned players, whose work on the field was well known. Mignon had not +been so fortunate. Neither Daisy Griggs nor Anne Easton had played +basket ball, previous to the opening of the season. But Mignon herself +was counted a powerful adversary. The sympathy of the boys lay for the +most part with Marjorie's squad. The Weston High lads were decidedly +partial to the pretty, brown-eyed girl, whose modest, gracious ways had +soon won their boyish approbation. Among the girls, however, Mignon +could count on fairly strong support. + +As it was a practice game no special preparations in the way of songs or +the wearing of contestants' colors had been observed. That would come +later, on Thanksgiving Day. But excitement ran higher than usual in the +audience, for it had been whispered about that it was to be "some game." + +"It's twenty-five after, children," informed Jerry Macy, who, with Irma +Linton and Constance Stevens, had been accorded the privilege of +invading the dressing room of Marjorie's team. Jerry had elected to +become a safety deposit vault for a miscellaneous collection of pins, +rings, neck chains and other simple jewelry dear to the heart of the +school girl. Marjorie's bracelet watch adorned one plump wrist, while +her own ornamented the other. + +"Look out, Jerry, or you'll make yourself cross-eyed trying to tell time +by both those watches at once," giggled Susan Atwell. + +"Don't you believe it," was Jerry's good-humored retort. "They're both +right to the minute." + +"Remember, girls, that we've just _got_ to win," counseled Marjorie +fervently. "Keep your heads, and don't let a single thing get by you. +We've practiced our signals until I'm sure you all know them perfectly." + +"We'll win fast enough, if certain persons play fairly," nodded Muriel +Harding, "but look out for Mignon." + +A shrill blast from the referee's whistle followed Muriel's warning. It +called them to action. + +The next instant five black and scarlet figures flashed forth onto the +gymnasium floor to meet the gray-clad quintette that advanced from the +opposite side of the room. + +United cheering from the gallery constituents of both teams rent the +air. The contestants acknowledged the applause and ran to their +stations. A significant silence fell as the referee poised the ball for +the opening toss. Mignon La Salle's black eyes were fastened upon it +with almost savage intensity. She leaped like a cat for it as it left +the referee's hands. Again the screech of the whistle sounded. The game +had begun. + +It was Marjorie who won the toss-up, however. She had been just a shade +quicker than Mignon. Now she sent the ball flying toward Susan Atwell +with a sure aim that made the onlookers gasp with admiration. Before the +gray-clad girls could comprehend just how it had all happened, their +opponents had scored. But this was only the beginning of things. Buoyant +over their initial gain, the black and scarlet girls played as though +inspired and soon the score stood 8 to 0 in their favor. + +Mignon La Salle was furious at the unexpected turn matters had taken. +Her players, of whom she had expected wonders, were behaving like +dummies. They had evidently forgotten her fierce exhortations to fight +their way to victory regardless of expense. Well, she would soon show +them their work. It did not take her long to put her resolve into +execution. Joining a wild rush for the ball, which Harriet Delaney was +valiantly trying to throw to basket, Mignon made good her word. Just +what happened to her Harriet could not say. She knew only that a sly, +tripping foot, unseen in the turmoil, sent her crashing to the floor, +while the ball passed into the enemy's keeping, and they scored. + +Inspired by the sweetness of success, Mignon's "dummies" awoke and +carried out the instructions, so often impressed upon them in secret by +their unscrupulous leader, in a series of plays that for sly roughness +had never been equalled by any other team that had elected to take the +floor in that gymnasium. Yet so cleverly did they execute them that +beyond an occasional foul they managed to elude the supposedly-watchful +eyes of the referee, an upper class friend of the French girl's, and +rapidly piled up their score. + +When the whistle called the end of the first half it found the score +10-8 in favor of the grays. It also found a quintet of enraged +black-clad girls, nursing sundry bruises and vows of vengeance. + +"It's a burning shame!" cried Susan Atwell, the moment the teams had +reached the safety of their dressing room. "I won't stand it. My ankle +hurts so where some one kicked it that I thought I couldn't finish the +first half. And poor Harriet! You must have taken an awful fall." + +"I did." Harriet Delaney was half crying. + +Muriel Harding's dark eyes were snapping with rage and injury. She was +nursing a scraped elbow, which she had received in the melee. "I'm going +straight to Miss Archer," she threatened. "I won't play the second half +with such dishonorable girls. That Miss Dutton, the referee, must know +something of the rough way they are playing. But _she_ is a friend of +Mignon's. I don't care much if Miss Archer forbids basket ball for the +rest of the season. I'd rather have it that way than be carried off the +floor, a wreck. I'm going now to find her. She's up in her office. Jerry +saw her just before she came to the gym. Didn't you, Jerry?" She turned +to the stout girl, who had just entered. At the beginning of the game, +Jerry, Constance and Irma had hurried to the gallery to watch it. +Seasoned fans, they had observed the playing with critical eyes that saw +much. The instant the first half was over, they had descended to their +friends with precipitate haste. + +"Yes, she's in her office." Jerry had appeared in time to hear Muriel's +tirade. "I think I _would_ go to her, if I were you, Muriel. Those girls +are a disgrace to Sanford." + +"Let's all go," proposed Harriet Delaney, wrathfully. "I'd rather do +that than stay and be murdered." + +Marjorie stood regarding her players with brooding eyes. She smiled +faintly at Harriet's vehement utterance. "Girls," she said in a clear, +resolute voice, "I told you this morning that if anything like this +happened I'd go straight to Mignon and have an understanding. I'm going. +I wish you to go with me, though. I have a reason for it." She walked +determinedly to the door. + +"What are you going to say to them, Marjorie?" demanded Muriel. "You +might as well save your breath. They'll only laugh at you. Miss Archer +is the person to go to." + +"Not yet." Marjorie shook her head in gentle contradiction. "Please let +me try my way, Muriel. If it doesn't work, then I promise you that I'll +go with you to Miss Archer. Oh, yes. I wish you all to stand by me, but +don't say a word unless I ask you to. Will you trust me?" She glanced +wistfully at her little flock. + +"Go ahead," ordered Muriel shortly. "We'll stand by you. Won't we, +girls?" + +Three heads nodded on emphatic assent. + +"All right. Come on. We haven't much time left. How many minutes, +Jerry?" + +"Eight," replied the stout girl. "Can Irma and Connie and I come, too?" + +"No. I'd rather you wouldn't." + +"We'll forgive you. Now beat it." Although Jerry was earnestly +endeavoring to eliminate slang from her vocabulary, she could not resist +this forceful advice. + +"Suppose we go around through the corridor and use that side door +nearest Mignon's dressing room," suggested Marjorie. "Then we won't be +noticed. I'd rather we weren't. This is really private, you know." + +Four black and scarlet figures gloomily followed their leader. There +were two doors to each dressing room. One led into the gymnasium, which +was situated in a wing of the school, the other led into the corridor. +Through the half-open door of Mignon's dressing room the sound of +exultant voices reached the advancing squad. She stood with her back +toward them. + +"We were a little too much for them." Mignon's boasting tones brought +fresh resentment to her injured opponents. "I told you that----" + +"Miss La Salle!" Marjorie's stern voice caused the French girl to whirl +about. "We heard what you were saying. We came over here to notify you +that we do not intend to play the second half of the game with you +unless you give us your promise to play fairly and without unnecessary +roughness." + +Mignon's black eyes blazed. "What do you mean by stealing into our room +and listening to our private conversation?" she demanded passionately. + +Marjorie faced the furious girl with calm, contemptuous eyes. Before +their steady gaze, Mignon quailed a trifle. + +"We did not _steal_ into your room. If you had not been so busy boasting +over your own unfairness you could have heard our approach. However, +that doesn't matter. What _does_ matter is this. Come here, Muriel." She +beckoned Muriel to her side. "Show Miss La Salle your elbow," she +commanded. + +Muriel rolled back her loose sleeve and showed the raw, red spot on her +soft, white arm. + +Mignon laughed sarcastically and shrugged her scorn of the injury. "You +can't be a baby and play basket ball," she jeered. + +"Neither can you behave like a savage and expect it to pass +unnoticed--by at least a few persons," retorted Marjorie. She was +fighting hard to control the rush of temper which this heartless girl +always brought to the surface. "Harriet was badly shaken up, because +someone purposely tripped her. Some one else kicked Susan on the ankle. +It is too much. We won't endure it. Now I give you fair warning, if any +girl of my squad is handled roughly during the next half she intends to +call a halt in the game. The rest of us will then leave the floor and go +to Miss Archer's office. Think it over. That's all." + +Marjorie turned on her heel. Without so much as a glance toward the +discomfited girls of Mignon's team, she walked from the room, followed +by her silently obedient train. + +"Well, _what_ do you think of that?" gasped Louise Selden. Nevertheless, +she had had the grace to turn very red during Marjorie's stern +arraignment. + +Mignon turned savagely upon the abashed members of her squad. "If you +pay any attention to _her_, you are all _babies_," she hissed. "You are +to play the second half just as I told you. Don't let that priggish Dean +girl scare you. _She_ wouldn't go to Miss Archer. She knows better than +that." + +"You're wrong, Mignon. She meant every word she said." Daisy Griggs' +ruddy face had grown suddenly pale. "_I'm_ going to be pretty careful +how I play the rest of this game." + +"So am I," echoed Elizabeth Meredith. "If Miss Dean went to Miss Archer +it would raise a regular riot." + +Anne Easton and Louise Selden nodded in solemn agreement with Daisy's +bold stand. In her heart each of them stood convicted of unworthiness. +The righteous gleam of Marjorie's clear eyes had made them feel most +uncomfortable. + +"You're cowards, every one of you," burst forth Mignon, her dark face +distorted with rage, "and if----" + +"T-r-r-ill!" The referee's whistle was summoning them to the game. + +Mignon ran to her station resolved on vengeance. Four girls followed her +to their places divided between two fears. Awe of Miss Archer and the +disaster that would surely overtake them if they persisted in their +former tactics acted as a spur to their sleeping consciences. Fear of +Mignon became a secondary emotion. They vowed within themselves to play +fairly and they kept their vow. + +The second half of the game opened very well for Marjorie's team. She +passed the ball to Susan Atwell, who scored, thereby winning a salvo of +hearty applause from the gallery. The watchful spectators had not been +blind to the unfair methods of the grays. Two goals followed in their +favor. So far the grays had done nothing. Unnerved by Marjorie's just +censure and the fear of exposure, they paid little heed to Mignon's +glowering glances and frantic signals. They played in a half-hearted, +diffident fashion, quite the opposite of their whirlwind sweep during +the first half. The black and scarlet girls soon brought the score up to +14 to 10 in their favor, and from that moment on had things decidedly +their own way. Time after time Mignon cut in desperately for the basket +to receive a pass, but on each occasion her team-mates made a wild +throw. Marjorie's team, however, played with perfect unity, working in +several successful signal plays. Try as she might, the French girl could +do nothing to arouse her players. Their passing became so delinquent +that once or twice it brought derisive groans from the male spectators +in the gallery. As the second half neared its end, Muriel Harding made a +sensational throw to basket that aroused the gallery to wild enthusiasm. +It also served to take the faint remaining spirit from the disheartened +grays, and the game wound up with a score of 30 to 12 in favor of the +black and scarlet girls. They had won a complete and sweeping victory +over their unworthy opponents. + +It was a proud moment for Marjorie Dean, as she stood surrounded by a +flock of jubilant boys and girls, who had rent the gallery air with +appreciative howls, then hustled from their places aloft to offer their +congratulations to the victors. + +"I'm so glad you won, Marjorie," cried Ellen Seymour. Lowering her +voice, she added: "I could see a few things. I'm not the only one. But +what happened to them? They actually played fairly in the second +half--all except Mignon. But she couldn't do much by herself." + +Marjorie smiled faintly. "We must have discouraged them, I suppose. We +never before worked together so well as we played in that second half. +Wasn't that a wonderful throw to basket that Muriel made?" + +"Splendid," agreed Ellen warmly. "I predict an easy victory for the +sophomores on Thanksgiving Day." + +Marjorie breathed relief. "Are you coming to see us play, or are you +going away for Thanksgiving?" was her tactful question. + +Ellen plunged into a voluble recital of her Thanksgiving plans, quite +forgetting her curiosity over the sudden change of tactics of the +defeated grays. Several girls joined in the conversation, and thus the +talk drifted away from the subject Marjorie wished most to avoid. + +In Mignon's dressing room, however, a veritable tornado had burst. Four +sullen, gray-clad girls bowed their heads before the storm of +passionate reproaches hurled upon them by their irate leader. They were +seeing and hearing Mignon at her worst, and they did not relish it. It +may be set down to their credit that not one of them took the trouble to +answer her. Beyond a mute exchange of meaning glances, they ignored her +scorn, slipping away like shadows when they had changed their basket +ball suits for street apparel. Outside the high school they congregated +and made solemn agreement that now and forever they were "through" with +Mignon. + +Several friends of the latter, including Miss Dutton, the referee, +dropped into the dressing room, and to them Mignon continued her tirade. +But the face of one hitherto ardent supporter was missing. Mary Raymond +had fled from the school the moment the game was ended. For once she had +seen too much of Mignon. She had tried to force herself to believe that +she was sorry for the latter's deserved defeat, but, in reality, she was +glad that Marjorie's team had won. She determined to go home and wait +for her chum. She would confess that she was sorry for the past and ask +Marjorie to forgive her. + +Putting her determination into swift action, she left the high school +behind her almost at a run. Once she had reached home she paused only to +hang her wraps on the hall rack, then posted herself in the living-room +window, an anxious little figure. When Marjorie came she would open the +hall door for her. She would say, "I surrender, Lieutenant. Please +forgive me." She smiled a trifle sadly to herself in anticipation of +the forgiving arms that Marjorie would extend to her. She was not sure +she merited forgiveness. + +But when at last Marjorie came in sight of the gate, Mary vented an +exclamation of pain and anger. Marjorie was not alone. Up the walk she +loitered, arm-in-arm with Constance Stevens. The old jealousy, forgotten +in Marjorie's hour of triumph, swept Mary like a blighting wind. She +turned and fled from the hated sight that met her eyes, a deserter to +her good intentions. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +HOISTING THE FLAG OF TRUCE + + +Thanksgiving Day walked in amid a flurry of snow, accompanied by a +boisterous wind, which roared a bleak reminiscence of that first +Thanksgiving Day on a storm rock-bound coast, when a few faithful souls +had braved his fury and gone forth to give thanks for life and liberty. +Despite his challenging roar, the boys of Weston High School played +their usual game of football against a neighboring eleven and emerged +from the field of conquest, battered and victorious, to rest in the +proud bosoms of their families and devour much turkey. In the afternoon, +the long-talked-of game of basket ball came off between the sophomores +and the freshmen. It was an occasion of energetic color-flaunting, in +which black and scarlet banners predominated. It seemed as though almost +every one in Sanford High School, with the exception of the freshmen +themselves, was devoted heart and soul to the sophomores. The rumor of +the unfair treatment they had received in the deciding practice game had +been noised abroad, and Marjorie and her team mates were in a fair way +to be lionized. A packed gallery, much jubilant singing and frantic +applause of every move they made, spurred the black and scarlet girls to +doughty deeds, and, although it was a hard-fought battle, in which the +freshmen played for dear life, the sophomores won. + +Altogether, it was a day long to be remembered, and Marjorie lived it +for all that lay within her energetic young body and mind. Only the one +flaw that marred its perfection and left her sober-eyed and +retrospective when the eventful holiday was ended. She felt that one +word of commendation from Mary would have been worth more than all the +praise she had received from admiring friends. But Mary was as stony and +implacable as ever, giving no sign of the surrender which Constance +Stevens had unconsciously nipped in the bud. + +Just how Mary spent that particular Thanksgiving Day Marjorie did not +learn until long afterward. She knew only that Mary had left the house +directly after dinner, merely stating that she intended making several +calls, and was seen no more until ten o'clock that night, when she +flitted into the house like a ghost and vanished up the stairs to her +own room. + +After Thanksgiving, basket ball echoes died out in the growing murmur of +coming Christmas joys, and like every young girl, Marjorie grew +impatient and enthusiastic over her holiday plans. She did not chatter +them as freely to General and Captain when at table as had been her +custom each year in the happy days when only they three had been +together. As her formerly lovable self, Marjorie would have felt no +reserve in Mary's presence, but this strange, new Mary with her white, +immobile face and indifferent eyes, chilled her and killed her desire to +exchange the usual gay badinage with her General, which had always made +meal-time a merry occasion. + +"I don't like Mary's effect on our little girl, Margaret. Of late, +Marjorie is as solemn as a judge," remarked Mr. Dean one evening as he +lingered at the dinner table after Mary and Marjorie had excused +themselves and gone upstairs on the plea of studying to-morrow's +lessons. "I counseled Marjorie, the night I took her to Devon Inn to +dinner, to let matters work out in their own way. That was some time +ago. Perhaps I'd better take a hand and see what I can do toward ending +this internal war. Christmas will soon be here. We can't have our Day of +Days spoiled by one youngster's perversity." + +"I have thought of that, too," returned Mrs. Dean, smiling, "and I have +a plan. I shall need your help to carry it out, though." + +When she had finished the laying out of her clever scheme for a +congenial Christmas all around, Mr. Dean threw back his head in a hearty +laugh. "It's decidedly ingenious, and in keeping," was his tribute. +"I'll help you put it through, with pleasure. But after Christmas----" +He paused, his laughing eyes growing grave. + +"After Christmas our services as peace advocates may not be needed," +supplemented Mrs. Dean. "At least, I hope they may not. I am still of +the opinion, however, that Mary must be left to repent of her own folly. +If she is coaxed and wheedled into good humor she will never realize how +badly she has behaved." + +"I suppose that is so. But, naturally, I am more interested in healing +our poor little soldier's hurts than in trying to bring a certain +stubborn young person to her senses. We will try out our idea. It will +insure one satisfactory day, I hope. Unless I prove a poor diplomat." + +Although Marjorie's blithe voice was too frequently stilled in Mary's +presence, she was uniformly sunny when she and her Captain were alone +together. Now fairly familiar with Sanford, Mrs. Dean had made it a part +of her daily life to seek and assist certain families among the poor of +the little northern city. Now that Christmas was so near she was making +a special effort to gladden the hearts of those to whom life had seemed +to grudge even daily bread. She had contrived wisely to interest +Marjorie in this charitable work, with the idea of taking her mind from +the bitter disappointment Mary's change of heart had brought her, and +had been touched and gratified at the unselfish eagerness with which +Marjorie had taken up the work. The latter had aroused Jerry Macy's, as +well as Constance Stevens', interest in planning a merry Christmas for +the poor of Sanford. Constance was particularly desirous of helping. She +would never forget the previous Christmas Eve, when, laden with good +will and be-ribboned offerings, Marjorie had smilingly appeared at the +little gray house where Poverty reigned supreme and helped her transform +Charlie's rickety express wagon into a veritable fairy couch, piled high +with the precious tokens of unselfish love. She felt that the only way +in which she might show her lasting gratitude for the gifts of that +snowy Christmas Eve was to share her blessings with others who were in +need, and she quickly became Marjorie's most faithful servitor. + +Good-natured Jerry was also keen to bestow her time and world goods in +the Christmas cause, and almost every afternoon when school was over the +three girls conspired together in the cause of happiness. Marjorie +unearthed a trunk of her childish toys from an obscure corner of the +garret, and a great mending and refurbishing movement ensued. Jerry, not +to be outdone, canvassed among her friends for suitable gifts to lay at +the shrine of Christmas, which rose to life eternal when three wise men +placed their reverent offerings at the feet of a Holy Child long +centuries before. While Constance Stevens drew largely on a sum of +money, which her indulgent aunt had placed in the bank to her credit and +enjoyed to the full the blessedness of giving. + +"Maybe we haven't been busy little helpers, though," declared Jerry +Macy one blustering afternoon, as the three girls sat in the Deans' +living room, surrounded by ribbon-bound packages of all shapes and +sizes. "Truly, I never had such a good time before in all my life." + +"That's just the way I feel," nodded Constance, as she tied an +astounding bow of red ribazine about an oblong package that +suggested a doll, and consulted a fat note book, lying wide +spread on the library table, for the address of the prospective +possessor. "Marjorie, will you ever forget how happy Charlie was +last year?" + +"Dear little Charlie!" Marjorie's lips smiled tender reminiscence of the +tiny boy's jubilation over his wonderful discovery that Santa Claus had +not forgotten him. "His Christmas will be a merry one this year, even to +the good, strong leg that he hoped Santa would bring him." + +"He can't possibly be any happier than he was _last_ Christmas morning," +was Constance's soft reply. "And it was all through you, Marjorie." + +"Oh, I wasn't the only one. Your father and you and Uncle John gave him +things, and Delia popped the corn for his tree, and, don't you remember, +Laurie Armitage brought you the tree and the holly and ground pine?" + +Constance flushed slightly at the mention of Lawrence Armitage. A +sincere boy and girl friendship had sprung up between them that promised +later to ripen into perfect love. + +"That reminds me," broke in Jerry bluntly. "I've something to tell you, +girls. Hal told me. He's my most reliable source of information when it +comes to news of Weston High. Laurie is writing an operetta. He's going +to call it 'The Rebellious Princess,' and he would like to give a +performance of it in the spring. There's to be a big chorus and +Professor Harmon is going to pick a cast from the boys and girls of +Weston and Sanford High Schools." + +"Who is Professor Harmon?" asked Constance curiously. + +"Oh, he's the musical director at Weston High," answered Jerry +offhandedly. "He looks after the singing and glee clubs there, just as +Miss Walters does at Sanford High. You can sing, Connie, and Laurie +knows it. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd get the leading part." + +"I'd be more surprised if I did," laughed Constance, "considering that I +don't even know Professor Harmon when I see him." + +"Laurie will introduce you to him, I guess," predicted Jerry +confidently. "Hal said something about a try-out of voices. I can't +remember what it was. I'll ask him when I go home." + +"I don't believe I could even sing in a chorus," laughed Marjorie. "I +haven't a strong voice." + +"You can look pretty, though, and _that_ counts," was Jerry's emphatic +consolation. "That's more than I can do. I can't see myself shine, even +in a chorus. I don't sing. I shout, and then I'm always getting off the +key," she ended gloomily. + +Constance and Marjorie giggled at Jerry's funny description of her vocal +powers. The stout girl's brief gloom vanished in a broad grin. + +"Two more days and Christmas will be here!" exclaimed Marjorie with a +joyous little skip, which caused a pile of packages on the floor near +her to tumble in all directions. + +"Easy there!" warned Jerry. Secretly she was delighted at her friend's +lightsome mood. Marjorie had been altogether too serious of late. +Privately, she had frequently wished that Mary Raymond had never set +foot in Sanford. + +The early December dusk had fallen when, the last package wrapped, +Constance and Jerry said good-bye to Marjorie. "I'll be over bright and +early Christmas morning," reminded Constance. "Remember, you are coming +to Gray Gables on Christmas night, Marjorie. Charlie made me promise for +you ahead of time. I'd love to have you come, too, Jerry." + +"Can't do it. Thank you just the same, but the Macys far and near are +going to hold forth at our house and poor little Jerry will have to stay +at home and do the agreeable hostess act," declared Jerry, looking +comically rueful. + +"I'll surely be there, Connie. I'll bring my offerings with me. Don't +you forget that you are due at the Deans' residence on Christmas +morning. Bring Charlie with you." + +After her friends had gone, Marjorie went into the living room to +speculate for the hundredth time on the subject of Mary's present. It +was a beautiful little neckchain of tiny, square, gold links, similar to +one her Captain had given her on her last birthday. Mary had frequently +admired it in times past and for months Marjorie had saved a portion +from her allowance with which to buy it. She had a theory that a gift to +one's dearest friends should entail self-sacrifice on the part of the +giver. Mary's changed attitude toward her had not counted. She was still +resolved upon giving her the chain. But how was she to do it? And +suppose when she offered it Mary were to refuse it? + +The entrance of her mother broke in upon her unhappy speculations. "I'm +glad you came, Captain," she said. "I've been trying to think how I had +best give Mary her present." + +"Then don't worry about it any longer," comforted Mrs. Dean. Stepping +over to the low chair in which Marjorie sat she passed her arm about her +troubled daughter and drew her close. "That is a part of my plan. Wait +until Christmas morning and you will know." + +"Tell me now," coaxed Marjorie, snuggling comfortably into the hollow of +the protecting arm. + +"That would be strictly against orders," came the laughing response. +"Have patience, Lieutenant." + +"All right, I will." Sturdily dismissing her curiosity, Marjorie began a +detailed account of the afternoon's labor, which lasted until Mr. Dean +came rollicking in and engaged Marjorie in a rough-and-tumble romp that +left her flushed and laughing. + +Despite her many errands of good will and charity, the next two days +dragged interminably. On Christmas Eve Mr. Dean took his family and Mary +to the theatre to see a play that had had a long, successful run in New +York City the previous season and was now doomed to the road. After the +play they stopped at Sargent's for a late supper. Under Mr. Dean's +genial influence Mary thawed a trifle and even went so far as to address +Marjorie several times, to the latter's utter amazement. This was in +reality the beginning of Mrs. Dean's carefully laid plan. Marjorie +guessed as much and wondered hopefully as to what might happen next. + +Nothing special occurred that evening, however, except that Mary bade +her a curt "good night." But Marjorie hugged even that short utterance +to her heart and went to sleep in a buoyantly hopeful state of mind. + +She was awakened the next morning by a military tattoo, rapped on her +door by energetic fingers. "Report to the living room for duty," +commanded a purposely gruff voice, which she was not slow to recognize. + +"Merry Christmas, General," she called. "Lieutenant Dean will report in +the living room in about three minutes." Hopping out of bed she reached +for her bath robe. Then the sound of tapping fingers again came to her +ears. This time they were on Mary's door. Hastily drawing on stockings +and bed-room slippers, she sped from her room and down the stairs. Her +father stood stiffly at the foot of the stairway in his most +general-like manner. She saluted and came to attention. A moment or two +of waiting followed, then Mary appeared at the head of the stairs. She +began to descend slowly, but Mr. Dean called out, "No lagging in the +line," and long obedience to orders served to make her quicken her pace. + +"Twos right, march," ordered Mr. Dean, motioning toward the living room. + +Wonderingly the company of two obeyed. Then two pairs of eyes were +fastened upon a curious object that stood upright in the middle of the +living-room table. It was a good-sized flag of pure white. + +"Form ranks!" came the order. + +Two girlish figures lined up, side by side. + +"Salute the Flag of Truce," commanded the wily General. + +Mary gave an audible gasp of sheer amazement. Marjorie laughed outright. + +"Silence in the ranks," bellowed the stern commandant. "Pay strict +attention to what I am about to say. In time of war it sometimes becomes +necessary to hoist a flag of truce. This means a suspense of +hostilities. The flag of truce is hoisted in this house for all day. It +will remain so until twelve o'clock to-night. Respect it. Now break +ranks and we'll enjoy our Christmas presents. I hope my army hasn't +forgotten its worthy General!" + +"Mary," Marjorie's voice trembled. Tears blurred her brown eyes. "It's +Christmas morning. Will you kiss me?" + +Mary was possessed with a contrary desire to turn and rush upstairs. She +felt dimly that to kiss Marjorie was to declare peace against her will. +But her better nature whispered to her not to ruin the peace of +Yuletide. She would respect the flag of truce for one day. Then she +could give Marjorie the ring she had bought for her before coming to +Sanford and laid away for Christmas. Afterward she would show her that +she had softened merely for the time being. She returned Marjorie's +affectionate kiss rather coolly. Nevertheless, the ice was broken. + +Five minutes later she found herself running upstairs for her presents +for the Deans in an almost happy mood, and she joined in the present +giving with a heartiness that was far from forced. Once she had ceased +to resist Marjorie's winning advances she was completely drawn into the +divine spirit of the occasion, and she allowed herself to drift once +more into the dear channel of bygone friendship. + +Marjorie fairly bubbled over with exuberant happiness. The unbelievable +had come to pass. She and Mary were once more chums. She longed to tell +Mary all that was in her heart, but refrained. For to-day it was better +to live on the surface of things. Later there would be plenty of time +for confidences. After breakfast she mentioned rather timidly that she +expected a call from Constance and little Charlie. + +Mary received the statement with an apparent docility that brought +welcome relief to Marjorie. She was not sure of her chum on this one +point. When Constance and Charlie arrived at a little after ten o'clock, +burdened with gaily decked bundles, Marjorie's fears were set at rest. +To be sure, Mary showed no enthusiasm over Constance, but Charlie was a +different matter. She had conceived a strange, deep love for the quaint +little boy and spared no pains to entertain him. While she was putting +Marjorie's beautiful angora cat, Ruffle, through a series of cunning +little tricks, which he performed with sleepy indolence, Marjorie +managed to say to Constance, "I can't come to see you to-night, Connie. +I'll explain some day soon. You understand." + +Constance nodded wisely. Nothing could have induced her to mar the +reconciliation which had evidently taken place. "Come when you can," she +murmured. Generously leaving herself out of the question, she purposely +shortened her stay, although Charlie pleaded to remain. + +"I'll come again soon," he assured Mary, as he was being towed off by +his sister's determined hand. "I like you almost as well as Connie." + +Marjorie's glorious day was over all too soon. She hovered about Mary +with a friendly solicitude that could not be denied. The latter +graciously allowed her the privilege, but behind her pleasant manner +there was a hint of reserve, which did not dawn upon Marjorie until late +that evening. At first she reproached herself for even imagining it, but +as bedtime approached the conviction grew that when twelve o'clock came +Mary would again resume her hostile attitude. + +"It is time taps was sounded," reminded Mr. Dean, looking up from his +book, as the grandfather's clock in the living room pointed half past +eleven. Mrs. Dean sat placidly reading a periodical. + +"We'll obey you, General, as soon as we've finished our game." Marjorie +looked up from the backgammon board at which she and Mary were seated. +It had always been a favorite game with them and Marjorie had proposed +playing to relieve the curious sensation of apprehension that was +gradually settling down upon her. + +It was five minutes to twelve when she put the board away. Mary had +strolled to the living-room door. Pausing for an instant she said, as +though reciting a lesson, "I've had a lovely day. Thank you all for my +presents." Without waiting for replies, she turned and mounted the +stairs. The sound of a door, closed with certain decision, floated down +to the three in the living room. + +Marjorie walked slowly to the table, and drawing the flag of truce from +its improvised standard, handed it to her father. "I knew it would end +like that, General," she commented sadly. "I felt it coming all evening. +Just the same it was a splendid plan, and I thank you for it." She +lingered lovingly to kiss her father and mother good night, then marched +to her room with a brave face. But as she passed the door that had once +more been closed against her she vowed within herself that from this +moment forth she would cease to mourn for the "friendship" of a girl who +was so heartless as Mary Raymond. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE LAST STRAW + + +It had been Mary Raymond's firm intention when she closed her door that +Christmas night to resume hostilities the next day. But when she met +Marjorie at breakfast the following morning, her desire for continued +warfare had vanished. Some tense chord within her stubborn soul had +snapped. Looking back on yesterday she realized that it had not been +worth while. Now her proud spirit cried for peace. She wished she had +not been so ready to doubt her chum's loyalty and with a curious +revulsion of feeling she began to long for a reinstatement into her +affections. + +But her perfunctory "good night" had cost her more than she dreamed. It +had awakened a tardy resentment in Marjorie's hitherto forgiving heart +that she could not readily efface. Outwardly Marjorie seemed the same. +She returned Mary's greeting pleasantly enough, showing nothing of the +surprise it had given her. Mary was not destined to learn for some time +to come that a reaction had taken place. + +Mr. and Mrs. Dean were relieved to find that Marjorie's prediction was +not verified. To all appearances the two girls had definitely resumed +their old, friendly footing. Only Marjorie knew differently, but she did +not intend then or on any future occasion to betray herself, even to her +Captain. + +As the winter days glided swiftly along the road to Spring, it was +circulated about among Marjorie's intimate friends that she and Mary had +settled their differences. Keen-eyed Jerry Macy, however, had seen +deeper than her classmates. Although Mary now occasionally walked home +with them or accompanied them to Sargent's, spending considerably less +time with Mignon, Jerry was quick to feel rather than note the slight +reserve Marjorie exhibited toward Mary. "Don't you believe they've made +up," she declared to Irma Linton. "Mary may think they have, but they +haven't. I guess Marjorie's grown tired of Mary's nonsense. I'm glad of +it. She's a silly little goose, I mean Mary, and she's lost more than +she thinks." + +It was on a sunny afternoon in late March, however, before Mary was +rudely jolted into the same conclusion. Mignon La Salle was also +possessed of "the seeing eye." Mary was no longer her devoted satellite, +although she still kept up an indifferent kind of friendship with the +French girl. Mignon soon divined the cause of her lagging allegiance. +"You are a little idiot, Mary Raymond, to follow Marjorie Dean about as +you do. She doesn't care a snap for you. She may treat you nicely, but +that's as far as it goes. She cares more for that miserable Stevens girl +in a minute than she cares for _you_ in a whole year. Why can't you let +her alone and chum with some one who appreciates you." + +"I don't follow Marjorie about," contested Mary hotly. "I never go +anywhere with her unless she asks me." + +"She merely does that through courtesy," shrugged Mignon. "I suppose she +thinks it her duty. She's a prig and I despise her." + +Mary's face flamed at the obnoxious word "duty." In a flash her mind +reviewed all that had passed since that memorable Christmas day. Her +cheeks grew hotter at the brutal truth of Mignon's words. + +"If you think I care anything about her, you have made a mistake," she +retorted, stung to untruthfulness by the taunt. "I'll soon prove to you +that I don't." + +"Stop running around with her and her wonderful friends and I'll believe +you," sneered Mignon. + +"I will, if only to show you that I don't care," flung back the angry +girl. + +"That's the way to talk," approved Mignon. She had kept but few friends +among the sophomores since that fatal practice game and she did not +intend to lose Mary from her diminished circle. Besides, she was certain +that the Deans, one and all, did not approve of Mary's friendship with +her and it accorded her supreme pleasure to annoy them. + +"I'm going to give a fancy dress party two weeks from Friday night," she +went on, with an abrupt change of subject. "Nearly all the girls I'm +intending to invite are juniors and seniors. We'll have a glorious time. +I don't have to strip our living room of furniture for a place to dance. +I have a _real_ ballroom in my home. I'll send you an invitation in a +day or two." + +Surely enough, three days after Mignon's announcement the invitation was +duly delivered to Mary through the mail. She read it listlessly. She was +not keen about attending the party. Marjorie merely smiled when Mary +showed her the invitation and briefly announced her intention of going. +She graciously offered the Snow White costume she had worn at the +masquerade of the previous Spring. Mary declined it coldly. She had not +forgotten Mignon's taunts. Since then she had kept strictly to herself, +steadily refusing Marjorie's polite invitations to accompany her here +and there. Earlier in the year Marjorie would have grieved in secret +over this frostiness, but Marjorie had hardened her gentle heart and now +fancied that Mary's movements were of small concern to her. And so the +wall of misunderstanding towered higher and higher. + +Mrs. Dean willingly helped Mary plan a cunning little girl costume, and +when on the night of the party she entered the living room in obedience +to her Captain's call, "Come here and let us see how you look, Mary," a +lump rose in Marjorie's throat. In her short, white, embroidered frock, +with its Dutch neck and wide, blue ribbon sash, she looked precisely +like the pretty child that she had been when she and Marjorie played +"house" together in the Raymonds' backyard. The blue silk stockings and +heelless, blue kid slippers emphasized the babyish effect of her +costume, and Marjorie had hard work to keep back her tears. But Mary +could not read that sudden rush of emotion in the calm, uncritical face +which Marjorie turned to her. + +Mignon had sent her runabout for Mary and it was a trifle after eight +o'clock when the La Salle's chauffeur drove up the wide, handsome +driveway to Mignon's home. It was an unusually mild evening in April and +as they neared the port-cochere, a slim figure in gypsy dress ran down +the steps. "I've been watching for you," called Mignon, as Mary stepped +from the runabout. "The musicians are here and so are most of the girls. +I can't imagine why the boys don't come. Only six have appeared, so far. +We've had one dance," she went on crossly. "Some of the girls had to +dance together. Wasn't that horrid? Take off your cloak and let me see +your costume. It's sweet." + +The chauffeur had disappeared and the two girls stood for an instant at +the foot of the steps. + +Advancing suddenly out of the darkness marched a sturdy little figure. +Under its arm was thrust a diminutive violin case. "How do you do?" it +greeted with a quaint, bobbing bow. "I comed to play in the band." + +With a quick exclamation of surprise, Mary Raymond darted toward the +tiny youngster. "Charlie Stevens!" she gasped. "What are you doing away +over here after dark?" + +"I comed to play in the band," repeated Charlie with a jubilant wave of +his violin case that almost sent it hurtling from his baby fingers. +"Uncle John comed and so I comed, too." + +Mary knelt on the driveway and gathered him into her round, young arms. +"Listen to Mary, dear little boy. Did Charlie run away?" She had heard +from Marjorie of Charlie's frequent attempts to sally forth to conquer +the world with his violin. + +The child's sensitive face clouded. His lip quivered. "Connie says I +have to always tell the truth," he wailed. "I runned away because I have +to play in the big band. A man comed to see Uncle John this afternoon. I +heard him talk about the band. Uncle John comed to play in it, so I +comed, too. Only he didn't see me. I kept behind him till he got to the +gate. Then after a while I comed, too!" + +Mignon La Salle stood watching the wailing aspirant for the "big band" +with frowning eyes. "I suppose this ridiculous child belongs to those +Stevens," she sneered. + +"Ain't a 'diclus child," contradicted Charlie with dignity. "I'm a +mesishun. I can play the fiddle. I like Mary. I don't like you." + +"I have heard that this Stevens boy was an idiot. Now I believe it," +snapped Mignon. "I suppose I'll have to take him in until some one comes +after him. I didn't know his uncle was to be one of the musicians. If I +had, I would have made the leader hire some other man. I sha'n't tell +his uncle that he's here. He's hired to play for my dance, not to waste +his time taking a simpleton home. It's a perfect nuisance." + +Her long hoop ear-rings swung and shook with the vehemence of her +displeasure. + +Mary Raymond's face changed from red to white as she listened to the +French girl's callous speech. A lover of all children, she could not +endure the slight put upon this tiny boy. She straightened up with an +alacrity that nearly threw Charlie off his balance. Her blue eyes +flashed with righteous wrath. "How can you be so harsh with this cunning +boy?" she cried. "He isn't an idiot or a simpleton! He's as bright +as--as----" (courtesy conquered) "as any child of his age. Why, he's +only a baby. He's not going into your house, either, to wait for his +family to find him. He's going home now, and I'm going to take him." + +"You can't go very far in that short dress and those thin slippers," +mocked Mignon. "Don't be a silly. Bring him in, I say, and hurry. I must +go back to my guests." + +"Please go to them," Mary spoke in icily dignified tones. "As for me, I +have my cloak." She held forth one bare arm on which swung her long, +gray evening cape. "I should never forgive myself if I neglected this +little tot. I'm sorry to be so rude, but I can't help it. I'm going now. +Good night. Come, Charlie." Wrapping her cloak about her, Mary gently +disengaged the violin case from Charlie's clutch, tucked it under one +arm and took firm hold of the youngster's hand. Charlie was still +regarding Mignon's swaying ear-rings with childish fascination. + +"You are a orful naughty girl," he pouted reproachfully. + +"If you leave me now to take that impudent child home, I'll never speak +to you again," threatened Mignon, her black eyes snapping. + +"Very well. You may do as you please," was Mary's laconic response over +her shoulder. She had already started down the driveway with her +venturesome charge. The little boy had been momentarily awed into +silence at Mignon's menacing features. + +"She's a cross girl," he observed calmly, as he marched along beside +Mary, "but we don't care, do we?" + +"_No_, we _don't_," came emphatically from Mary's lips. And she meant +it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +FACE TO FACE WITH HERSELF + + +Although Mary Raymond had deliberately snapped the chain that bound her +to Mignon La Salle, she now found herself confronted by a far more +difficult task. How was she to return little Charlie to Gray Gables +without meeting Constance Stevens or another member of her family? It +was not yet nine o'clock. It was, therefore, barely possible that +Charlie had not been missed. Perhaps Constance and her aunt were not at +home. It stood to reason that if they had been, Charlie would never have +succeeded in slipping away and following John Roland to his evening's +assignment. + +Once outside the La Salle's gate, Mary paused uncertainly. Charlie +tugged impatiently at her hand. "Come on, Mary. Take Charlie home," he +demanded. + +Apparently unmindful of the child's presence, Mary stood still, staring +thoughtfully up and down the moonlit street. It was an unusually mild +night for that time of year, and the ground was bare of snow. March was +in a deceptive, springlike mood, smiling and sunny by day, with the +merest touch of snappiness by night. Nevertheless, it was scarcely an +occasion for a walk in thin kid slippers and silk stockings, and Mary +shivered slightly as she stood there trying to decide what was to be +done. + +"Listen to Mary, Charlie boy," she began suddenly, bending down and +looking seriously into the child's bright, black eyes. "Where were +Connie and Auntie when you ran away?" + +"_They_ runned away from Charlie," was the prompt reply, given with an +aggrieved pout. "Charlie wanted to go, too, and Connie said 'no.' They +wented to the the'ter where the band plays all the time." + +"And where was nurse?" + +"She wented away, too, but Connie didn't know it. She thought Charlie +didn't know, either. But she told Bessie, and Charlie heard." + +"So, that is the reason," murmured Mary. Then she said to Charlie, "If +Mary takes you home will you promise her something?" + +"Yes," nodded Charlie. + +"Then promise Mary that you won't tell anyone you ran away, or that Mary +brought you home." + +"Aren't you going to tell Connie that Charlie was a naughty boy?" came +the anxious question. + +"No, not unless someone sees Charlie when he goes home and asks about +it." + +"Then Charlie won't tell, either," was the calm response. The boy was +proving himself anything but a simpleton. + +"All right. Now we must hurry." Mary took firm hold of the tiny hand and +the two started for Gray Gables as fast as the boy's small feet would +permit of walking. It was not far from the La Salle's home to Gray +Gables. Mary was thankful for that. Not in the least oppressed with a +sense of his own shortcomings, Charlie kept up an animated conversation +during the short walk. He even proposed stopping in the middle of the +street to demonstrate for her special edification his prowess as a +fiddler. Mary vetoed this proposal, however. She was bent on reaching +Gray Gables as soon as possible. + +Just inside the grounds she halted and viewed the house with speculative +eyes. Lights gleamed from the hall, the living room, and from one +upstairs window. Then, with Charlie's hand still in hers, she walked +boldly up the driveway and mounted the steps. Within the shielding +shadow of the veranda she paused for a long moment and listened. Turning +to the child she laid her finger on her lips with a gesture of silence. +Charlie beamed understandingly. Mary's strange behavior was as +interesting to him as though it were a new game invented for his +pleasure. He entered completely into the spirit of it. + +"Now," whispered the girl, "Mary is going to ring the bell and run away. +Charlie must stand still and wait until someone opens the door. If no +one comes, Charlie must ring the bell again. And remember, he mustn't +tell who brought him home!" + +"Charlie won't tell," gravely assured the youngster. + +Mary pressed a firm finger on the bell and held it there for a second. +Then she darted down the steps, around a corner of the house and across +a wide stretch of frozen lawn. She remembered that she could climb the +low fence at the back of the grounds, cut across a field which lay below +them and emerge on a small street not far from the Deans' home. She did +not pause for breath until she reached the street she had in mind. +Flushed and panting from her wild flight it was several minutes before +she could compose herself sufficiently to go on toward home. Luckily for +her she met but two persons, a boy of perhaps fifteen and a laboring +man. Neither gave her more than the merest glance. + +But her last ordeal was yet to come. What would Marjorie and her mother +think when they saw her? They would immediately guess that something +unusual must have happened to bring her home from the party before it +had hardly more than begun. Her recent experience had left her in no +mood for explanations. She decided to try slipping quietly in at the +rear door of the house. There was, of course, a possibility that it +might be locked, but if it were not--so much the better for her. + +There was an instant of breathless suspense as she noiselessly turned +the knob. It yielded to her touch, and she stole into the kitchen and up +the back stairs like an unsubstantial shadow of the night, rather than a +very tired and sore-hearted girl. Once in her room she sat down on her +bed to think things over. She dared not move about for fear of being +heard by Marjorie or her mother. Long she sat, moodily reviewing the +year that had promised so much, yet had yielded her nothing but +dissension and sorrow. One bare, ugly fact confronted her, looming up +like a hideous monster whose dreadful claws had shredded her peace of +mind and now waved at her the tattered fragments. It had all been her +fault. For the first time she saw herself as she really was. A jealous, +suspicious, hateful girl. It was she, not Marjorie, who had been +unfaithful to friendship. But she had gone on blindly, unreasoningly, +preferring to think the worst, until now it was too late to bridge the +gap that she had daily widened between herself and her chum by her +absurd jealousy. She could never regain her lost ground. She felt that +Marjorie's patience with her had long since been exhausted. She dared +not, could not, plead for reinstatement. All that remained to be done +was to go through the rest of that dreadful year alone. When she and +Marjorie had finished their sophomore course she would go quietly away, +and they would, perhaps, never meet again. + +Alone with her bitter remorse, Mary wept until she could cry no more. +As is usually the case with youth, she was sweeping in her +self-condemnation. But that bitter hour of self-revelation did more to +arouse within her the determination to conquer herself and establish the +foundation for a noble womanhood than she could possibly believe. + +At last she pulled herself together to play the final scene in her +evening's drama. Mrs. Dean had given her a latchkey, in order that she +might let herself into the house, should she return from the party after +the Deans had retired. At half-past ten o'clock she heard Marjorie and +her mother come up the stairs to their rooms. Mr. Dean was away from +home on a business trip. When all sounds of conversation between the two +women had ceased and the house had apparently settled down for the +night, Mary crept softly out of her room and down the stairs. Opening +the hall door with stealthy fingers, she stepped into the vestibule. She +listened intently for a sign from above that her soft-footed journey +down the stairs had been discovered. But none came. Turning deliberately +about, she retraced her steps, closing the hall door with sufficient +force to announce her arrival. Without attempt at stealth she walked +across the hall, up the stairs and into the pretty blue room that she +had lately left. The closing of her own door purposely sounded her home +coming. + +"Is that you, Mary?" called Marjorie's voice from the next room. + +Mary trembled with positive relief at the signal success of her +manoeuver. Steadying her voice, she replied, "Yes, it is I." + +"Did you have a nice time?" + +Mary read merely polite inquiry in the tone. It lacked Marjorie's former +warmth and affection. + +"Not particularly." Impulsively she added, "I missed you, Marjorie. I'm +sorry you weren't there." Breathlessly she waited for a response. + +But Marjorie was only human. Resentment against Mignon, rather than +Mary, permeated her reply. "It's nice in you to say so, but I am very +glad I wasn't there. I should consider an invitation to Mignon La +Salle's party as anything but an honor." It was the first deliberately +cutting speech that Marjorie Dean had ever uttered. Realizing its +cruelty she called out contritely, "That was hateful in me, Mary. Please +forget what I said." + +"Oh, it doesn't matter. Good night." Mary managed to force the +indifferent answer. She felt that she deserved even this and more. She +was rapidly learning to her sorrow that, when one plants nettles, in +time they are sure to grow up and sting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +FOR THE FAME OF SANFORD HIGH + + +When Marjorie Dean went down to breakfast the following morning it was +with the feeling that her sharp answer to Mary's unexpected comments of +the night before had been unworthy of her better self. Mary's reply, +"Oh, it doesn't matter," had somehow sounded wistful rather than +indifferent. To be sure, Mary had literally forced upon her the reserved +stand which she had at last taken. Yet underneath her proud attitude of +distant courtesy toward the girl who had once taken first place in her +friendship still lurked the faint hope of reconciliation. But she had +made her last advance on that memorable Christmas day when Mary had +shown her so plainly that she respected the flag of truce for the day +only and had returned to her former state of antagonism at the first +opportunity. In the beginning it had been hard to stifle her impulsive +nature, and appear courteous yet wholly unconcerned regarding her chum's +welfare, but in time she found it comparatively easy. Friendship was +dying hard, yet it _was_ dying, nevertheless. This thought had startled +Marjorie a little as she recalled how easy it had been to be +disagreeable, where once it would have seemed absolutely impossible to +allow those cutting words to pass her lips. It came soberly to her that +morning as she walked into the dining room that, after all, she did not +wish that friendship to die. Something must be done to keep it alive +until Mary was quite herself again. + +The faint line of concern which appeared between her dark brows deepened +as this latest conviction took hold of her. As she pondered, the object +of her thoughts appeared in the doorway. Mary's face wore an air of +listlessness that quite corresponded with her subdued, "Good morning, +Marjorie. Good morning, Captain." + +"You look all tired out, my dear," remarked Mrs. Dean solicitously. +There was a curiously pathetic droop to Mary's mouth which gave her the +appearance of a very tired child who had played too hard and was ready +to be put to bed, rather than to begin the day's round of events. "Did +you dance too much?" + +"No." A peculiar little smile flickered across the girl's pale features. +She wondered what Mrs. Dean would say if she told her just how she had +spent her evening. + +Marjorie regarded Mary almost curiously. In some indefinable way she had +changed. Then it flashed across her that Mary's usual stubborn +expression had given place to one of distinct sadness. With a kindly +endeavor toward lightening her chum's heavy mood, she tried to draw her +out to talk of the party. She met with little success. As Mary, in +reality, knew nothing further of it than the fact that Mignon had worn a +gypsy costume and that the majority of the boys invited had not put in +an appearance, she was hardly prepared to describe the affair. She, +therefore, answered Marjorie's questions in brief monosyllables and +volunteered no information whatever. + +"I am going over to see Jerry Macy this morning. Would you like to go +with me?" asked Marjorie, after her attempt to discuss the party had +proved futile. + +"No; I thank you just the same. I have several things to buy at the +stores, and then I am going for a walk. I would ask you to go with me, +only you are going to Jerry's." + +"I'd love to," a touch of Marjorie's old heartiness came to the surface, +"but I promised Jerry I'd surely go to see her to-day." + +"Perhaps we can take a walk some other day," remarked Mary vaguely as +they rose from the table. + +"I will take you both for a ride this afternoon, if you are good," +volunteered Mrs. Dean. She had been observing the signs. She decided, +within herself, that matters were assuming a more hopeful turn. Yet she +had long since left the two girls to work out their problem in their own +way. + +"That will be splendid!" cried Marjorie. + +"I should like to go," acceded Mary almost shyly. + +Mrs. Dean smiled to herself and saw light ahead. The barrier seemed +about to crumble. + +But as the days went by, both she and Marjorie grew puzzled over the +change in blue-eyed Mary. She had, indeed, lost her belligerent spirit +of animosity, but a profound melancholy had settled down upon her like a +pall. Gradually it became noised about in school that Mary Raymond and +Mignon La Salle were no longer on speaking terms. Why this was so, no +one knew. Mary was mute on the subject. For once, also, the French girl +had nothing to say. As it happened, she believed that no one of the +guests had witnessed the scene between herself and Mary, and to try to +relate it, even with emendations of her own, would hardly redound to her +credit. She was too shrewd not to know that the average person resents +an affront against childhood. Then, too, Constance Stevens was making +rapid strides toward popularity among the girls of Sanford High School +and her cowardly nature warned her to be silent. But her chief reason +for silence lay in the fact that Mary had curtly informed her on the +Monday morning following the party that she had seen Charlie safely +home, that so far as she could learn his family did not know who had +escorted him home, and that if she, Mignon, were wise she would say +nothing whatever of the occurrence. Without further words, Mary had +walked away, but that same afternoon she had removed her wraps to +another locker, a significant sign that she was done with the French +girl forever. + +When it came to Marjorie's ears that Mary and Mignon had quarreled, she +decided a trifle sadly that Mary's melancholy was due to the French +girl's defection. She was sure that, whatever the quarrel had been +about, Mignon was to blame. Until then she had never quite believed in +the sincerity of Mary's affection for this unscrupulous, headstrong +girl, and it hurt her to see Mary take the estrangement so to heart. + +She said as much to Constance Stevens as they walked home from school +together on the Monday following the Easter vacation. To Marjorie the +Easter holidays had been a continuous succession of good times. She had +attended half a dozen parties given by her various schoolmates, and +numerous luncheons and teas. To all these Mary had received invitations +also. She had politely declined them, however, going on long, lonely +walks by day and moping in the living room or her own room by night. + +"Somehow," Marjorie confided to Constance, "I never believed Mary could +be so deceived in a person. But she must think a lot of Mignon, or she +wouldn't be so dreadfully sad all the time." + +"It's queer," mused Constance. "I don't think she knows to this day the +truth about last year." + +"I am sure she doesn't. Mary is really too honorable to stand by +a--a--person that you and I know isn't worthy of loyalty. That sounds +rather hard, especially from one of the reform party. But I can't help +it. I am quite ready to say and mean it, Mignon La Salle hasn't a better +self. She never had one!" + +"It hasn't been very pleasant for you this year, has it?" was +Constance's sympathizing question. "It's too bad. After all the nice +things we had planned. Sometimes I think it is better not to make plans. +They never turn out as one hopes they will." + +"I know it," rejoined Marjorie with a sigh. "Jerry Macy says that Mary +has something on her mind besides Mignon." + +"Perhaps she is sorry that she----" Constance hesitated. + +"That we aren't chums any more?" finished Marjorie. "I don't think so. +If she had been truly sorry she would have come to me and said so. I +thought so the day after Mignon's party. Then I heard that they had +quarreled, and I changed my opinion." There was a faint touch of +bitterness in Marjorie's speech. "Suppose we don't talk of it any more. +I wish to forget it, if I can. It doesn't do much good to mourn over +what can't and won't be changed. Did Jerry tell you that Laurie Armitage +has finished his operetta? Professor Harmon is going to have a try-out +of voices in the gymnasium next Saturday morning." + +"Laurie told me himself. He brought the score of the operetta to Gray +Gables last night and we tried it over on the piano. The music is +beautiful. It is so tuneful it lingers. I've been humming snatches of it +ever since he played it for me. The 'Rebellious Princess' has some +wonderful songs. That clever young man, Eric Darrow, composed the +libretto and thought out the plot. It's about a princess who grew tired +of staying at home in her father's castle and going to state dinners and +receptions, so she put on the dress of a peasant girl and ran away from +the castle to see the world. She took some gold with her, but it was +stolen from her the very first thing. No one paid any attention to her +because she was poor, and she had a dreadfully hard time. But she was so +stubborn she wouldn't go back to her father and say she was sorry, so +she wandered on until her clothes were ragged and her shoes were worn +out. Then an old woman took the poor princess to live with her and she +had to work terribly hard and wait on the woman's daughter, who loved +nothing but pretty clothes and to have a good time. No one was good to +her except the woman's adopted son, who was left on her doorstep when he +was a baby. At last the princess grew so tired of it all she went back +to her father, but to punish her he pretended he didn't know her. So +she had to go away again, but the woman's son had followed her and when +he saw her leave the castle, crying, he told her he loved her and asked +her to marry him. She said 'yes,' because he was the only person in the +world who cared for her. But her father hadn't really intended that she +should go away. He sent his courtiers after her to bring her back to the +castle. She wanted to go back, but she wouldn't go unless the young man +went with her. When he found out that she was really a great princess he +said he would never dare to ask her to marry him. But she said that true +love was better than all the wealth in the world, and she would not go +back unless he went with her, and so he said he would go. That is where +the operetta ends. They sing a duet, 'True Love Is Best,' and you have +to imagine what the king said. There isn't so much in the plot, but it +is very sweet, and the music is delightful," finished Constance. + +"I know I shall love to hear it!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I do hope you +will be chosen to sing the part of the princess." + +Constance flushed. "Laurie wishes me to have it," she said almost +humbly. "But there are sure to be others who can sing it better than I. +However, the try-out will settle that. At any rate, I may be chosen for +a court lady in the chorus. I hope you'll be in it, too." + +"I can't sing well enough," laughed Marjorie. "But I'll be there on +Saturday, and perhaps I'll be lucky enough to get into it somehow. Won't +it be fun to rehearse? Hal Macy ought to have a part. He has a splendid +tenor voice, and the Crane can sing bass. I can hardly wait until +Saturday comes. I am so anxious to see who will be chosen." + +Marjorie's pleasant anxiety was shared by the majority of the girls of +Sanford High School. The proposed operetta became the chief topic for +discussion as the unusually long week dragged interminably along toward +that fateful Saturday. Even the high and mighty seniors condescended to +become interested. Among their number, more than one ambitious seeker +after fame secretly imagined herself as carrying off the role of the +Rebellious Princess, and conducted assiduous practice of much neglected +scales in the hope of glory to come. + +As the star singer of her class, Constance Stevens' name was often +brought up for discussion among her classmates as the possibly +successful contestant in the try-out. Besides, was it not Lawrence +Armitage's opera? It was generally known that the dark-haired, +dreamy-eyed lad had a decided predeliction for Constance's society. +Rumor, therefore, decreed that if Laurie Armitage had the say, Constance +would have no trouble in carrying off the leading role. + +But the most determined aspirant for fame was none other than Mignon La +Salle. With her usual slyness, she kept her own counsel. Nevertheless, +she believed she stood a fair chance of winning the prize of which she +dreamed. For Mignon could sing. From childhood her father had spared no +expense in the matter of her musical education. An ardent lover of +music he had decreed that Mignon should be initiated into the mysteries +of the piano when a tiny girl, and, although Mr. La Salle had allowed +her undisputed liberty to grow up as she pleased, on one point he was +firm. Mignon must not merely study music; she must each day practice the +required number of hours. In the beginning she had rebelled, but finding +her too indulgent parent adamant in this one particular, she had been +forced to bow her obstinate head to his decree. In consequence she +profited by the enforced practice hours to the extent of becoming a +really creditable performer on the piano for a girl of her years. At +fourteen she had begun vocal training. Possessed of a strong, clear, +soprano voice, three years under the direction of competent instructors +had done much for her, and, although she was far too selfish to use her +fine voice merely to give pleasure to others, she never allowed an +opportunity to pass wherein she might win public approval by her +singing. + +The mere fact that "The Rebellious Princess" was Lawrence Armitage's own +composition served to spur her on to conquest. Given the leading role, +she believed that she might awaken in the young man a distinct +appreciation of herself which hitherto he had never demonstrated toward +her. Once she had brought him to a tardy realization of her superiority +over Constance Stevens, by outsinging the latter, along with all the +other contestants, she was certain that admiration for herself as a +singer would blot out any unpleasant impression he might earlier have +conceived of her. She had heard that "the Stevens girl" could sing. It +was to be doubted, however, if her voice amounted to much. Another point +in her favor lay in the fact that Professor Harmon was a close friend of +her father. He would surely give her the preference. + +But while she dreamed of triumphantly holding the center of the stage +before a spellbound audience, her rival to be, Constance Stevens, was +seriously debating within herself regarding the wisdom of even entering +the contest. Of a distinctly retiring nature, Constance was not eager to +enter the lists. On the Friday afternoon before the try-out she was +still undecided, and when the afternoon session of school was over, and +she and the five girls with whom she spent most of her leisure hours +were walking down the street, headed for Sargent's and its never-failing +supply of sweets, she was curiously silent amid the gay chatter of her +friends. + +"I suppose you girls know that our dear Mignon has designs on the +Princess," announced Jerry Macy, with the elaborate carelessness of one +who gives forth important news as the commonest every-day matter. + +"Mignon!" exclaimed Marjorie Dean in amazement. "I never even knew she +could sing." + +"She thinks she can," shrugged Muriel Harding. "Goodness knows she ought +to. She has studied for ages. I'm surprised to hear that she is going to +enter the try-out, considering it's Laurie's operetta. You know just how +much he likes her. She knows, too." + +"Who told you, Jerry?" quizzed Susan Atwell. "The way you gather news +is positively marvelous. Was it big brother Hal?" + +"No, he doesn't know it. If I told him, he'd tell Laurie and Laurie +would promptly have a spasm. One of the girls in the senior class +mentioned it to me." + +"Mignon really sings well," put in Irma. "Don't you remember the time +she sang at Muriel's party, two years ago? She has been studying ever +since. She must have improved a good deal since then." + +"Oh, I've heard her sing more than once," said Jerry Macy, "but I don't +like her voice. It's--well, it isn't sweet and sympathetic." + +"Neither is she," put in Susan with her customary giggle. + +"Wait until Connie sings at the try-out. Then someone can gently lead +Mignon to a back seat," predicted Jerry. "It would give me a good deal +of pleasure to be that 'someone.'" + +"I don't think I shall enter the try-out," remarked Constance, flushing. + +"Why not?" was the questioning chorus. + +"Oh, I don't know, only I just don't care to. If I do, someone might say +that I went into it because----" She hesitated, and the flush on her +cheeks deepened. + +"Because you expected Laurie to choose you, you mean," finished Jerry. + +"Yes; that is what I meant," admitted Constance. "Of course, I know +there are other girls who are better singers than I, and that I couldn't +possibly be chosen. Still, I'd rather not go into it at all, unless I +could just be in the chorus." + +"You are a goose; a nice, dear goose, but a goose, just the same," was +Jerry's plain sentiment. + +"Connie Stevens, if you don't try for that part, I'll never speak to you +again," threatened Muriel. + +"I'll disown you," added Susan in mock menace. + +"Connie," Marjorie's voice vibrated with sudden energy, "I think you +_ought_ to try for the Princess. I am almost sure no other girl in +Sanford High can sing so beautifully. Then there is Laurie. He has +always been nice to you. It would hurt his feelings dreadfully if you +didn't try for a part in his operetta. Besides, I know it sounds +hateful, but I can't help saying that I'd be glad to see you take the +Princess away from Mignon. That is, if she really stands a good chance +of winning it. I suppose that is what Miss Archer would call 'an ignoble +sentiment,' but I mean it, just the same." Marjorie glanced half +defiantly around the bright-eyed circle. They were now in Sargent's, +seated about their favorite table. + +"Hurrah for you, Marjorie!" cried Jerry, flourishing her hand as though +it were a pennant of triumph. "That's what I say, too. You are really a +human, everyday person, after all. I used to think you were almost too +forgiving toward certain persons, but now I can see that you aren't such +a model forgiver, after all." + +"That is rather a doubtful compliment, isn't it?" laughed Marjorie. + +"Frankness is the soul of virtue," jeered Muriel. + +"Oh, now, you know what I mean," protested Jerry, looking somewhat +sheepish. "You girls do like to tease me. All right, I'll do the +forgiving act and order the refreshments. I'll pay for them, too. I've a +whole dollar. I am supposed to buy some stationery with it, but I'll +just let my correspondence languish and treat instead. Name your eat and +you can have it. Fifteen cents apiece is your limit. I need the other +ten to buy stamps." + +"What is the use in buying stamps if you don't intend to correspond?" +put in Irma mischievously. + +"I might need them some day," was Jerry's calm retort. "Besides, if I +don't spend the ten cents I may lose it. Now the bureau of information +is closed. Order your fifteen cents' worth!" + +After changing their minds several times in rapid succession to the +infinite disgust of the waitress, the sextette finally made unanimous +decision for a new concoction in the way of a fruit lemonade, known as +Sargent Nectar. + +"Now," announced Jerry, as the long-suffering waitress deposited the +tall glasses on the table and retired to the back of the room to grumble +uncomplimentary comments to a fellow-worker on the ways of high school +girls who didn't know their own minds, "let us all drink a toast to Miss +Connie Stevens, the celebrated star of 'The Rebellious Princess.' But +remember, we can't drink it until the star says she will shine. + + "'Twinkle, twinkle, little star, + Shall we see you from afar? + On the Sanford stage so shy, + For the fame of Sanford High.' + +"Who says I'm not a poet?" + +"Connie, you can't resist that poetic appeal," giggled Susan. + +Constance's blue eyes shone misty affection upon the circle of fresh, +young faces, alight with the honest desire for her success. Her voice +trembled a little as she said: "I'll take it all back, girls. Now that I +know just how you feel about the try-out, _I'd_ be an ungrateful girl to +say I wouldn't do my best. I'll sing to-morrow, but if I'm not chosen, +please don't be disappointed." + +"To Connie, our Princess! Long may she warble!" Jerry raised her glass +of lemonade. "Drink her down!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE MOMENT OF TRIUMPH + + +It was a buzzing and excited assemblage of young men and women that +gathered in the gymnasium of Weston High School on Saturday morning for +the much-discussed try-out. As it had been strictly enjoined upon the +students of both high schools that unless they desired to take part in +the coming operetta their presence was not requested, nor would it be +permitted, on the momentous occasion, the great room was only +comfortably filled. Weston High School was represented by not more than +twenty-five or thirty ambitious aspirants for fame, but at least a +hundred girls from Sanford High cherished hopes of gaining admission to +the magic cast. After much discussion, Marjorie and her four friends had +decided to make a bold attempt at chorus celebrity, purely for the sake +of seeing what happened. Constance had earnestly urged them to do so, +declaring that she could not sing unless they were present to encourage +her. + +"I wonder if all this crowd expects to be chosen," was Jerry Macy's +blunt comment, as the sextette of girls stood grouped at one side of the +room, waiting for the affair to begin. "I hope I'm not asked to sing +alone. Not so much for my own sake. I hate to make other people feel +sad. I practised 'America' and 'Marching through Georgia' last night, +just to see what I could do. One of our maids came rushing into the +living room because she said she wondered who was making all that noise. +Then Hal poked his head in the door and asked if I was hurt. So I quit. +It was time." + +Jerry's painful experience as a soloist provoked a burst of laughter +from her friends. It had hardly died away when Professor Harmon, a +stout, little man, with a shock of bushy hair and an expression of being +always on the alert, bustled in. With him came Lawrence Armitage and a +tall, dark-haired young man, a stranger to those present. The professor +trotted to the piano, opened it, held a hurried conference with his +companions, then, stepping forward, ran a searching eye over the +assembled boys and girls. The more ambitious contestants of both sexes +carried music rolls containing the selections they intended to offer, +but the majority of that carefree congregation aspired to nothing higher +than the chorus, looking upon the whole affair as a grand lark. + +Professor Harmon proceeded to make a short speech, briefly outlining the +plot of the opera and stating the nature of the try-out. "We shall ask +those who wish to try for principals to step to that side of the room," +he said, indicating the left. "I wish to hear them sing, first. +Afterward, I shall select the chorus, and hear them sing together." + +"That lets me out," was Jerry's relieved, inelegant comment to +Susan Atwell, as she moved to the right. Susan stifled an irrepressible +chuckle and sobered her face for what was to come. + +Over among the groups of possible principals Constance became obsessed +with sudden shyness. The majority of the girls were of the upper +classes, and she felt lonely and ill at ease. She noted that she and +Mignon La Salle were the only representatives of the sophomore class. +Mignon, looking radiant self-possession in a smart old-rose suit and hat +to match, carried herself with the air of one whose success was already +assured. Her black eyes were snapping with excitement as they darted +from the professor to the two young men standing beside the piano. She +fingered her gray morocco music roll nervously, her thin fingers never +still. + +Stepping over to the piano the professor seated himself. "That young +lady on the right, please come to the piano." The girl indicated, a +dignified senior, obeyed the summons, coolly handed the professor her +music, stationed herself at his side and awaited trial with the air of a +Spartan. After a short prelude she began to sing a popular air that was +at that time going the round of Sanford. She sang one verse, then the +professor dropped his hands from the keys, inquired her name, made a +memorandum on a pad, and, dismissing her, signaled another girl to take +her place. + +The try-out proceeded with a business-like snap that bade fair to end it +with speedy commission. So far nothing startling in the way of voices +had been discovered. Constance listened to the various girl soloists and +wondered if she could do as well as they. Mignon leaned far forward with +breathless interest. She was firmly convinced that her singing would +create a sensation. When at last her turn came, she walked boldly +forward. Professor Harmon smiled approval and encouragement. He desired +particularly to see her carry off the honor of the leading role. She +darted a lightning glance at Lawrence Armitage as she approached the +piano, but in his impassive features she could read neither approval nor +indifference. + +She had chosen a French song, full of difficult runs and trills, and it +may be set down here to her credit that she sang it well. As her clear, +but somewhat unsympathetic voice rang out, a faint murmur of +approbation swept the listeners. Her long training now stood her in good +stead. Professor Harmon allowed her to go on with her song, instead of +halting her in the middle of it, as he had in the case of the previous +aspirants. When she had finished singing, she was greeted with a round +of genuine applause, the first accorded to a singer since the beginning +of the try-out. The brilliancy of her performance could not be denied, +even by those who had reason to dislike her. + +"Excellent, Miss La Salle," was Professor Harmon's tribute, as he handed +her her music. Flushing with pride of achievement, the French girl +returned to her place among the others, tingling with the sweetness of +her success. + +There now remained not more than half a dozen untried soloists. +Constance Stevens was among that number. By this time Marjorie was +becoming a trifle anxious. There was just a chance that Connie might be +overlooked. Naturally retiring, she would be quite likely to make no +sign, were Professor Harmon to pass her by, under the impression that +she had already sung. But Marjorie's fears were needless. Constance had +a staunch friend at court. During the try-out Lawrence Armitage's blue +eyes had been frequently directed toward the quiet, fair-haired girl of +his choice. Locked in his boyish heart was a secret knowledge that he +had composed the operetta chiefly because he had wished Constance to +have the opportunity of singing the part of the Princess. He had +consented to the try-out merely to please Professor Harmon. He was +convinced that no other girl could compare with Constance in the matter +of voice. He was glad that she was to sing last, and a smile of proud +expectation played about his mouth as Professor Harmon abruptly cut off +an enterprising senior, the last contestant before Constance, in the +midst of a high note. + +The smile quickly faded to an expression of dismay as he saw the +professor rise from the piano, his eyes on his memorandum pad. At the +same instant a faint ripple of consternation was heard from a group of +girls of which Marjorie formed the center. The latter took a hurried +step forward. Marjorie was determined that Connie must not be cheated of +her chance. She had caught a glimpse of Mignon, her black eyes blazing +with insolent triumph and positive joy at the possibility of this +unexpected elimination of the girl she hated. + +But Marjorie's intended protest in behalf of her friend was never +uttered. Laurie Armitage had come to the rescue. She saw him halt +Professor Harmon, as he was about to address the company. She saw the +little man's eyebrows elevate themselves in a glance toward Constance, +following Laurie's low, energetic communication. Then she felt herself +trembling with relief as Professor Harmon announced apologetically, "I +understand that I almost made the mistake of overlooking one of +Sanford's promising young singers. Will Miss Stevens please come +forward?" + +Pink with the embarrassment of the professor's words, Constance made no +move to comply with the request. Good-natured Ellen Seymour, who was one +of the contestants, pushed her gently forward. Ellen's light touch awoke +Constance to motion. She walked mechanically toward the piano, as though +propelled against her will by an unseen force. The humiliation of being +even accidentally passed by looked forth from her sensitive features. +Quick to note it, Lawrence Armitage advanced toward her, took her +tightly rolled music from her hand, and, conducting her to the piano, +introduced her to Professor Harmon, apparently unmindful of the many +pairs of eyes intently watching the little scene. + +"Now we are ready." The professor nodded to Constance, who stood with +her small hands loosely clasped, her grave eyes fastened upon him. He +half smiled, as his experienced fingers began the first soft notes of +Mendelssohn's Spring Song. Long ago her foster father had written a set +of exquisitely tender words that had exactly seemed to fit those +unforgettable strains, so familiar to every true lover of music. +Constance had sung them so many times that she knew them by heart. Now +she fixed her eyes on the east wall of the gymnasium, and, leaving the +world behind her, rendered the beautiful selection as though she were in +her own home, with only her dear ones to listen to the flood of +ravishing melody that issued from her white throat. + +Marjorie Dean felt a swift rush of tears flood her brown eyes as she +listened to her friend. She recalled the time when she had halted at the +door of the little gray house, in wonder at that glorious voice. +Conquering her emotion, she began to take stock of the effect of the +song upon those assembled. She saw the proud flash of gladness that +leaped to Laurie's fine face. His faith in Connie's powers was being +amply fulfilled. She read the profound surprise and admiration of +Professor Harmon, as he accompanied the singing girl. She glimpsed +enthusiastic admiration in the countenances of the spell-bound students, +many of whom had never before heard Constance sing. Then her gaze +centered upon Mignon. Anger, surprise and chagrin swept the elfish face +of the French girl. She read vocalization more flawless than her own, as +well as greater sweetness and an intense sympathy, which she lacked, in +the full, sweet, rounded tones that issued from her rival's lips. This +was the voice of a great artist. + +Professor Harmon turned from the piano as the last golden note died away +and held out his hand. "Allow me to congratulate you, Miss Stevens. +You----" His voice was drowned in tumult of noisy and fervent +approbation on the part of the delighted audience. Boys and girls forgot +the dignity of the occasion, and the next instant the surprised +Constance found herself surrounded by as admiring a throng as ever did +honor to a triumphant basket-ball or football star. If signs were true +presagers of victory, if the united acclamation of the majority counted, +then Constance Stevens had, indeed, come into her own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +AN UNHAPPY PRINCESS + + +It took Professor Harmon several minutes to reduce the noisy enthusiasts +to the decorous state of order in which they had entered the gymnasium. +Far from being elated over her triumph, Constance Stevens received the +ovation with the shyness of a child brought before an audience against +its will to speak its first piece. She heaved an audible sigh of relief +when at last she was left to herself and retired behind Marjorie and her +friends with a flushed, embarrassed face. + +The boys' try-out was shortened considerably by the fact that there were +fewer singers to be heard. When it was over it was announced that Hal +Macy had carried off the role of the poor, neglected son, which was in +reality the male lead. The Crane was selected for the king, while +freckle-faced Daniel Seabrooke was chosen for the jester, greatly to his +delight and surprise. There was an emphatic round of applause when +Professor Harmon announced that Constance Stevens had been selected to +sing the Princess. Ellen Seymour captured the role of the queen, and to +Mignon La Salle was allotted the part of the disagreeable step-sister. +It was second in importance to that of the Princess, but the French +girl's face was a study as she received the announcement. She tried to +smile, but the baffled anger and keen disappointment which was hers +blazed forth from her elfish eyes. The minor parts were soon given out, +and then came the trial of the chorus. + +The hope of Marjorie and her four friends that they might be chosen was +fulfilled. A number of the girls who had sung solos were also selected, +and, with one or two disgruntled exceptions, resigned themselves to the +lesser glory, gratefully accepting what was offered them. It was +evident, however, that pretty faces had much to do with the Professor's +choice of the chorus, and when he had gathered the elect together and +heard them sing "The Star Spangled Banner" as a test, he expressed +himself as satisfied, and appointed a rehearsal for the following +Tuesday afternoon at four o'clock. + +With the exception of Constance, it was a most jubilant sextette that +set out for Sargent's, at Marjorie's invitation, after the try-out was +over. She was still somewhat dazed over her success. Although she smiled +as the five girls paid her affectionate tribute, she had little to say. + +"Girls, did you see Mignon's face when Connie was singing?" began Muriel +Harding, as soon as they were out of earshot of any possible +participants in the try-out. + +"Did we see it? Well, I guess so." Jerry made prompt answer. "At least, +I did. While Connie was singing I was dividing my seeing power between +her and the fair but frowning Mignon. Maybe she wasn't mad! She tried to +pretend she wasn't listening, but she never missed a note. She had sense +enough to know good singing when she heard it." + +"I was watching her, too," nodded Muriel Harding. "Her eyes positively +glittered when Professor Harmon almost missed hearing Connie sing. I +knew she was hoping he would. Then Laurie Armitage came to the rescue." + +"I was going to say something," was Marjorie's quiet comment. "I had +made up my mind that Connie shouldn't be overlooked. I was so glad when +Laurie spoke to the professor." + +"I thought you were," declared Jerry. "I was going to say something, if +no one else did." + +"I don't believe any one of us could have stood there and seen Connie +miss her turn without making a fuss," said gentle Irma Linton. "I am so +glad it all came out nicely. Laurie Armitage is a splendid boy." + +"So is the Crane," put in Jerry slyly. + +"Of course he is," agreed Irma, placidly ignoring Jerry's attempt to +tease. "So is your brother Hal. There are lots of nice boys in Weston +High." + +Jerry merely grinned cheerfully at this retort and returned to the +subject of the coming opera. "Is Laurie going to help you with your +songs?" she asked, addressing Constance. + +"Yes," replied Constance simply. "He said he would. I can't quite +believe yet that I am to sing the Princess. I may be able to manage the +songs, but I can't act. I imagine Mignon would make a better actress +than I." + +"She ought to," jeered Muriel Harding, who could never resist a thrust +at the French girl. "She never does anything else. I don't believe she'd +know her real self if she came face to face with it in broad daylight." + +"Oh, forget Mignon. Who was that tall, dark man with Laurie and +Professor Harmon?" interposed Susan Atwell. "You ought to know, Connie. +I saw Laurie introduce you to him." + +"His name is Atwell," answered Constance. "He is an actor, I believe. I +don't know why he happened to be at the try-out to-day. Perhaps +Professor Harmon invited him." + +"I'll find out all about him and tell you," volunteered Jerry. "Hal may +know. If he doesn't, some one else will." + +"For further information, ask brother Hal," giggled Susan. + +It was not until Marjorie and Constance had said good-bye to the others +and were strolling home in the spring sunshine that the latter asked, +"Where was Mary to-day?" + +"I don't know." Marjorie spoke soberly. "She left the house before I did +this morning. She said last night that she wasn't interested in the +try-out. I thought perhaps she might like to be in the chorus, but she +doesn't appear to care about it. She has a sweet, soprano voice and can +sing well." + +"I am sorry," was Constance's brief answer. + +"So am I." Marjorie did not continue the painful subject. They had +talked it over so many times, there was nothing left to be said. "I am +glad you were chosen for the Princess," she said after a little silence, +during which the two girls were busy with their own thoughts. + +"I am going to try to sing well, if only to please you and Laurie," was +Constance's earnest avowal. + +"I'm glad Mignon didn't get the part. It won't be very pleasant for you +to have to sing with her. I wouldn't say this to anyone else, but if I +were you I would keep a watchful eye on her, Connie." + +"If she tries to be disagreeable, I shall simply pay no attention to +her." + +"That will be best," nodded Marjorie. Nevertheless, she reflected that +as a member of the chorus she would have opportunity to observe the +French girl and mentally decided to keep an eye on her. + +"Has Mary come in, Delia?" was Marjorie's quick question, as the maid +answered her ring. + +"Here I am," called Mary from the living room. She had heard Marjorie's +question. Now she appeared in the doorway of the living room, viewing +her former chum with sombre gravity. "Who is going to sing the +Princess?" she asked abruptly. + +"Connie was chosen. She sang beautifully." + +"I'm glad Mignon didn't get the part," muttered Mary. Wheeling about, +she walked into the living room, and, taking up a book she had turned +face downward on the table, became, to all appearances, absorbed in its +pages. + +For a moment Marjorie stood watching her through the half-drawn +portieres. She would have liked to continue the conversation, but pride +forbade her to do so. Mary's mood presaged rebuff. Later, at luncheon, +she unbent sufficiently to question Marjorie further regarding the +try-out. Although she did not say so, she was sorry that Mignon had +been given a principal's part in the operetta. Privately, she wished +she had made an attempt to get into the chorus. She, too, was of the +opinion that the French girl would bear watching. Failure to carry off +the highest honors would act as a spur to Mignon's unscrupulous nature, +and sooner or later some one would pay for her defeat. + +Mary was quite correct in her conjecture that Mignon would not allow +matters to rest as they were. From the moment that Constance had been +announced as the Princess she had made a vow that by either fair or +unfair means she would supplant "that white-faced cat of a Stevens +girl," who had been awarded the honor that should have been hers. The +first step consisted in holding a private session with Professor Harmon +after the others had gone, to ascertain if by any chance he might be +relied upon to help her. She found him engaged in conversation with the +dark young man. He eyed her with interest, bowed affably when presented +to her by the professor, and expressed somewhat profuse pleasure at +meeting her. In the presence of a stranger, Mignon dared not ask +Professor Harmon openly to reconsider his recent decision in her favor. +Three minutes' conversation with him showed her that, had she made the +request, it would have availed her nothing. The brisk little man's mind +was made up. He congratulated her on capturing second honors with a +finality that could not be assailed. Then a brilliant idea entered her +wily brain. + +"Professor Harmon," she began, with a pretty show of girlish confusion, +quite foreign to her usual bold method of reaching out for whatever she +coveted, "I would like to ask you if I might understudy the Princess. Of +course, I know that I can't sing as Miss Stevens sings, and I wouldn't +for the world wish anything to happen to prevent her from singing on the +great night, but I am so fond of music that it would be a pleasure to +understudy the role. I shouldn't like anyone to know that I was doing +so, though. It is just a fancy on my part." + +"Certainly you may, Miss La Salle," was the professor's hearty response. +"Your idea is excellent. It is a mistake, even in an amateur production, +not to provide an understudy for an important role, such as Miss Stevens +will sing. I must provide an understudy for Mr. Macy, and others of the +cast, also. But you are too modest in your request that no one else must +know. I am sure Mr. Armitage will be pleased with your suggestion." + +"Oh, please don't tell him!" exclaimed Mignon. A shade of alarm crossed +her dark face, which was not lost on the professor's companion, Ronald +Atwell. A mere acquaintance of Professor Harmon's, he had lately arrived +in Sanford, at the close of a season as leading man in a popular musical +comedy, to visit a cousin. Brought up in that hard school of experience, +the stage, he was an adept at reading signs, and he was by no means +deceived as to the true character of the girl who stood before him. Far +from being displeased with his deductions, he became mildly interested +in her and mentally characterized her as being worth cultivating. He had +watched her during the try-out, and he had glimpsed her true self in +the varying expressions that animated her dark face. He had attended the +try-out on the polite invitation of Professor Harmon, and at the +latter's earnest solicitation had agreed to take charge of the stage +direction of the operetta. The professor had congratulated himself on +obtaining such valuable assistance, while the actor looked upon the +affair as a pastime which would serve to lighten his stay with his +rather dull cousin. He had come to Sanford for a period of relaxation +before going to New York to begin rehearsals with a summer show, and the +prospect of directing the operetta promised to be amusing. + +"Very well, I will say nothing," promised the professor amiably. He had +come to the try-out, hoping to see the daughter of his friend capture +the role of the Princess, but the enthusiasm of the artist had driven +that hope from his mind when he had heard Constance sing. Now he dwelt +only on the success of the operetta, and was distinctly relieved to find +that Mignon was in an amiable frame of mind over the unexpected change +in his plans. Knowing her tempestuous disposition, he decided that it +would be policy to humor her whim. + +"Thank you so much," beamed Mignon. "I must go now. Good-bye." + +"I find I must leave you, also," said Ronald Atwell, glancing at his +watch, "or I shall be late for luncheon." + +Mignon had already walked toward the east door of the gymnasium. With a +hurried "Good-bye, Professor. I will be here for rehearsal on Tuesday," +the dark, young man strode after Mignon and overtook her in the +corridor. + +"I wonder if our ways lie in the same direction," he said pleasantly. "I +am the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Horton. Mr. Horton is a cousin of mine." + +"I pass their house on my way home," was the prompt reply. + +Elated at receiving the marked attention of this distinguished stranger, +Mignon exerted herself to the utmost to be agreeable during their walk. +From the few words she had heard pass between the professor and Mr. +Atwell as she approached them, she had gathered the information that the +latter was to manage the stage and coach the actors in the operetta. She +determined that, if it were possible, she would enlist his services in +her behalf. She had counted on Professor Harmon, and he had failed her. +In this good-looking, affable young man she foresaw a valuable ally. The +presentation of "The Rebellious Princess" was still four weeks distant. +A great many things might happen in that time. + +Her companion's suave comment, "I think Professor Harmon made a mistake +in assigning the Princess to the young woman who sang last," uttered +with just the exact shade of regret, caused Mignon to thrill with new +hope. Mr. Atwell, at least, was of the same mind as herself. She +brightened visibly when he went on to say that as stage manager he would +try to give her every advantage that lay in his power. "I am certain +that you have within you the possibilities which go to make a great +actress, Miss La Salle," was his parting remark to her, and these +flattering words, which were, in reality, merely idle on the part of the +actor, she accepted as gospel truth. It was always very easy for her to +accept that which she wished to believe, for self-analysis was not one +of her strong points. + +When the cast and chorus for the operetta met in the gymnasium the +following Tuesday afternoon, it did not take the lynx-eyed feminine +contingent long to discover that Mignon La Salle had a friend at court. +Laurie Armitage, also, soon became aware of the fact. He was secretly +displeased that Mignon had been chosen to sing in his operetta, and +almost on first acquaintance he had formed a dislike for Ronald Atwell. +Behind his polished manners he read insincerity, and he was sorry that +Professor Harmon had asked this newcomer to assist in managing the +production. But, manlike, he kept his prejudice to himself, admitting +reluctantly that Atwell seemed to know what he was about. + +In the frequent rehearsals that followed, however, many irritating +incidents occurred to try his boyish soul. Most of all he disapproved of +the actor manager's brusque manner toward Constance Stevens. He found +fault continually with her in the matter of the speaking of her lines, +and developed a habit of rehearsing her over and over again in a single +scene until she was ready to cry of sheer humiliation at her own failure +to please him. More than once Laurie made private protest to Professor +Harmon, but the latter invariably reminded him that despite Miss +Stevens' beautiful voice, she was far from grasping the principles of +acting, and that Mr. Atwell was a striking example of a conscientious +director. + +Lawrence Armitage was not the only one whose resentment against the too +conscientious stage manager had been aroused. His unfair attitude toward +Constance was the subject of many indignant discussions on the part of +the girls who comprised her coterie of intimate friends. + +"It's a shame," burst forth Jerry Macy in an undertone to Marjorie, as +they stood together at one side of the gymnasium and watched the +impatient manner in which the actor ordered their idol about. "I +wouldn't stand it, if I were Connie. I guess you know who is to blame +for it, don't you?" + +Marjorie nodded. A faint touch of scorn curved her red lips. Mignon's +growing friendship with Ronald Atwell was the talk of the cast. He +frequently accompanied her home from school, invited her to Sargent's, +and it was rumored that he was often a guest at dinner or luncheon at +her home. Proud of the fact that his daughter was to sing an important +role in "young Armitage's opera," Mr. La Salle had treated his +daughter's new acquaintance with considerable deference and allowed +Mignon to do as she pleased in the matter of entertaining him. + +"Laurie told Hal that he was sorry Professor Harmon had asked that old +crank to help. Laurie didn't say 'old crank,' but I say it, and I mean +it," continued Jerry vindictively. "Don't breathe it to anyone, though. +It was a brotherly confidence and Hal would rave if he knew I repeated +it." + +"Jerry," whispered Marjorie. Her brief scorn had faded into a faint +frown of anxiety. "I don't think Mr. Atwell is really the best sort of +person for Mignon to go around with. He is ever so much older than she +and, somehow, he doesn't seem sincere. Someone told Muriel that he told +Mignon she would make a wonderful actress. Mignon was boasting of it. +Suppose she were to get an idea of going on the stage. She is so +headstrong she might run away from home and do that very thing if she +happened to feel like it. I don't like her, but I can't help being just +a little bit sorry for her. You know, she hasn't any mother to help her +and love her and advise her. Her father is so busy making money, he +doesn't pay much attention to her. Fathers are splendid, but mothers are +simply splendiferous. I don't know what I'd do without my Captain." +Marjorie sighed in sweet sympathy for all the motherless girls in the +universe. + +"Mothers are a grand institution," agreed Jerry, looking a trifle +solemn. "I think mine is just about right. I never thought of Mignon in +that way before. Now, I suppose I'll have to be sorry for her, too. She +doesn't look as though she needed much sympathy just now. She's so +pleased with the way Connie is being ordered about that she can't see +straight. There, he's through with the poor child at last. Come on. It's +time for the chorus to perform. Try to imagine that this good old gym is +the king's palace and that our mutual friend the Crane is a kingly king. +He looks more like a clothes-pole!" + +Marjorie was forced to laugh at Jerry's uncomplimentary comparison. +They had no further opportunity for conversation in the busy hour that +followed. Professor Harmon drilled them rigidly, his short hair +positively standing erect with energy, and they were quite ready to +gather their little band together and hurry off to Sargent's for rest +and ice cream when the rehearsal was at last over. + +"See here, Connie, why don't you tell that Atwell man to mind his own +business," sputtered Jerry as the six girls walked down the street in +the direction of their favorite haunt. + +"He _is_ minding his business," returned Constance ruefully. Her small +face was very pale and her blue eyes were strained and unhappy. "It is +my fault. But he makes me nervous, and then I can't act. When I am at +home I can say my lines just as I ought, but the minute he begins to +tell me what to do, everything goes wrong. Then he finds fault and +almost makes me cry. I wish I hadn't tried for a part. If it weren't so +late I'd resign from the cast." + +"And let Mignon sing the Princess!" came from Muriel in deep disgust. + +"Don't you do it," advised Susan. "That's precisely what she'd like you +to do." + +"It's a plot between Mignon and Mr. Snapwell--I mean Atwell," declared +Jerry. "She's crazy to be the Princess and he is trying to help her +along. A blind man could see that." + +"I think so, too," said Irma Linton slowly. "You must try not to mind +him, Connie, then you won't be nervous." + +"Why don't you ask Laurie to interfere?" proposed Jerry. "He looked +crosser than I look when I'm mad when that Atwell man was worrying you +about your lines this afternoon. I'll ask him myself, if you say so." + +"No." Constance shook her head. "I wouldn't for the world complain to +Laurie. He has enough to think of now, without bothering his head over +my troubles. I suppose I am too easily hurt. I must learn not to mind +such things, if ever I expect to become a real artist." + +"That's the way you ought to feel, Connie," put in Marjorie's soft +voice. She had been thinking seriously, while the others talked, as to +what she might say to cheer up her disconsolate schoolmate. "You were +chosen to sing the part of the Princess, and I am sure no one else can +sing it half so well. Try to think that, all the time you are +rehearsing. Remember, Laurie believes in you, and so do we. When the +great night comes you won't have to listen to that horrid Mr. Atwell's +nagging, or say your lines over and over again. You will truly be the +Princess, and that will make you forget everything else. If you believe +in yourself, nothing can make you fail. For your own sake, don't think +for a minute of giving up the part." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +MAKING RESTITUTION + + +Greatly to Mr. Ronald Atwell's chagrin, Constance Stevens began suddenly +to show a marked improvement in her work that did not in the least +coincide with his plans. Influenced by Mignon's tale of her wrongs, laid +principally at Constance's door, albeit Marjorie, too, came in for her +share of blame, he had taken a dislike to the gentle girl and lost no +opportunity to humiliate her. Privately, he regarded the entire cast, +Mignon included, as a set of silly children, and his only regard for +Mignon lay in a wholesome respect for her father's money. At heart he +was not a scoundrel, he was merely vain and selfish, and imbued with a +profound sense of his own importance. It had pleased his fancy to assume +the charge of the staging of the operetta, but now he was growing rather +tired of it and wished that it were over. + +Long before this he and Mignon had come to a definite understanding +regarding the operetta. Mignon had informed him boldly that she wished +to sing the part of the Princess, and he had assured her that he would +arrange matters to her satisfaction. It, therefore, became incumbent +upon him to keep his word. He had begun his persistent annoying of +Constance, convinced that, unable to endure it, she would resign and +leave the field of honor free to the French girl. But Constance did +nothing of the sort. She stood her ground, half-heartedly at first, but +afterward, with Marjorie's words ringing in her ears, she exhibited a +steadiness of purpose that he could not shake. + +At the dress rehearsal, the last before the public performance, she was +a brilliant success, compelling even his reluctant admiration. It was +now too late even to consider the possibility of Mignon replacing her, +and he informed the latter rather sheepishly of this, as he rode home +with her in her electric runabout. + +For the first and last time he had the pleasure of seeing Mignon in a +royal rage, and when they reached her home, he declined her sullen offer +to send him home in her automobile, and made his escape with due speed. +Deciding he had had enough of amateurs and amateur operettas, he mailed +a note to Professor Harmon excusing himself from further service on the +plea of a telegram summoning him to New York. Whether the telegram were +a myth, history does not record. Sufficient to say that he actually went +to New York the following afternoon. And thus "The Rebellious Princess" +lost a stage manager and Mignon the hitherto chief factor in her plans. +She was also the recipient of an apologetic note from the actor, which +caused her to clench her hands in rage, then shrug her thin shoulders +with a gesture that did not spell defeat. Somehow, in some way, she +would accomplish her purpose. Even at the eleventh hour she would not +acknowledge herself beaten. Yet as the day wore on toward evening she +could think of nothing to do that would bring her her unreasonable +desire. + +The operetta was to be sung in the Sanford Theatre, where the dress +rehearsal had been held. Furious almost to tears at her inability to +bring about the impossible, Mignon at last ordered her runabout and made +sulky preparations to start for the theatre. The possession of an +automobile gave her the advantage of being able to don her first act +costume at home, but her really attractive appearance in the fanciful +gown of the heartless step-sister afforded her no pleasure. She hooked +it up pettishly, made a face at herself in the mirror of her dressing +table, and, drawing her evening cloak about her, flounced downstairs to +her runabout, completely out of humor with the world in general. + +She drove along recklessly, as was her custom, and when half way to the +theatre narrowly missed running down a small, sturdy figure that was +marching across the street. + +"Naughty old wagon," screamed a familiar voice after her. + +At sound of that piping voice, Mignon stopped her car and peered out. +Trotting along the sidewalk a little to her rear was a small boy with a +diminutive violin case tucked under his arm. Little Charlie Stevens had +come forth once more to see the world. In a flash wicked inspiration +came to Mignon. The Stevens child was running away again, but this time +he had chosen an evening exactly to her liking. Slipping out of her car +she ran toward the boy. "Why, good evening, little boy," she called +pleasantly. "Where are _you_ going?" + +"I know you. You're a naughty girl!" observed Charlie with more truth +than courtesy. He braced himself defiantly and regarded Mignon with +patent disapproval. + +"I am so sorry you think so." Mignon affected a sadness which she was +far from feeling at this unvarnished statement. "I was going to take you +for a ride and buy you some ice cream." + +Charlie considered this astonishing offer in silence. He stared +frowningly at Mignon. "Is it chok'lit ice cream?" he asked, eyeing her +in open disbelief. + +"Of course it is. As much as you can eat." + +"All right. I want some. But you're a naughty girl, just the same. Mary +said so." + +Mignon shrugged indifferently. She was not greatly concerned at either +his or Mary's opinion of her. "Come on, if you want a ride," she urged. + +Charlie obeyed with some show of reluctance. He was not sure that even +the prospect of ice cream warranted his surrender. Mignon caught him up +and swung him into the runabout. Her wrist watch pointed to fifteen +minutes past seven. She had no time to lose. She drove rapidly through +the town to a small confectioner's store at the other end. Charlie kept +up a lively chatter as they rolled along. Stopping before it she lifted +the boy from the automobile, and, taking his hand, hurried him into the +brightly lighted store. Seating him at a table, she ordered two plates +of chocolate ice cream and sat down opposite the boy, her black eyes +glittering as she watched him eat. From time to time she glanced at her +watch. When the child had finished his plate of cream, she pushed her +own toward him. "Eat it," she commanded. + +Charlie responded nobly to the command. When she saw the last spoonful +vanish, she smiled elfishly. It was eight o'clock. The operetta began at +half past eight. Allowing herself fifteen minutes to reach the theatre +and carry out the last step in her plan, she would arrive there at +fifteen minutes past eight. + +The wandering musician made strenuous objection, however, to leaving the +ice cream parlor. "I could eat more chok'lit cream," he informed her. + +"You are a greedy boy," she said, her former friendliness vanishing into +angry impatience. "Come with me this minute." + +"You're a cross old elefunt," was Charlie's crushing but inappropriate +retort. + +Mignon was in no mood for an exchange of pleasantries. Seizing Charlie +by the arm she hustled him out of the shop into her runabout, and was +off like the wind. When half way between the shop and the theatre, she +halted her car. Lifting the boy out she set him on the sidewalk before +he had time to protest. "Now go where you please. I'll tell Connie to +come and find you," was her malicious farewell. Stepping into the +runabout she drove away, leaving Charlie Stevens to take care of himself +as best he might. + +Although Mignon was unaware of the fact, there had been an amazed +witness to the final scene in her little drama. A fair-haired girl had +come up just in time to hear her heartless speech and see her drive +away, leaving a small, perplexed youngster on the sidewalk. That girl +was Mary Raymond. She had steadily refused Marjorie's earnest plea that +she attend the much-talked-of performance of "The Rebellious Princess," +and directly after dinner that evening, on the plea of mailing a letter, +had slipped from the house on one of her melancholy, soul-searching +walks which she had become so fond of taking. Convinced that she was an +utter failure, imbued with a daily growing sense of her own unfitness to +be the friend of a girl like Marjorie Dean, Mary was plunged into the +depths of humiliation and unhappiness. This alone had been the cause of +the marked change in her that Marjorie had innocently attributed to +Mignon's defection. In her sad little soul there was now no bitterness +against Constance Stevens. Quite by chance she had one day not long past +encountered Jerry Macy in Sargent's, alone. Touched by her woe-begone +air, Jerry had taken pains to draw her out. With her usual shrewdness +the stout girl had discovered the real cause of Mary's depression, and +kindly advised her to have a heart-to-heart talk with Marjorie. Jerry +had also made it a point to inform Mary, so far as she knew the details, +of the trouble over the butterfly pins during Marjorie's freshman year, +and of Mignon's cruel treatment of Constance. Distinctly to Jerry's +credit, she told no one afterward of that chance meeting, yet she +secretly hoped that what she had said would have its effect upon Mary. + +Overwhelmed with shame, Mary had left the talkative, stout girl and +dragged herself home, in an agony of humiliation that can be better +imagined than described. She felt that she could never forgive herself +for the ignoble thoughts she had harbored against innocent Constance +Stevens, and she was still more certain that she could never ask either +Marjorie or Constance to forgive _her_. Again and again she had tried to +bring herself to approach Marjorie and humbly sue for pardon. The weight +of her own troubled conscience prevented her from yielding, and thus she +kept her sorrow locked in her aching heart and waited dejectedly for the +day when she must leave the Deans' pleasant home, taking with her +nothing but bitter self-reproach for her own folly. + +It was in this black mood that Mary had wandered forth that evening and +straight into the path of the very thing that was destined to bring her +peace. Mignon had hardly driven away when Mary caught the venturesome +youngster in her arms. The boy gave a jubilant little shout as he saw +who held him. Mary, however, was still at a loss regarding the meaning +of what she had seen. + +"Every time the cross girl scolds Charlie, you come and get him," was +the joyful exclamation. "She wasn't cross all the time. She gave Charlie +a ride and lots of ice cream. Then she wented away. She said she'd tell +Connie to come and find me. Connie's gone to the the'tre. I wented, too, +but the naughty girl got Charlie." + +"Charlie boy, try to tell Mary, where was he when the cross girl got +him?" + +"Way over there." Charlie waved an indefinite hand in the wrong +direction. + +Mary stood still, in a perplexed endeavor to read meaning in the nature +of Mignon's strange action. Suddenly the light burst upon her. "Oh!" she +cried, dismay written on every feature. "Now I begin to understand!" She +glanced wildly about her. Far up the street shone the light of an +oncoming street-car. Seizing Charlie by the hand she hurried him to the +corner. It was not more than two minutes until the car came to a +creaking stop before them. Mary helped Charlie into it and fumbled in +her purse. She had just two nickels. Breathing her relief, she paid the +fares, deposited Charlie on a seat beside her, then stared out the +window in an anxious watch of the streets. + +But while Mary Raymond was making a desperate attempt to redeem herself +by at least one kind act, Mignon La Salle had reached the theatre. +Dropping all appearance of haste, she strolled past the groups of gaily +attired boys and girls, nodding condescendingly to this one and that, +and switched downstairs to the dressing room which she occupied with +several other girls. Leisurely removing her cloak, she plumed herself +before the mirror. Her black eyes constantly sought her watch, however. +At last she turned from the mirror with a peculiar smile and abruptly +left the room. Straight to the star's dressing room she walked. Her thin +fingers beat a sharp tattoo on the door. It opened, and she stood face +to face with Constance Stevens, who was just about to take her place in +the wings, preparatory to the beginning of the opera. She was to make +her first entrance directly after the opening chorus. + +"I came to tell you, Miss Stevens," said Mignon with an indescribable +smile of pure malice, "that I saw your brother, Charlie, wandering along +the street as I drove to the theatre. I suppose he has run away." + +With a frightened cry, Constance dashed past her and up the stairs. +Mignon laughed aloud as she watched the vanishing figure. "That settles +her," she muttered. "Harriet Delaney can sing my part. She has +understudied it." Springing into sudden action she ran to her dressing +room, eluding a collision with the feminine portion of the chorus who +were scurrying for the stage in obedience to a gong that summoned them +to the wings. Reaching to a hook in the wall, from which depended her +several costumes, hung over one another, she took from under them an +almost exact copy of the gown Constance Stevens was wearing in the first +act and held it up with a murmur of satisfaction. Stripping off the gown +she wore she hastily donned this other costume. Then she sat down to +await what she believed would happen. + +But while Mignon busied herself with her own affairs, Constance was +making a hurried search for Laurie Armitage. Unluckily, he had gone, for +the moment, to the front of the house. Professor Harmon, too, was not in +sight. He also had gone to the front to take his place in the orchestra +pit. What could she do? The performance was about to begin. To leave +the theatre on a search for Charlie meant disaster to Laurie's operetta. +To leave Charlie to wander about the streets alone was even more +terrifying. She flitted past the waiting choristers, drawn up for +action, without a word of explanation. Marjorie Dean caught one look at +her friend's terrified face. It was enough to convince her that +something unusual had happened. Slipping out of her place in the line +she followed Constance, who was making directly for the stage door. +Marjorie saw her fling it open and glance wildly into the night. She ran +toward Connie, calling out, "What is the matter?" + +As the question crossed her lips both girls saw a familiar girlish +figure, strangely burdened, running toward them as fast as the weight +she carried would permit her to run. With a cry which rang in Marjorie's +ears for days afterwards Constance darted forward. She wrapped the girl +and her burden in a tumultuous embrace, laughing and crying in the same +breath. + +"The cross girl got Charlie, then she runned away and Mary comed and +found him. Charlie's goin' to the the'tre to play in the band. Mary said +so." He wriggled from the tangle of encircling arms to the stone walk. +"Hello, Marj'ry," he greeted genially. + +Marjorie turned from the marvelous sight of the two she loved best in +each other's arms. It was too wonderful for belief. Tardy remembrance +caused her to utter a dismayed, "You'll be late, Connie! Hurry in. Mary +and I will take care of Charlie. It doesn't matter if I do miss the +opening number." + +With a swift glance at Mary that contained untold gratitude, Constance +faltered, "I--love--you--Mary, for taking care of Charlie! I'll see you +again as soon as I can. Good-bye!" + +She was gone in a flash, leaving Mary and Marjorie to face each other +with full hearts. + +"You are my own, dear Mary again." Marjorie's clear voice was husky with +emotion, "and my very first and best chum, forever!" + +Mary nodded dumbly, her blue eyes overflowing. +"I've--come--back--to--you--to stay," she whispered. And on the stone +steps, worn by the passing of the feet of those who had entered the +theatre to play many parts, these two young players in Life's varied +drama enacted a little scene of love and forgiveness that was entirely +their own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE FULFILLMENT + + +The chorus were tunefully lifting up their voices in their initial +number, their watchful eyes on Professor Harmon's baton, when the +belated Princess hurried to her position in the wings. Laurie Armitage +had returned to the stage and was instituting a wild search for +Constance. Failing to find her upstairs, he had hastened below, and was +rushing desperately up and down the corridors, peering into the open +doorways of the deserted dressing rooms. Only one door was closed. +Behind it a black-haired girl awaited a call to fame. He called +Constance by name, again and again, then, receiving no answer, he dashed +up the stairs, encountering the object of his search at the very height +of his alarm. Marjorie Dean stood on guard beside her. She advanced +toward the excited composer, saying briefly, "Let her alone, Laurie. +She's awfully nervous and upset. She has just had a dreadful fright. +I'll tell you about it later." + +Constance cast a reassuring glance at Laurie. She had heard Marjorie's +protecting words. "I'm all right now," she nodded. "I won't fail you." + +The dulcet notes of her opening song, "I'm tired of being a Princess," +brought immeasurable relief to Lawrence and Marjorie, as they stood in +the wings, their anxious gaze fixed upon Constance. In one of the +dressing rooms below, the silver strains came faintly to the ears of +Mignon La Salle. During her interval of waiting she had been softly +humming that very song, confident of the summons she believed she would +receive. She had no doubt that her cowardly plan had worked only too +well. Knowing Constance Stevens' deep affection for her tiny foster +brother, she could readily see a vision of the terrified girl rushing +out into the night in search of him, her duty to the operetta completely +forgotten. As the sound of that hated voice reached her, she sprang to +the door of her dressing room and half opening it, halted to listen. A +wave of black rage swept over her. Forgetting her recent change of +costume, she took the stairs, two at a time, and ran squarely against +Lawrence Armitage and Marjorie Dean. + +Marjorie could not resist a low laugh of contemptuous scorn as she +viewed the stormy-eyed girl whose unscrupulous plan had failed. The +contempt in her pretty face deepened as her quick eyes took in the +details of Mignon's costume. The French girl's indiscreet haste to make +ready had convicted her. Marjorie had already learned from Mary all that +had occurred. It needed this one proof to complete the evidence. +Lawrence Armitage was regarding Mignon with perplexed brow. "That is not +the costume you wore last night, Miss La Salle," he said with cold +abruptness. Scrutinizing her closely, amazement began to dawn on his +clear-cut features. "When did you----" + +With a low cry of mingled humiliation and fury, Mignon turned and ran +down the stairs, her slender body trembling with the anger of a defeat +born of the failure of her plan and her own betraying haste. Gaining the +shelter of her dressing room, she gave herself up to a paroxysm of rage +that ended in a burst of hysterical sobs. + +The end of the first act brought a troop of hurrying, laughing girls +downstairs. Instead of the alert, self-possessed Mignon who had swept +proudly into the dressing room that night, those who shared the room +with her found a convulsive weeper lying face downward on the floor. + +"What's the matter?" was the concerted cry. + +A good-natured senior took Mignon gently by the shoulders. "Get up, +Mignon," she commanded. "If you don't stop crying, you won't be able to +go on when your cue comes, let alone trying to sing." Mignon's first +entrance took place in the second act and occurred directly after the +rise of the curtain. + +The French girl half raised herself at this reminder, then sank back to +her original position with a fresh burst of racking sobs. Finding her +good-natured ministrations ineffectual, the senior left Mignon to +herself and began to change methodically to her peasant costume of the +second act, the scene of which was laid in a village and in front of the +cottage where she supposedly dwelt. + +"Ten minutes," called the warning tones of the freshman who was serving +as call boy. Still Mignon refused to heed the admonitions of her +companions. + +"Better call Laurie Armitage," suggested one girl. "She can't possibly +go on. Harriet Delaney will have to take her place. Mignon isn't even +dressed for her part. Where do you suppose----" The senior did not +finish her sentence. Something in the familiar details of the gown +Mignon wore aroused an unpleasant suspicion in her active brain. A +swift-footed messenger had already sped away to find the young composer, +who, with the departure of Ronald Atwell had taken the arduous duties of +stage manager upon his capable shoulders. + +When the information of Mignon's collapse reached him, he made no move +to go to her. Instead, he beckoned to Harriet Delaney, who had just come +upstairs, and whispered a few words to her which caused her colorful +face to pale, then turn pinker than usual. + +"But I haven't a suitable costume," several girls heard her protest. + +"Go on as you are. Your costume is suitable," reassured Laurie. + +But down in the dressing room Mignon had struggled to her feet. The +knowledge that her unfairness was to cost her her own part in the +operetta aroused her to action. In feverish haste she began to tear off +the gown she wore. + +"Second act," rang out through the corridor. With a low wail of genuine +grief, Mignon dropped into a chair. She heard Harriet Delaney begin her +first song. Unable to bear the chagrin that was hers, she sprang up. +Readjusting the gown she had partly thrown off, she seized her cloak and +wrapped it about her. Then she fled up the stairway, and into the calm, +starlit night to where her runabout awaited her, the victim of her own +wrong-doing. + + * * * * * + +It was a happy trio of girls that, shortly before midnight, climbed into +the Deans' automobile, in which Mr. and Mrs. Dean sat patiently awaiting +their exit from the stage door. Lawrence Armitage's operetta had been an +artistic as well as a financial success. It had been a "Standing Room +Only" audience, and the proceeds were to be given to the Sanford +Hospital for Children. Laurie had decreed this as a quiet memento to +Constance's devotion to little Charlie during his days of infirmity. The +audience had not been chary of their applause. The principals had +received numerous curtain calls, Constance had received an enthusiastic +ovation, and many beautiful floral tokens from her admiring friends. +Laurie had been assailed with cries of "Composer! Speech! Speech!" and +had been obliged to respond. Even the chorus came in for its share of +approbation, and to her intense amazement Marjorie Dean received two +immense bouquets of roses, a fitting tribute to her fresh, young beauty. +One of them bore Hal Macy's card, the other she afterward learned was +the joint contribution of a number of her school friends. + +Only one person left the theatre that night who did not share in the +enthusiasm of the Sanford folks over the creditable work of their town +boys and girls. Mignon La Salle's father had, for once, put business +aside and come out to hear his daughter sing. Why she had not appeared +on the stage, he could not guess. His first thought was that she had +told him an untruth, but the printed programme carried her name as a +principal. He arrived home to be greeted with the servant's assertions +that Miss La Salle was ill and had retired. Going to her room to inquire +into the nature of her sudden illness, he was refused admittance, and +shrewdly deciding that his daughter had been worsted in a schoolgirl's +dispute in which she appeared always to be engaged, he left her to +herself. It was not until long afterward, when came the inevitable day +of reckoning, which was to make Mignon over, that he learned the true +story of that particular night. + +It had been arranged beforehand that Constance was to spend the night +with Marjorie. Shortly after Charlie had been comfortably established in +Constance's dressing room, Uncle John Roland had appeared at the stage +door of the theatre, his placid face filled with genuine alarm. He had +been left in charge of Charlie, and the child had eluded his somewhat +lax guardianship and run away. Finding the little violin missing, he +guessed that the boy had made his usual attempt to find the theatre, and +the old man had hastened directly there. Charlie was sent home with him, +despite his wailing plea to remain, thus leaving Constance free to carry +out her original plan. + +The Deans exchanged significant smiles at sight of Marjorie, Mary and +Constance approaching the automobile, three abreast, arms firmly linked. + +"Attention!" called Mr. Dean. "Salute your officers!" Two hands went up +in instant obedience of the order. Constance hesitated, then followed +suit. + +"I see my regiment has increased," remarked Mr. Dean, as he sprang out +to assist the three into the car. + +"Yes, Connie has joined the company," rejoiced Marjorie. "I am answering +for her. She needs military discipline." + +"Three soldiers are ever so much more interesting than two," put in Mary +shyly. Her earnest eyes sought the face of her Captain, as though to ask +mute pardon for her errors. Mrs. Dean's affectionate smile carried with +it the absolution Mary craved, and Mr. Dean's firm clasp of her hand, +as he helped her into the car, was equally reassuring. + +Mrs. Dean had ordered a light repast especially on account of Constance +and Marjorie. She had not counted on Mary, but she was a most welcome +addition. Their faithful maid, Delia, had insisted on staying up to make +cocoa and serve the supper party. + +"Captain," begged Marjorie, as the three girls appeared in her room, +after going upstairs, "please let us stay up as late as we wish +to-night? We simply must talk things out. To-morrow is Saturday, you +know." + +"For once I will withdraw all objections. You may stay up as late as you +please." The three girls kissed her in turn. Mary was last. Mrs. Dean +drew her close and kissed her twice. "Have you won the fight, +Lieutenant?" she whispered. + +Mary simply nodded, her blue eyes misty. She could not trust herself to +speak. "To-morrow--I'll--tell you," she faltered, then hurried to +overtake Constance and Marjorie, who were half-way upstairs. + +The "talk" lasted until two o'clock that morning. It was interspersed +with laughter, fond embracing and a few tears. When it ended, Marjorie's +dream of friendship had come true. + +Mary had more to say than the others. She confessed to writing the +letter of warning that had so mystified the basket-ball team. + +"I knew you wrote it," Marjorie said quietly. "I found it out by +comparing the paper it was written on with a letter I had received from +you. I was so glad. I knew you couldn't be like Mignon, even if you were +her friend." + +"I was never her friend, nor she mine," asserted Mary with a positive +shake of her head. "I was jealous of Constance and was glad to find +someone besides myself who didn't like her. I never knew the true story +of the pin until Jerry----" She paused, coloring deeply. + +"So Jerry told you. That is just like her. She is the kindest-hearted +girl in the world. Next to you two, I like her best of all my +schoolmates." Marjorie's affectionate tones bespoke her deep regard for +the stout girl whose matter-of-fact ways and funny sayings were a +perpetual joy. + +"If only I had listened to you and Connie in the first place." Mary +sighed. "I've spoiled my sophomore year and tried hard enough to spoil +yours. And there's so little of it left! I won't have time to show you +how sorry I am and how much I care." + +"We will begin now and make the most of what is left of it," proposed +Marjorie gently. Then she added, "Jerry didn't know all that happened +last year. I would like to tell you about it." + +"Please do," urged Mary humbly. + +Marjorie told the story of her first year in Sanford, frequently turning +to Constance for confirmation. When she had finished Mary was silent. +She had no words with which to express her utter contrition. + +"Now you know our sad history," smiled Marjorie, with a kindly attempt +at lightening the burden of self-reproach Mary bore. + +"But neither of you has told _me_ how Mary happened to find Charlie +to-night," reminded Constance. "I am anxious to know. This is the first +time he ever ran so far away." + +"Oh, no, you forget the night he went to Mignon's----" Mary broke off +shortly, red with embarrassment. She had not intended to speak of this. +Constance's positive assertion had caught her off her guard. + +"Went to Mignon's?" was the questioning chorus of her two listeners. + +Mary was obliged to enlighten them. "I wondered if he ever told you, +Connie. He promised he wouldn't," she ended. + +"And he never told, the little rascal," was Constance's quick reply. "No +one except the maid knew it, and you may be sure she never said a word." + +"It was that night I came to my senses." Mary smiled a trifle wistfully. +"I saw myself as others saw me. You thought I was grieving over Mignon, +Marjorie. But I wasn't. It was my own shortcomings that bothered me. Now +I must tell you about to-night, and then you will know everything about +me." + +Constance received the account of Mignon's attempt to supplant her in +the operetta with no trace of resentment. "I ought to be angry with her, +but I can't. She has suffered more to-night than I would have if her +plan had succeeded. Poor Mignon, I wonder if she will ever wake up?" + +"That's hard to say. At any rate, she did some good, even if she didn't +intend to," reminded Marjorie. "I'm going to try to keep my junior year +in high school free of snarls. There is no use in mourning for the past. +Let us set our faces to the future and be glad that we three are done +with misunderstandings. Marjorie Dean, High School Junior, is going to +be a better soldier than Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore has ever +been." + +Both Constance Stevens and Mary Raymond smiled at this earnest resolve. +In their hearts they felt that Marjorie Dean need make no vows. She +stood already on the heights of loyalty and truth, steadfast and +unassailable. + +How fully Marjorie Dean carried out her resolve and what happened to her +as a junior in Sanford High School will be told in "Marjorie Dean, High +School Junior," a story which every friend of this delightful girl will +surely welcome. + + + + +THE END + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + Alternative spelling and variations in hyphenated words + have been retained as in the original publication. + + The following changes have been made: + + who were maknig _changed to_ + who were making + + Do you miss anyone? _changed to_ + "Do you miss anyone? + + racuous voice _changed to_ + raucous voice + + atuomobile, and when _changed to_ + automobile, and when + + asperin tablets _changed to_ + aspirin tablets + + strange predeliction _changed to_ + strange predilection + + sinmply because she _changed to_ + simply because she + + atlhough the latter _changed to_ + although the latter + + stayled her, and _changed to_ + styled her, and + + continual penace for _changed to_ + continual penance for + + the previous Christmas eve _changed to_ + the previous Christmas Eve + + please don't be disapponted _changed to_ + please don't be disappointed + + Who says I'm not a poet _changed to_ + "Who says I'm not a poet + + That let's me out _changed to_ + That lets me out + + was alloted the part _changed to_ + was allotted the part + + red with embarassment _changed to_ + red with embarrassment + + soldier than Marjorie, Dean _changed to_ + soldier than Marjorie Dean + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Marjorie Dean, by Pauline Lester + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN *** + +***** This file should be named 27985.txt or 27985.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/8/27985/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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