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diff --git a/36823-h/36823-h.htm b/36823-h/36823-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..901420c --- /dev/null +++ b/36823-h/36823-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10088 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="Marjorie Dean, High School Junior" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Pauline Lester" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1917" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (1.15) generated Jul 23, 2011 03:30 AM" /> + <title>Marjorie Dean, High School Junior</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + hr.hr {border:none; border-bottom: 1px solid silver; margin: 20px auto; width:100%} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Marjorie Dean, High School Junior, 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 Junior + +Author: Pauline Lester + +Release Date: July 23, 2011 [EBook #36823] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src='images/dean-cvr.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<hr class='hr' /> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src="images/dean-fpc.jpg" alt="MARJORIE ENTERED HER MOTHER’S ROOM AND DROPPED DISPIRITEDLY AT HER FEET." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>MARJORIE ENTERED HER MOTHER’S ROOM AND<br/>DROPPED DISPIRITEDLY AT HER FEET.</span> +</div> +<hr class='hr' /> +<div class='center'> +<p style='font-size:1.6em;margin-top:20px;'>MARJORIE DEAN</p> +<p> </p> +<p style='font-size:1.6em;margin-bottom:20px;'>High School Junior</p> +<p> </p> +<p>By PAULINE LESTER</p> +<p> </p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>AUTHOR OF</p> +<p> </p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>“Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman”</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>“Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore”</p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;margin-bottom:20px;'>“Marjorie Dean, High School Senior”</p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p style='margin-top:20px;'>A. L. BURT COMPANY</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Publishers—New York</p> +</div> +<hr class='hr' /> +<div class='center'> +<p>Copyright, 1917</p> +<p>By A. L. <span class='sc'>Burt Company</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p style='font-size:0.8em;'>MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR</p> +</div> +<hr class='hr' /> +<div class='center'> +<p style='font-size:1.6em;'>MARJORIE DEAN,</p> +<p style='font-size:1.6em;'>HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR</p> +</div> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span>CHAPTER I—MARJORIE DECLARES HERSELF</h2> +<p> +“Only to think, next week, at this time, I’ll be +saying good-bye to you, Mary Raymond.” Marjorie +Dean’s brown eyes rested very wistfully on the +sunny-haired girl beside her in the big porch swing. +</p> +<p> +“You know now, just how dreadfully I felt two +years ago when I had to keep thinking about saying +good-bye to you,” returned Mary in the same wistful +intonation. “It was terrible. And after you +had gone! Well—it was a good deal worse. Oh, +Marjorie, I wish I could live this last year over +again. If only——” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie laid light fingers on Mary’s lips. “You +mustn’t speak of some things, Lieutenant,” she said +quickly. “If you do I won’t listen. Forget everything +except the wonderful summer we’ve had together.” +</p> +<p> +Mary caught the soft little hand in both hers. “It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> +<em>has</em> been wonderful,” she agreed rather unsteadily. +“I’ll have the memory of it to treasure when I’m +away off in Colorado. I can’t believe that I am +really going so far away from you. I hope I’ll like +the West. Next summer you must come out there +and visit me, Marjorie. By that time I’ll be a little +bit at home in such a strange, new country.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d love to do that,” responded Marjorie with +an eagerness that merged almost immediately again +into regretful reflection. +</p> +<p> +A sad little silence fell upon the two in the porch +swing. Each young heart was heavy with dread of +the coming separation. This was the second time +in two years that the call to say farewell had sounded +for Marjorie Dean and Mary Raymond. +</p> +<p> +Those who have followed Marjorie Dean through +her freshman and sophomore years at high school +are already familiar with the details of Mary’s and +Marjorie’s first separation. In “<span class='sc'>Marjorie Dean</span>, +<span class='sc'>High School Freshman</span>,” was recorded the story +of the way in which Marjorie had come to leave +her chum at the beginning of their first year in +Franklin High School, in the city of B——, to +take up her residence in the far-off town of Sanford, +there to become a freshman at Sanford High. In +her new home she had made many friends, chief +among them Constance Stevens, to whom she had +been greatly drawn by reason of a strong resemblance +between Constance and Mary. In an earnest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span> +endeavor to bring sunshine to the former’s poverty-stricken +lot she had thereby involved herself in a +series of school-girl difficulties, which followed her +throughout the year. True to herself, Marjorie met +them bravely and conquered them, one by one, proving +herself a staunch follower of the high code of +honor she had adopted for her own. +</p> +<p> +With the advent of Mary Raymond into her home +for a year’s stay, Marjorie was confronted by a new +and painful problem. “<span class='sc'>Marjorie Dean, High +School Sophomore</span>,” found Marjorie enmeshed in +the tangled web which Mary’s jealousy of Constance +Stevens wove about the three girls. Led into bitter +doubt of Marjorie by Mignon La Salle, a mischief-making +French girl who had made Marjorie’s +freshman days miserable, Mary Raymond had been +guilty of a disloyalty, which had come near to +estranging the two girls forever. It was not until +their sophomore year was almost over that an awakening +had come to Mary, and with it an earnest repentance, +which led to equity and peace. +</p> +<p> +It was to this which Mary had been about to +refer mournfully when Marjorie’s gentle hand had +sealed her repentant utterance. All that summer +the two girls had been earnestly engaged in trying to +make up for those lost days. Constance and Mary +were now on the most friendly terms. The three +had spent an ideal month together at the seashore, +with no hateful shadow to darken the pleasure of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> +that delightful outing. Later Constance had left +them to spend the remainder of her vacation with +her family in the mountains. The Deans had lingered +in their seaside cottage until the last of August. +Now September had arrived, her hazy hints +of coming Autumn reminding the world at large that +their summer playtime was over. +</p> +<p> +To Mary Raymond it was a pertinent reminder +that her days under the Deans’ hospitable canopy +were numbered. In fact, only seven of them remained. +On the next Friday morning she would +say her last farewells to speed away to Denver, +Colorado, where, on her invalid mother’s account, +the Raymonds were to make their home. So it is +scarcely to be wondered at that Marjorie and Mary +were decidedly melancholy, as they sat hand in hand, +bravely trying to meet the trial which lay before +them. +</p> +<p> +“I wonder if Jerry will come home to-day.” Marjorie +rose from the swing with an abruptness that +set it to swaying gently. The weight of parting had +grown heavier during that brief silence and she was +very near to tears. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. Her letter said Thursday or Friday, +didn’t it?” Mary’s voice shook slightly. She, +too, was on the verge of a breakdown. +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” Marjorie’s back was toward Mary as she +answered. She walked to the end of the spacious +veranda and gazed down the pebbled drive. Just +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +then she felt as though the sight of Geraldine Macy’s +round, good-humored face would be most welcome. +Slowly returning to where Mary still sat, she said: +“As this is Friday, Jerry will surely——” +</p> +<p> +“Marjorie!” called a clear voice from within the +house. “The telephone is ringing.” +</p> +<p> +“Coming, Captain!” Marjorie quickened to sudden +action. “I hope it’s Jerry,” she flung over her +shoulder as she ran to the open door. “Come on, +Mary.” +</p> +<p> +Mary needed no second invitation. By the time +Marjorie had reached the telephone, she was only +a step behind her chum. +</p> +<p> +“Hello! Yes, this is Marjorie. Oh, Jerry!” +Marjorie gave a little squeal of delight. “We were +just talking of you. We wondered if you’d be home +to-day. Won’t you come over now? You will? +Well, then, hurry as fast as ever you can. We’re +crazy to see you. Mary wants to talk to you. Just +say ‘hello’ to her and hang up the receiver.” Marjorie +cast a playful glance at the girl beside her. +“You can talk to her when you get here.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie held the receiver toward Mary, who +greeted Jerry in brief but affectionate fashion and +obediently hung up. “Always do as your superior +officer tells you,” she commented with a smile. +</p> +<p> +“That’s pure sarcasm,” retorted Marjorie gaily. +“The question is, am I your superior officer or are +you mine? This business of both being lieutenants +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +has its drawbacks. We can never know just who’s +who.” +</p> +<p> +“I ought to be second lieutenant and you first,” +demurred Mary soberly. “I didn’t deserve to become +a first with you last June after——” +</p> +<p> +“Mary!” Marjorie cried out in distressed concern. +Her brown eyes were filled with tender reproach. +“Aren’t you ever going to forget?” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t.” Mary turned her face half away, then +the flood of sadness she had been fighting back all +afternoon overtook her. Stumbling to the stairs +she sat down on the lowest step, her face hidden in +her hands, her shoulders shaking. +</p> +<p> +“Poor, dear Lieutenant.” Her own eyes overflowing, +Marjorie dropped down beside Mary and +wound her arms about the dejected figure. +</p> +<p> +“This is a nice reception! I see I shall have to +welcome myself. Why, how are you, Geraldine? +Boo, hoo! It’s a wonder you wouldn’t ring. You +never did have any manners. I don’t see why you +called, anyway. Boo, hoo!” +</p> +<p> +The first sound of a loud, cheerful voice brought +the weepers to their feet. A loud, anguished “Boo, +hoo!” sent them into half-tearful giggles. +</p> +<p> +“That’s more like it,” approved the stout girl in +the doorway, her round face alive with kindly solicitude. +“If I had sensitive feelings I might think you +were crying because you’d invited me to call. But I +haven’t. Hal says I am the most unfeeling person he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> +knows. He only says that when his little sister +can’t see things the way he does.” +</p> +<p> +Jerry rattled off these pleasantries while in the +midst of a rapturous embrace, bestowed upon her +plump person by two now broadly-smiling mourners. +</p> +<p> +“It’s splendid to see you again, Jerry,” caroled +Marjorie, hugging her friend with bearish enthusiasm. +Mary echoed Marjorie’s fervent greeting. +</p> +<p> +“The mere sight of me is always inspiring,” grinned +Jerry, winding an arm about each friend. “I +hope you have both noticed by this time that I am +a great deal thinner than I was last June. I’ve lost +two pounds. Isn’t that some loss?” +</p> +<p> +“Perfectly remarkable,” agreed Marjorie mischievously. +“Come on out on the veranda, Jerry. +We have such a lot to talk about.” +</p> +<p> +Four determined, affectionate arms propelled +Jerry to the wide, vine-decked porch, established her +in the big porch swing, and climbed in beside her. +</p> +<p> +“Now, tell me, children, why these weeps?” Jerry +demanded practically, still retaining her loving hold +of her two friends. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve been on the way all day,” confessed +Marjorie. “We’ve both tried not to cry, but—somehow——” +Her voice faltered. “You see, Jerry, +this is Mary’s and my last week together. Mary’s +going away off to Colorado next week.” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t mean it?” Jerry sat up very straight, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +looking wide-eyed concern. “You never said a thing +about it in your letter. I mean letters. I believe +you did write me two.” Jerry registered comical +accusation. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t remind me of my sins of omission,” Marjorie +laughed, flushing a trifle. “I always mean to +write, but somehow I never do. We didn’t know +until the week before we came from the seashore +that Mary would have to go so soon. We thought +it wouldn’t be until November.” Again her tones +quavered suspiciously. +</p> +<p> +“I see.” Jerry frowned to hide her own inclination +to mourn. During the brief time they were +thrown together, after the reunion of Marjorie and +Mary, she had learned to know and love the real +Mary Raymond. “I’m more sorry than I can say. +I thought we’d all be together for our junior year +at Sanford High.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course, I am anxious to be with mother and +father,” put in Mary loyally, “but I hate to leave +Sanford. There are lots of things I meant to do +this year that I didn’t do last year.” +</p> +<p> +“But you can’t be in two places at once,” was Jerry’s +blunt consolation. “Never mind, Mary, you +can come back to visit us and we’ll write you lots of +letters. Marjorie is such a splendid correspondent.” +Her accompanying jolly chuckle robbed this last pertinent +fling of offence. “We’ll write you all the news. +That reminds me, I’ve some for you girls. You’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +never guess who stayed at the same hotel with us +this summer. I didn’t write about it, because I +wanted to have it to tell when I came home.” +</p> +<p> +Mary cast a sidelong glance at the stout girl. +There had been a faint touch of disgust in Jerry’s +intonation. “Was it—Mignon?” she asked, half +hesitant. +</p> +<p> +“Right you are. How did you guess it?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I just wondered,” was Mary’s brief response. +A tide of red had risen to her white skin, +called there by distressing memories. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, it was our dear Mignon,” continued Jerry +briskly. “And she has a friend, Rowena Farnham, +who likewise stayed at our hotel. Believe me, they +were a well-matched pair. You see the La Salles +usually go to Severn Beach every summer, but they +always stay at Cliff House. We always go to the +Sea Gull. That’s the whole length of the beach from +their hotel. Imagine how pleased I was to see Mignon +come parading down to dinner one evening, +after we’d been there about two weeks. I was so +disgusted that I wanted my father to pack up and +move us over to Cliff House. But he wouldn’t, the +hard-hearted person. +</p> +<p> +“That is only part of my tale. The worst now +comes trailing along. It’s about this Rowena Farnham. +It seems that the Farnhams moved to Sanford +last June just after school closed and——” +</p> +<p> +“Is this Rowena Farnham a very tall, pretty girl +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +with perfectly gorgeous auburn hair and big black +eyes?” broke in Mary abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Where did you ever see her?” demanded +Jerry. “Where was I that I didn’t?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I saw her one day in the post-office with +Mignon. It was after you had gone away. I +thought she must be a guest at the La Salles’.” +</p> +<p> +“You thought wrong. She lives in that big house +with the immense grounds just the other side of the +La Salles’ home. It’s the one with that terribly high, +ornamental iron fence. I always used to call it the +Jail. It made me think of one. But that’s not my +news, either. This new girl is going to be a sophomore +at Sanford High. I’m sorry for poor old Sanford +High.” +</p> +<p> +“Why?” A curious note of alarm sprang into +Marjorie’s question. After two stormy years at +high school, she longed for uneventful peace. Jerry’s +emphatic grumble came like a far-off roll of +thunder, prophesying storm. +</p> +<p> +“Why?” Jerry warmed to her subject. “Because +she is a terror. I can see it in her eye. Just now +she and Mignon are as chummy as can be. If they +stay chummy, look out for trouble. If they don’t, +look out for more trouble.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps you may find this new girl quite different,” +suggested Mary hopefully. “It’s not fair to +judge her by Mignon. Very likely she hasn’t any +idea that—that——” She was thinking of how +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +completely she had once fallen under Mignon’s +spell. +</p> +<p> +“That Mignon is Mignon, you mean,” interrupted +Jerry. “She ought to know her after being with her +all summer. I’ll bet she does. That’s just why I +think she’s a trouble-maker. They always hang together, +you know.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie slipped from the swing and faced her +friends with the air of one who has suddenly arrived +at a definite conclusion. For a moment she +stood regarding Jerry in silence, hands clasped behind +her back. +</p> +<p> +“There’s just one thing about it, Jerry,” she began +firmly, “and that is: I <em>will not</em> have my junior +year spoiled by Mignon La Salle or her friends. +Last year we tried to help Mignon and our plan +didn’t work. I thought once that she had a better +self, but now it would take a good deal to make me +believe it. She caused me a great deal of unnecessary +unhappiness and she almost made Constance lose her +part in the operetta. And little Charlie! I can’t forgive +her for the way she treated that baby. This +year I am going to go on with my school just as +though I had never known her. I hope I won’t have +to play on the same basket ball team with her or +against any team that she plays on. I’ve had enough +of Mignon La Salle. I’m going to steer clear of +her.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span>CHAPTER II—ALL IN HONOR OF MARY</h2> +<p> +“Be sure not to pack your white lace dress, Lieutenant.” +Marjorie delivered this reminder from the +open doorway of the pretty blue room which Mary +had so long regarded as her own special nook. +</p> +<p> +From a kneeling position before her trunk Mary +Raymond turned her head, her eyes two mournful +blue stars. “It’s over there,” she returned, nodding +somberly toward the bed. “Everything else that +had to be packed is packed. I can put my dress in +the last thing to-night. I’m so glad Connie is home +in time to see me off on my journey. I hope she and +Charlie will come over early this afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +“They will.” The blithe assurance held a significance +which Mary did not catch. The shadow of +the coming separation now hung more heavily upon +her. Marjorie’s cheery reply caused her to wonder +vaguely if her chum would really miss her so very +much. The next instant she put the thought away +from her as unworthy. Of course Marjorie would +miss her. Still she could scarcely be blamed if she +did not. In spite of the long, happy summer they +had spent together, occasionally the past rose to torture +Mary. +</p> +<p> +Packing her effects had been a severe trial. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +Everything she touched called forth memories. +There was the blue linen frock she had worn on the +morning of her first entrance into Sanford High +School. The very sight of it filled her with remorse. +And the dress she had worn on Christmas +Day, when the merciful Flag of Truce had bade a +halt to the hostilities which her own unreasonable +jealousy had created. More than one tear had fallen +on the various dainty articles of wearing apparel as +she consigned them to her trunk. She wished above +all to be brave and cheerful, even to the very moment +of farewell, but she found it hard to fight back the +terrible feeling of oppression that clutched at her +heart. +</p> +<p> +From her position in the doorway, Marjorie had +watched Mary for a moment or two before speaking. +She had guessed that the work of packing +would be something of a dolorous labor, which Mary +might prefer to perform alone. At heart she, too, +was sad, but in her mind lurked a pleasant knowledge +which for the present Mary did not share. It +was this particular bit of knowledge that made it +difficult for her to keep a sober face as she met +Mary’s doleful gaze. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to wear white, too,” she said brightly. +“Captain finished my new lingerie frock yesterday. +As long as you’re through packing, why not get +dressed for dinner now? I’m going to, even if it is +only three o’clock. Then when Connie and Charlie +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +come we can take a stroll down to Sargent’s. That +is, if we care to.” Again her lovely face threatened +to break forth into the smiles. +</p> +<p> +“All right.” Mary’s acquiescence came rather listlessly. +Rising from the floor she began somewhat +spiritless preparations toward making ready to receive +the expected guests. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to my house now to put on my costliest +raiment.” Flashing a mischievous glance toward +Mary, Marjorie disappeared from the doorway and +tripped down the hall. Once inside her “house,” as +she had whimsically named her pink and white room, +she executed a gleeful little dance for her own benefit. +“She doesn’t suspect a thing,” was her jubilant +comment. +</p> +<p> +But while the two girls were engaged in arraying +themselves to do honor to Constance, a most peculiar +state of affairs was in progress downstairs. +Through the wide flung hall door, one after another +flitted a mysterious procession of girls, moving with +the noiseless tread of a flock of ghosts. Their +bright-eyed, smiling faces and gala attire, however, +marked them as being particularly human. One of +the seven specters bore a strong resemblance to Mary +herself, and the diminutive black-eyed sprite she led +by the hand seemed on the verge of breaking forth +into an ecstatic flow of joyful sounds. +</p> +<p> +Apparently, Mrs. Dean had also been suddenly +bereft of speech. Only her twinkling eyes and smiling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +lips gave sign of just how greatly welcome were +her silent guests. Ushering them into the living +room she nodded brightly, laid a warning finger to +her lips and softly withdrew, pulling together the +silken portieres. A half-smothered giggle, to which +no self-respecting ghost would have stooped to give +utterance, followed her. Then profound stillness +reigned within. +</p> +<p> +“Are you ready, Mary?” A bewitching, brown-eyed +vision in white pranced in upon Mary as she +was slowly adjusting the soft loops of her wide, +white ribbon sash. “Let me tie your sash.” Marjorie’s +nimble fingers set themselves to work. +“There you are. You do look so perfectly sweet in +white. Now smile and say prettily, ‘Thank you for +them kind words, Miss Marjorie.’ That’s what +Delia always says when she dresses up and I tell +her how fine she looks.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie’s buoyant spirits were so irresistible as +to bring the coveted light into Mary’s mournful eyes. +“Forward, march! Here we go.” Seizing Mary +gently by the shoulders she marched her down the +hall to the stairway. “Break ranks,” she ordered. +“The gallant regiment can’t afford to tumble downstairs.” +</p> +<p> +“Halt!” came the order, as Mary reached the +lower hall a step ahead of her commander. “We +will now make an invasion on the living room. +Two’s right, march!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +</p> +<p> +Mary obediently marched. Of her own accord +she came to an abrupt halt. “Oh!” she gasped. Her +amazed exclamation was drowned in a chorus of +gleeful shouts as seven very lively apparitions closed +in around her. +</p> +<p> +“Charlie never said a word!” shrieked a high, +triumphant voice. “We comed to see you. Hooray!” +A small, joyful figure hurled itself straight +into Mary’s arms. She stooped and hugged him +close, her golden head bent to the youngster’s. +Straightening, she glimpsed the affectionate circle of +girls through a mist of unbidden tears. “I’m so glad +and so surprised to see all of you,” she faltered. +“And you knew it all the time!” She caught Marjorie’s +hand. +</p> +<p> +“Of course I knew it. Now we are even. You +gave me a surprise party once, so I thought I’d return +the compliment,” laughed Marjorie. “I could +hardly keep it to myself, though. Every time I +looked at you I wanted to say, ‘Cheer up, the best is +yet to come.’” +</p> +<p> +“It’s a good thing it wasn’t long coming,” retorted +Jerry Macy. “I never knew how much I +liked to talk until I had to keep still.” +</p> +<p> +“You must have slipped into the house like shadows,” +declared Mary happily. Her sad expression +had quite vanished with the unexpected honor that +had been done her. She felt that, after all, she held +some small place in the affections of Marjorie’s intimate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +friends, and the cloud of doubt that had obsessed +her rolled away. +</p> +<p> +“We did do that arriving stunt rather well,” was +Harriet Delaney’s complacent comment. “Of +course, Susie giggled. We expected she would, +though. The rest of us were above reproach.” +</p> +<p> +“No wonder I giggled,” defended Susan Atwell. +“If you had been the last one in line you’d have +laughed, too. You girls looked as if you were trying +to walk on eggshells, and when Jerry crossed the +room in about three steps, it was too much for +me.” Susan’s cheerful chuckle broke forth anew +and went the rounds. +</p> +<p> +“Well, children, what is your pleasure?” inquired +Marjorie. “Shall we stay here, or sit on the veranda, +or establish ourselves in the pagoda, or +what?” +</p> +<p> +“The pagoda for mine,” decided Jerry, “provided +the rest of you are of the same mind. We can sit in +a circle and tell sad stories of the deaths of kings, +etc. All those in favor of this lively pastime please +say ‘Aye;’ contrary, keep quiet.” +</p> +<p> +“Aye,” came the willing response. +</p> +<p> +“What for is ‘Aye?’” calmly demanded Charlie +Stevens of Mary, to whom he had immediately attached +himself. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it means that Charlie can go out with us +to the summer house and have a nice time, if he +would like to,” explained Mary. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +</p> +<p> +“Charlie don’t want to,” was the frank response. +“Where’s Delia?” Fond recollections of frequent +visits to the Dean kitchen, invariably productive of +toothsome gifts, lurked in the foreground. “Delia +likes to see me.” +</p> +<p> +“You mean you like to see Delia,” laughed Constance. +“But you know you came to see Mrs. Dean +and Marjorie and Mary,” she reminded. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve seen them. Now I have to see Delia.” +</p> +<p> +“Delia wins the day,” smiled Mrs. Dean. “You +are all jilted. Very well, Charlie, you and I will +pay our respects to Delia. Come on.” She stretched +forth an inviting hand to the little boy, who accepted +it joyfully, and trotted off with her to invade good-natured +Delia’s domain. +</p> +<p> +“As long as our one cavalier has been lured away +from us by Delia we might as well try to console +one another,” laughed Marjorie. +</p> +<p> +“He’s growing terribly spoiled,” apologized Constance. +“My aunt adores him and thinks he must +have everything he asks for. He’s a good little boy, +though, in spite of all the petting he gets.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s a perfect darling,” dimpled Susan Atwell. +“He says such quaint, funny things. Has he ever +tried to run away since the night of the operetta?” +</p> +<p> +“No.” Constance made brief reply. Her gaze +wandered to Mary Raymond, who was talking busily +with Harriet Delaney and Esther Lind. The vision +of a fair-haired, blue-eyed girl, leading a small runaway +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +up to the stage door of the theatre rose before +her. Next to Marjorie Dean, Mary ranked second +in her heart. Constance felt suddenly very humble +in the possession of two such wonderful friends. +Life had been kinder to her than she deserved was +her grateful thought. +</p> +<p> +Susan eyed her curiously. Although she was very +fond of Constance, she did not in the least understand +her. Now she said rather timidly, “I hope +you didn’t mind because I spoke of the operetta and +Charlie’s running away, Connie?” +</p> +<p> +Constance promptly came out of her day-dream. +“You brought it all back to me,” she smiled. “I was +just wondering what I’d ever done to deserve such +friends as I’ve made here in Sanford. I can’t bear +to think that Mary won’t be with us this year.” +</p> +<p> +Before Susan could reply, Jerry interrupted them +with, “Come along, girls. The sooner we get settled +the longer we’ll have to talk.” +</p> +<p> +It was a merry, light-hearted band that strolled +out of the house and across the lawn to the honeysuckle-draped +pagoda, situated at the far end of the +velvety stretch of green. Mary and Marjorie +brought up the rear, their arms piled high with +bright-hued cushions, and the guests soon disposed +themselves on the bench built circular fashion +around the pagoda, or sought the comfort of the +several wicker chairs. +</p> +<p> +Brought together again after more than two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +months’ separation, a busy wagging of tongues was +in order, mingled with the ready laughter that high-spirited +youth alone knows. Everyone had something +interesting to tell of her vacation and rejoiced +accordingly in the telling. Father Time flew in his +fleetest fashion, but no one of the group paid the +slightest attention to the fact. From vacation, the +conversation gradually drifted into school channels +and a lively discussion of junior plans ensued. +</p> +<p> +“By the way, girls,” remarked Jerry Macy with +the careless assumption of casualty which was her +favorite method of procedure when about to retail +some amazing bit of news. “Did you know that +Miss Archer almost decided to resign her position at +Sanford High for one in Chicago?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course <em>we</em> didn’t know it, and <em>you</em> know we +didn’t,” laughed Susan Atwell. “Whenever Jerry +begins with ‘By the way,’ and tries to look innocent +you may know she has something startling to offer.” +</p> +<p> +“Where on earth do you pick up all your news, +Jerry?” asked Constance Stevens. “You always +seem to know everything about everybody.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it just happens to come my way,” grinned +Jerry. “I heard about Miss Archer from my father. +He’s just been elected to the Board of Education.” +</p> +<p> +“She isn’t really going to leave Sanford High, +is she, Jerry?” An anxious frown puckered Marjorie’s +smooth forehead. She hated to think of +high school without Miss Archer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +</p> +<p> +“No. At first she thought she would, but afterward +she decided that she’d rather stay here. She +told father that she had grown so fond of the dear +old school she couldn’t bear to leave it. I’m certainly +glad she’s not going to resign. If she did we +might have kind, delightful Miss Merton for a principal. +Then—<em>good night</em>!” Jerry relapsed into +slang to emphasize her disgust of such a possibility. +</p> +<p> +“I shouldn’t like that,” Marjorie remarked bluntly. +“Still, I can’t help feeling a little bit sorry for Miss +Merton. She shuts out all the bright, pleasant things +in life and just sticks to the disagreeable ones. +Sometimes I wonder if she was ever young or had +ever been happy.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s been a regular Siberian crab-apple ever +since I can remember,” grumbled Jerry. “Why, +when I was a kidlet in knee skirts she was the terror +of Sanford High. I guess she must have been +crossed in love about a hundred years ago.” Jerry +giggled a trifle wickedly. +</p> +<p> +“She was,” affirmed quiet Irma with a smile, “but +not a hundred years ago. I never knew it until this +summer.” +</p> +<p> +“Here is something I don’t seem to know about,” +satirized Jerry. “How did that happen, I wonder?” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t keep us in suspense, Irma,” implored Muriel +Harding. “If Miss Merton ever had a love affair +it’s your duty to tell us about it. I can’t imagine +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +such an impossibility. Did it happen here in +Sanford? How did you come to hear of it?” +</p> +<p> +A circle of eager faces were turned expectantly +toward Irma. “My aunt, whom I visited this summer, +told me about it,” she began. “She lived in +Sanford when she was a girl and knew Miss Merton +then. They went to school together. There +were no high schools then; just an academy for +young men and women. Miss Merton was really a +pretty girl. She had pink cheeks and bright eyes +and beautiful, heavy, dark hair. She had a sister, +too, who wasn’t a bit pretty. +</p> +<p> +“They were very quiet girls who hardly ever went +to parties and never paid much attention to the boys +they knew in Sanford. When Miss Merton was +about eighteen and her sister twenty-one, a handsome +young naval officer came to visit some friends +in Sanford on a furlough. He was introduced to +both sisters, and called on them two or three times. +They lived with their father in that little house on +Sycamore Street where Miss Merton still lives. The +young ensign’s furlough was nearly over when he +met them, so he didn’t have much time to get well +acquainted with them. The night before he went +away he asked Miss Merton if he might write to +her and she said ‘Yes.’” +</p> +<p> +“Some story,” cut in Jerry. “And did he write?” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t interrupt me, Jeremiah,” reproved Irma. +“Yes, he wrote, but——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +</p> +<p> +“Miss Merton never got the letter,” supplemented +the irrepressible Jerry. “That’s the way it always +happens in books.” +</p> +<p> +“All right. You may tell the rest of it,” teased +Irma, her eyes twinkling. +</p> +<p> +“Someone please smother Jerry’s head in a sofa +cushion, so she can’t interrupt,” pleaded Harriet. +</p> +<p> +“Try it,” challenged Jerry. “Excuse me, Irma. +I solemnly promise to behave like a clam. On with +the miraculous, marvelous memoirs of meritorious +Miss Merton.” +</p> +<p> +“Where was I? Oh, yes. The young ensign +wrote, as he thought, to Miss Merton, but in some +way he had confused the two sisters’ first names. +So he wrote to Alice Merton, her sister, instead, +thinking it was our Miss Merton.” +</p> +<p> +“How awful! The very idea! What a dreadful +mistake!” came from the highly interested listeners. +</p> +<p> +“The sister was delighted because she liked the +ensign a lot and thought he didn’t care much about +her. You can imagine how Miss Merton felt. She +never said a word to anyone then about his asking +her if he might write. She thought he had just been +flirting with her when really he had fallen in love +with her. Then his ship went on a trip around the +world, but he kept on writing to the sister, and at +last he asked her to marry him. So they were engaged +and he sent her a beautiful diamond ring. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +They planned to be married when he received his +next furlough. But when he came to Sanford to +claim his bride, he found that he had made a terrible +mistake.” +</p> +<p> +“What did he do then?” chorused half a dozen +awed voices. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he made the best of it and married the sister,” +Irma replied with a shrug. “I suppose he felt +that he couldn’t very well do anything else. Perhaps +he didn’t have the courage to. But one day +before his wedding he went to the house and found +Miss Merton alone. She had been crying and he +felt so sorry that he tried to find out what was the +matter. Somehow they came to an understanding, +but it was too late. Three or four years after that +he was drowned during a storm at sea. Miss Merton +never quite got over it all, and it changed her disposition, +I guess.” +</p> +<p> +“What a sad story.” Constance Stevens’ blue +eyes were soft with sympathy. +</p> +<p> +“That makes Miss Merton seem like a different +person, doesn’t it?” Marjorie thoughtfully knitted +her brows. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose that is why she acts as though she +hated young people,” offered Mary. “We probably +remind her of her cheated youth.” +</p> +<p> +“She should have been particular enough to let +that stupid ensign know that she was she,” criticized +practical Jerry. “I’m glad I haven’t a sister. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +There’s no danger of any future aspirant for my +hand and heart getting me mixed with Hal.” +</p> +<p> +The sentimental shadow cast upon the group +by Irma’s romantic tale disappeared in a gale of +laughter. +</p> +<p> +“Honestly, Jerry Macy, you haven’t the least idea +of romance,” giggled Susan. “Here Irma tells us +a real love story and you spoil it all about a minute +afterward.” +</p> +<p> +“Can’t help it,” asserted Jerry stoutly. “I have +to say what I think.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, here come Captain and Charlie,” cried Marjorie, +sighting a gracious figure in white descending +the steps with Charlie in tow. “That means dinner +is about to be served, children. Our farewell feast +to Lieutenant Mary Raymond.” +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER III—THE SHIELD OF VALOR</h2> +<p> +A chorus of ohs and ahs ascended as the guests +filed into a dining room, the decoration of which +spelled Patriotism in large capitals. In honor of +the pretty soldier play to which she and Mary had +so long clung, Marjorie had decreed that the dinner +should be a patriotic affair so far as decorations +went. The walls of the large, attractive room were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +plentifully festooned with red, white and blue bunting. +Flags were in evidence everywhere. From the +center of the large oak table a large doll dressed as +Uncle Sam held gallantly aloft the tri-colored ribbons +that extended to each place. On one side of +him stood a smaller doll dressed in the khaki uniform +of the United States soldier. On the other, a +valiant Jackie stood guard. At each cover was +a small soldier doll and the place cards were tiny, +folded, silk flags, each guest’s name written in one +of the stripes of white uppermost. +</p> +<p> +Mary occupied the seat of honor at the head of +the table, with Marjorie at her right and Constance +at her left. But at the departing Lieutenant’s place +rose an amazing pile of tissue-paper wrapped, beribboned +bundles that smacked of Christmas. +</p> +<p> +“Company, attention,” called Mrs. Dean from the +foot of the table, the instant the party had seated +themselves. “Lieutenant Raymond, you are ordered +to inspect your wealth before mess.” +</p> +<p> +“I—oh——” stammered the abashed Lieutenant, +regarding said “wealth” in stupefaction. “All those +things are not really for <em>me</em>!” +</p> +<p> +“Open them and see,” directed Marjorie, her face +radiant with unselfish happiness. “Every one of +them holds an original poetic message. None of us +knows what the other wrote. You are to read them +in a loud voice and satisfy our curiosity. Now +hurry up and begin.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +</p> +<p> +Under a battery of smiling faces, Mary slowly +undid a good-sized square bundle. With slightly +shaking fingers she drew forth a white box. When +opened it displayed several sizes of note paper and +envelopes bearing her monogram in silver. Picking +up a card she steadied her voice and read: +</p> +<p> + “You say, of course, ‘I’ll surely write,’<br /> + But when you’ve traveled out of sight,<br /> + This nice white box may then remind you<br /> + Of Jerry Macy, far behind you.”<br /> +</p> +<p> +“I truly will write you, Jerry. Thank you.” +Mary beamed affectionately on the stout girl. “It’s +a lovely present, and my own monogram, too.” +</p> +<p> +“See that you do,” nodded Jerry gruffly. She +loved to give, but she did not relish being thanked. +</p> +<p> +“Next,” smilingly ordered Marjorie. “If you +don’t hurry and open them, we shall all starve.” +</p> +<p> +The next package disclosed a dainty little leather +combination purse and vanity case from Muriel +Harding with the succinct advice: +</p> +<p> + “Don’t lose your ticket or your money,<br /> + To be stone broke is far from funny.<br /> + When wicked cinders seek your eye,<br /> + Consult your mirror on the sly.”<br /> +</p> +<p> +After Muriel had been thanked and her practical, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +poetic advice lauded, Mary went on with her delightful +investigation. An oblong bundle turned out to +be a box of nut chocolates from Susan, who offered: +</p> +<p> + “In time of homesick tribulation,<br /> + Turn to this toothsome consolation.<br /> + To eat it up will be amusin’——<br /> + Here’s sweet farewell from giggling Susan.”<br /> +</p> +<p> +“Giggling Susan’s” effort brought forth a ripple +of giggles from all sides. +</p> +<p> +“That’s my present,” squealed Charlie, as Mary +fingered a tiny package ornamented with a huge +red bow. “It’s a——” +</p> +<p> +“Shh!” warned Constance, placing prompt fingers +on the too-willing lips. +</p> +<p> +Mary cast the child a tender glance as she +glimpsed a tiny leather violin case, partially obscured +by a card. In this instance it was Uncle John +Roland who had played poet, after receiving Charlie’s +somewhat garbled instructions regarding the +sentiment. +</p> +<p> +“Say it s’loud as you can,” commanded the excited +youngster. +</p> +<p> +Mary complied, reading in a purposely loud tone +that must have been intensely gratifying to the +diminutive giver: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +</p> +<p> + “Once when away from home I ranned<br /> + To play my fiddle in the band,<br /> + You comed and finded me, ’n then<br /> + I never ranned away again.<br /> + So now I’m always nice and good<br /> + An’ do as Connie says I should,<br /> + And ’cause you’re going to run away<br /> + You’d better write to me some day!<br /> + Inside the little fiddle box<br /> + There is a fountain pen that talks<br /> + On paper—it’s for you from me,<br /> + The great musishun; your friend, C.”<br /> +</p> +<p> +As Mary read the last line she slipped from her +place to Charlie and kissed the gleeful, upturned +face. “You darling boy,” she quavered. “Mary +won’t forget to write.” +</p> +<p> +“Mine’s the best of all,” observed Charlie with +modest frankness, as he enthusiastically returned the +kiss. +</p> +<p> +Back in her place again, Mary finished the affectionate +inspection of the tokens her friends had +taken so much pleasure in giving. There was a book +from Harriet, a folded metal drinking cup in a +leather case from Esther Lind, a hand-embroidered +pin and needle case from Irma, a pair of soft, dark-blue +leather slippers from Constance, and a wonderful +Japanese silk kimono from Mrs. Dean. The remembrances +had all been selected as first aids to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +Mary during her long journey across the country. +With each one went a humorous verse, composed +with more or less effort on the part of the givers. +</p> +<p> +But one package now remained to be opened. Its +diminutive size and shape hinted that it might have +come from the jeweler’s. Mary knew it to be Marjorie’s +farewell token to her. She would have liked +to examine it in private. She was almost sure that +she was going to cry. She thrust back the inclination, +however, flashing a tender, wavering smile at +her chum as she untied the silver cord that bound +the box. It bore the name of a Sanford jeweler and +when the lid was off revealed a round, gold monogrammed +locket, gleaming dully against its pale blue +silk bed. In a tiny circular groove of the box was +a fine-grained gold chain. +</p> +<p> +Mary’s changeful face registered many emotions +as she took the locket in her hands and stared at it +in silence. Acting on a swift, overwhelming impulse +she sprang mutely from her chair and rushed +out of the room. Marjorie half rose from her place, +then sat down again. “Lieutenant will come back +soon,” she said fondly. “She hasn’t really deserted +from the army, she’s only taken a tiny leave of absence. +I remember just how I felt when some of +the boys and girls of Franklin High gave me a surprise +party. That was the night this came to me.” +She patted the butterfly pin that had figured so +prominently in her freshman year at Sanford. “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +almost cried like a baby. I remember that the whole +table blurred while Mary was making a speech to +me about my beautiful pin.” Marjorie talked on +with the kindly object of centering the guests’ attention +on herself until Mary should return. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, in the living room Mary Raymond +was engaged in the double task of trying to suppress +her tears and open the locket at the same time. +Her eyes brimming, she worked at the refractory +gold catch with insistent fingers. Opened at last, +she beheld Marjorie’s lovely face smiling out at her. +On the inside of the upper half of the locket was engraved, +“Mary from Marjorie.” Below was the +beautiful Spanish phrase, “<em>Para siempre</em>,” literally +translated, “for always,” but meaning “forever.” +</p> +<p> +Within a brief space of time, following her flight, +the runaway reappeared, her eyelids slightly pink. +“I hope you will all pardon me,” she apologized prettily. +“I—I—couldn’t help it. You’ve been so sweet +to me. I can’t ever thank you as you deserve to be +thanked for giving me so many lovely things; the +very ones I shall need most when I’m traveling. I +am sure you must know how dear you all are to me; +dearer even than my Franklin High friends. I hope +each one of you will write to me. I’ll truly try hard +not only to be a good correspondent, but always to +be worthy of your friendship.” +</p> +<p> +Mary’s earnest words met ready responses of good +fellowship from those whom she had once scorned. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +Everything was so different now. The new Mary +Raymond was an entire opposite to the sullen-faced +young person who had once flouted all overtures of +friendship on the part of Marjorie’s particular +cronies. Beyond an eloquent hand clasp and, “My +picture locket is wonderful, Lieutenant. Thank you +over and over,” Mary had reserved further expression +of her appreciation until the two chums should +be entirely by themselves. +</p> +<p> +The delightful dinner ended with a general distribution +of fancy cracker bon-bons, which the guests +snapped open with a will, to find cunning caps representing +the flags of various nations. They donned +these with alacrity and trooped into the living room +for an evening of stunts in which music played an +important part. Constance lifted up her exquisite +voice untiringly, weaving her magic spell about her +eager listeners. Jerry sang a comic song, mostly off +the key, merely to prove the impossibility of her +vocal powers. Charlie Stevens, who had trustfully +tugged his faithful fiddle along, insisted on rendering +a solo of anguishing shrieks and squawks, assuming +the majestic mien of a virtuoso. He took himself +so seriously that no one dared laugh, although +the desire to do so was throttled with difficulty. +Susan was prevailed upon to perform a scarf dance, +her one accomplishment, using a strip of red, white +and blue bunting with graceful effect. Harriet Delaney +also sang a ballad, and Esther Lind offered a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +beautiful Swedish folk song she had learned from +her father, who had sung it as a boy in far-off Scandinavia. +When the small repertoire of soloists had +been exhausted, everyone turned to with Constance +at the piano, and made the living room ring with +school songs. +</p> +<p> +Just before the farewell party broke up the door +bell rang. Its loud, insistent peal brought a significant +exchange of glances, in which Mary alone +did not share. Mrs. Dean hurried into the hall. A +moment and she returned to the living room, escorting +Delia, whose broad, homely face was wreathed in +smiles. She advanced toward Mary, holding out a +goodly sheaf of letters. “Special delivery, Miss +Mary,” she announced. “May yez have many of +the same.” She made a little bobbing bow as Mary +took them, bestowed a friendly grin on the company +and waddled out. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t understand.” Mary seemed overcome +by this fresh surprise. “Are they all for me?” +</p> +<p> +“They’re your railway comforts, Lieutenant,” +laughed Marjorie. “There’s a letter from each of +us. You can read one a day. There are enough to +reach to Denver and a few thrown in to cure the +blues after you get there. So you see we won’t let +you forget us.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s the nicest reminder I could possibly have. I +don’t need a single thing to make me remember you, +though. You’re all here in my heart to stay as long +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +as I live.” Mary had never appeared more sweetly +appealing than she now looked, as her clear tones +voiced her inner sentiments. +</p> +<p> +“You’re a nice girl,” approved Charlie Stevens. +“If I ever grow to be’s tall’s you, Mary Raymond, +I’ll be married to you and you can play in the band, +too. Uncle John’ll buy you a fiddle.” +</p> +<p> +This calm disposal of Mary’s future drove sentiment +to the winds. Unconsciously, little Charlie had +sounded a merry note just in time to lift the pall +which is always bound to hang over a company devoted +to the saying of farewells. +</p> +<p> +At eleven o’clock Mary and Marjorie accompanied +their guests to the gate, the latter avowing their intention +to be at the station the following morning to +see Mary off on her journey. The two girls strolled +back to the house, under the stars, their arms entwined +about each other’s waists. +</p> +<p> +“We had a beautiful evening, Lieutenant. How +I wish General could have been here. I hate to go +away without saying good-bye to him,” sighed Mary. +</p> +<p> +“I’m sorry, too. I wish he could always be at +home. He has to be away from Sanford and home +so much.” Marjorie echoed Mary’s sigh. Brightening, +she said: “I’ve another dear surprise for you, +though. Come up to my house and I’ll give it to +you. It’s his farewell message. He wanted you to +have it the very last thing to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“We are going upstairs, Captain,” called Mary, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +as they passed through the living room. “Want to +come?” +</p> +<p> +“Later,” returned Mrs. Dean. She was too good +a commander to intrude upon the last precious moments +of confidence her little army still had left to +them. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie marched Mary to the pink and white +window seat and playfully ordered, “Sit down and +fold your hands like a nice, obedient lieutenant. +Shut your eyes and don’t open them until I say so.” +</p> +<p> +Tripping gleefully to the chiffonier she opened the +top drawer, bringing forth a small package and a +square white envelope. Tucking them into Mary’s +folded hands she said, “First you may open your +eyes; then you must open your presents. I haven’t +the least idea what’s in the package or what the letter +says. General mailed them to me from Boston.” +</p> +<p> +Two pairs of eyes, bright with affectionate curiosity, +bent themselves eagerly on the little quaintly +enameled box, which Mary hastily unwrapped. +“Oh!” was the concerted exclamation. On a white +satin pad lay an exquisitely dainty gold pin. It was +in the form of a shield. Across the top winked three +small jewels set in a row, a ruby, a diamond and a +sapphire. +</p> +<p> +“‘Three cheers for the red, white and blue,’” +sang Marjorie, dropping down beside Mary and +hugging her enthusiastically. “Do read the letter, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +Lieutenant. We’ll rave about this cunning pin afterward. +Oh, I forgot. Perhaps General didn’t mean +me to know what he wrote.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course he did,” flung back Mary loyally. +“We’ll read it together.” Tearing open the envelope, +she unfolded the letter and read aloud: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Beloved Lieutenant: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“You are going away to a far country on a +long hike, and, as it is the duty of every good +general to look to the welfare of his soldiers, I +am sending you the magic Shield of Valor to +protect you in time of need. It is a token of +honor for a brave lieutenant who fought a memorable +battle and won the victory against heavy +odds. It is a magic shield, in that it offers protection +only to the soldier who has met and +worsted the giant, Self. It was wrought from +the priceless metal of Golden Deeds and set +with the eyes of Endurance, Truth and Constancy. +No enemy, however deadly, can prevail +against it. It is a talisman, the wearing of +which must bring Honor and Peace. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Dear little comrade, may happiness visit you +in your new barracks. Let the bugle call ‘On +duty’ find you marching head up, colors flying, +until ‘Taps’ sounds at the close of each busy +day. Though you have answered the call to a +new post, your general hopes with all his heart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +that you will some day hurry back to your regiment +in Sanford to receive the sword of captaincy +and the enthusiastic welcome of your +brother officers. May all good go with you. +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>“Loyally, </p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>"<span class='sc'>General Dean</span>.”</p> +<p> +Mary’s voice trailed away into a silence that outrivaled +mere speech. The two girls sat staring at +the jeweled token before them as though fearing to +break the spell their general’s message had evoked. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it queer?” came from Mary, “I don’t feel a +bit like crying. When all the nice things happened +to me downstairs I wanted to cry. But this letter +and my wonderful Shield of Valor make me feel +different; as though I’d like to march out and conquer +the world!” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie’s red lips curved into a tender smile as +she took the pin from the box and fastened it in the +folds of lace where Mary’s gown fell away at the +throat. “That’s because it is a true talisman,” she +reminded softly. “We never knew when long ago +we played being soldiers just for fun that we were +only getting ready to be soldiers in earnest.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span>CHAPTER IV—THE NEW SECRETARY</h2> +<p> +“I’m ready to go to school, Captain!” Marjorie +Dean popped her curly head into the living room. +“Is the note ready, too? It’s simply dear in you +to give me a chance to call on Miss Archer.” +</p> +<p> +“Just a moment.” Mrs. Dean hastily addressed +an envelope and slipped into it the note she had just +finished writing. “I could mail it, I suppose, but I +thought you might like to play special messenger,” +she observed, handing Marjorie the note. +</p> +<p> +“It was a glorious thought,” laughed Marjorie. +“I wanted to see Miss Archer yesterday, but I didn’t +like to go to her office on the very first day without +a good excuse. Do I look nice, Captain?” she inquired +archly. +</p> +<p> +“You know you do, vain child.” Mrs. Dean surveyed +the dainty figure of her daughter with pardonable +pride. “That quaint flowered organdie frock +exactly suits you. Now salute your captain and +hurry along. I don’t care to have you tardy on my +account.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie embraced her mother in her usual tempestuous +fashion and went skipping out of the house +and down the stone walk with the joyous abandon of +a little girl. Once the gate had swung behind her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +she dropped into a more decorous gait as she hurried +along the wide, shady street toward school. +“Oh, goodness!” she murmured. When within two +blocks of the high school building she glimpsed the +City Hall clock. Its huge, black hands pointed to +five minutes to nine. “I’ll have to run for it,” was +her dismayed reflection. “If I hurry, I can make +it. I won’t have time to put my hat in my new +junior locker, though.” +</p> +<p> +Decorum now discarded, Marjorie set off on a +brisk run that brought her into the locker room at +precisely one minute to nine. Hastily depositing her +dainty rose-trimmed leghorn on a convenient window +ledge, she ran up the basement stairs to the +study hall, gaining the seat assigned to her the previous +day just as the nine o’clock bell clanged forth +its warning. She smiled rather contemptuously as +she noted the disapproving glance Miss Merton flung +in her direction. She had escaped a scolding by virtue +of a few brief seconds. +</p> +<p> +“<em>She</em> hasn’t changed a bit,” was Marjorie’s inward +judgment, as she turned her gaze upon the +rows of students; called together again to continue +their earnest march along the road of education. +Her heart thrilled with pride as she noted how few +vacant seats the great study hall held. The freshman +class was unusually large. She noticed there +were a number of girls she had never before seen. +It looked, too, as though none of last year’s freshmen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +had dropped out of school. As for the juniors, +they were all present, even to Mignon La Salle. +But how decidedly grown-up the French girl looked! +Her black curls were arranged in an ultra-fashionable +knot at the back of her head that made her +appear several years older than she really was. Her +gown, too, an elaborate affair of sage green pongee, +with wide bands of heavy insertion, added to her +years. She looked very little like a school girl Marjorie +thought. +</p> +<p> +Lost in contemplation of the new Mignon, she +was rudely reminded of the fact that she was staring +by Mignon herself. Their eyes meeting, Mignon +made a face at Marjorie by way of expressing +her candid opinion of the girl she disliked. Marjorie +colored and hastily looked away, amused rather +than angry at this display of childishness. It hardly +accorded with her grown-up air. She had not realized +that she had been guilty of staring. Her mind +was intent on trying to recall something she had +heard in connection with the French girl that now +eluded her memory. Shrugging her shoulders she +dismissed it as a matter of small consequence. +</p> +<p> +As the members of the four classes were still +vacillating between which subjects to take up and +which to exclude from their programs of study, +classes that morning were to mean a mere business +of assembling in the various recitation rooms, there +to receive the first instructions from the special +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +teachers before settling down to the usual routine of +lessons. +</p> +<p> +For her junior program, Marjorie had decided +upon third year French, English Literature, Cæsar’s +Commentaries and civil government. As she had +recently begun piano lessons, she had wisely concluded +that, with piano practice, four subjects would +keep her sufficiently busy. Her interest in music +had developed as a result of her association with +Constance Stevens. She yearned to be able some +day to accompany Constance’s beautiful voice on the +piano. Mrs. Dean had long deplored the fact that +Marjorie was not interested in becoming at least a +fair pianist. Herself a musician of considerable +skill, she believed it a necessary accomplishment for +girls and was delighted when Marjorie had announced +that she wished to begin lessons on the +piano. +</p> +<p> +By reciting English literature during the first period +of the morning and French the second, the last +period before noon was hers for study. Civil government +and Cæsar recitations the first two periods +of the afternoon left her the last hour of that session +free. She had always tried to arrange her subjects +to gain that coveted afternoon period, and now +she felt especially pleased at being able to also reserve +the last period of the morning for study. +</p> +<p> +It was while she sat in her old place in French +class, listening to the obsequiously polite adjurations +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +of Professor Fontaine, that she remembered the +still undelivered note from her mother to Miss +Archer. “I’m a faithless messenger,” was her rueful +thought. “I’ll hurry to Miss Archer’s office with +Captain’s note the minute class is over.” Contritely +patting a fold of her lace-trimmed blouse where she +had tucked the letter for safe-keeping, Marjorie +gave strict attention to the earnestly-exhorting instructor. +</p> +<p> +“Eet ees een thees class that we shall read the +great works of the incomparable French awthors,” +he announced with an impressive roll of r’s. “Eet +ees of a truth necessary that you should become familiar +weeth them. You moost, therefore, stoody +your lessons and be thus always preepaired. Eet ees +sad when my pupeels come to me with so many +fleemsy excuses. Thees year I shall nevaire accept +them. I most eenseest that you preepaire each day +the lesson for the next.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie smiled to herself. The long-suffering +professor was forever preaching a preparedness, +which it never fell to his lot to see diligently practised +by the majority of his pupils. Personally, she +could not be classed among the guilty. Her love of +the musical language kept her interest in it unflagging, +thereby making her one of the professor’s most +dependable props. +</p> +<p> +The recitation over, she paused to greet the odd +little man, who received her with delight, warmly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +shaking her hand. “Eet ees a grand plaisir thus to +see you again, Mees Marjorie,” he declared. “Ah, +I am assured that you at least weel nevaire say ‘oonpreepaired.’” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll try not to. I’m ever so glad to see you, too, +Professor Fontaine.” After a brief exchange of +pleasantries she left the class room a trifle hurriedly +and set off to call on Miss Archer. +</p> +<p> +Entering the spacious living room office, she was +forcibly reminded that Marcia Arnold’s high school +days had ended on the previous June. The pretty +room was quite deserted. Marjorie sighed as she +glanced toward the vacant chair, drawn under the +closed desk that had been Marcia’s. How much she +would miss her old friend. Since that day long past +on which they had come to an understanding, she +and Marcia had found much in common. Marjorie +sighed regretfully, wondering who Miss Archer’s +next secretary would be. +</p> +<p> +As there was no one about to announce her, she +walked slowly toward the half-closed door of the +inner office. Pausing just outside, she peeped in. +Her eyes widened with surprise as she caught sight +of an unfamiliar figure. A tall, very attractive +young woman stood before the principal’s desk, +busily engaged in the perusal of a printed sheet of +paper which she held in her hand. It looked as +though Miss Archer had already secured someone +in Marcia’s place. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +</p> +<p> +“May I come in, please?” Marjorie asked sweetly, +halting in the doorway. +</p> +<p> +The girl at the desk uttered a faint exclamation. +The paper she held fluttered to the desk. A wave of +color dyed her exquisitely tinted skin as she turned a +pair of large, startled, black eyes upon the intruder. +For a second the two girls eyed each other steadily. +Marjorie conceived a curious impression that she +had seen this stranger before, yet it was too vague +to convey to her the slightest knowledge of the other’s +identity. +</p> +<p> +“You are Miss Archer’s new secretary, are you +not?” she asked frankly. “You can tell me, perhaps, +where to find her. I have a note to deliver to her +personally.” +</p> +<p> +A quick shade of relief crossed the other girl’s +suddenly flushing face. Smiling in self-possessed +fashion, she said, “Miss Archer will not be back directly. +I cannot tell you when she will return.” +</p> +<p> +“I think I’ll wait here for her,” decided Marjorie. +“I have no recitation this period.” +</p> +<p> +The stranger’s arched brows arched themselves +a trifle higher. “As you please,” she returned indifferently. +She again turned her attention to the +papers on the desk. +</p> +<p> +Seating herself on the wide oak bench, Marjorie +took speculative stock of the new secretary. “What +a stunning girl,” was her mental opinion. “She’s +dressed rather too well for a secretary, though,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +flashed across her as she noted the smart gown of +white china silk, the very cut of which pointed to +the work of a high-priced modiste. “I suppose she’s +getting examination papers ready for the new pupils. +I wonder why she doesn’t sit down.” +</p> +<p> +As she thus continued to cogitate regarding the +stranger, the girl frowned deeply at another paper +she had picked up and swung suddenly about. “Are +you just entering high school?” she asked with direct +abruptness. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no.” Marjorie smilingly shook her head. +“I am a junior.” +</p> +<p> +“Are you?” The stranger again lost herself in +puzzled contemplation of the paper. Hearing an +approaching footfall she made a quick move toward +the center of the office, raising her eyes sharply to +greet a girl who had come in quest of Miss Archer. +Promptly disposing of the seeker, she returned to her +task. Several times after that she was interrupted +by the entrance of various students, whom she received +coolly and dismissed with, “Not here. I +don’t know when Miss Archer will return.” Marjorie +noted idly that with every fresh arrival, the +young woman continued to move well away from +the desk. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie watched her in fascination. She was +undoubtedly beautiful in a strangely bold fashion, +but apparently very cold and self-centered. She had +received the students who had entered the office with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +a brusqueness that bordered on discourtesy. Two +or three of them, whom Marjorie knew, had greeted +her in friendly fashion, at the same time mutely +questioning with uplifted brows as to whom this +stranger might be. +</p> +<p> +“This problem in quadratic equations is a terror,” +the girl at the desk suddenly remarked, her finger +pointing to a row of algebraic symbols on the paper +she was still clutching. “Algebra’s awfully hard, +isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“I always liked it,” returned Marjorie, glad of +a chance to break the silence. “What is the problem?” +</p> +<p> +“Come here,” ordered the other girl. “I don’t call +<em>that</em> an easy problem. Do you?” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie rose and approached the desk. The +stranger handed her the paper, indexing the vexatious +problem. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s not so very hard,” was Marjorie’s +light response. +</p> +<p> +“Can you work it out?” came the short inquiry, +a note of suppressed eagerness in the questioner’s +voice. +</p> +<p> +“Why, I suppose so. Can’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“I was trying it before you came in just for fun. +I’ve forgotten my algebra, I guess. I don’t believe +I got the right result. It’s rather good practice to +review, isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“She must be a senior,” sprang to Marjorie’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +mind. Aloud, she agreed that it was. “I ought not +to have forgotten my algebra,” she added. “It’s +only a year since I finished it.” +</p> +<p> +“See if you think I did this right, will you? I’m +curious to know.” The stranger thrust into her +hand a second paper, covered with figures. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie inspected it, feeling only mildly interested. +“No; you made a mistake here. It goes this +way. Have you a pencil?” +</p> +<p> +The pencil promptly forthcoming, the obliging +junior seated herself at a nearby table and diligently +went to work. So busy was she that she failed to +note the covert glances which her companion sent +now and then toward the door. But, during the +brief space of time in which Marjorie was engaged +with the difficult equation, no one came. Altogether +she had not been in the office longer than fifteen +minutes. To her it seemed at least half an hour. +</p> +<p> +“Here you are.” She tendered the finished work +to the other girl, who seized it eagerly with a brief, +“Thank you. I can see where I made my mistake +when I have time to compare the two.” With a +smile, which Marjorie thought a trifle patronizing, +she carelessly nodded her gratitude. Laying the +printed examination sheet on a pile of similar papers, +she placed a weight upon them and walked +gracefully from the office, taking with her the two +sheets of paper, bearing the results of her own and +Marjorie’s labor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +</p> +<p> +Another fifteen minutes went by. Still no one +came, except a student or two in quest of Miss Archer. +Marjorie decided that she would wait no +longer. She would come back again that afternoon, +before the second session opened. It was almost +noon. Were she to return to the study hall just +then, it meant to court the caustic rebuke of Miss +Merton. The locker room offered her a temporary +refuge. Accordingly, she wended her steps toward +it. +</p> +<p> +“Where were you that last period?” demanded +Jerry Macy, coming up behind her as she stood at +the mirror adjusting her rose-weighted hat. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Jerry! How you startled me.” Marjorie +swung about. “I was up in Miss Archer’s office.” +</p> +<p> +“So soon?” teased Jerry, putting on a shocked expression. +“I <em>am</em> surprised.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be so suspicious,” responded Marjorie, +adopting Jerry’s bantering tone. “I had a note, if +you please, from Captain, to deliver to Miss Archer. +I saw the new secretary, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Humph!” ejaculated Jerry. “You must have +only thought you saw her. So far as I know Miss +Archer hasn’t secured a secretary yet.” +</p> +<p> +“But she must have,” Marjorie insisted. “There +was a tall girl in her office when I went there. She +must surely be the girl to take Marcia’s place, for +she was standing at Miss Archer’s desk, going over +some papers.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s funny. What did she look like? You +said she was tall?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes; tall and very pretty. She had big, black +eyes and perfectly gorgeous auburn hair——” Marjorie +broke off with a puzzled frown. Her own +words had a curious reminiscent ring. Someone +else had said the very same thing about——Who +had said it, and about whom had it been said? +</p> +<p> +“Now I know you didn’t see Miss Archer’s new +secretary,” cried Jerry in triumph. “There’s only +one person that can answer to your description. +She’s that Rowena Farnham I told you about, Mignon’s +side partner. I told you she was going to +enter the sophomore class. She was probably waiting +for Miss Archer herself. She has to try her +exams, I suppose.” +</p> +<p> +“But what was she doing at Miss Archer’s desk?” +asked Marjorie sharply. “Why did she answer me +and make me think she was the secretary? She told +several other girls that Miss Archer was out!” +</p> +<p> +“Search me,” replied Jerry inelegantly. “If she’s +much like Mignon it’s hard to tell what she was up +to. Believe me, they’re a precious pair of trouble-makers +and don’t you forget it.” +</p> +<p> +“I ought to have recognized her,” faltered Marjorie. +A curious sense of dread had stolen over +her. “Don’t you remember Mary described her almost +as I did just now, that day you came to see +us, when first you got back to Sanford?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, nobody’s going to kill you because you +didn’t, are they?” inquired Jerry with a grin. +“What’s the matter? What makes you look so solemn?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I was just wondering,” evaded Marjorie. +Outwardly only slightly ruffled, tumult raged within. +She had begun to see clearly what had hitherto been +obscure and the revelation was a severe shock. All +she could hope was that what she now strongly suspected +might not, after all, be true. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER V—A STORMY INTERVIEW</h2> +<p> +Marjorie returned to school that afternoon in a +most perturbed state of mind, occasioned by Jerry +Macy’s identification of Rowena Farnham as the +girl whom she had assisted in the working out of +the problem in quadratic equations. She was now +almost certain that she had unwittingly assisted in a +most dishonest enterprise. If the papers on Miss +Archer’s desk comprised the trial examination to +sophomore estate, then Rowena had no doubt been +guilty of tampering with what should concern her +only at the moment when the test began. If they +were the sophomore examination papers, why had +Miss Archer left them thus exposed on her desk? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +And now what was she, Marjorie, to do about it? +She felt that when she delivered her mother’s note +to Miss Archer, she ought to inform the principal +of what had occurred during her absence. Yet she +hated to do this. It was tale bearing. Besides, her +suspicions might prove unfounded. +</p> +<p> +She was still juggling the trying situation when +she entered Miss Archer’s office to deliver her captain’s +note. Should she speak of it or not? The +fact that Miss Archer was now accessible but extremely +busy, with several girls occupying the office +benches, caused her to put off her decision for +a time. She stopped only long enough to receive +a kindly welcome from the principal and to perform +her mission as messenger. Then she went dejectedly +to her recitation in civil government, wondering resentfully +if the event of the morning was the beginning +of an unpleasant year. +</p> +<p> +By a determined effort of will, Marjorie put the +whole thing aside to attend strictly to her recitations. +But during the study hour that preceded dismissal +for the day, a way of settling the difficulty +presented itself to her. It was not an agreeable +way, but her straightforward soul welcomed it as a +means toward settlement. She was resolved to seek +Rowena Farnham and learn the truth. The question +of where to find her was next to be considered. She +had not yet made an appearance into the study hall. +Doubtless she was in the little recitation room on the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +second floor that was seldom used except in the case +of pupils with special examinations to try. Marjorie +mused darkly as to whether the problem she had +obligingly solved would figure in Rowena’s algebra +paper. +</p> +<p> +Half-past three saw Marjorie on her way to the +locker room, keeping a sharp lookout for a tall figure +crowned with luxuriant auburn hair. Her vigilance +met with no reward, however, and she left the school +building in company with Irma, Jerry, Constance +and Susan, deliberating as to what she had best do +next. Outside the high school she caught no glimpse +of her quarry among the throng of girls that came +trooping down the wide stone steps. Although she +took part in her friends’ animated conversation, she +was steadily thinking of the self-imposed task that +lay before her. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s go down to Sargent’s,” proposed Susan, +gleefully jingling a handful of silver that clinked +of sundaes and divers delicious cheer. +</p> +<p> +“You girls go. I can’t. I’ve an errand to do.” +Marjorie’s color rose as she spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Do your errand some other time,” coaxed Susan. +“I may not have any money to spend to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll treat to-morrow,” Marjorie assured her. “I +can’t possibly put off my errand. You can imagine +I’m with you. Always cultivate your imagination.” +</p> +<p> +Four voices rose to protest her decision, but she +remained firm. “To-morrow,” she compromised. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +“Please don’t tease me. I can’t really go with you +to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll try to get along without you, just this +once,” agreed tactful Constance. Something in +Marjorie’s manner told her that her friend wished +to go on her way alone. +</p> +<p> +“Go ahead then, Marjorie. Do your errand, faithful +child,” consented Jerry, who had also scented +the unusual and shrewdly speculated as to whether +it had anything to do with their conversation of the +morning. +</p> +<p> +Anxious, yet regretful, to be free of her chums, +Marjorie said good-bye and hurried off in an opposite +direction. Jerry had said that the Farnhams +lived in the beautiful residence that adjoined Mignon +La Salle’s home. It was not a long walk, yet +how Marjorie dreaded it. Given that Rowena were +at home, Mignon would, perhaps, be with her. That +would make matters doubly hard. Yet she could do +no less than carry out the interview she felt must +take place at the earliest possible moment. +</p> +<p> +It was a very grave little girl who opened the ornamental +iron gate and proceeded reluctantly up the +long driveway to the huge brown stone house, set in +the midst of a wide expanse of tree-dotted lawn. +For all the residence was a magnificent affair, Marjorie +shivered as she mounted the massive stone +steps. There was little of the atmosphere of home +about it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +</p> +<p> +“Is Miss Rowena Farnham here?” was her low-voiced +question of the white-capped maid who answered +the door. +</p> +<p> +“She hasn’t come home from school yet, miss,” informed +the maid. “Will you step into the house +and wait for her?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, thank you.” Marjorie followed the woman +into a high-ceilinged, beautifully appointed, square +hall and across it to a mammoth drawing-room, very +handsomely furnished, but cheerless, nevertheless. +She felt very small and insignificant as she settled +herself lightly on an ornate gilt chair, to await the +arrival of Rowena. +</p> +<p> +Her vigil was destined to be tedious, unbroken by +the sight of anyone save the maid, who passed +through the hall once or twice on her way to answer +the bell. Even she did not trouble herself to glance +through the half-parted brocade portieres at the +lonely little figure in the room beyond. Consulting +her wrist watch, Marjorie read five o’clock. She +had been waiting for over an hour. She guessed +that the girl on whom she had come to call must +be with Mignon La Salle. There was at least a +grain of comfort for her in this conjecture. If +Mignon were at home now, there was small chance +that she would be present at the interview. +</p> +<p> +An impatient hand on the bell sent a shrill, reverberating +peal through the great house. An instant +and she heard the maid’s voice, carefully lowered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +There came the sound of quick, questioning +tones, which she recognized. Rowena had at last +put in an appearance. Immediately there followed +a flinging back of the concealing portieres and the +girl who had sprung into Marjorie’s knowledge so +unbecomingly that morning walked into the room. +</p> +<p> +“You wished to see——Oh, it’s you!” The +tall girl’s black eyes swept her uninvited guest with +an expression far from cordial. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, it is I,” Marjorie’s inflection was faintly +satirical. “I made a mistake about you this morning. +I thought you were Miss Archer’s new secretary.” +She lost no time in going directly to the +point. +</p> +<p> +For answer Rowena threw back her auburn head +and laughed loudly. “I fooled you nicely, didn’t I?” +According to outward signs her conscience was apparently +untroubled. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” returned Marjorie quietly. “Why did +you do it?” +</p> +<p> +Rowena’s laughing lips instantly took on a belligerent +curve. The very evenness of the inquiry +warned her that trouble was brewing for her. “See +here,” she began rudely, “what did you come to my +house for? I’m not pleased to see you. Judging +from several things I’ve heard, I don’t care to know +you.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie paled at the rebuff. She had half expected +it, yet now that it had come she did not relish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +it. At first meeting she had been irritated by the +other girl’s almost rude indifference. Now she had +dropped all semblance of courtesy. +</p> +<p> +“I hardly think it matters about your knowing or +not knowing me,” she retorted in the same carefully +schooled tone. “You, of course, are the one to decide +that. What does matter is this—I must ask +you to tell me exactly why you wished me to work +out that quadratic problem for you. It is quite +necessary that I should know.” +</p> +<p> +“Why is it so necessary?” +</p> +<p> +“Because I must believe one of two things,” was +Marjorie’s grave response. “I must have the truth. +I won’t be kept in the dark about it. Either you +only pretended to play secretary as a rather peculiar +joke, or else you did it purposely because——” She +hesitated, half ashamed to accuse the other of dishonesty. +</p> +<p> +“What will you do if I say I did it on purpose?” +tantalized Rowena. “Go to your Miss Archer, I +suppose, with a great tale about me. I understand +that is one of your little pastimes. Now listen to +me, and remember what I say. You think I was +prying into those examination papers, don’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“I’d rather not think so.” Marjorie raised an +honest, appealing glance to meet the mocking gleam +of Rowena’s black eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Who cares what <em>you</em> think? You are a goody-goody, +and I never saw one yet that I’d walk across +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +the street with. Whatever I want, I always get. +Remember that, too. If your dear Miss Archer +hadn’t been called to another part of the building, I +might never have had a chance to read over those +examinations. She went away in a hurry and left +me sitting in the office. Naturally, as her desk was +open, I took a look to see what there was to see. I +wasn’t afraid of any subject but algebra. I’m n. g. +in that. So I was pretty lucky to get a chance to +read over the examination. I knew right away by +the questions that it was the one I’d have to try. +</p> +<p> +“My father promised me a pearl necklace if I’d +pass all my tests for the sophomore class. Of course +I wanted to win it. That quadratic problem counted +thirty credits. It meant that without it I’d stand no +chance to pass algebra. I couldn’t do it, and I was +in despair when you came into the office. If you +hadn’t been so stupid as to take me for Miss Archer’s +secretary and hadn’t said you were a junior, +I’d have let you alone. That secretary idea wasn’t +bad, though. It sent those other girls about their +business. I thought <em>you</em> could do that problem if +<em>I</em> couldn’t. It’s a good thing you did. I copied it in +examination this afternoon and I know it’s right,” +she ended triumphantly. +</p> +<p> +Sheer amazement of the girl’s bold confession +rendered Marjorie silent. Never in all her life had +she met a girl like Rowena Farnham. Her calm +admittance to what Marjorie had suspected was unbelievable. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +And she appeared to feel no shame for +her dishonesty. She gloried in it. Finding her voice +at last, the astounded and dismayed interviewer said +with brave firmness: “I can’t look at this so lightly, +Miss Farnham. It wasn’t fair in you to deceive me +into doing a thing like that.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s done can’t be undone,” quoted Rowena, +seemingly undisturbed by the reproof. “You are as +deep in the mud as I am in the mire. You helped +me, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“I will not be included in such dishonesty.” Marjorie +sprang angrily to her feet and faced Rowena. +“If Miss Archer knew this she would not accept your +algebra paper. She might not wish to accept you as +a pupil, either. I hoped when I came here this afternoon +that everything would turn out all right, after +all. I hoped that paper might not be the algebra +test you were to have. I don’t wish to tell Miss +Archer, yet it’s not fair to either of us that you +should masquerade under false colors. You have +put me in a very hard position.” +</p> +<p> +It was now Rowena who grew angry. During +the interview she had remained standing, looking +down on the girl in the chair with amused contempt. +Marjorie’s flash of resentment unleashed a temper +that had ever been the despair of Rowena’s father +and mother. Her dark eyes glowed like live coals, +her tall, slender body shook with fury. “If you dare +go to Miss Archer with what I’ve told you, I’ll put +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +you in a much harder position. I’ll make you lose +every friend you have in school. I know all about +you. You’ve bullied and snubbed poor Mignon La +Salle and made her lose <em>her</em> friends. But you can’t +bully or threaten or snub me. I didn’t want to come +to Sanford to live. It’s nothing but a little, silly +country town. I didn’t want to go to your old +school. My father and mother make me go. My +father doesn’t believe in select boarding schools, so +I have to make the best of it. If I pass my examinations +into the sophomore class I’ll make it my business +to see that I get whatever I take a notion to +have. You can’t stop me. I’ve always done as I +pleased at home and I’ll do as I please in school. If +you tell Miss Archer about this morning, I’ll see +that you get more blame than I. Don’t forget that, +either.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie felt as though she had been caught in +a pelting rain of hail-stones. Yet the furious flow +of vituperation which beat down upon her did not +in the least intimidate her. “I am not afraid of anything +you may do or say,” she returned, a staunch +little figure of dignified scorn. “I came to see you +in all good faith, willing to give you the benefit of +the doubt. Now that I understand exactly how you +feel about this affair, I won’t trouble you further. +Good afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +“Stop! What are you going to do?” called Rowena. +Marjorie had already passed into the hall. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +“You’ve got to tell me before you leave this house.” +She darted after her steadily retreating caller, cheeks +flaming. +</p> +<p> +At the outer door, Marjorie paused briefly, her +hand on the dead latch. “I said ‘good afternoon,’” +was her sole response. Then she let herself out and +walked proudly away from the house of inhospitality, +oblivious to the torrent of hot words which +the irate Rowena shrieked after her from the veranda. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI—A QUESTION OF SCHOOL-GIRL HONOR</h2> +<p> +“I’ve something to report, Captain.” Marjorie +entered her mother’s room and dropped dispiritedly +at her feet. Unpinning her flower-decked hat, she +removed it with a jerk and let it slide to the floor. +</p> +<p> +“Well, dear, what is it?” Mrs. Dean cast a half +anxious look at her daughter. The long strip of +pink crochet work, destined to become part of an +afghan for Marjorie’s “house” dropped from her +hands. Reaching down she gave the dejected curly +head at her knee a reassuring pat. “What has happened +to spoil my little girl’s second day at school?” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie flashed an upward glance at her mother +that spoke volumes. “I’ve had a horrid time to-day,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +she answered. “Last year, when things didn’t go +right, I kept some of them to myself. This year I’m +going to tell you everything.” Her voice quivering +with indignation at the calamity that had overtaken +her unawares, she related the disturbing events that +had so recently transpired. “I don’t know what to +do,” she ended. “Do you think I ought to go to +Miss Archer and tell her everything?” +</p> +<p> +“That is a leading question, Lieutenant.” Mrs. +Dean continued a sympathetic smoothing of Marjorie’s +curls. “It is one thing to confess one’s own +faults; it is quite another to make public the faults +of someone else. It is hardly fair to Miss Archer +to allow this girl to profit by her own dishonesty. It +is not fair to the girl herself. If she is allowed to +pursue, unchecked, a course which will eventually +lead to a great dishonesty, then you would be in a +measure responsible. On the other hand, I abhor +a talebearer. I can’t decide at once what you ought +to do. I shall have to think it over and give you my +answer later. Your rights must be considered also. +You were an innocent party to a despicable act, +therefore I do not believe that you owe the author +of it any special loyalty. I am not sure but that +I ought to go to Miss Archer myself about it. You +have suffered a good deal, since you began going +to Sanford High School, through Mignon La Salle. +I do not propose that this new girl shall spoil your +junior year for you. Come to me to-morrow at this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +time and I will have made up my mind what is best +for you. I am glad you told me this.” +</p> +<p> +“So am I,” sighed Marjorie. “I know that whatever +you decide will be best for me, Captain. I +am not afraid for myself. It’s only that I hate to +make trouble for this girl, even though she deserves +it. You see it may mean a good deal to her father +and mother to have her get along well in school. +She said her father wouldn’t let her go away to +boarding school. That sounds as though he wanted +her to be at home where he could look after her.” +</p> +<p> +“That must also be considered,” agreed Mrs. +Dean. “Now don’t worry about this affair any +more. I am sure we shall find the wisest way out of +it for everyone concerned. You had better run +along now and get ready for dinner. It’s almost +half-past six.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie reached for her discarded hat. Scrambling +to her feet she embraced her mother and went +to her room, infinitely cheered. As she left the room, +Mrs. Dean sent after her a glance freighted with +motherly protection. She had no sympathy for a +girl such as Marjorie had described Rowena Farnham +to be, and she uttered a mental prayer of thankfulness +that her own daughter was above reproach. +</p> +<p> +No further mention of the affair was made between +mother and daughter that evening. Nevertheless, +Marjorie went to school the next morning +in a far from buoyant mood. She had been wakened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +by a reverberating roll of thunder, followed by +the furious beating of rain against her windows. A +true child of sunshine, the steady tapping of the +heavy drops filled her with a dread sense of oppression +which she could not shake off. +</p> +<p> +By noon, however, it had passed away with the +storm. When she went home to luncheon the sun +was high in the sky. The rain-washed streets were +rapidly succumbing to his warm smile. Only a +puddle here and there, or a shower of silver drops +from a breeze-shaken tree remained to remind her +of the morning deluge. +</p> +<p> +Returning from luncheon, she had hardly gained +her seat when Miss Merton stalked down the aisle to +her desk. “Report to Miss Archer at once, Miss +Dean,” she commanded in her most disagreeable +manner. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie’s thoughts immediately flew to yesterday. +Was it possible that Rowena Farnham had +gone to the principal of her own volition? It was +hardly to be credited. Remembering her mother’s +note, Marjorie jumped to the conclusion that this +was the most probable reason for the summons. +</p> +<p> +“Good afternoon, Marjorie,” greeted Miss Archer +from her desk, as the pretty junior appeared in the +doorway. “Come here, my dear. I have something +rather unusual to show you.” She motioned Marjorie +to draw up a chair beside her own. “I wonder +if you can throw any light upon this.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +</p> +<p> +“This” was an open letter, which she now tendered +to the puzzled girl. Marjorie read: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Miss Archer: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Yesterday morning, at a little after eleven +o’clock, Marjorie Dean and a girl with red hair +and black eyes, whose name I do not know, +meddled with the examination papers on your +desk while you were in another part of the +building. Marjorie Dean showed the girl how +to do one of the examination problems in algebra. +This I know because I heard them talking +about it and saw them have the list of questions. +Such dishonesty is a disgrace to Sanford +High School. +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>“<span class='sc'>The Observer.</span>”</p> +<p> +Marjorie allowed the letter to fall from her nerveless +hands. She felt herself grow hot and cold as +she forced herself to meet Miss Archer’s intent +scrutiny. Yet she said nothing. Only her brown +eyes sent forth agonized signals of distress. +</p> +<p> +Noting her strange demeanor, Miss Archer’s +pleasant face hardened. Was Marjorie Dean really +guilty of such dishonor? If innocent, why did she +not hotly proclaim the fact? “I am waiting for you +to explain the meaning of this note, Marjorie,” she +reminded sternly. “Can you do so?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” came the low monosyllable. +</p> +<p> +“Then do so at once,” crisply ordered the principal. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +</p> +<p> +Marjorie drew a long breath. “I can’t explain my +part of it without bringing in someone else,” she +faltered. +</p> +<p> +“You mean Miss Farnham, I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie hesitated, then nodded. It appeared +that Miss Archer had already put two and two together. +</p> +<p> +“I happen to know that Miss Farnham is the only +one who could possibly answer to the description +this letter gives,” continued Miss Archer impatiently. +“She was also the only one to be interested +in the papers on my desk. I sent for you first, however, +because I wished to give you a chance to explain +how you happened to figure in this affair. I +have always had a great deal of faith in you, Marjorie. +I do not wish to lose that faith. Now I +must insist on knowing exactly what occurred here +yesterday morning. Did you or did you not assist +Miss Farnham in solving a problem in algebra, +which she culled from the examination paper in that +subject?” +</p> +<p> +“Miss Archer,” Marjorie said earnestly, “I did +help Miss Farnham with that problem, but I had no +idea that she was trying to do anything so dishonorable. +It all came about through a mistake. I’d +rather she would explain that part of it. The reason +I happened to be in this office was because of the +note my mother asked me to bring you. Miss Farnham +was here when I came in. While I sat waiting for you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +she asked me to help her with that +problem. I solved it for her and she took it and +went away. I waited a little longer, then left the +office.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer’s stern features gradually relaxed as +Marjorie made this straightforward account of her +own actions. The principal noted, however, that +she had revealed considerably less regarding the +other girl. “That is a somewhat indefinite statement,” +she said slowly. “You have not been frank +as to Miss Farnham. You are keeping something +back. You must tell me all. I prefer to know +the absolute facts from you before sending for the +other party to this affair.” +</p> +<p> +“Please don’t ask me to tell you, Miss Archer,” +pleaded Marjorie. “I’d rather not.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer frowned, This was not the first +time that Marjorie had taken such a stubborn stand. +She knew the young girl’s horror of telling tales. +Yet here was something that she deemed it necessary +to uncover. She did not relish being thus +balked by a too rigid standard of school-girl honor. +It suddenly occurred to her to wonder how Marjorie +could have been so easily deceived. +</p> +<p> +“Do you think this is fair to me?” she questioned +sharply. “I feel that I have behaved very fairly to +you in thus far assuming that you are innocent. +There are gaps in your story which must be filled. +I wish you, not Miss Farnham, to supply them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +Suppose I were to say, it is very strange that you +did not suspect this girl of trickery.” +</p> +<p> +“But I didn’t, truly I didn’t,” sounded the half-tearful +protest. +</p> +<p> +“I am not actually saying that you suspected her. +Tell me this, at least. Did you know that the problem +she asked you to solve for her was from the +examination sheet?” +</p> +<p> +“I—she——” stammered the unfortunate junior. +</p> +<p> +“You did know it, then!” exclaimed Miss Archer +in pained suspicion. “This places you in a bad light. +If you knew the source of the problem you can +hardly claim innocence now unless you give me absolute +proof of it.” +</p> +<p> +“You have my word that I am not guilty.” Her +desire to cry vanished. Marjorie now spoke with +gentle dignity. “I try always to be truthful.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer surveyed the unobliging witness in +vexed silence. At heart she believed Marjorie to be +innocent, but she was rapidly losing patience. +“Since you won’t be frank with me, I shall interview +Miss Farnham as soon as she finishes her examinations +of the morning. I shall not allow her to go +on with this afternoon’s test until I have reached the +bottom of this affair. Come to my office as soon as +you return from luncheon. That is all.” The principal +made a dignified gesture of dismissal. +</p> +<p> +The beseeching glance poor Marjorie directed toward +Miss Archer was lost upon the now incensed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +woman. She had already begun to busy herself at +her desk. If she had glimpsed the reproach of those +mournful eyes, it is doubtful whether she would +have been impressed by them. Secretly she was +wondering whether she had made the mistake of reposing +too much confidence in Marjorie Dean. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII—FAITH AND UNFAITH</h2> +<p> +On reaching home that noon Marjorie’s first impulse +was to hurry to her mother with a recital of +the morning’s events. Greatly to her dismay, Delia +met her at the door with the announcement that her +mistress had motored to a neighboring town to +meet Mr. Dean, who had telegraphed her from there. +They would not arrive home in time for luncheon, +probably not until late in the afternoon. +</p> +<p> +Divided between the pleasure of seeing her father +and distress occasioned by Miss Archer’s implied +disbelief, Marjorie ate a lonely and most unsatisfactory +luncheon. She could think of nothing other +than the impending session in which she and Rowena +Farnham would so soon figure. She pondered +gloomily on the strange way in which the +knowledge of Rowena’s unscrupulous behavior had +been borne to Miss Archer. Who could have written that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +letter? Could it be laid at the door of one +of the several girls who had inquired for the principal +and promptly retired from the scene? If this +were so, then some one of them must have lingered +just outside to spy upon herself and Rowena. She +knew the majority of those who had sought the office +while she lingered there. Only one or two had +been strangers. Of those she knew, she could recall +no one of them she would deem guilty of spying. +</p> +<p> +As she left her home for the high school, Marjorie +smiled in wry fashion at the thought of Rowena’s +anger when she learned that her unfair tactics +had been discovered and reported. If she +treated Miss Archer to a scene similar to that which +Marjorie had undergone in Rowena’s home, she was +very likely to find herself out of high school before +having actually entered. As it was, Rowena stood +a strong chance of forfeiting the privilege to try +the remainder of her examinations. +</p> +<p> +Twenty minutes past one found Marjorie on the +threshold of the principal’s office. At sight of her +Miss Archer bowed distantly and went on with her +writing. As yet Rowena had not put in an appearance. +Ten minutes later she strolled nonchalantly +in, her bold, black eyes registering supreme contempt +of the world in general. Her smart gown of +delft blue crêpe set off her dazzlingly fair skin and +heavy auburn hair to perfection. She was a stunning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +young person, and well aware of her good +looks. +</p> +<p> +“I understand you wish to see me,” she drawled +in a tone bordering on impatience. Ignoring Marjorie, +save for one swift, menacing glance, she addressed +herself to the woman at the desk. +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer had already risen. Now she fixed +the newcomer with stern, searching eyes. “Sit over +there, Miss Farnham.” She waved her to a seat beside +Marjorie on the oak bench. +</p> +<p> +With an insolent shrugging of her shoulders, Rowena +sat down, placing the length of the bench between +herself and its other occupant. “Well, what +is it?” she asked unconcernedly. +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer’s lips compressed themselves a trifle +more firmly. “Your manner is distinctly disrespectful, +Miss Farnham. Kindly remember to whom you +are speaking.” +</p> +<p> +Rowena’s shoulders again went into eloquent +play. “Oh, excuse me,” she murmured. +</p> +<p> +Ignoring the discourtesy, Miss Archer reached to +her desk for the letter, the contents of which Marjorie +already knew. Handing it to Rowena she +said: “Read this letter. You will then understand +why I sent for you.” +</p> +<p> +Looking distinctly bored, the girl perused the letter. +A tantalizing smile curved her red lips as she +finished. “This is your work,” she accused, turning +to Marjorie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +</p> +<p> +The latter opened her brown eyes in genuine +amazement. The accusation was totally unexpected. +“You know very well it is not,” she flung back, the +pink in her cheeks deepening. +</p> +<p> +“Whatever you have to say, Miss Farnham, you +may say to me,” reproved the principal. “I have already +gone over the contents of this letter with +Miss Dean.” +</p> +<p> +“I have nothing to say,” replied Rowena serenely. +</p> +<p> +“But <em>I</em> have several things to say to you,” reminded +Miss Archer sharply. “I demand a complete +explanation of what occurred here during my +absence yesterday morning.” +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid you’ve come to the wrong person, +then.” Rowena was coolly defiant. “Miss Dean +can answer your question better than I. No doubt +she has already said a number of pleasant things +about me.” +</p> +<p> +“Miss Dean has said nothing to your discredit. In +fact she has refused to commit herself. She prefers +that you do the explaining.” Unconsciously Miss +Archer sprang into irritated defense of Marjorie. +</p> +<p> +Rowena’s black eyebrows lifted themselves. So +the goody-goody had refused to betray her! This +was decidedly interesting. Her clever brain at once +leaped to the conclusion that with Marjorie’s lips +sealed it would be hard to establish her own dishonesty. +In itself the letter offered no actual proof. It +was merely signed “The Observer.” A cunning expression +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +crept into her eyes. “Someone must have +been trying to play a joke,” she now airily suggested. +“The very fact that the letter isn’t properly +signed goes to prove that.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Miss Farnham!</em>” The principal’s authoritative +utterance betrayed her great displeasure. “You are +overstepping all bounds. Miss Dean herself has admitted +that she solved an algebraic problem for you. +I insist on knowing whether or not that problem was +taken from an examination sheet that lay among +others on my desk. If so, there is but one inference +to be drawn. During my absence you tampered with +the papers on my desk. No such thing has ever before +occurred in the history of this school. Now I +ask you pointblank, did you or did you not meddle +with my papers?” +</p> +<p> +Without replying, Rowena’s eyes roved shrewdly +to Marjorie, as though trying to discover what the +latter intended to do. Were she to reply to the +question in the negative, would this baby of a girl, +whom she already despised, still maintain silence? +</p> +<p> +Apparently, Marjorie read her thought. “Miss +Farnham,” she broke in, her soft voice ringing with +purpose, “if you do not answer Miss Archer truthfully, +I, at least, will.” +</p> +<p> +That settled it. Nevertheless, Rowena determined +that Marjorie should pay for her interference. “If +you must know,” she said sullenly, “I did glance +over them. You had no business to leave them on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +the desk. Miss Dean saw me do it, too, but she +didn’t seem to mind. I even showed her that problem +in quadratics and told her I couldn’t do it. So +she did it for me.” +</p> +<p> +“Is this true?” To the distressed listener Miss +Archer’s amazed question came as a faint and far-off +sound. Driven into a corner by Rowena’s spiteful +misrepresentation, Marjorie determined to clear +herself of the opprobrium. “I saw Miss Farnham +with the papers,” she affirmed. “She pointed out +to me the one she couldn’t do and I solved it for +her. I thought——” +</p> +<p> +“That will do.” Never to Marjorie’s recollection +had Miss Archer’s voice carried with it such unmeasured +severity. For once she was too thoroughly +displeased to be just. Only that morning Marjorie +had earnestly proclaimed her innocence. Brought +face to face with Rowena, she had renigged, or so +it now seemed to the affronted principal. Abhoring +deceit and untruthfulness, she rashly ticketed her +hitherto favorite pupil with both faults. +</p> +<p> +“But Miss Archer,” pleaded Marjorie desperately, +“won’t you allow me to——” +</p> +<p> +“It strikes me that too much has already been +said that might better have been left unsaid,” cut in +the principal coldly. “You two young women are +guilty of a most despicable bit of work. If it lay +within my power I would expel both of you from +the school you have disgraced. This matter will be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +taken up by the Board of Education. All I can do +is to send you both home, there to await the decision +of those above me. Your parents shall be informed +at once of what has taken place. As for you, Miss +Farnham, in case the Board decides to give you another +chance you will be obliged to take an entirely +new set of examinations. In a measure I hold myself +responsible for this. I should have locked my +desk. I have always trusted my pupils. Dishonesty +on the part of two of them is a severe blow. +You may both leave the school at once. <em>You</em>, Miss +Dean, need not return to the study hall.” +</p> +<p> +Rowena Farnham received her dismissal with an +elaborate shrug that plainly indicated how little she +cared. Without deigning a reply she strolled out +of the office, apparently as self-possessed as when +she had entered. Marjorie, however, remained +rooted to the bench on which she sat. She could not +believe the evidence of her own ears. Neither could +she credit the principal’s sudden unjust stand. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Archer,” she faltered, “won’t you——” +</p> +<p> +“The subject is closed, Miss Dean. Kindly leave +my office.” Miss Archer refused to meet the two +pleading eyes that persistently sought hers. This +self-revelation of the girl’s guilt had dealt her a +hurt which she could not soon forget. To uncover +treachery and dishonesty in a friend is an experience +which carries with it its own bitterness. The very +fact that it is unexpected makes it infinitely harder +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +to bear. Miss Archer’s disappointment in Marjorie +was so great as to obscure her usually clear insight +into matters. She had trusted her so implicitly. +She felt as though she could not endure her presence +in the office. Now she kept her gaze resolutely +fixed on her desk, nor did she alter it until the echo +of the misjudged lieutenant’s light footfalls had entirely +died away. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII—FOR THE GOOD OF THE ARMY</h2> +<p> +Marjorie could never quite recall the details of +that dreadful walk home. Only once before in her +short life had she been so utterly crushed. That +was on the day she had rushed from the little gray +house, believing that her beloved Constance was a +thief. Now it came back to her with force. Just as +she had felt on that terrible afternoon, so must Miss +Archer be feeling now. Miss Archer thought that +she, Marjorie Dean, was unworthy to be a pupil of +Sanford High. “If only Miss Archer had listened +to me,” surged through her troubled brain as she +walked the seemingly endless road home. What +would Captain and General say? +</p> +<p> +Yet with this thought a gleam of daylight pierced +the dark. Her Captain already knew all. She knew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +her daughter to be innocent of wrongdoing. General +would believe in her, too. They would not see +her thus disgraced without a hearing. She would +yet be able to prove to Miss Archer that she was +blameless of such dishonesty. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well!” She had mounted the steps of her +home when a cheery voice thus called out to her. +The next instant she was in her father’s arms. Delight +in seeing him, coupled with all she had just +undergone, broke down the difficult composure she +had managed to maintain while in Miss Archer’s +presence. With a little sob, Marjorie threw herself +into her father’s arms, pillowing her curly head +against his comforting shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“My dear child, what has happened?” Mrs. Dean +regarded her daughter’s shaking shoulders with patient +anxiety as she cried out the startled question. +</p> +<p> +“There, there, Lieutenant.” Mr. Dean gathered +the weeping girl close in his protecting arms. +“Surely you aren’t crying because your worthy general +has come home?” +</p> +<p> +“No-o-o,” came the muffled protest. “I’m—glad. +It’s—not—that. I’ve—been—suspended—from—school.” +</p> +<p> +“What!” Mr. Dean raised the weeper’s head +from his shoulders and gazed deep into the overflowing +brown eyes. +</p> +<p> +“It’s true,” gulped Marjorie. “I’m not—to—blame—though. +It’s all—a—misunderstanding.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +</p> +<p> +“Then we’ll straighten it out,” soothed Mr. Dean. +“Come, now. You and Captain and I will go into +the living room and sit right down on the nice comfy +davenport. Then you can wail your troubles into +our sympathetic ears. Your superior officers will +stand by you. You take one arm, Captain, and I’ll +take the other.” +</p> +<p> +Resigning herself to the guidance of those who +loved her best, Marjorie suffered herself to be led +into the living room and deposited on the friendly +davenport, a solicitous parent on either side. +</p> +<p> +“You’re wonderful, both of you,” she sighed, possessing +herself of a hand of each. Her brief gust +of grief had spent itself. Her voice was now almost +steady. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Dean had already made a shrewd guess regarding +the reason for Marjorie’s tears. “Is that +affair of yesterday responsible for your suspension +from school, Lieutenant?” she questioned abruptly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” With an occasional quaver in her speech, +Marjorie went over the details of both visits to the +principal’s office. +</p> +<p> +“Hm!” ejaculated Mr. Dean, his eyes seeking his +wife’s. “Suppose you tell your general the beginning +of all this.” +</p> +<p> +“It strikes me that Miss Archer behaved in a +rather high-handed manner,” he observed dryly +when Marjorie had ended her sad little story. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t blame her so much.” Marjorie was loyal +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +to the death. “I know just how terribly it must +have hurt her. I suppose I should have told her +everything in the first place.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Dean released Marjorie’s hand and rose +from the davenport, intense determination written +on every feature. “Miss Archer will listen to <em>me</em>,” +she announced grimly. “I shall go to Sanford High +School at once. My daughter is entitled to justice +and she shall receive it. I am surprised at Miss Archer’s +unfair attitude. Go upstairs and bathe your +face, Marjorie. General, will you see to the car?” +</p> +<p> +“But she won’t see me, I am afraid.” +</p> +<p> +“Nonsense,” returned her mother with unusual +brusqueness. Stepping into the hall, she consulted +the telephone directory. “Give me Sycamore 213,” +she called into the transmitter. “Miss Archer? +This is Mrs. Dean. Marjorie has just come from +school. I am sure you will accept my word that she +has done nothing dishonest. Will it be convenient +for you to see us at once? Thank you. We will be +at the high school within the next half hour.” +</p> +<p> +During the short telephone conversation, Marjorie +stood at her mother’s side, hardly daring to +breathe. Mrs. Dean hung up the receiver to the +accompaniment of her daughter’s wild embrace. +“Go and make yourself presentable,” she chided. +Disengaging the clinging arms, she gave Marjorie a +gentle shove toward the stairs. +</p> +<p> +Youth’s tears are quickly dried, its sorrows soon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +forgotten. Ten minutes afterward, a radiant-faced +lieutenant presented herself in the hall, renewed +buoyancy in her step as she and her captain passed +through the gate to where the automobile awaited +them with Mr. Dean at the wheel. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll stay here,” he decided as they drew up before +the high school. “Let our valiant captain lead +the charge. You can fall back on your reserves if +you are routed with slaughter.” +</p> +<p> +“Captain’s won half the battle,” joyfully declared +Marjorie. “Now I am sure I can win the other +half.” Blowing a kiss to her father she set her face +toward vindication. +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer greeted Mrs. Dean in a friendly, impersonal +fashion, which showed plainly that she was +not displeased with the latter for taking such prompt +action. Her bow to Marjorie was distinctly reserved, +however. She had yet to be convinced of +the girl’s innocence. +</p> +<p> +“According to Marjorie’s story, Miss Archer,” +began Mrs. Dean with gentle directness, “she has +been the victim of circumstantial evidence. I am not +here to criticize your stand in this affair. I understand +that you must have been severely tried. I +merely wish to ask you to allow Marjorie to tell +her story from beginning to end. She came to me +yesterday with it, and asked my advice. I deferred +decision until to-day. It seems I was a day too late. +However, I wish her to do the explaining.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +</p> +<p> +A faint, embarrassed flush stole to Miss Archer’s +face as she listened. She was beginning to realize +that she had for once been too quick to condemn. +Mrs. Dean was too high-principled a woman to attempt +to smooth over her own child’s offences. +Under the battery of her friend’s clear eyes, the +principal found herself penitently responding: “Mrs. +Dean, I must admit that I am at fault. Had I stopped +to listen to Marjorie, I am now certain that I +should have found her explanation satisfactory.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you.” Mrs. Dean extended a gracious +hand in which the principal laid her own with a +smile. The two women understood each other perfectly. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie’s sensitive lips quivered as Miss Archer’s +hand went out to her also. “I am only too +glad to be able to apologize for misjudging you, +Marjorie,” she said with grave gentleness. “The +truest atonement which I can make is to say ‘I believe +in you’ without a hearing.” +</p> +<p> +“But I wish to tell you everything, Miss Archer,” +assured Marjorie earnestly. “It was only because +I hated the idea of tale-bearing that I didn’t tell you +this morning. I thought that Miss Farnham——” +</p> +<p> +“Would tell me,” supplemented the principal. “I +quite understand. Frankly it would help me very +much if you put me in complete possession of the +facts of the case. I hardly believe you owe it to +Miss Farnham to conceal anything.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +</p> +<p> +With a charitable striving toward placing the +other girl in the least obnoxious light, Marjorie gave +Miss Archer a true but unmalicious version of all +that had passed between herself and Rowena Farnham. +</p> +<p> +“This is simply outrageous,” was Miss Archer’s +emphatic verdict. “Miss Farnham is a menace to +Sanford High School. In all my experience with +young women I have never met with her equal. I +shall recommend the Board that she be not allowed +to enter the school. A firebrand such as she has +shown herself to be is more than likely to spread her +devastating influence throughout the school. We +have a duty to perform to the parents who intrust +their daughters to us which cannot be overlooked.” +</p> +<p> +“I agree with you,” was Mrs. Dean’s grave response. +“Still, I am very sorry for this girl, and +for her parents. We all wish to be proud of our +children. It must be dreadful to be disappointed in +them.” +</p> +<p> +“You, at least, will never be called upon to bear +such a disappointment.” Miss Archer’s hearty reply +caused an exchange of affectionate glances between +her hearers. +</p> +<p> +“I hope I shall always prove worthy of Captain’s +and your trust.” Marjorie’s little speech rung with +modest sincerity. Hesitatingly she added: “Miss +Archer, couldn’t you possibly give Miss Farnham +another chance? When I was at her house the other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +day she said that her father and mother wanted her +to go to high school. She’d rather go to boarding +school, but they won’t let her. If she isn’t allowed +to enter Sanford High she will have to go away to +school. That might not be the best thing for her.” +Marjorie paused, blushing at her own temerity. +</p> +<p> +“You are a very forgiving little girl.” Miss Archer +eyed the pleader in a whimsical fashion. +“There is a great deal in your view of the matter, +too. It is a question of one girl’s parents against +many, however. So far as I can remember this is +the first case in the history of the school that warranted +dismissal. As you have been the chief sufferer +in this tangle, your plea for clemency should +be respected. It shall be mentioned to the members +of the Board of Education. That is all I can promise +now. Personally, as <em>you</em> are great-spirited +enough to plead for her, I am willing to do my part. +But only on your account. I doubt the advisability +of allowing her to go on with her examinations. +However, ‘forewarned is forearmed.’ Should she +be permitted to enter the school, I shall keep a watchful +eye on her.” +</p> +<p> +Real admiration of Marjorie’s readiness to help +one who had treated her so shabbily caused the +principal to speak as confidentially to her pupil as she +might have to a member of the Board. Marjorie, +as well as her mother, was aware of this. Yet far +from being elated at the mark of confidence, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +pretty junior bore her honors almost humbly. She +merely thanked Miss Archer in the sweet, gracious +fashion that set her apart from all other girls with +whom the principal had come in contact during her +long service on the field of education. +</p> +<p> +Almost immediately afterward the Deans said +farewell and departed happily to convey the good +news to their somewhat impatient chauffeur, who sat +in the automobile pondering whimsically on the +length and breadth of women’s chats. Long after +they had gone, Marjorie’s winsome, selfless personality +haunted the busy principal. To be truly great +one must be truly good was her inner reflection. +Remembering past circumstances in which Marjorie +had figured ever as a force for good, she marveled +that she could have doubted her. And as a vision +of the girl’s lovely face, animated by the light from +within, rose before her she mentally prophesied that +Marjorie Dean was destined one day to reach the +heights. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX—A SUDDEN ATTACK</h2> +<p> +“Where were you yesterday afternoon?” demanded +Jerry Macy, as Marjorie walked into the +locker room at the close of the morning session. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +</p> +<p> +Marjorie considered for a moment. Should she +tell Jerry or should she not? She decided in the +negative. “I was at home a part of the afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +Jerry measured her with a calculating eye. “You +don’t want to tell me, do you?” was her blunt question. +“All right. Forget it. Anyway, we missed +you. You’re a mysterious person. One day you +march off on a dark, secret errand after making lavish +promises to treat on the next. When that day +rolls around you don’t appear at all. Never mind. +I saved your face by treating for you.” Jerry delivered +her opinion of her friend’s peculiar behavior +good-humoredly enough. Underneath, however, she +was a tiny bit peeved. She was very fond of Marjorie +and prided herself that she was entirely in the +latter’s confidence. +</p> +<p> +“You’re not cross with me, are you, Jerry?” +Marjorie regarded the stout girl rather anxiously. +She could not conceive of being on the outs with +funny, bluff Geraldine Macy. +</p> +<p> +“No; I’m not a silly like Mignon,” mumbled Jerry +gruffly. “You ought to know that by this time without +asking me.” +</p> +<p> +“Jerry Macy, I believe you are angry with me,” +declared Marjorie, looking still more troubled. +</p> +<p> +“No, I’m not,” came the quick retort. “I’m not +blind, either, and my head isn’t made of wood.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” It was Marjorie’s turn +to speak quickly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +</p> +<p> +“Just what I say,” asserted Jerry. “You’ve had +some sort of trouble over that Farnham girl. Rowena—humph! +It ought to be Row-ena with a special +accent on the <em>Row</em>. I knew by the way you +looked and spoke of her day before yesterday that +something had gone wrong. I’ll bet I know where +you went on that errand, too. You went to her +house. Now didn’t you?” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie gave a short laugh. It held a note of +vexation. “Really, Jerry, you ought to be a detective. +How did you know where I went yesterday +after I left you?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I just guessed it. It’s like you to do that +sort of thing. I’m dying to hear what it’s all about. +Are you going to tell me <em>now</em>?” She accented the +“now” quite triumphantly. +</p> +<p> +“I hadn’t intended to mention it to anyone, but I +might as well tell <em>you</em>. You seem to know quite a +little bit about it already. I can’t say anything more +now. Here come Susan and Muriel. We’ll talk of +it after we leave them at their street. By the way, +where is Constance? She wasn’t in school this +morning.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t know. I wondered about her, too. She +didn’t say yesterday that she wasn’t coming to school +to-day. Maybe her father marched into Gray Gables +without notice.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps. I’ll ask the girls if they know.” +</p> +<p> +Neither Susan, Muriel nor Irma, the latter joining +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +the quartette immediately after, knew the reason +for Constance Stevens’ absence. The five girls +trooped out of the building together, chatting gaily +as they started home for luncheon. Marjorie gave +a little shiver as it occurred to her how near she had +come to losing her right to be a pupil of Sanford +High. She felt that nothing save the loss of her +dear ones would have hurt her more than to have +been dismissed from school under a cloud. +</p> +<p> +“Now tell me everything,” began Jerry, the moment +they had parted from the three girls to continue +on up the pleasant, tree-lined avenue. +</p> +<p> +“I think that was simply <em>awful</em>,” burst forth the +now irate Jerry, as Marjorie concluded her narration. +“Talk about Mignon—she’s an angel with +beautiful feathery wings, when you come to compare +her with Row-ena. I hope the Board says she +can’t set foot in school again. That’s what I hope. +I’ll tell my father to vote against letting her try any +more examinations. That’s what I’ll do.” +</p> +<p> +“You mustn’t do that.” Marjorie spoke with unusual +severity. “What I’ve said to you is in confidence. +Besides, it wouldn’t be fair. For her father’s +and mother’s sake I think she ought to have another +chance. It might be the very best thing for +her to go to high school. She will be far better off +at home than away at boarding school. If she could +go away to a college it would be different. Colleges +are more strict and dignified. A girl just has to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +live up to their traditions. General says that even +in the most select boarding schools the girls have +too much liberty. So you see it wouldn’t be a good +place for this girl.” +</p> +<p> +“I see you’re a goose,” was Jerry’s unflattering +comment. “You’re a dear goose, though. You +certainly have the reform habit. I can tell you, +though, that you are all wrong about this Farnham +girl. You remember how beautifully we reformed +Mignon, and how grateful she was. Mignon’s a +mere infant beside gentle, little Row-ena. You +notice I still say <em>Row</em>. It’s a very good name for +her. Of course, we could change off occasionally +and call her Fightena, or Quarrelena, or Scrapena.” +Jerry giggled at her own witticism. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie could not forbear joining her. Jerry’s +disapproval of things was usually tinged with comedy. +“You’re a heartless person, Jeremiah,” she reproved +lightly. “I’m not going to try to reform +Miss Farnham. I can’t imagine her as taking kindly +to it. I’m only saying that she ought to have another +chance.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, if you can stand it I can,” Jerry sighed, +then chuckled as her vivid imagination pictured to +her the high-handed Rowena struggling in the +clutches of reform. “Miss Archer ought to have +thought twice and spoken once,” she added grimly. +“That’s what she’s always preaching to us to do.” +Jerry was no respecter of personages. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +</p> +<p> +“I can’t blame her much,” Marjorie shook her +head. “It’s dreadful to think that someone you’ve +trusted is dishonorable. It hurts a good deal worse +than if it were someone you had expected would +fail you. I <em>know</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose you do.” Jerry understood the significant +“I know.” Rather more gently she continued: +“Perhaps you’re right about Fightena, I mean +Row-ena. You generally are right, only you’ve got +into some tangled webs trying to prove it. Anyway, +she won’t be a junior if she does manage to get +into school. She’ll be a sophomore. I hope she +stays where she belongs. You’d better look out for +her, though. If she really thinks you wrote that +anonymous letter—I don’t believe she does—she’ll +try to get even. With Mignon La Salle to help, +she might bother you a good deal. I hope they have +a falling out.” +</p> +<p> +“You are always hoping some terrible thing,” +laughed Marjorie. “You have the hoping habit, and +your hopes about other people are really horrifying.” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind, they never amount to much,” consoled +Jerry with a chuckle. “I’ve been hoping awful +things about people I don’t like for years and that’s +all the good it’s ever done.” +</p> +<p> +“I think I’ll run over to Gray Gables after school,” +Marjorie changed the subject with sudden abruptness. +“Want to go with me?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ll go,” assented Jerry. “I owe Charlie a box +of candy. I promised it to him the night of Mary’s +farewell party. Mary wrote me a dandy letter. Did +I tell you about it?” +</p> +<p> +“No. I’ve had one from her, too; eighteen +pages.” +</p> +<p> +“Some letter. Mine was only ten.” +</p> +<p> +The introduction of Mary’s name into the conversation +kept the two girls busy talking until they +were about to part company. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t forget you are going with me to see Constance,” +reminded Marjorie as Jerry left her at the +Macys’ gate. +</p> +<p> +“Do you believe that I could possibly forget?” +Jerry laid a fat hand over her heart in ridiculous +imitation of a certain sentimental high school youth +whom Marjorie continually endeavored to dodge. +</p> +<p> +“See that you don’t,” was her laughing retort. +“Shall we ask Muriel, Susan and Irma to go with +us?” +</p> +<p> +“None of them can go. Muriel has to take a +piano lesson. Susan has a date with her dressmaker, +and Irma’s going shopping with her mother. You +see I know everything about everybody,” asserted +Jerry, unconsciously repeating Constance Stevens’ +very words. +</p> +<p> +“You surely do,” Marjorie agreed. “Good-bye, +then. I’ll meet you in the locker room after school +to-night.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +</p> +<p> +“My name is Johnny-on-the-spot,” returned the irrepressible +Jerry over her shoulder. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear!” Marjorie exclaimed in impatience, as +she walked into the locker room at the end of the +afternoon session to find Jerry already there ahead +of her. “I’ve left my Cæsar in my desk. I’ll have +to go back after it. That lesson for to-morrow is +dreadfully long. Somehow I couldn’t keep my attention +on study that last hour, so I just bundled +all my books together and thought I’d put in a busy +evening. I don’t see how I missed my Commentaries. +It shows that my mind was wandering.” +</p> +<p> +“Come on over to my house this evening. You +can use my Cæsar. We’ll put one over on the busy +little bee and have some fun afterward. Besides, +Hal will be grateful to me for a week. I’ll make +good use of his gratitude, too,” grinned wily Jerry. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie’s cheeks grew delightfully pink. In her +frank, girlish fashion she was very fond of Jerry’s +handsome brother. Although her liking for him +was not one of foolish sentimentality, she could +not help being a trifle pleased at this direct insinuation +of his preference for her. +</p> +<p> +“All right. I’m sure Captain will say ‘yes,’” she +made reply. “I won’t bother to go back after my +book. If I did Miss Merton might snap at me. I +try to keep out of her way as much as I can. Where +are the girls? Have they gone?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, they beat it in a hurry. Come on. Let’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +be on our way.” Though deplorably addicted to +slang, Jerry was at least forcefully succinct. +</p> +<p> +It was a fairly long walk to Gray Gables, but their +way led through one of the prettiest parts of Sanford. +Situated almost on the outskirts of the town, +the picturesque dwelling was in itself one of the +beauty spots of the thriving little city. +</p> +<p> +“There’s the Jail.” Jerry indexed a plump finger +toward the inhospitable stone house which Marjorie +had so lately visited. The two girls had +reached the point where a turn in the wide, elm-shaded +avenue brought them within sight of the La +Salle and Farnham properties. “It would be a good +place for Row-ena, if she had to stay locked up +there. She could think over her sins and reform +without help. I hope——” +</p> +<p> +“There you go again,” laughed Marjorie. “Don’t +do it. Suppose some day all these things you have +hoped about other people were to come back to +you.” +</p> +<p> +“I won’t worry about it until they do,” Jerry made +optimistic answer. “If I——” She checked herself +to stare at a runabout that shot past them, driven +at a reckless rate of speed by an elfish-faced girl. +“There they go!” she exclaimed. “Did you see +who was in that machine? Oh, look! They’re slowing +up! Now they’ve stopped! I hope they’ve had +a breakdown.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie’s eyes were already riveted on the runabout +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +which they were now approaching. A tall +figure whom she at once recognized as belonging to +Rowena Farnham was in the act of emerging from +the machine. Hatless, her auburn head gleaming in +the sun, her black eyes flaming challenge, she stood +at one side of the runabout, drawn up for battle. +</p> +<p> +“She’s waiting for us!” gasped Jerry. “Let’s +turn around and walk the other way, just to fool +her. No; let’s not. I guess we can hold our own.” +</p> +<p> +“I shall have nothing to say to her,” decided Marjorie, +a youthful picture of cold disdain. “Don’t +you say a word, either, Jerry. We’ll walk on about +our own business, just as though we didn’t even see +her.” +</p> +<p> +Jerry had no time to reply. Almost immediately +they caught up with the belligerent Rowena. Realizing +that her quarry was about to elude her, she +sprang squarely in front of them with, “Wait a +minute. I’ve something to say to <em>you</em>.” The “you” +was directed at Marjorie. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie was about to circle the lively impediment +and move on, when Mignon La Salle called +from the runabout, “I told you she was a coward, +Rowena.” A scornful laugh accompanied the insult. +</p> +<p> +That settled it. Marjorie’s recent resolution flew +to the winds. “I will hear whatever you have to +say,” she declared quietly, stopping short. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t very well see how you can do anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +else,” sneered Rowena. “I suppose you think that +you gained a great deal by your tale-bearing yesterday, +don’t you? Let me tell you, you’ve made a mistake. +I’m going to be a sophomore in Sanford High +School just the same. You’ll see. You are a sneaking +little prig, and I’m going to make it my business +to let every girl in school know it. You can’t——” +</p> +<p> +“<em>You</em> can’t talk like that to Marjorie Dean.” Before +Marjorie could reply, Jerry Macy leaped into a +hot defense. “I won’t have it! She is my friend.” +</p> +<p> +“Shh! Jerry, please don’t,” Marjorie protested. +</p> +<p> +“I will. Don’t stop me. You,” she glared at Rowena, +“make me sick. I could tell you in about one +minute where you get off at, but it isn’t worth the +waste of breath. Marjorie Dean has more friends in +a minute in Sanford High than you’ll ever have. +You think you and Mignon La Salle can do a whole +lot. Better not try it, you’ll wish you hadn’t. Now +get busy and beat it. You’re blocking the highway.” +</p> +<p> +“What a delightful person you are,” jeered Rowena. +“Just the sort of friend I’d imagine Miss +Dean might have. As I have had the pleasure of +telling her what I think of her, you may as well +hear my opinion of yourself. You are the rudest +girl I ever met, and the slangiest. My father and +mother would never forgive me if they knew I even +spoke to such a girl.” Having delivered herself of +this Parthian shot, Rowena wheeled and stepped into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +the runabout with, “Go ahead, Mignon. I don’t +care to be seen talking with such persons.” +</p> +<p> +As the runabout started away with a defiant chug, +Jerry and Marjorie stared at each other in silence. +</p> +<p> +“I hope——” began Jerry, then stopped. “Say,” +she went on the next instant, “that was what Hal +would call a hot shot, wasn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“It was,” Marjorie admitted. In spite of her +vexation at the unexpected attack, she could hardly +repress a smile. Quite unknowingly Rowena had +attacked Jerry’s pet failing. Her constant use of +popular slang was a severe cross to both her father +and mother. Over and over she had been lectured +by them on this very subject, only to maintain that +if Hal used slang she saw no reason why she +shouldn’t. To please them she made spasmodic efforts +toward polite English, but when excited or +angry she was certain to drop back into this forceful +but inelegant vernacular. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose I do use a whole lot of slang.” Jerry +made the admission rather ruefully. “Mother says +I’m the limit. There I go again. I mean mother +says I’m—what am I?” she asked with a giggle. +</p> +<p> +“You are a very good friend, Jerry.” Marjorie +looked her affection for the crestfallen champion of +her rights. “I wouldn’t worry about what she—Miss +Farnham says. If you think you ought not +to use slang, then just try not to use it.” Marjorie +was too greatly touched by Jerry’s loyalty to peck +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +at this minor failing. “What a strange combination +those two girls make!” she mused. “I can’t imagine +them being friends for very long. They are both +too fond of having their own way. I must say I +wasn’t scared by all those threats. It isn’t what +others say about one that counts, it’s what one really +is that makes a difference.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just what I think,” agreed Jerry. “We +all know Mignon so well now that we can pretty +nearly beat her at her own game. As for this +Rowena, she’d better wait until she gets back into +Sanford High before she plans to do much. All that +sort of thing is so silly and useless, now isn’t it? It +reminds me of these blood-and-thunder movies like +‘The Curse of a Red Hot Hate,’ or ‘The Double-dyed +Villain’s Horrible Revenge,’ or ‘The Iron Hand +of Hatred’s Death-Dealing Wallop.’” Jerry saw +fit to chuckle at this last creation of fancifully appropriate +title. “You’re right about those two, +though. Don’t you remember I said the same thing +when I first told you of this Farnham girl? Mignon +has met her match, at last. She’ll find it out, +too, before she’s many weeks older, or my name’s +not Jerry Macy.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span>CHAPTER X—A CRUSHING PENALTY</h2> +<p> +As Jerry had guessed, Constance Stevens’ absence +from school was due to the fact that her foster-father +had descended upon Gray Gables for a brief +visit. He was delighted to see both Marjorie and +Jerry. Constance insisted that they should remain +to dinner, whereupon the tireless telephone was put +into use and the two remained at Gray Gables, there +to spend a most agreeable evening. At about eleven +o’clock Hal Macy appeared to take them home in +the Macy’s smart limousine. Thus, in the pleasure +of being with her friends, Marjorie quite forgot the +disagreeable incident that had earlier befallen herself +and Jerry. Strange to say, Cæsar’s Commentaries, +also, faded from recollection, and it was +not until they were driving home that the estimable +Roman was tardily remembered along with previous +good intentions. “It’s unprepared for ours,” was +Jerry’s doleful cry, thereby proving that the will to +abolish slang was better than the deed. +</p> +<p> +Due to placing pleasure before duty, Marjorie felt +it incumbent upon her to make an early entrance into +school the next morning for the purpose of taking +a hasty peep at her neglected text books. She was +lucky, she told herself, in that the last hour in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +morning would give her an opportunity to go over +her Cæsar lesson. She, therefore, confined her attention +to her English literature, deciding that she +could somehow manage to slide through her French +without absolute failure. Civil government would +also have to take its chance for one recitation. +</p> +<p> +When at fifteen minutes past eleven she came into +the study hall from French class and settled herself +to begin the business of Latin, she was for once +glad to lay hold on the fat, green volume devoted to +the doings of the invincible Cæsar. Opening it, a +faint cluck of surprise fell from her lips as she took +from it a square, white envelope addressed to herself. +It was unsealed and as she drew forth the +folded paper which it held she wondered mightily +how it had come to be there. She was very sure +she had not placed it in the book. Her bewilderment +deepened as she read: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“<span class='sc'>Miss Dean</span>: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“After what occurred the other day in the +principal’s office it is surprising that you were +not expelled from Sanford High School. It +proves you to be a special pet of Miss Archer. +Such unfairness is contemptible in a principal. +It should be exposed, along with your dishonesty. +Sooner or later even that will be found +out and you will receive your just deserts. It is +a long lane that has no turning. +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>“<span class='sc'>The Observer</span>.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span></div> +<p> +Marjorie emitted a faint sigh of pure amazement +as she finished reading this sinister prediction of her +ultimate downfall. It was a piece of rank absurdity, +evidently penned by someone who had no intimate +knowledge of inside facts. Still it filled her with +a curious sense of horror. She loathed the very idea +of an anonymous letter. Once before since she had +first set foot in Sanford High the experience of receiving +one of these mysterious communications had +been hers. It had pertained to basket ball, however. +She had easily guessed its origin and it had troubled +her little. This letter was of an entirely different +character. It proved that among the girls with +whom she daily met and associated there was one, +at least, who did not wish her well. +</p> +<p> +As she reread the spiteful message, her thoughts +leaped to Rowena Farnham as the person most open +to suspicion. Yet Rowena had made a direct attack +upon her. Again there was Mignon. She was +wholly capable of such a deed. Strangely enough, +Marjorie was seized with the belief that neither girl +was responsible for it. She did not know why she +believed this to be true. She simply accepted it as +such, and cudgelled her brain for another more +plausible solution of the mystery. +</p> +<p> +As she studied it the more she became convinced +that the writing was the same as that of the similarly +signed letter Miss Archer had received. The +stationery, too, was the same. The words, “The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +Observer,” were the crowning proof which entirely +exonerated Rowena. She had certainly not written +the first note. Therefore, she had not written the +second. Marjorie was in a quandary as to whether +or not she should go frankly to the principal and +exhibit the letter. She felt that Miss Archer would +wish to see it, and at once take the matter up. She +could hardly charge Rowena with it, thereby lessening +her chances of entering the school. This second +note made no mention of Rowena. Its spitefulness +was directed entirely toward Marjorie herself. As +it pertained wholly to her, she believed that it might +be better to keep the affair locked within her own +breast. After all, it might amount to nothing. No +doubt, Rowena had related her own version of the +algebra problem to Mignon. Mignon was noted for +her malicious powers of gossip. A garbled account +on her part of the matter might have aroused some +one of her few allies to this cowardly method of attack. +Still this explanation would not cover the +writing of the first letter. +</p> +<p> +Quite at sea regarding its source, Marjorie gave +the distasteful missive an impatient little flip that +sent it fluttering off her desk to the floor. Reaching +down she lifted it, holding it away from her as +though it were a noisome weed. She burned to tear +it into bits, but an inner prompting stayed her destroying +hands. Replacing it in the envelope, she +tucked it inside her silk blouse, determining to file +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +it away at home in case she needed it for future reference. +She hoped, however, that it would never be +needed. Whoever had slipped it into her Cæsar +must have done so after she had left her desk on +the previous afternoon, following the close of the +session. She wished she knew those who had lingered +in the study hall after half-past three. This +she was not likely to learn. Her own intimate +friends had all passed out of the study hall at the +ringing of the closing bell. She resolved that she +would make casual inquiries elsewhere in the hope +of finding a clue. +</p> +<p> +During the rest of the week she pursued this +course with tactful assiduousness, but she could discover +nothing worth while. What she did learn, +however, was that due to a strenuous appeal to the +Board of Education on the part of Mr. Farnham, his +daughter had been allowed, on strict promise of future +good behavior, to try an entirely new set of examinations. +Fortune must have attended her, for +on the next Monday she appeared in the study hall +as radiantly triumphant as though she had received +a great honor, rather than a reluctant admission into +the sophomore fold. +</p> +<p> +“Well, she got there!” hailed Jerry Macy in high +disgust, happening to meet Marjorie in the corridor +between classes on the morning of Rowena’s retarded +arrival. “My father said they had quite a +time about it. She got into school by just one vote. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +He wouldn’t tell me which way he voted, but he +said he was glad she wasn’t his daughter.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m honestly glad for hers and her parents’ sake +that she was allowed another trial.” Marjorie spoke +with sincere earnestness. “She’s had a severe lesson. +She may profit by it and get along without any +more trouble.” +</p> +<p> +“Profit by nothing,” grumbled Jerry. “She can’t +change her disposition any more than a cat can +grow feathers or an ostrich whiskers. Row-ena, +Scrapena, Fightena, Quarrelena she is and will be +forever and forever. Let’s not talk about her. She +makes me—I mean I feel somewhat languid whenever +her name is mentioned.” Jerry delivered her +polite emendation with irresistible drollery. “Did +you know that there’s to be a junior basket ball try-out +next Tuesday after school?” +</p> +<p> +“No.” Marjorie’s interest was aroused. “Who +told you? It certainly hasn’t been announced.” +</p> +<p> +“Ellen Seymour told me. She’s going to help +Miss Davis manage the team this year in Marcia +Arnold’s place. I imagine she’ll do most of the +managing. I guess Miss Davis had enough of basket +ball last year. She told Ellen that it took up +too much of her time. She knew, I guess, that the +upper class girls wouldn’t relish her interference. +Ellen says you must be sure to be at the try-out. +She hopes you——” Jerry left off speaking and +looked sheepish. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, why don’t you finish? What does Ellen +wish me to do?” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll find out at the try-out. Now don’t ask +me any more questions about it.” Jerry’s cheerful +grin belied her brusque words. +</p> +<p> +“You’re a very tantalizing person,” smiled Marjorie. +“There goes the second bell. I’ll see you +later.” She scudded away, wondering what it was +that Jerry had stoutly refused to reveal. Evidently, +it must be something of pleasant import, else Jerry +would have frowned rather than smiled. +</p> +<p> +The next day, directly after opening exercises, +Miss Merton dryly read out the official call to the +try-out. It was received by the junior section with +an audible joy which she sternly quenched. Miss +Merton was in even less sympathy with “that rough-and-tumble +game” than she was with the girls who +elected to play it. It was directly due to her that +Miss Davis had lost interest in it. +</p> +<p> +To those intimately interested in making the +junior team, the Tuesday afternoon session seemed +interminable. Eager eyes frequently consulted the +moon-faced study-hall clock, as its hands traveled +imperturbably toward the hour of reprieve. Would +half-past three never come? At ten minutes past +three Muriel Harding’s impatience vented itself in +the writing of a heart-felt complaint to Marjorie. +She wrote: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“This afternoon is one hundred years long. +Darling Miss Merton wishes it was two hundred. +The very idea that we are going to the +try-out gives her pain. She hates herself, but +she hates basket ball worse. If I should invite +her to the try-out she would gobble me up. So +I shall not risk my precious self. You may do +the inviting.” +</p> +<p> +This uncomplimentary tribute to Miss Merton was +whisked successfully down the section and into Marjorie’s +hands. As note-passing was obnoxious to the +crabbed teacher, Muriel had neither addressed nor +signed it. She had craftily whispered her instructions +to the girl ahead of her, who had obligingly +repeated them to the next and so on down the row. +Unfortunately, Miss Merton’s eyes had spied it on +its journey. She instantly left her desk to pounce +upon it at the moment it was delivered into Marjorie’s +keeping. +</p> +<p> +“You may give me that note, Miss Dean,” she +thundered, extending a thin, rigid hand. +</p> +<p> +“Pardon me, Miss Merton, but this note is for +<em>me</em>.” Her fingers closing about it, Marjorie lifted +resolute, brown eyes to the disagreeable face above +her. +</p> +<p> +“Give it to me instantly. You are an impertinent +young woman.” Miss Merton glared down as +though quite ready to take Marjorie by the shoulders +and shake her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +</p> +<p> +Back in her own seat, Muriel Harding was divided +between admiration for Marjorie and fear +that she would yield to Miss Merton’s demand. Despite +lack of signature, the latter would have little +trouble in identifying the writer were she given +a chance to read the note. Muriel saw trouble looming +darkly on her horizon. +</p> +<p> +“I am sorry you think me impertinent. I do not +mean to be.” The soft voice rang with quiet decision. +“But I cannot give you this note.” Marjorie +calmly put the note in her blouse, and, folding +her hands, awaited the storm. +</p> +<p> +“You will stay here to-night until you give it +to me,” decreed Miss Merton grimly. Beaten for +the time, she stalked back to her desk, quite aware +that she could hardly have imposed a more crushing +penalty. True, her effort to obtain the note had +been fruitless, but one thing was patent: Marjorie +Dean would not be present at the junior basket ball +try-out. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI—AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR</h2> +<p> +Left to herself for a brief respite, Marjorie drew +out the note and read it. An expression of amused +consternation flashed into her eyes as she took in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +its spirit. Knowing the writing to be Muriel’s she +was now glad she had stood her ground. Note writing +was not forbidden in Sanford High and never +had been. Miss Merton alone, of all the teachers, +strenuously opposed it. To be sure, it was not regarded +by them with special favor. Nevertheless, +in the class-rooms no one was ever taken to task for +it unless it seriously interfered with the recitation. +Marjorie did not know Miss Archer’s views on the +subject, but she believed her principal too great-minded +to cavil at such trifles. +</p> +<p> +The instant she had finished reading the note, she +reduced it to unreadable bits, leaving them in plain +sight on her desk. Not by so much as a backward +glance did she betray the writer. Knowing Miss +Merton to be on the alert, she took no chances. +Should the latter send her to Miss Archer, she would +very quickly express herself on the subject. As a +junior she believed that the time for treating her as +a member of the primary grade had long since +passed. +</p> +<p> +It was not until she had effectually blocked all +possibility of the note falling into Miss Merton’s +possession that she remembered the try-out. Her +heart sank as she recalled what a lengthy, lonely stay +in the study hall meant. The try-out would go on +without her. She would lose all chance of obtaining +a place on the junior team. Her changeful face +paled a trifle as she sadly accepted this dire disaster +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +to her hopes. If only Muriel had not written that +note. +</p> +<p> +The first closing bell sent a tremor of despair to +her heavy heart. She wondered how long Miss Merton +would detain her. She had said, “You will +stay here to-night until you give it to me.” Even in +the midst of misfortune the edict took a humorous +turn. She had a vision of herself and Miss Merton +keeping a lonely, all-night vigil in the study hall. +</p> +<p> +At the second bell the long lines of girls began +a decorous filing down the aisles to the great doors. +Marjorie watched them go, vainly pondering on +why, thus far, her junior year had been so filled +with mishaps. A bad beginning sometimes made a +good ending was her only comforting reflection. +She hoped that in her case it would prove true. +</p> +<p> +“Why are you staying, Miss Harding?” rasped +forth Miss Merton when the big room had at last +emptied itself. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie faced about with a start. She had not +reckoned on this. She made a desperate sign to +Muriel to go. Muriel merely shook an obstinate +head. Then she announced bravely, “I wrote that +note to Miss Dean.” +</p> +<p> +“Then you may remain in your seat,” snapped +the frowning teacher. “Miss Dean, do you intend +to give me that note?” +</p> +<p> +“I have destroyed it,” came the calm reply. +</p> +<p> +“You are determined to defy me, I see. Very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +well, you may tell me the contents of it. I saw you +read it after I had returned to my desk.” +</p> +<p> +“I have nothing to say,” Marjorie replied with +terse obstinacy. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Harding, <em>you</em> may tell me what you +wrote.” Miss Merton suddenly swung her attack +from Marjorie to Muriel. +</p> +<p> +“I will not.” Muriel spoke with hot decision. +“Neither Miss Dean nor I are grammar school children. +I see no reason why we should be treated as +such. I think it very ridiculous, and I will not submit +to it. You may send me to Miss Archer if you +like. I am quite ready to say to her what I have +just said to you.” +</p> +<p> +As Muriel’s challenge of defiance cut the storm-laden +atmosphere, a most unexpected thing happened. +Almost as if the mere mention of her name +had served to bring her to the scene, Miss Archer +walked into the study hall. She had come in time +to catch Muriel’s last sentence, and her quick faculties +had leaped to conclusion. +</p> +<p> +“What is it that you are quite ready to say to +me, Miss Harding?” was her grave interrogation. +</p> +<p> +Miss Merton’s sallow cheeks took on a lively tinge +of red. She was not specially anxious to bring Miss +Archer into the discussion. Had the recipient of the +note been other than Marjorie Dean, she would have +allowed the incident to pass with a caustic rebuke. +But her dislike for the winsome girl was deep-rooted. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +She could never resist the slightest opportunity +to vent it publicly. +</p> +<p> +“I wrote a note to Miss Dean, Miss Archer,” +burst forth Muriel. “Miss Merton asked Miss Dean +for it and she wouldn’t give it to her. So Miss Merton +said she must stay here until she did. Miss +Dean tore the note up. I stayed because I wrote it. +Miss Merton says we must tell her what was in that +note. I won’t do it. Neither will Marjorie. I just +said that I did not think we ought to be treated like +grammar school children. I said, too, that I would +be willing to say so to you, and I have.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer’s quizzical gaze traveled from Muriel’s +flushed face to Marjorie’s composed features. +Here was, indeed, a problem in that unknown quantity, +girl nature. Miss Archer was too thoroughly +acquainted with the ways of girls not to comprehend +what lay beneath this out and out defiance of +Miss Merton’s commands. She understood, if Miss +Merton did not, or would not, the rather overdrawn +sense of school-girl honor which prompted the rebellion. +She knew that except in extreme cases, +there was little to be obtained by using force. It +was all too likely to defeat its own object. +</p> +<p> +“The attitude of these two young women toward +me is insufferable.” Miss Merton now took up a +harsh stand. She did not intend the principal should +allow the matter to be passed over lightly. “Miss +Dean, in particular, has been most disrespectful. In +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +fact, ever since she became a pupil of this school she +has derived an especial delight from annoying me.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer’s face wore an inscrutable expression +as she listened. Years of association with Miss +Merton had taught her to read between the lines. +Yet she knew she must now proceed with the utmost +diplomacy. As a teacher Miss Merton was entitled +to the respect of her pupils. She had an inner +conviction, however, that the irate woman was piling +injustice upon Marjorie’s shoulders. She herself +was beginning to understand the girl’s motives could +never be classed as unworthy. Young in years, she +possessed already a breadth of mind which Miss +Merton could never hope to attain. +</p> +<p> +“You are entitled to the utmost respect on the part +of your pupils, Miss Merton,” she levelly acknowledged. +“I am sorry to hear bad reports of any of +my pupils. I am sure that Miss Harding and Miss +Dean will rectify the matter with an apology. As +for the note, perhaps it might be wiser to allow the +matter to drop.” +</p> +<p> +“Girls,” she now addressed the belligerents, “it +seems to me that, as long as note-writing has proved +a source of trouble to you, you might better give +up the practice. Let me ask you a question. Was +there any grave and important reason for writing +that note?” +</p> +<p> +Muriel Harding hung her head. “No, Miss Archer,” +came her low answer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +</p> +<p> +Marjorie’s pale face took on a faint glow of +pink. “It was not necessary,” she admitted. +</p> +<p> +“Very well. You have both agreed that it was +unnecessary. My advice to you is to discontinue the +practice. I must insist that both of you make apology +to Miss Merton for the annoyance you have +caused.” +</p> +<p> +“Miss Merton, I regret that you should have been +annoyed by me.” Marjorie made an immediate and +dignified apology, which was perfectly sincere on her +part. For more reasons than one she deplored the +annoyance. +</p> +<p> +Muriel, however, hesitated a second or two before +committing herself. Suddenly it dawned upon her +that Miss Archer’s demand for apology had a deeper +significance. She thereupon made haste to repeat +Marjorie’s exact words. +</p> +<p> +Miss Merton received both apologetic speeches in +black silence. She was inwardly furious with the +principal, not only for her unexpected intrusion, but +for the lax manner in which she had administered +discipline. At least, Miss Merton considered it distinctly +lax. Still, she knew that it would be in bad +taste to try to overrule the principal’s decision. +“You are dismissed,” she said stiffly. “See to it that +you conduct yourselves properly hereafter.” She +could not resist this one touch of authority. +</p> +<p> +The ex-culprits lost no time in leaving the study +hall behind them. Not a word passed between them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +until the door of the junior locker room had closed +upon them. Their eyes meeting, they burst into +laughter, discreetly subdued, but most expressive of +their feelings. Each mind held the same thought. +What would Miss Merton have said had she read +the note? +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII—A DOUBTFUL VICTORY</h2> +<p> +“Marjorie Dean, you are true blue!” exclaimed +Muriel. “Whatever possessed me to write that awful +note? If Miss Merton had read it—well, you +can guess what would have happened. I shook in +my shoes when I heard her ask you for it.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m glad I didn’t give it to her.” An angry +sparkle leaped into Marjorie’s soft eyes. “She only +made a fuss about it because it was I who had it. +I think Miss Archer understood that. I love her +for it. She treats us always as though we were +young women; not as naughty children. But we +mustn’t stand here. It’s four o’clock now. I am +afraid we won’t have a chance to play. Only about +fifteen or twenty juniors are going to try for the +team. It may be made already.” Marjorie picked +up the bag which contained her basket ball suit and +tennis shoes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +</p> +<p> +“Let us hustle along then,” urged Muriel. Seizing +her friend by one hand, her luggage in the other, +the two raced for the gymnasium, hoping against +hope. +</p> +<p> +“It’s all over.” Muriel cried out in disappointment +as they entered the great room. +</p> +<p> +“I am afraid so,” faltered Marjorie, as she noted +the group of bloomer-clad girls standing idle at one +end of the gymnasium. Here and there about the +floor were others in uniform. Altogether she +counted eighteen. Ellen Seymour and two other +seniors were seated on the platform, their chairs +drawn together, their attention apparently fixed on +a pad on Ellen’s knee. Spectators had been firmly +but politely denied admission. Ellen had pronounced +them a detriment to the try-out and elected that they +should remain away. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Marjorie Dean,” joyfully called out Harriet +Delaney. As she hailed Marjorie she ran toward +the two girls. “We thought you were lost to +us forever. Where were you, Muriel? You surely +didn’t have to stay.” +</p> +<p> +“Did you make the team?” was Muriel’s excited +query. +</p> +<p> +“Not yet.” Harriet’s eyes twinkled. “The try-out +hasn’t begun yet.” +</p> +<p> +“Hasn’t begun!” echoed two voices. +</p> +<p> +“No. Ellen was awfully cross about the way +Miss Merton acted, so she said we’d wait for Marjorie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +Then, when Muriel didn’t appear, she said, +that if neither of you materialized, she would have +the try-out put off until to-morrow. Miss Davis +is so busy with that new system of gymnastics she’s +going to adopt this year that she’s left basket ball to +Ellen. I don’t see how she could help herself, +though. Last year the juniors and seniors ran +their own teams.” +</p> +<p> +“Ellen’s a dear,” exulted Muriel. “We are lucky +to have her for manager. Marjorie and I will be +her grateful slaves for the rest of the year. I wrote +that note; so, naturally, I had to stay and face the +music.” +</p> +<p> +“You did!” It was Harriet who now registered +surprise. “What was in it?” +</p> +<p> +Muriel giggled. She could now afford to laugh. +“Oh, a lot of sweet things about Miss Merton. You +can guess just how sweet they were.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness!” breathed Harriet. “No wonder +Marjorie wouldn’t give it up. She—why, she’s +gone!” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie had stopped only to greet Harriet. +While Muriel was explaining matters, she slipped +away to the platform where Ellen Seymour sat. +“It was splendid in you, Ellen!” she burst forth, as +she reached the senior’s side. “Thank you, ever so +much.” +</p> +<p> +“Hurrah! Here’s Marjorie.” Ellen sprang up, +her pleasant face breaking into a smile. “I’m so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +glad you came at last, and so sorry for what happened. +You must tell me how you came out. But +not now. We shall have to hustle to make up for +lost time. I suppose you know Miss Elbert and Miss +Horner. No?” Ellen promptly performed introductions. +</p> +<p> +“Pleased to meet you,” nodded both young +women. Neither looked specially delighted. Miss +Elbert, a small, plump girl with near-sighted, gray +eyes, bowed in reserved fashion. Miss Horner, a +rather pretty brunette, acknowledged the introduction +with languid grace. Marjorie had long known +both by sight. On two different occasions she had +been introduced to Miss Horner. Afterward, on +meeting her in the street, the latter had made no +sign of recognition. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose you are satisfied now, Ellen,” drawled +Miss Horner sweetly. “You are lucky, Miss Dean, +to have Ellen for a champion. She insisted that we +must wait for you.” +</p> +<p> +“I am very grateful to her,” Marjorie made courteous +reply. Had there lurked a touch of sarcasm +in the other’s polite comment? +</p> +<p> +“Miss Merton is altogether too fussy,” remarked +Miss Elbert. Her blunt tone quite belied her reserved +nod. “She tried that with me last year. It +didn’t work, though.” Her air of constraint vanished +in a bright glance, which indicated friendliness. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +</p> +<p> +“You must remember that she has a great deal to +try her,” reminded Miss Horner softly. +</p> +<p> +Again Marjorie thought she sensed hostility. She +laid it to the supposition that Miss Horner was, perhaps, +a trifle peevish at being delayed. Yet she could +not resist the quiet comment, “Miss Merton is also +very trying.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course she is,” agreed Ellen warmly. “You +know it as well as we do, Charlotte Horner. <em>You</em> +have no cause to love her. Just remember how +cranky she was to you during your freshman year.” +</p> +<p> +“That was a long time ago,” shrugged the senior. +“I understand her much better now than then.” +The placid answer held a suspicion of condescending +approval of Miss Merton. +</p> +<p> +“I’m glad someone does,” flung back Ellen with +careless good humor. “Hurry along, Marjorie, and +get into your basket ball suit. I shouldn’t have kept +you talking.” Drawing her aside, she whispered: +“I’d rather see you play center on the team than +any girl I know.” +</p> +<p> +“It seems to me, Ellen,” drawled Charlotte Horner, +as her indolent gaze followed Marjorie across +the floor to the dressing room, “that you are babying +that Miss Dean entirely too much. Someone +told me the other day that she has a bad attack of +swelled head. I must say, I think her self-opinionated. +She answered me very pertly.” +</p> +<p> +“If you mean her remark about Miss Merton, she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +only spoke the truth,” defended Ellen hotly, completely +astonished by this unexpected attack on Marjorie. +“She is not in the least self-opinionated nor +vain. It’s remarkable that she isn’t. She is very +pretty and awfully popular.” +</p> +<p> +“Glad you told me,” murmured the other, lazily +unbelieving. “I know several girls with whom she +is not particularly popular.” +</p> +<p> +To this Ellen made no response. With vexation +at her own stupidity, she now remembered too late +that Charlotte Horner had always been rather +friendly with Mignon La Salle. Remembering only +Charlotte’s undeniable prowess as a basket ball +player, she had asked her to act with herself and +Leila Elbert as one of the three judges at the try-out. +This explained why Charlotte had not been in +favor of postponing the try-out in case Marjorie +were detained indefinitely. Ellen found herself hoping +that personal prejudice would not influence +Charlotte to decry Marjorie’s work on the floor. +</p> +<p> +“I think Miss Dean is very nice.” It was Leila +Elbert who made this announcement. Her reserved +manner had arisen merely from shyness. She was +a quiet, diffident girl, who, beyond an enthusiasm for +basket ball, had mixed little with the social side of +high school. She was an expert player who had +been on the same team with Ellen during her freshman, +sophomore and junior years. Accordingly, +she was eminently fitted to judge the merits of the +respective contestants. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s sweet in you.” Ellen flashed her a grateful +look. It would be two against one in Marjorie’s +favor. +</p> +<p> +Within ten minutes after seeking the dressing +room Marjorie issued from it ready for the fray, +wearing her sophomore basket ball uniform. Running +up to Ellen she announced: “I am ready. So is +Muriel.” In a lower tone she added: “It was dear +in you to wish me well.” Then she trotted over +and joined the contestants, who had gradually collected +in one spot. +</p> +<p> +“All right.” Ellen left the platform and approached +the fruitful material for junior honors. +“Girls,” she began, with an elaborate bow, “behold +your stern manager.” +</p> +<p> +She was interrupted by giggling applause. Cheerful +Ellen Seymour was beloved throughout Sanford +High School. +</p> +<p> +“Much obliged,” she nodded gaily. “As I was +saying when interrupted by your heart-felt appreciation, +<em>I</em> am your manager. This year there will +be no senior team. The seniors have soared to +heights beyond mere basket ball. I had to soar with +them, though I wasn’t in a soaring mood. Since I +can’t play the good old game alone, I’ve decided to +bury my disappointment in managership. Of +course, you know that you can’t all play. So if +you’re not chosen, don’t be disappointed. It’s going +to be an absolutely fair try-out. If you’re +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +chosen, it is because you are a better player than the +girl who isn’t. Now please line up until I count +you over.” +</p> +<p> +It was a nondescript line that whipped itself +promptly into position. There were the five gray-clad +girls who had made up Mignon La Salle’s famous +team. There were also the five black-garbed +players who had comprised Marjorie’s squad. Besides +these were ten new applicants in blue gymnasium +suits who had not been fortunate enough to +make either of the two teams that had striven +against each other in the sophomore year. These +girls had decided to try again, hoping that better +luck would be theirs. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie thrilled with excitement as she cast a +quick glance up and down the line. Every face was +set in determined fashion. It was going to be much +harder than ever before to make the team. +</p> +<p> +Ellen Seymour walked up and down the row of +girls with the air of a general. She was shrewdly +calculating the best plan of action. It would hardly +be fair to try out the black and scarlet girls against +the grays, leaving the other ten of lesser experience +to play against each other. Among the new girls +there was, undoubtedly, some excellent material +which contact with the regular players was sure to +bring out. She, therefore, chose five blues to play +against two grays and three black and scarlet girls. +Mignon and Daisy Griggs represented the grays, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +Marjorie, Susan and Harriet Delaney the black and +scarlet. +</p> +<p> +Clearing the floor of the others, Ellen signaled +the two teams to their places and soon had the ball +in play. It seemed very strange to Marjorie to find +herself once more on the same team with Mignon +La Salle. She was too busy attending to her own +affairs, however, to give it more than a passing +thought. Centering her whole mind on her work +she played with her usual snap and brilliancy. +</p> +<p> +After twenty minutes’ energetic work, the warning +whistle sounded retreat. Then the other ten +girls remaining were ordered to the floor to show +what they could do. When, after the same allowance +of time, they had been called off, the three +judges went into consultation with the result that +ten names were struck from the list Ellen held. +These names Ellen read out, expressing a regret for +the failure of their owners to make good that was in +a measure quite consoling. They left the floor to +their more fortunate sisters apparently with the +best possible grace, considering the disappointment +that was theirs. +</p> +<p> +There were still left Susan, Muriel, Marjorie, +Mignon, Daisy Griggs and Anne Easton of the seasoned +teams. The other were four of the blue-clad +girls who had done surprisingly well. These ten +were again divided into opposing fives and went at +it with a will. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +</p> +<p> +T-r-ill! Ellen’s whistle at last called an end to +the spirited fray. The girls pattered off the playing +floor. Grouped together they breathlessly awaited +the verdict. +</p> +<p> +This time it was longer in coming. Up on the +judge’s stand, Ellen Seymour found herself participating +in the wrangle with Charlotte Horner, +which she had anticipated. But Marjorie was not +alone subject of it. It was Mignon’s basket ball future, +too, that now tottered. Four names had been +struck off the list of ten. It lay between Mignon +and Marjorie Dean as to whom the fifth should be. +</p> +<p> +“Mignon is a better player than this Dean girl,” +sharply argued Charlotte Horner. “But poor Mignon +simply wasn’t up to her usual form to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“But it’s to-day that counts, else why have a try-out?” +protested Ellen. “Marjorie has completely +outplayed her in this last test. I consider Marjorie +the better player at any time. She is reliable. +Mignon isn’t. I insist that Marjorie shall have the +position. I think she’s the best player of the whole +team.” +</p> +<p> +“And <em>I</em> insist that Mignon must have it.” In her +anger Charlotte forgot her usual languid drawl. +</p> +<p> +“It rests with Leila.” Ellen shrugged her shoulders. +“What is your opinion, Leila?” +</p> +<p> +“Miss Dean is the better player,” declared Leila +stolidly. “Anyone can see that.” +</p> +<p> +“Two against one. The ayes have it.” Ellen +drew a firm pencil through Mignon’s name. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +</p> +<p> +And thus Marjorie Dean won a victory over +Mignon La Salle, which was destined to bring her +a great deal of unhappiness. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII—UNSEEN; UNKNOWN; UNGUESSED</h2> +<p> +Outside the school building Jerry Macy and Irma +Linton were holding a patient vigil. Not permitted +to witness the try-out they had declared their +intention of waiting across the street for their +friends. Confidently expecting that their wait would +be long, they had set off for Sargent’s directly after +school, there to while away at least a part of the +time. It was twenty minutes after four when they +returned to the school and determinedly perched +themselves upon the top step of the long flight where +they proposed to remain stationed until the try-out +should be over. As ardent fans, they had a lively +curiosity to know as soon as possible the results of +the contest. They were also deeply concerned as +to what had transpired between Marjorie and Miss +Merton. +</p> +<p> +“Good gracious!” grumbled Jerry, as she frowningly +consulted her wrist watch. “When do you +suppose it will be over? It’s half-past five now. +I hope——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hark!” Irma raised a warning hand. “I hear +voices. Here they come at last.” +</p> +<p> +As she spoke the heavy door behind her swung +open. One after another the contestants began issuing +forth to unite into little groups as they passed +down the steps to the street. Jerry and Irma were +now on their feet eagerly watching for their friends. +Jerry’s shrewd power of observation had already +been put to good use. Thus far she glimpsed defeat +in the faces of those who passed. Among them was +Mignon La Salle. Her arm linked in that of Charlotte +Horner, the French girl was carrying on a +low-toned monologue, the very nature of which +could be read in the stormy play of her lowering +features. +</p> +<p> +Jerry gave Irma a significant nudge as Mignon +switched past them without sign of recognition. +Irma nodded slightly to show that she understood +its import. She, too, had guessed that Mignon had +not made the team. +</p> +<p> +“At last!” Jerry sighed relief, as Marjorie +stepped across the threshold, followed by Susan, +Muriel and Daisy Griggs. “What’s the good +word?” She hailed. +</p> +<p> +“We are the real people,” boasted Muriel Harding, +a throbbing note of triumph in her light tones. +“Marjorie, Susan, Daisy and I made the team. The +fifth girl is Rita Talbot. She was the only one of +the blues chosen. Poor Harriet didn’t make it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +Neither did Esther. Harriet’s been chosen as a sub, +though. So has that queer little green-eyed Warner +girl. She’s such a quiet mouse, I never even +dreamed she could play basket ball. She can, +though.” Muriel rattled off all this, hardly stopping +to take breath. +</p> +<p> +“So dear Miss Merton changed her mind,” burst +forth Jerry irrelevantly. “How long did she keep +you, Marjorie? What did she say?” They had +now progressed as far as the sidewalk and had +halted there to talk. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie entered into brief details, giving Muriel +the lion’s share of credit for her blunt explanation +to Miss Archer. “If Muriel hadn’t spoken so +plainly, Miss Archer might not have seen things in +the right light,” she ended. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you believe it,” disagreed Jerry. “Miss +Archer knows Miss Merton like a book. It’s a real +comfort to have a principal like her. Say, I’ll bet +Mignon is so mad she can’t see straight. You +should have seen her when she passed us. She was +talking a blue streak to that Miss Horner. She was +one of the judges, wasn’t she?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” Marjorie’s face clouded at mention of +the languidly spoken senior. It now occurred to her +that she had not been at fault in believing that Charlotte +Horner disliked her. No doubt Mignon was +the motive for her dislike. Like Ellen, she, too, +tardily recalled that the two had been occasionally +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +seen together last year. It might account also for +the emphatic wagging of heads that had gone on +among the three judges before the final result of the +try-out had been announced. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose you are going to play the sophomores.” +Irma’s soft intonation brought Marjorie out of her +brown study. +</p> +<p> +“Of course.” It was Daisy Griggs who answered. +“They are to have their try-out to-morrow afternoon. +I don’t believe we will be ready to play them +before November. We have a lot of practice ahead +of us. We’ll have to have new suits, too. But we +won’t know until we have a meeting what colors +to choose. We ought to ask the subs what they’d +like. We can’t very well go by the junior colors +this year. They are deep crimson and white, you +know. We couldn’t possibly have white suits with +a crimson J, and crimson suits wouldn’t be pretty, +either.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>I</em> think they <em>would</em>,” put in Muriel Harding +stoutly. “We could have our suits of a little darker +crimson than the class color. They would be stunning +with a white J on the blouse and a wide, rolling +collar of white broadcloth. Besides, crimson is +a victorious color. We’d just have to win. It would +be inspiring.” +</p> +<p> +“It sounds good to me,” approved Susan. +“They’d certainly be different from any we’ve ever +had. We could all put together and buy the cloth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +Then have them made by one person instead of each +going to our own dressmaker.” +</p> +<p> +“I think that would be nice,” nodded Marjorie. +“But we want to please Daisy, too, so perhaps——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t mind. Just so they aren’t a glaring +red,” hastily amended Daisy. “I suppose the subs +will want to have new suits, too. We ought to call +a meeting of the team some time this week. That +reminds me, we don’t know yet who is to be captain. +You ought to be, Marjorie. I think Ellen will ask +you.” +</p> +<p> +“No.” Marjorie shook a decided head. “To be +given center is honor enough for me. Girls, I’d +love to have Muriel for captain. She’d be simply +splendid.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, not me,” protested Muriel in ungrammatical +confusion. Nevertheless, she flushed with +pleasure at Marjorie’s generous proposal. +</p> +<p> +“That would be fine,” asserted Susan Atwell +heartily. She was not in the least jealous because +Marjorie had not proposed her for the honor. She +had long since learned that Marjorie Dean was incapable +of showing favoritism. She had selected +Muriel strictly with the good of the team in mind. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s ask Ellen if we can’t have Muriel,” said +Daisy Griggs earnestly. +</p> +<p> +“You see three of us are of the same mind,” Marjorie +pointed out with a smile. “I know Rita will +say so, too. But where are she and Harriet?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +</p> +<p> +“Still in the gym, I guess, with Ellen. Harriet +lives next door to Ellen,” reminded Susan. “They’ll +be along presently.” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t wait for them,” Marjorie demurred. +“It’s almost six. Captain will wonder why I’m so +late. Come on, Jerry and Irma,” she called. Jerry +and Irma had wandered a little away from the +group and were deeply engaged in earnest discussion. +“How many of you are going our way?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to my aunt’s for dinner,” said Muriel. +“So I’ll say good-bye. Daisy goes my way, too. +See you to-morrow. Come along, Daisy.” +</p> +<p> +Left to themselves, Susan, Marjorie, Irma and +Jerry swung off toward home, four abreast. +</p> +<p> +“See here, Marjorie,” began Jerry. “You want +to look out for Mignon. I told you how mad she +looked when she passed us. Irma saw, too. She’ll +try to do something to get you off the team and +herself on. See if she doesn’t.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m not going to bother my head about her,” +Marjorie made careless reply. “She has never really +hurt anyone she’s tried to hurt since I’ve known her. +With Ellen Seymour managing the teams, we are all +sure of fair play.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be too sure,” muttered Jerry. She added +in a louder tone, “Ellen’s not much protection with +Mignon on the job. If she can’t play, she’ll try to +fix it so somebody else can’t. Not you, perhaps. +Anyway, it won’t do any harm for you to keep your +eyes open.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +</p> +<p> +“Don’t croak, Jeremiah.” Marjorie laid a playful +hand on Jerry’s lips. “Didn’t I tell you long +ago that I should not allow Mignon La Salle to +trouble me this year? I am going to keep at a safe +distance from her.” +</p> +<p> +“I hope you stick to that,” was Jerry’s ungracious +retort. Under her breath she added, “but I doubt +it.” +</p> +<p> +Jerry Macy’s well-meant warning was destined, +however, to come back most forcibly to Marjorie +no later than the following morning. As she ran +down the steps of her home and on down the walk +on her way to school, she encountered the postman +at the gate. He handed her two letters, which +she received with a gurgle of girlish delight. On +the top envelope she had glimpsed Mary’s familiar +script. The gurgle changed to a dismayed gasp as +she examined the other. Only too quickly had she +recognized the handwriting. Shoving Mary’s letter +into the pocket of her pretty tan coat, she hastily +opened the other envelope. Her evil genius had +again come to life. A wave of hot resentment swept +her as she unfolded the one sheet of heavy white +paper and read: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“<span class='sc'>Miss Dean</span>: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“No doubt you think yourself very clever to +have made the junior team. You could never +have done so had partiality not been shown. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +Others at the try-out were much more worthy +of the choice. You believe because you can +dress like a doll and are popular with a few +rattle-brained girls that everyone likes you. +But you are mistaken. A few persons, at least, +know how vain and silly and deceitful you are. +You pretend to hate snobbery, but you are a +snob. Some day <em>everyone</em> will know you for +what you really are. The time is not far off. +Beware. +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>“<span class='sc'>The Observer.</span>”</p> +<p> +Turning, Marjorie went slowly back to the house +and climbed the stairs to her room. Pausing before +her desk, she opened it. From a pigeon-hole she extracted +another letter. Carefully she compared it +with the one that had come by post. Yes, they must +have both emanated from the same source. Stationery, +writing and signature were unmistakable +proofs. With a sigh she shoved them both into +the pigeon-hole. Who could her mysterious enemy +be? These letters were certainly of the variety she +had heard classed as “poison pen.” +</p> +<p> +Thus far she had flouted the idea of Mignon La +Salle as the writer of them. Now she was forced +to wonder if she had been wrong. Was it possible +that Mignon had lurked outside Miss Archer’s office +on the morning when she had solved the problem +for Rowena Farnham? If this were so, the letter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +Miss Archer had received might then be accredited +to her, as well as the two now in her desk. Barring +Rowena Farnham, Marjorie knew no one else who +would be likely to engage in such a despicable enterprise. +If Mignon were guilty of this, Jerry +Macy’s warning had not been an idle one. It, therefore, +behooved her, Marjorie Dean, to be on her +guard. Yet how could she guard herself against +a shadow, an enemy unseen; unknown; unguessed? +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV—A SOLDIER IN EARNEST</h2> +<p> +Absorbed in a vain attempt to find a clue to the +mysterious prophesier of evil, Marjorie forgot Mary +Raymond’s letter until she happened to thrust a +hand into her coat pocket on the way home from +school at noon. Mary’s long, cheery epistle partially +atoned for the hateful sentiments expressed +by the unknown. On her return home in the afternoon, +a second comforter was accorded her in a +letter from Constance Stevens. The day after Marjorie +and Jerry had spent the evening at Gray Gables +Mr. Stevens had gone to New York. Constance +had accompanied him. +</p> +<p> +Since the great change had taken place in the girl’s +life her school days had been more or less broken. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +Still she managed to keep up in her classes despite +frequent short absences from school. It was tacitly +understood, not only by Miss Archer, but also by +Constance’s other teachers, that she intended to +study for a grand opera début as soon as her high +school days were over. The mere possession of so +remarkable a voice as was hers rather set her apart +in some indefinite fashion from her schoolmates. +Where others would have been taken to strict account +for absence, she was allowed an unusual +amount of consideration. Undoubtedly, the fact +that when actually in school she invariably acquitted +herself with credit in her various studies had much +to do with the leniency accorded her. From a very +humble person, she was rapidly becoming a personage +from whom Sanford expected one day to hear +great things. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie Dean felt Constance’s absences more +keenly than anyone else. She had been particularly +lonesome for her friend during this latest one, and +the news that Constance would return to Sanford +and to school on the following week banished for +the time the shadow of the morning’s unpleasant incident. +</p> +<p> +“Constance will be home on Sunday, Captain,” she +caroled gleefully, as she danced about the living +room by way of expressing her jubilation. +</p> +<p> +“I am glad to hear it. You really need the child +to cheer you up. You’ve been looking rather solemn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +lately, my dear. Aren’t you happy in your school? +Sit down here and give an account of yourself,” +commanded Mrs. Dean with a smile. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes.” The answer was accompanied by a +faint sigh, as Marjorie curled up on the floor beside +her mother. “So far, this has been rather a +queer year, though. Nothing very pleasant has happened +except basket ball. That’s always a joy. Our +team is doing beautifully. We are to play the sophomores +on the Saturday before Thanksgiving. It’s +going to be a real tussle. Ellen Seymour says there +are some great players among the sophs. You’ll +come to the game, Captain?” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose I must. You consider me a loyal fan. +That means I must live up to my reputation. By +the way, Lieutenant, did that girl who made you so +much trouble enter high school? You never told +me.” +</p> +<p> +“You mean Rowena Farnham? Yes; she was allowed +to try another set of examinations. Jerry +Macy said she won the chance by only one vote. +Jerry’s father’s a member of the Board. I wouldn’t +tell anyone else but you, though, about that one +vote. She is a sophomore now. I see her in the +study hall, but we never speak. The girls say she +is quite popular with the sophs. I suppose she’s +trying hard to make up her lost ground.” Marjorie’s +inflection was slightly bored. She felt that +she had small cause for interest in Rowena. She had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +never told her mother of the latter’s attack on herself +and Jerry. She preferred not to think of it, +much less talk of it. To her it had seemed utterly +senseless, as well as cheap. +</p> +<p> +“And how is Mignon La Salle doing?” questioned +Mrs. Dean. “I haven’t heard you mention +her, either. I must say I am very glad that you +and she are not likely to be thrown together again. +Poor little Mary made a bad mistake last year. It +is wonderful that things ever worked out as well as +they did.” Mrs. Dean’s face grew stern as she recalled +the tangle in which Mary’s obstinacy had involved +her daughter. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mignon has found a friend in Rowena Farnham. +They go together all the time. Jerry says +they will soon fall out. I am sure they are welcome +to chum together, if they choose.” Marjorie shrugged +her shoulders as though desirous of dismissing +both girls from her thoughts. +</p> +<p> +“Jerry is quite likely to be a true prophet,” commented +Mrs. Dean. “She is a very wise girl, but decidedly +slangy. I cannot understand why a girl +brought up in her surroundings should be so thoroughly +addicted to slang.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s trying awfully hard not to use it.” Recalling +Jerry’s recent efforts to speak more elegant +English, Marjorie laughed outright. “She’s so +funny, Captain. If any other girl I know used slang +as she does, I wouldn’t like it. But Jerry! Well, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +she’s different. Next to Connie and Mary I love +her best of all my friends. I don’t know what I’d +do without her.” +</p> +<p> +“She is a very fine girl, in spite of her brusque +ways,” praised Mrs. Dean. “General is fond of +her, too.” She added this little tribute lest Marjorie +might feel that she had been unduly critical. +She understood the fact that Marjorie’s friends +were sacred to her and on that account rarely found +fault with them. Marjorie could be trusted to +choose her associates wisely. Those to whom her +sympathies went out usually proved themselves +worthy of her regard. Motherly anxiety alone had +prompted Mrs. Dean to draw her daughter out with +a view toward learning the cause of Marjorie’s recent +air of wistful preoccupation. Daily it had become +more noticeable. If a repetition of last year’s +sorrows threatened her only child, Mrs. Dean did +not propose to be kept in the dark until it became +well-nigh impossible to adjust matters. +</p> +<p> +Secretly Marjorie was aware of this anxiety on +her mother’s part. She felt that she ought to show +her Captain the sinister letters she had received, yet +she was loath to do so. Her mother’s inquiry +concerning Mignon had caused her to reflect uneasily +that now if ever was the moment for unburdening +her mind. “Captain,” she began, “you know +that something is bothering me, don’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I have been hoping you would tell me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +Mrs. Dean laid an encouraging hand on the drooping, +brown head against her knee. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a minute.” Imbued with a desperate energy, +Marjorie sprang to her feet and ran from +the room. She soon returned, the disturbing letters +clutched tightly in one hand. “I wish you to +read these,” she said. Tendering them to her +mother, she drew up a chair opposite Mrs. Dean and +sat down. +</p> +<p> +Silence hung over the cheerful room while Mrs. +Dean acquainted herself with the cause of Marjorie’s +perturbation. Contempt filled her voice as she +finally said: “A most despicable bit of work, Lieutenant. +The writer had good reason to withhold +her true name. So this explains the solemn face +you have been wearing of late. I wouldn’t take it +very deeply to heart, my dear. Whoever wrote +these letters must possess a most cowardly nature.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just what I think,” nodded Marjorie. +“You see it really started with the letter Miss Archer +received. You know, the one about the algebra +problem. The only person I can really suspect +of writing any of them is Mignon. But she’s not +this sort of coward. Besides, I don’t believe she’d +write just this kind of letter. What sort of person +do you think would, Captain?” +</p> +<p> +Before answering, Mrs. Dean thoughtfully reread +both letters. “It is hard to say,” she mused. +“It looks to me as though the writer of them might +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +have been prompted by jealousy. The second one +in particular is full of jealous spite. I suppose you +don’t care to let Miss Archer see them.” +</p> +<p> +“No.” Marjorie shook a vehement head. “I’d +rather worry through without that. Perhaps there +won’t be any more of them. I hope not. Anyway, +I’m glad I told you about them. If another does +come, I can bring it to you and not feel so bad over +it as if I had to think things out alone. Even if I +knew this very minute who wrote them, I don’t +know what I’d do about it. It would depend upon +who the girl was, whether or not I’d say anything +to her. It’s all very mysterious and aggravating, +isn’t it?” she added wistfully. +</p> +<p> +“It’s far worse than that.” Mrs. Dean’s lips set +in a displeased line. “Sanford High School appears +to harbor some very peculiar girls. I can’t +imagine any such thing happening to you at Franklin +High. I don’t like it at all. If the rest of your +junior year is going to be like this, you might better +go away to a good preparatory school.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Captain, don’t say that!” Marjorie cried out +in distress. “I couldn’t bear to leave you and General +and Sanford High. I’d be terribly unhappy +away from home. Please say you didn’t really mean +that.” Tears lurked in her pleading tones. +</p> +<p> +“Now, now, Lieutenant,” came the soothing reply, +“don’t be so ready to run out to meet calamity. +I only suggested your going away as a means of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +taking you out of these pits you seem always innocently +to be tumbling into. You know that General +and I could hardly get along without our girl. +It is of your welfare I am thinking.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie slipped to her mother’s side and wound +coaxing arms about her. “I was afraid this would +hurt you. That’s why I hated to tell you. Don’t +worry, Captain. Everything will come out all right. +It always has, you know. So long as I keep a clear +conscience, nothing can really hurt me. I hope I’m +too good a soldier to be frightened, just because +I’ve been fired upon by an unseen enemy. If I ran +away now I’d be a deserter, and a deserter’s a disgrace +to an army. So you see there’s only one thing +to do; stand by and stick fast to my colors. I’ve got +to be a soldier in earnest.” +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XV—AN UNWILLING FOLLOWER</h2> +<p> +Marjorie’s confidential talk with her Captain +brought to her a renewal of faith in herself, which +carried her along serenely through various small difficulties +which continually sprang up in her junior +path. One of them was Miss Merton, who seemed +always on the watch for an opportunity to belittle +the girl she so detested. Still another was the hostile +interest Mignon La Salle had again begun to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +take in her. Hardly a day passed without an angry +recital on Jerry’s part of something she had heard +against Marjorie, which had originally come from +Mignon or Rowena Farnham. Mignon’s ally, Charlotte +Horner, was an equal source for provocation. +Although she had no special right to do so, she often +dropped in on junior basket ball practice merely +to find food for adverse criticism of Marjorie. She +watched the latter with a hawk-like eye, only to +go forth and make capital of any small imperfection +in Marjorie’s playing, which she saw or fancied +she saw. +</p> +<p> +The fact that Rowena Farnham was a member of +the sophomore team did not add to Marjorie’s happiness. +She had no wish to come into such close +contact with her, which the approaching games between +the two teams would necessitate. From Jerry, +the indefatigable news-gatherer, she had learned that +Rowena was a skilful, but rather rough player. +Knowing her to be utterly without scruple, Marjorie +had small reason to believe she could be trusted to +play an absolutely fair game against her opponents. +Rowena was already becoming an insolent power +in the sophomore class. Her extreme audacity, +coupled with her good looks and fine clothes, brought +her a certain amount of prestige in Sanford High +School. She possessed to a marked degree that impudent +quality of daring, which is so peculiarly fascinating +to school girls. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +</p> +<p> +Although she was not sincerely liked she was admired +and feared. She had a fund of clever sayings +at her command, which gave her a reputation for +brilliancy. The frequent reproof of her teachers +rolled off her like water from a duck’s back. She +made public sport of whomever she pleased, whenever +it pleased her to do so, with a conscienceless +air of good humor that rendered her a dangerous +foe. She never hesitated to forge her way to whatever +she wanted, in a hail-fellow-well-met manner +which changed like a flash to insolence with the +slightest opposition offered. She was a bully of the +first water, but with the glamor of her newness still +upon her, the worst side of her nature was yet to +be revealed to many. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie Dean and Jerry Macy, at least, entertained +no illusions concerning her. Neither did +Mignon La Salle. For once in her life, Mignon was +beginning to find herself completely overshadowed +by a nature far more hatefully mischievous than her +own. True she was Rowena’s most intimate friend. +Yet there were times when she inwardly regretted +having rushed blindly into such a friendship. Striving +ever to rule, now she was invariably overruled. +Instead of being leader, she became follower. Rowena +criticized, satirized and domineered over her, +all in the name of friendship. Had she been anyone +else, Mignon would not have borne long with +her bullying. She would have speedily put an end +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +to their association. Rowena, however, was one not +thus easily to be dropped. In Mignon she glimpsed +powers for mischief-making only secondary to her +own. She preferred, therefore, to cling to her and +was clever enough never to allow Mignon’s flashes +of resentment against her high-handedness to mature +into open rebellion. Those who knew the French +girl for exactly what she was agreed that Mignon +had at last met her match. They also agreed that a +taste of her own medicine would no doubt do her +a great deal of good. +</p> +<p> +The approach of Thanksgiving also brought with +it a stir of excitement for the coming basket ball +game, the first to be played in a series of four, which +were scheduled to take place at intervals in the +school year. The sophomore team had already +played the freshman and given them a complete +whitewashing. Now they were clamoring to meet +the juniors and repeat their victory. The junior +team had attended the freshman-sophomore game in +a body, thereby realizing to the full the strength of +their opponents. Reluctantly, they were forced to +admit the brilliancy of Rowena Farnham as a player. +She knew the game and she went into it with a dash +and vigor that marked her as a powerful adversary. +Naturally, it won her an admiration which she determined +should grow and deepen with each fresh +achievement. +</p> +<p> +Her doughty deeds on the floor of contest merely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +imbued the junior team with stronger resolution to +win the coming game. They practised with stubborn +energy, sedulously striving to overcome whatever +they knew to be their weak points. Though manager +of all the teams, Ellen Seymour’s heart was secretly +with them. This they felt rather than knew. +Outwardly, Ellen was impartial. She made them +no show of favoritism, but they divined that she +would rejoice to see them win. There was no doubt +of the smoothness of their team work. Having +played basket ball on the freshman and sophomore +teams, Marjorie Dean herself knew that the squad +of which she was now a member excelled any other +of past experience. Fairly confident that it could +hold its own, she looked impatiently forward to the +hour of action. +</p> +<p> +To set one’s heart too steadfastly on a particular +thing, seems sometimes to court disappointment. +On the Thursday before the game an unexpected +state of affairs came to pass. It started with a notice +on the bulletin board requesting the presence of +the junior team in the gymnasium at four o’clock +that afternoon. It was signed “Ellen Seymour, +Manager.” Naturally, the juniors thought little of +it. They were accustomed to such notices. Ellen, +no doubt, had some special communication to make +that had to do with them. But when five minutes +after four saw them gathered in the gymnasium to +meet their manager, her sober face warned them +that the unusual was afoot. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +</p> +<p> +“Girls, I have something to ask of you which +you may not wish to do. I am not going to urge +you to do it. You are free to choose your own +course. As it especially concerns you, yours is the +right to decide. Two girls of the sophomore team +are ill. Martha Tyrell has come down with tonsilitis, +and Nellie Simmons is threatened with pneumonia. +Both are in bed. They can’t possibly play +on Saturday. The sophs are awfully cut up about +it. They wouldn’t mind using one sub, but two, they +say, is one too many. They have asked me to ask +you if you are willing to postpone the game until +these girls are well again.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see why we should,” objected Captain +Muriel Harding. “I don’t believe they’d do the +same for us. Of what use are subs, if not to replace +absent players?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I think,” put in Daisy Griggs. “It’s +too provoking. Everyone is looking forward to the +game. If we don’t play we’ll disappoint a whole lot +of people. It’s very nervy in the sophs to ask us +to do such a thing. Besides, we are crazy to wear +our new suits.” +</p> +<p> +Ellen smiled quizzically. “Remember, you are +to do as you please about it,” was all she said, betraying +neither pleasure or displeasure at the ready +protests. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose the sophomores will think us awfully +mean if we don’t do as they ask,” ventured Rita +Talbot. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, let them think,” declared Susan Atwell impatiently. +“It’s the first time I ever heard of such +a thing. They must be terribly afraid we’ll beat +them.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just the point.” At this juncture Marjorie +broke into the discussion. “If we insist on +playing and win, they might say we won because +we had them at a disadvantage. That wouldn’t be +much of a victory, would it?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s so.” Muriel reluctantly admitted the +force of Marjorie’s argument. “I know at least +one of them who would say just that.” +</p> +<p> +“Mustn’t be personal,” gently chided Ellen. +Nevertheless, there was a twinkle in her blue eyes. +The sophomore who had come to her had insinuated +what Marjorie had voiced. “I’ll give you ten minutes +to talk it over. I promised to let the sophomores +know to-night. The girl who came to me is +waiting in the senior locker room for your answer.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m ready to decide now,” asserted Marjorie. +“For my part I’m willing to postpone the game.” +</p> +<p> +“We might as well,” conceded Captain Muriel +ruefully. Marjorie’s point had gone home. “If +we win we want it to be a sweeping victory.” +</p> +<p> +One by one the three other interested parties +agreed that it seemed best to yield gracefully to the +plea. +</p> +<p> +“Now that you’ve all spoken I’m going to tell you +my opinion,” announced Ellen. “I am glad that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +you are willing to do this. It becomes you as juniors. +No one can say that you have been anything +but strictly generous. You deserve a crown of victory +for being so nice about this.” +</p> +<p> +Ellen’s conclusion brought a smile to five faces. +Her remark might be construed as a declaration of +favor toward them. +</p> +<p> +“I believe you’d love to see us win the whole four +games, Ellen Seymour,” was Muriel’s frank comment. +</p> +<p> +“As your august manager, my lips are sealed,” +Ellen retorted laughingly. “Now I must leave you +and put an anxious sophomore out of her misery. +While you are waiting for the sick to get well you +can put in some more practice.” With this injunction +she left them. +</p> +<p> +Once out of the gymnasium, her smile vanished. +The anxious sophomore was Rowena Farnham. Ellen +cherished small liking for this arrogant, self-centered +young person whose request had been more +in the nature of a command. Personally, she had +not favored putting off the game. Had illness befallen +a member or members of any team on which +she had formerly played, no such favor would have +been asked. Nothing short of incapacitation of the +whole squad would have brought forth a stay in +activities. Yet as manager she was obliged to be +strictly impersonal. True, she might have exercised +her authority and herself made the decision. But +she had deemed the other way wisest. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +</p> +<p> +On entering the senior locker room she was still +more annoyed to find Mignon La Salle with Rowena. +If Ellen disliked the latter, she had less +love for the tricky French girl. “Birds of a feather,” +she mentally styled them as she coldly bowed to +Mignon. Her chilly recognition was not returned. +Mignon had not forgiven her for the try-out. +</p> +<p> +“Well, what’s the verdict?” inquired Rowena, satirically +pleasant. Her manner toward dignified +Ellen verged on insolence. +</p> +<p> +“The junior team are willing to postpone the +game,” informed Ellen briefly. She intended the +interview to be a short one. +</p> +<p> +“They know on which side their bread is buttered,” +laughed the other girl. “I suppose they +weren’t specially delighted. Did they make much +fuss before they gave in?” +</p> +<p> +“As I have delivered my message, I will say +‘good afternoon,’” Ellen returned stiffly. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be in too much of a hurry,” drawled Rowena. +“When I ask a question, I expect an answer.” +</p> +<p> +“Good afternoon.” Ellen wheeled and walked +calmly from the locker room. Rowena’s expectations +were a matter of indifference to the disgusted +manager. She, at least, was not to be bullied. +</p> +<p> +Mignon La Salle laughed unpleasantly. “You +were foolish to waste your breath on her.” She +wagged her black head in the direction of the door, +which had just closed behind Ellen. “You didn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +impress her <em>that</em> much.” She snapped her fingers +significantly. +</p> +<p> +Smarting under the dignified snubbing Ellen had +administered, Rowena hailed Mignon as an escape +valve. “You keep your remarks to yourself,” she +blustered. “How dare you stand there laughing and +snapping your fingers? No wonder people say +you’re two-faced and tricky. You’re so deceitful +you don’t know your own mind. One minute you +come whining to me about this Seymour snip, the +next you take sides with her.” +</p> +<p> +“I wasn’t standing up for her and you know it,” +muttered Mignon. As always, Rowena’s brutally +expressed opinion of herself had a vastly chastening +effect on the designing French girl. Rowena +never minced matters. She delivered her remarks +straight from the shoulder, indifferent to whether +they pleased or displeased. Mignon’s disregard for +sincerity and honor suited her admirably. She was +equally devoid of these virtues. Mignon made an +excellent confederate. Still, she had to be kept in +her place. Her very love of subtle intrigue made +plain speaking abhorrent to her. On occasions when +Rowena mercilessly held before her the mirror of +truth, she invariably retired in confusion. At the +same time she entertained a wholesome respect for +the one who thus dared to do it. This explained +to a great extent the strong influence which Rowena +exerted over her. She was not happy in this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +new friendship. More than once she had meditated +ending it. Fear of the other’s furious retaliation +was a signal preventative. Rowena, as a friend, was +greatly to be preferred to Rowena as an enemy. +</p> +<p> +As she sulkily viewed the Titian-haired tyrant, +who knew her too well for her own peace of mind, +she wondered why she had not flung back taunt for +taunt. Perhaps Rowena made a shrewd guess regarding +her thoughts. Adopting a milder tone she +said brusquely: “Oh, quit pouting and come along. +None of these stupid girls are worth quarreling over. +I suppose that Marjorie Dean, the big baby, told +Miss Seymour something hateful about me. That’s +the reason she acted so frosty.” +</p> +<p> +At the mere mention of Marjorie’s name Mignon’s +elfish face grew dark. She and Rowena had +at least one bond in common, they both despised +Marjorie Dean. Mignon reflected that no scheme +she had devised for humbling the former had ever +borne lasting fruit. Rowena might succeed where +she had failed. Rowena had sworn reprisal for the +affair of the algebra problem. Undoubtedly, she +would seize upon the first opportunity for retaliation. +With such a glorious prospect ahead of her, +Mignon craftily decided to stick to Rowena and +share in her triumph. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span>CHAPTER XVI—A TINY CLUE</h2> +<p> +The end of the week following Thanksgiving +brought the two temporarily disabled sophomore +basket ball players back to school. The day after +their return a notice appeared on the bulletin board +stating that the junior-sophomore game would be +played on the next Saturday afternoon. From all +sides it received profound approbation and the recent +postponement of the contest served to give it +greater importance. The sophomore team had been +highly delighted with the respite, and gratefully accorded +the credit to Rowena Farnham, who reveled +in her sudden advance in popularity. +</p> +<p> +The juniors had little to say to the world at large. +Among themselves they said a great deal. One and +all they agreed that the victory of the coming game +must be theirs. They yearned to show the public +that in postponing the game they had merely postponed +the glory of winning it. Though they knew +the strength of the opposing team, they confidently +believed themselves to be even stronger. How it +happened, none of them were quite able to explain, +but when the fateful hour of conflict arrived the victor’s +crown was wrested from them. A score of +18-16 in favor of the sophomores sent them off the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +field of defeat, crestfallen but remarkably good-natured, +considering the circumstances. +</p> +<p> +Behind the closed door of their dressing room, +with the jubilant shouts of the sophomores still +ringing in their ears, they proceeded to take stock +of themselves and their triumphant opponents. +</p> +<p> +“There is no use in talking, that Rowena Farnham +is a wonderful player,” was Muriel Harding’s +rueful admission. “She could almost have won the +game playing alone against us.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s a very rough player,” cried Daisy Griggs. +“She tears about the floor like a wild Indian. She +gave me two or three awful bumps.” +</p> +<p> +“Still, you can’t say she did anything that one +could make a fuss about,” said Rita Talbot slowly. +“I guess she’s too clever for that.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just it,” chimed in Susan Atwell crossly. +“She’s as sharp as a needle. She goes just far +enough to get what she wants without getting into +trouble by it. Anyway, they didn’t win much of a +victory. If that last throw of Marjorie’s hadn’t +missed the basket we’d have tied the score. It’s a +pity the game ended right there. Three or four minutes +more were all we needed.” +</p> +<p> +“I was sure I’d make it,” declared Marjorie rather +mournfully, “but a little before, in that big rush, +I was shoved forward by someone and nearly fell. +I made a slide but didn’t quite touch the floor. All +my weight was on my right arm and I felt it afterward +when I threw the ball.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +</p> +<p> +“Who shoved you forward? That’s what I’d like +to know,” came suspiciously from Susan. “If——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Marjorie hastened +to assure her. “It was just one of those provoking +things that have to happen.” +</p> +<p> +“Listen to those shrieks of joy,” grumbled Muriel, +as a fresh clamor began out in the gymnasium. +“Oh, why didn’t we beat them?” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” consoled Marjorie. “There’d be +just as much noise if we had won. You can’t blame +them. Next time it will be our turn. We’ve still +three more chances. Now that we’ve played the +sophs once, we’ll know better what to do when we +play them again. We really ought to go out there +and congratulate them. Then they would know that +we weren’t jealous of them.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d just as soon congratulate a big, striped tiger +as that Rowena Farnham. She makes me think of +one. She has that cruel, tigerish way about her. +Ugh! I can’t endure that girl.” Muriel Harding +made a gesture of abhorrence. +</p> +<p> +“Come in,” called Marjorie as four loud knocks +beat upon the door. “It’s Jerry, Connie and Irma,” +she explained, as the door opened to admit the trio. +</p> +<p> +“Better luck next time,” cheerfully saluted Jerry +Macy. “You girls played a bang-up, I mean, a splendid +game. I was sure you’d tie that score. You +had a slight accident, didn’t you, Marjorie?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Did you notice it?” Marjorie glanced curiously +at Jerry’s imperturbable face. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +</p> +<p> +“I always notice everything,” retorted Jerry. “I +hope——” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie flashed her a warning look. “It wasn’t +anything that could be avoided,” she answered with +a finality that Jerry understood, if no one else did. +“I move that we go down to Sargent’s and celebrate +our defeat,” she quickly added. “Have a seat, girls. +It won’t take us long to get into our everyday +clothes.” +</p> +<p> +“Such a shame,” bewailed Daisy Griggs. “After +we’ve gone to the trouble of having these stunning +suits made, then we have to be robbed of a chance +to parade around the gym as winners. Anyway, +they’re a whole lot prettier than the sophs’ suits. I +didn’t like that dark green and blue they had as well +as ours.” +</p> +<p> +“They stuck to the sophomore colors, though,” +reminded Rita. “It’s a wonder that Rowena Farnham +didn’t appear in some wonderful creation that +had nothing to do with class colors. It would be +just like her.” +</p> +<p> +Despite their regret over losing the game, the defeated +team, accompanied by Jerry, Constance, Irma +and Harriet Delaney, who afterwards dropped in +upon them, set off for the all-consoling Sargent’s in +fairly good humor, there to spend not only a talkative +session, but their pocket money as well. +</p> +<p> +It was not until Jerry, Constance and Marjorie +had reluctantly torn themselves from their friends to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +stroll homeward through the crisp December air that +Jerry unburdened herself with gusto. +</p> +<p> +“Marjorie Dean,” she began impetuously, “do +you or don’t you know why you nearly fell down in +that rush?” +</p> +<p> +“I know, of course,” nodded Marjorie. “Someone +swept me forward and I almost lost my balance. +It’s happened to me before. What is it that you are +trying to tell me, Jerry?” +</p> +<p> +“That someone was Row-ena,” stated Jerry +briefly. “Isn’t that so, Connie?” +</p> +<p> +“It looked that way,” Connie admitted. “I +thought she played very roughly all through the +game.” +</p> +<p> +“If it were she, I don’t believe she did it purposely,” +responded Marjorie. “Even if she did, I’m +not going to worry about it. I rather expected she +might. Mignon used to do that sort of thing. You +remember what a time we had about it last year. +But her team and ours were concerned in it. That’s +why I took it up. As it was only I to whom it happened +this time, I shall say nothing. I don’t wish +to start trouble over basket ball this year. If I spoke +of it to Ellen she would take it up. You know what +Rowena Farnham would say. She’d declare it was +simply a case of spite on my part. That I was using +it only as an excuse for not being able to throw that +last ball to basket. Then she’d go around and tell +others that we were whining because we were beaten +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +in a fair fight. I might better say nothing at all. +The only thing for us to do is to keep our own counsel +and win the next game.” +</p> +<p> +“I guess your head is level,” was Jerry’s gloomy +admission. She was as much distressed over their +defeat as were the juniors themselves. +</p> +<p> +“Marjorie’s head is <em>always</em> level,” smiled Constance +Stevens. “I am almost certain that you girls +will win the next game. Luck just happened to be +with the sophomores to-day. I don’t think they +work together as well as you. Miss Farnham is a +much better player than the others. Still, I imagine +that she might not always do so well as she did in +this game. If she saw that things were going +against her, she would be quite likely to get furiously +angry and lose her head.” Quiet Constance had been +making a close study of Rowena during the game. +Raised in the hard school of experience, she had +considerable insight into character. She seldom criticized +openly, but when she did, her opinions were +received with respect. +</p> +<p> +“Your head’s on the same level plane with Marjorie’s, +Connie,” agreed Jerry. “I think, too, that +Rowena Farnham would be apt to make blunders if +she got good and mad. Speaking of getting mad +reminds me that Lucy Warner is pouting about +those suits of ours. She told Harriet to-day that +she thought they were simply hideous. Harriet said +that she wouldn’t go in with you girls when you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +ordered them. She considered them a waste of +money. Said if she had one, she’d never get a +chance to wear it. Pleasant young person, isn’t +she?” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps she couldn’t afford to have one,” remarked +Constance thoughtfully. “You know her +mother is a widow and supports the two of them +by doing plain sewing. I imagine they must be quite +poor. They live in a tiny house on Radcliffe Street, +and Lucy never goes to even the high school parties, +or to Sargent’s, or any place that costs money. +She is a queer little thing. I’ve tried ever so many +times to be nice to her, but she always snubs me. +Maybe she thinks I’m trying to patronize her. I +can’t help feeling sorry for her. You see I know so +well what it means to be very poor—and proud,” +ended Constance, flushing. +</p> +<p> +“She’s a born grouch,” asserted Jerry. “She’s +been one ever since I’ve known her. Even in grammar +school she was like that. She’s always had a +fixed idea that because she’s poor everyone looks +down on her. It’s too bad. She’s very bright in +her studies, and she’d be quite pretty if she didn’t go +around all the time looking ready to bite.” +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it funny?” mused Marjorie. “I’ve never +noticed her particularly or thought much about her +until she made the team as a sub. Since then I’ve +tried several times to talk to her. Each time she has +acted as though she didn’t like to have me speak to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +her. I thought maybe she might be a friend of Mignon’s. +But I suppose it’s just because she feels so +ashamed of being poor. As if that mattered. We +ought to try to make her think differently. She must +be terribly unhappy.” +</p> +<p> +“I doubt it,” contradicted Jerry. “Some people +enjoy being miserable. Probably she’s one of that +sort. As I said before, ‘it’s too bad.’ Still, one +doesn’t care to get down on one’s knees to somebody, +just because that somebody hates herself. She +can’t expect people are going to like her if she keeps +them a mile away from her.” +</p> +<p> +“You are both right,” commented Constance. +“She ought to be made to understand that being +poor isn’t a crime. But you can’t force that into +her head. The only way to do is to wait until a +chance comes to prove it to her. We must watch +for the psychological moment.” Her droll utterance +of the last words set her listeners to giggling. Miss +Merton was prone to dwell upon that same marvelous +psychological moment. +</p> +<p> +That evening, as Marjorie diligently studied her +lessons, the queer, green-eyed little junior again invaded +her thoughts. A vision rose of her thin, white +face with its pointed chin, sensitive, close-lipped +mouth, and wide eyes of bluish-green that frequently +changed to a decided green. What a curious, secretive +face she had. Marjorie wondered how she +had happened to pass by so lightly such a baffling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +personality. She charitably determined to make up +for it by learning to know the true Lucy Warner. +She upbraided herself severely for having been so +selfish. Absorbed in her own friends, she had neglected +to think of how much there was to be done to +make the outsiders happy. +</p> +<p> +Entering the study hall on Monday morning she +cast a swift glance toward Lucy’s desk. She was +rather surprised to note that the blue-green eyes had +come to rest on her at the same instant. Marjorie +smiled and nodded pleasantly. The other girl only +continued to stare fixedly at her, but made no answering +sign. Forewarned, Marjorie was not specially +concerned over this plain snub. She merely +smiled to herself and decided that the psychological +moment had evidently not yet arrived. +</p> +<p> +Slipping into her seat she was about to slide her +books into place on the shelf under her desk, when +one hand came into contact with something that +made her color rise. She drew a sharp breath as +she brought it to light. So the Observer was at +work again! With a sudden, swift movement of +her arm she shoved her find back to cover. Casting +a startled look about the study hall, she wondered if +whoever had placed it there were now watching her. +Strangely enough, the only pair of eyes she caught +fastened upon her belonged to Mignon La Salle. In +them was a light of brooding scorn, which plainly +expressed her opinion of Marjorie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +</p> +<p> +“Could Mignon be the mysterious Observer?” was +again the question that assailed Marjorie’s mind. +She longed to read the letter, but her pride whispered, +“not now.” She would save it until school +was over for the day. She and Captain would read +it together in the living room. +</p> +<p> +It was a long, weary day for the impatient little +girl. At noon she carried the dread missive home +with her, gravely intrusting it to her Captain’s keeping. +“It’s another stab from the Observer,” she explained +soberly. “I haven’t opened it. We will read +it together when I come home this afternoon. I +don’t care to read it now.” +</p> +<p> +She returned home that afternoon to find her +mother entertaining callers. Despite her feverish +impatience to have the thing over, she was her usual +charming self to her mother’s friends. Nevertheless, +she sighed with relief when she saw them depart. +Seating herself on the davenport she leaned +wearily against its cushioned back. The suspense +of not knowing had told severely upon her. +</p> +<p> +“Now, Lieutenant, I think we are ready,” said +Mrs. Dean cheerily. Taking the letter from a +drawer of the library table, she sat down beside Marjorie +and tore open the envelope. Her head against +her Captain’s shoulder, Marjorie’s eyes followed the +Observer’s latest triumph in letter writing: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“<span class='sc'>Miss Dean</span>: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Last Saturday showed very plainly that you +could not play basket ball. I knew this long +ago. Several others must now know it. It +would serve you right if you were asked to resign +from the team. If you had been thinking +less about yourself and more about the game, +you might have tied the score and not disgraced +the juniors. You are a menace to the team and +ought to be removed from it. As I am not +alone in this opinion, I imagine and sincerely +hope that you will soon receive your dismissal. +If you had any honor in you, you would resign +without waiting to be asked. But remember +that a coward is soon worsted in the fight. Prepare +to meet the inevitable. +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>“<span class='sc'>The Observer</span>.”</p> +<p> +Without speaking, Marjorie turned again to the +first page of the letter, re-reading thoughtfully the +entire communication. “This letter tells me something +which the others didn’t,” she said. +</p> +<p> +“It tells me that it is high time to stop such nonsense.” +Mrs. Dean’s tones conveyed righteous indignation. +“The whole thing is simply outrageous.” +</p> +<p> +“It can’t be stopped until we know who is writing +these letters,” reminded Marjorie. “But I think I +have a tiny clue. That sentence about disgracing the +juniors would make it seem that a junior wrote +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +them. No one would mention it who wasn’t a junior. +I’ve tried not to believe it, but now I am almost +certain that Mignon wrote them. She would like +more than anyone else to see me lose my place on +the team. Yes, Mignon and the Observer must be +very closely related.” +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII—IN TIME OF NEED</h2> +<p> +Three days later Marjorie’s theory seemed destined +to prove itself correct. Ellen Seymour came +to her, wrath in her eye. “See here, Marjorie,” she +burst forth impulsively, “if Miss Davis sends for +you to meet her in the gym after school, let me +know. I’m going there with you. Yesterday while +you girls were at practice she stood there watching +you. Do you remember?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. I noticed her. She stared at me so hard +she made me nervous and I played badly. She has +always had that effect on me. Last year when she +managed the team she was fond of watching me. +She used to criticize my playing, too, and call out +one thing to me just when I knew I ought to do +another. She was awfully fussy. I hope she isn’t +going to begin it again this year. I thought she +had left everything to you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +</p> +<p> +“So did I,” retorted Ellen grimly. “It seems she +hasn’t. Someone, you can guess who, went to her +after the game and said something about your playing. +She came to me and said: ‘I understand there +is a great deal of dissatisfaction on the part of the +juniors over Miss Dean’s being on the junior team.’ +You can imagine what I said. When I saw her in +the gym after school I knew she had an object. But +leave things to me. I know a way to stop her objections +very quickly. If she sends for you, go +straight to the junior locker room from the study +hall and wait there for me. If she doesn’t send for +you, then you’ll know everything is all right. Remember +now, don’t set foot out of that locker room +until I come for you.” With this parting injunction +Ellen hurried off, leaving Marjorie a victim to many +emotions. +</p> +<p> +So the Observer’s, or rather Mignon’s, prophesy +bordered on fulfillment. Mignon and the few juniors +who still adhered to the La Salle standard had +made complaint against her to Miss Davis in the +name of the junior class. As a friend of Miss Merton, +Miss Davis had always favored the French girl. +Last year it had been whispered about that her motive +in creating a second sophomore team had arisen +from her wish to help Mignon’s fortunes along. No +doubt she had been very glad to listen to this latest +appeal on Mignon’s part. +</p> +<p> +But Marjorie was only partially correct in her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +conclusions. Though it was, indeed, true that Mignon +had besieged Miss Davis with a plea that Marjorie +be removed from the team, no other member +of the junior class had accompanied her. She was +flanked by the far more powerful allies, Charlotte +Horner and Rowena Farnham. The plan of attack +had originated in Rowena’s fertile brain as the +result of a bitter outburst against Marjorie on Mignon’s +part. It was directly after the game that she +had stormed out her grievances to Rowena and +Charlotte. Personally, Rowena cared little about +Mignon’s woes. Her mischief-making faculties +were aroused merely on Marjorie’s account. Had +it been Susan, or Muriel against whom Mignon +raved she would have laughed and dubbed her +friend, “a big baby.” But Marjorie—there was a +chance to even her score. +</p> +<p> +“You just let me manage this,” Rowena had declared +boastfully. “This Miss Davis is easy. She’s +a snob. So is Miss Merton. If they weren’t they’d +have put you in your place long ago. They can see +through you. It’s money that counts with both of +them. I’ve made it a point right along to be nice +to Miss Davis. In case that frosty Miss Seymour +tried to make trouble for me, I knew I needed a substantial +backing. Now I’ll ask her to my house to +dinner to-morrow night. If she can’t come, so much +the better for me. If she can, so much the better +for you. Of course you’ll be there, too. Then we’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +see what we can do. You ought to be very grateful +to me. I expect she’ll bore me to death. I’m only +doing it for your sake.” +</p> +<p> +Rowena was too crafty not to hang the heavy +mantle of obligation on Mignon’s shoulders. Thus +indebted to her, Mignon would one day be reminded +of the debt. As a last perfect touch to her scheme +she had shrewdly included Charlotte Horner in the +invitation. Providentially for Mignon, Miss Davis +had no previous engagement. So it fell about that +Rowena became hostess to three guests. At home a +young despot, who bullied her timid little mother +and coaxed her indulgent father into doing her will, +she merely announced her intention to entertain at +dinner and let that end it. The final results of that +highly successful dinner party were yet to be announced. +</p> +<p> +Unwittingly, however, Miss Davis had blundered. +In order to strengthen her case she had purposely +complained of Marjorie to Ellen Seymour. Knowing +nothing of Ellen’s devotion to the pretty junior, +she had not dreamed that Ellen would set the wheels +in motion to defeat her. She was in reality more +to be pitied than blamed. Of a nature which accepted +hearsay evidence, declining to go below the +surface, it is not to be wondered at that Rowena’s +clever persuasion, backed by Mignon’s and Charlotte’s +able support, caused her to spring to the +French girl’s aid. She was one of those aggravating +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +persons who refuse to see whatever they do not +wish to see. She was undoubtedly proficient in the +business of physical culture. She was extremely inefficient +in the art of reading girls. Sufficient unto +herself, she, therefore, felt no compunction in sending +forth the word that should summon Marjorie +to the gymnasium, there to be deprived of that which +she had rightfully earned. +</p> +<p> +Like many other days that had come to poor Marjorie +since the beginning of her junior year, suspense +became the ruling power. Two things she +knew definitely. Ellen Seymour was for her. Miss +Davis against her. The rest she could only +guess at, losing herself in a maze of troubled conjecture. +Judge her surprise when on reaching the +locker room, she found not only Ellen awaiting her, +but her teammates as well. They had made a most +precipitate flight from the study hall in order to be +in the locker room when she arrived. +</p> +<p> +“Why, Ellen! Why, girls!” she stammered. A +deeper pink rushed to her cheeks; a mist gathered +in her eyes as she realized the meaning of their +presence. They had come in a body to help her. +</p> +<p> +“We’re here because we’re here,” trilled Captain +Muriel Harding. “In a few minutes we’ll be in the +gym. Then someone else will get a surprise. Are +we ready to march? I rather think we are. Lead +the procession, Ellen.” +</p> +<p> +“Come on, Marjorie, you and I will walk together. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +Fall in, girls. The invincible sextette will now take +the trail.” +</p> +<p> +Amid much laughter on their part and openly +curious glances from constantly arriving juniors +who wondered what was on foot, the six girls had +swung off down the corridor before the curious +ones found opportunity to relieve their curiosity. +</p> +<p> +“She’s not here yet,” commented Susan, as they +entered the place of tryst. “Isn’t that too bad. I +hoped she’d be on hand to see the mighty host advancing.” +</p> +<p> +“Here she comes,” warned Rita Talbot. “Now, +for it.” +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII—DOING BATTLE FOR MARJORIE</h2> +<p> +Two spots of angry color appeared high up on +Miss Davis’s lean face as she viewed the waiting +six. It came to her that she was in for a lively +scene. Setting her mouth firmly, she approached +them. Addressing herself to Marjorie, she opened +with: “I sent for <em>you</em>, Miss Dean; not your friends.” +</p> +<p> +“I asked these girls to come here.” Ellen Seymour +turned an unflinching gaze upon the nettled +instructor. +</p> +<p> +“Then you may invite them into one of the dressing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +rooms for a time. My business with Miss Dean +is strictly personal.” +</p> +<p> +“I am quite willing that my friends should hear +whatever you have to say to me.” Marjorie’s brown +head lifted itself a trifle higher. +</p> +<p> +“But <em>I</em> am not willing that they should listen,” +snapped Miss Davis. +</p> +<p> +“Then I must refuse to listen, also,” flashed the +quick, but even response. +</p> +<p> +“This is sheer impudence!” exclaimed Miss Davis. +“I sent for you and I insist that you must stay until +I give you permission to go. As for these girls——” +</p> +<p> +“These girls will remain here until Marjorie +goes,” put in Ellen, admirably self-controlled. +“Everyone of them knows already why you wish to +see Marjorie Dean. She knows, too. We have +come to defend her. I, for one, say that she <em>shall not</em> be +dismissed from the team. Her teammates +say the same. It is unfair.” +</p> +<p> +“Have I said that she was to be dismissed from +the team?” demanded Miss Davis, too much irritated +to assert her position as teacher. Ellen’s +blunt accusation had robbed her of her usual show of +dignity. +</p> +<p> +“Can you say that such was not your intention?” +cross-questioned Ellen mercilessly. +</p> +<p> +Miss Davis could not. She looked the picture of +angry guilt. “I shall not answer such an impertinent +question,” she fumed. “You are all dismissed.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +Privately, she determined to send for Marjorie the +next day during school hours. +</p> +<p> +“Very well.” Ellen bowed her acceptance of the +dismissal. “Shall we consider the matter settled?” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly not.” The words leaped sharply to +the woman’s lips. Realizing she had blundered, she +hastily amended. “There is no matter under consideration +between you and me.” +</p> +<p> +“Whatever concerns Marjorie’s basket ball interests, +concerns me. If you send for her again she +will not come to you unless we come with her. Am +I not right?” She appealed for information to the +subject of the discussion. +</p> +<p> +“You are,” was the steady reply. +</p> +<p> +“This is simply outrageous.” Miss Davis completely +lost composure. “Do you realize all of you +that you are absolutely defying your teacher? Miss +Dean deserves to be disciplined. After such a display +of discourtesy I refuse to allow her the privilege +of playing on the junior basket ball team.” +Miss Davis continued to express herself, unmindful +of the fact that Muriel Harding had slipped away +from the group and out of the nearest door. Her +temper aroused she held forth at length, ending +with: “This disgraceful exhibition of favoritism on +your part, Miss Seymour, shows very plainly that +you are not fitted to manage basket ball in this +school. I shall replace you as manager to-morrow. +You, Miss Dean, are dismissed from the junior +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +team. I shall report every one of you to Miss Archer +as soon as I leave the gymnasium.” +</p> +<p> +“I believe she is on her way here now,” remarked +Ellen with satirical impersonality. “Muriel went +to find her and ask her to come.” +</p> +<p> +“What!” Miss Davis betrayed small pleasure at +this news. Quickly recovering herself she ordered: +“You may go at once.” +</p> +<p> +“Here she is.” Ellen nodded toward a doorway +through which the principal had just entered, Muriel +only a step behind her. The senior manager’s eyes +twinkled satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +“What seems to be the trouble here, Miss Davis?” +The principal came pithily to the point. +</p> +<p> +“I have been insulted by these disrespectful girls.” +Miss Davis waved a hand toward the defending sextette. +</p> +<p> +“That is news I do not relish hearing about my +girls. I wish every teacher in this school to be +treated with respect. Kindly tell me what reason +they gave for doing so.” +</p> +<p> +“I sent for Miss Dean on a personal matter. She +insisted on bringing these girls with her. I requested +them to leave me alone with Miss Dean. +They refused to do so. I dismissed them all, intending +to put off my interview with Miss Dean +until to-morrow. Miss Seymour took it upon herself +to tell me that Miss Dean would not come to +me to-morrow unless accompanied by herself and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +these girls. Miss Dean declared the same thing. +Such conduct is unendurable.” +</p> +<p> +“These young women must have strong reason for +such peculiar conduct, or else they have overstepped +all bounds,” decided Miss Archer impassively. +“What have you to say for yourself, Ellen? As a +member of the senior class I shall expect a concise +explanation.” +</p> +<p> +“We have a very strong reason for our misbehavior.” +Ellen put a questioning inflection on the +last word. “Briefly explained, it is this. Miss Davis +has been influenced by certain persons to dismiss +Marjorie Dean from the junior basket ball team. +Because the juniors lost the game the other day by +two points, the blame for it has been unjustly placed +upon Marjorie. At practice yesterday she did not +play as well as usual. These are, apparently, the +very shaky causes for her dismissal. I shall not +attempt to tell you the true reasons. They are unworthy +of mention. As her manager I refused to +countenance such unfairness. So did her teammates. +They will agree with me when I say that +Marjorie is one of the best players we have ever +had at Sanford High. We are all in position to +say so. We know her work. So we came with her +to defend her. I admit that we took a rather stiff +stand with Miss Davis. There was no other way.” +</p> +<p> +“What are your reasons for dismissing Miss Dean +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +from the team?” Still impassive of feature, the +principal now addressed Miss Davis. +</p> +<p> +“I have received complaints regarding her work,” +came the defiant answer. +</p> +<p> +“According to Ellen these complaints did not proceed +from either herself or her teammates. If not +from them, whom could it interest to make complaint?” +continued the inexorable questioner. +</p> +<p> +“The members of the junior class are naturally +interested in the team representing them,” reminded +Miss Davis tartly. +</p> +<p> +“How many members of the junior class objected +to Miss Dean as a player?” relentlessly pursued Miss +Archer. +</p> +<p> +Miss Davis grew confused. “I—they—I decline +to talk this matter over with you in the presence of +these insolent girls,” she hotly rallied. +</p> +<p> +“A word, girls, and you may go. I am greatly +displeased over this affair. Since basket ball seems +to be such a trouble-breeder, it might better be abolished +in this school. I may decide to take that step. +Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. You +will hear more of this later. That will be all at +present.” +</p> +<p> +With the feeling that the gymnasium roof was +about to descend upon them, the six girls quitted the +battlefield. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you ever believe Miss Archer will stop +basket ball,” emphasized Muriel Harding when they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +were well down the corridor. “She knows every +single thing about it. I told her in the office. I told +her, too, that I knew Rowena Farnham and Charlotte +Horner were mixed up in it. They’ve had +their heads together ever since the game.” +</p> +<p> +“I would have resigned in a minute, but I just +couldn’t after the way you girls fought for me,” +Marjorie voiced her distress. “If Miss Archer stops +basket ball it will be my fault. I’m sorry I ever +made the team.” +</p> +<p> +“You couldn’t help yourself.” Ellen Seymour +was rapidly regaining her cheerfulness. “Don’t +think for a minute that Miss Davis will be able to +smooth things over. Miss Archer is too clever not +to recognize unfairness when she meets it face to +face. And don’t worry about her stopping basket +ball. Take my word for it. She won’t.” +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX—WHAT JERRY MACY “DUG UP”</h2> +<p> +As Ellen Seymour had predicted, basket ball did +not receive its quietus. But no one ever knew what +passed between Miss Archer and Miss Davis. The +principal also held a long session with Ellen, who +emerged from her office with a pleased smile. To +Marjorie and her faithful support Ellen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +said confidentially: “It’s all settled. No one will ever try +to shove Marjorie off the team while Miss Archer is +here. But basket ball is doomed, if anything else +like that ever comes up. Miss Archer says so.” +Strangely enough the six girls were not required to +apologize to Miss Davis. Possibly Miss Archer was +not anxious to reopen the subject by thus courting +fresh rebellion. After all, basket ball was not down +on the high school curriculum. She was quite willing +her girls should be at liberty to manage it as +they chose, provided they managed it wisely and +without friction. Privately, she was disgusted with +Miss Davis’s part in the recent disagreement. She +strongly advised the former to give up all claim +to the management of the teams. But this advice +Miss Davis refused to take. She still insisted on +keeping up a modified show of authority, but resolved +within herself to be more careful. She had +learned considerable about girls. +</p> +<p> +The three plotters accepted their defeat with bad +grace. Afraid that the tale would come to light, +Mignon and Charlotte privately shoved the blame +on Rowena’s shoulders. Nothing leaked out, however, +and they were too wise to censure Rowena to +her face. Mignon soon discovered that the obliging +sophomore’s efforts in her behalf had cost her dear. +Rowena tyrannized over her more than ever. After +the second game between the junior and sophomore +teams, which occurred two weeks after Marjorie’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +narrow escape from dismissal from the team, Mignon +came into the belief that her lot was, indeed, +hard. The sophomores had been ingloriously +beaten, the score standing 22-12 in favor of the juniors. +In consequence Rowena was furious, forcing +Mignon to listen to her long tirades against the juniors, +and rating her unmercifully when she failed to +register proper sympathy. +</p> +<p> +Owing to the nearness of the Christmas holidays +and the brief stretch that lay between them and the +mid-year examinations, the other two games were +put off until February and March, respectively. No +one except Rowena was sorry. She longed for a +speedy opportunity to wipe the defeat off her slate. +She had little of the love of holiday giving in her +heart, and was heard loudly to declare that Christmas +was a nuisance. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie and her little coterie of intimates regarded +it very differently. They found the days +before Yule-tide altogether too short in which to +carry out their Christmas plans. With the nearness +of the blessed anniversary of the world’s King, Marjorie +grew daily happier. Since the straightening +of the basket ball tangle, for her, things in school +had progressed with surprising smoothness. Then, +too, the hateful Observer had evidently forgotten +her. Since the letter advising her to “prepare to +meet the inevitable,” the Observer had apparently +laid down her pen. Marjorie soberly confided to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +her captain that she hoped Christmas might make +the Observer see things differently. +</p> +<p> +Obeying the familiar mandate, which peered at +her from newspaper, store or street car, “Do Your +Christmas Shopping Early,” she lovingly stored +away the numerous beribboned bundles designed +for intimate friends at least a week before Christmas. +That last week she left open in order to go +about the business of making a merry Christmas for +the needy. As on the previous year Jerry Macy and +Constance were her right-hand men. Susan, Irma, +Muriel and Harriet also caught the fever of giving +and the six girls worked zealously, inspired by the +highest motives, to bring happiness to the poverty-stricken. +</p> +<p> +Christmas morning brought Marjorie an unusual +windfall of gifts. It seemed as though everyone she +liked had remembered her. Looking back on the +previous Christmas, she remembered rather sadly the +Flag of Truce and all that it had signified. This +year Mary and she were again one at heart. She +dropped a few tears of sheer happiness over Mary’s +long Christmas letter and the beautiful embroidered +Mexican scarf that had come with it. She had sent +Mary a wonderful silver desk set engraved with M. +to M., which she hoped wistfully that Mary would +like as much as she cherished her exquisite scarf. +</p> +<p> +The Christmas vacation was, as usual, a perpetual +round of gaiety. Jerry and Hal gave their usual +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +dance. Constance gave a New Year’s hop. Harriet +and Muriel entertained their friends at luncheons, +while Marjorie herself sent out invitations for an +old-fashioned sleigh-ride party, with an informal +supper and dance at her home on the return. These +social events, with some few others of equal pleasure, +sent Father Time spinning along giddily. +</p> +<p> +“Aren’t you sorry it’s all over?” sighed Constance, +as she and Marjorie lingered at the Macys’ gate at +the close of their first day at school after the holidays. +</p> +<p> +“Sorry’s no name for it,” declared Jerry. “We +certainly had one beautiful time, I mean a beautiful +time. Honestly, I liked the getting things ready for +other folks best of all, though. I like to keep busy. +I wish we had something to do or somebody to help +all the time. I’m going to poke around and see what +I can stir up. I try to do the sisterly, helpful act +toward Hal; picking up the stuff he strews all over +the house and locating lost junk, I mean articles, but +he’s about as appreciative as a Feejee Islander. You +know how grateful they are.” +</p> +<p> +“I saw one in a circus once,” laughed Constance +reminiscently. “I wasn’t impressed with his sense +of gratitude. Someone threw him a peanut and he +flung it back and hit an old gentleman in the eye.” +</p> +<p> +A general giggle arose at the erring Feejee’s +strange conception of gratitude. +</p> +<p> +“That will be nice to tell Hal when he shows the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +same delicate sort of thankfulness,” grinned Jerry. +“I’m not going to waste my precious talents on him +all winter. I’m going to dig up something better. +If you girls hear of anything, run all the way to +our house, any hour of the day or night, and tell +your friend Jerry Geraldine Jeremiah. All three are +one, as Rudyard Kipling says in something or other +he wrote.” +</p> +<p> +“I love Kipling’s books,” said Constance. “One +of the first things I did when I wasn’t poor any +longer was to buy a whole set. That first year at +Sanford High I tried to get them in the school library. +But there were only two or three of them.” +</p> +<p> +“That library is terribly run down,” asserted +Jerry. “They haven’t half the books there they +ought to have. I was talking to my father about it +the other night. He promised to put it before the +Board. I hope he does. Then maybe we’ll get +some more books. I don’t care so much for myself. +I can get all the books I want. But there are a lot +of girls that can’t, who need special ones for reading +courses.” +</p> +<p> +Jerry’s resolve to “poke around and stir up something” +did not meet with any special success. The +more needy of the Christmas poor were already being +looked after by Mrs. Dean, Mrs. Macy and other +charitably disposed persons who devoted themselves +to the cause of benevolence the year around. Generous-hearted +Jerry continued to help in the good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +work, but her active nature was still on the alert +for some special object. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve dug it up,” she announced in triumph, several +evenings later. The three girls were conducting +a prudent review at Jerry’s home, preparatory to the +rapidly approaching mid-year test. +</p> +<p> +“What did you say, Jerry?” Marjorie tore her +eyes from her French grammar, over which she had +been poring. “I was so busy trying to fix the conjugation +of these miserable, irregular verbs in my +mind that I didn’t hear you.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ve dug up the great idea; the how-to-be-helpful +stunt. It’s right in our school, too, that our labors +are needed.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s interesting; ever so much more so than +this.” Constance Stevens closed the book she held +with a snap. “I’m not a bit fond of German,” she +added. “I have to study it, though, on account of +the Wagner operas. This ‘<em>Höher als die Kirche</em>’ is +a pretty story, but it’s terribly hard to translate. +We’ll have several pages of it to do in examination. +Excuse me, Jerry, for getting off the subject. What +is it that you’ve dug up?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s about the library. You know I told you that +my father was going to speak of it at the Board +meeting. Well, he did, but it wasn’t any use. There +have been such a lot of appropriations made for +other things that the library will have to wait. +That’s what the high and mighty Board say. This +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +is what <em>I</em> say. Why not get busy among ourselves +and dig up some money for new books?” +</p> +<p> +“You mean by subscription?” asked Marjorie. +</p> +<p> +“No, siree. I mean by earning it ourselves,” proposed +Jerry. “Subscription would mean that a lot +of girls would feel that they ought to give something +which they couldn’t afford to give. Then there’d +be those who couldn’t give a cent. That would be +hard on them. What we ought to do is to get up +some kind of a show that the whole school would +be interested in.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s a fine idea. It’s public-spirited,” approved +Marjorie. “What sort of entertainment do you +think we might give? We couldn’t give it until after +examinations, though.” +</p> +<p> +“I know the kind I’d like to give, but I can’t unless +a certain person promises to help me,” was Jerry’s +mystifying reply. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Archer?” guessed Constance. +</p> +<p> +“Nope; Connie Stevens.” Jerry grinned widely +at Constance’s patent amazement. +</p> +<p> +“I?” she questioned. “What have I to do with +it?” +</p> +<p> +“Everything. You could coax Laurie Armitage +to help us and then, too, you’d be leading lady. Do +you know now what I’m driving at? I see you +don’t. Well, I’d like to give the ‘Rebellious Princess’ +again, one night in Sanford and the next in +Riverview. That is only twenty-five miles from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +here. A whole lot of the Sanfordites were disappointed +last year because they couldn’t get into the +theatre to see the operetta. Another performance +would pack the theatre, just as full as last Spring. +I know the Riverview folks would turn out to it. +There are two high schools in Riverview, you know. +Besides, we have the costumes and everything ready. +Two or three rehearsals would be all we’d need. If +we tried to give an entertainment or a play, it would +take so long to practise for it. Have I a head on my +shoulders or have I not?” +</p> +<p> +“You certainly have,” chorused her listeners. +</p> +<p> +“I am willing to do all I can,” agreed Constance. +“I’ll see Laurie about it to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, you needn’t wait until then. He’s downstairs +now with Hal and Danny Seabrooke. I told +Hal to ask the boys over here this evening. We can’t +study all the time, you know. I suppose they are +ready to tear up the furniture because we are still up +here. Danny Seabrooke is such a sweet, patient, +little boy. Put away your books and we’ll go down +to the library. Since this is a library proposition, +let’s be consistent.” +</p> +<p> +A hum of girl voices, accompanied by the patter +of light feet on the stairs, informed three impatient +youths that they had not waited in vain. +</p> +<p> +“At last!” exclaimed the irrepressible Daniel, better +known as the Gad-fly, his round, freckled face +almost disappearing behind his Cheshire grin. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +“Long have we sought thee, and now that we have +found thee——” +</p> +<p> +“Sought nothing,” contradicted Jerry. “I’ll bet +you haven’t set foot outside this library. There’s +evidence of it.” She pointed to Hal and Laurie, who +had just hastily deposited foils in a corner and were +now more hastily engaged in drawing on their coats. +“You’ve been holding a fencing match. Laurie +came out best, of course. He always does. He’s a +fencing master and a musician all in one.” +</p> +<p> +“Jerry never gives me credit for anything,” +laughed Hal. “That is, in public. Later, when +Laurie’s gone home, she’ll tell me how much better +I can fence than Laurie.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you believe him. He’s trying to tease me, +but I know him too well to pay any attention to what +he says.” Jerry’s fond grin bespoke her affection +for the brother she invariably grumbled about. At +heart she was devoted to him. In public she derived +peculiar pleasure from sparring with him. +</p> +<p> +The trio of girls had advanced upon the library, +there to hold a business session. But the keynote of +the next half hour was sociability. It was Constance +who first started the ball rolling. Ensconced beside +Laurie on the deep window seat, she told the young +composer that Jerry had a wonderful scheme to unfold. +</p> +<p> +“Then let’s get together and listen to it,” he said +warmly. Three minutes afterward he had marshalled the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +others to the window seat. “Everybody +sit down but Jerry. She has the floor. Go ahead, +Jerry. Tell us what you’d like us to do.” He reseated +himself by Constance. Laurie never neglected +an opportunity to be near to the girl of his +boyish heart. +</p> +<p> +Posting herself before her hearers with an exaggerated +air of importance, Jerry made a derisive +mouth at Danny Seabrooke, who was leaning forward +with an appearance of profound interest, which +threatened to land him sprawling on the floor. “I’m +not used to addressing such a large audience,” she +chuckled. “Ahem! Wow!” Having delivered herself +of these enlightening remarks she straightened +her face and set forth her plan with her usual +brusque energy. She ended with: “You three boys +have got to help. No backing out.” +</p> +<p> +“Surely we’ll help,” promised Laurie at once. +“It’s a good idea, Jerry. I can have things going inside +of a week. That is, if my leading lady doesn’t +develop a temperament. These opera singers are +very temperamental, you know.” His blue eyes +rested smilingly on Constance. +</p> +<p> +“I’m not an opera singer,” she retorted. “I’m +only a would-be one. Would-be’s are very humble +persons. They know they must behave well. You +had better interview your tenor lead. Tenors are +supposed to be terribly irresponsible.” +</p> +<p> +Amid an exchange of equally harmless badinage, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +the six willing workers discussed the plan at length. +So much excited discussion was provocative of hunger. +No one, except Hal, said so, yet when Jerry +disappeared to return trundling a tea wagon, filled +with delectable provender, she was hailed with acclamation. +</p> +<p> +“What splendid times we always have together,” +was Marjorie’s enthusiastic opinion, when seated beside +Hal in his own pet car she was being conveyed +home. Snatches of mirthful conversation issuing +from the tonneau where the rest of the sextette, +Jerry included, were enjoying themselves hugely, +seemed direct corroboration of her words. Invited +to “come along,” Jerry had needed no second urging. +</p> +<p> +“That’s your fault,” Hal made gallant response. +“You are the magnet that draws us all together. +Before you and Jerry were friends I never realized +what a fine sister I had. If you hadn’t been +so nice to Constance, she and Laurie might never +have come to know each other so well. Then there’s +Dan. He always used to run away from girls. He +got over his first fright at that little party you gave +the first year you came to Sanford. You’re a magician, +Marjorie, and you’re making a pretty nice +history for yourself among your friends. I hope +always to be among the best of them.” Hal was +very earnest in his boyish praise. +</p> +<p> +“I am sure we’ll always be the best of friends, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +Hal,” she said seriously, though her color heightened +at the sincere tribute to herself. “I can’t see +that I’ve done anything specially wonderful, though. +It’s easy to be nice to those one likes who like one +in return. It’s being nice to those one doesn’t like +that’s hard. It’s harder still not to be liked.” +</p> +<p> +“Then you aren’t apt to know that hardship,” +retorted Hal. +</p> +<p> +Marjorie smiled faintly. She had known that +very hardship ever since she had come to Sanford. +She merely answered: “Everybody must meet a few, +I won’t say enemies, I’ll just say, people who don’t +like one.” +</p> +<p> +That night as she sat before her dressing table +brushing her thick, brown curls, she pondered +thoughtfully over Hal Macy’s words. In saying +them she knew he had been sincere. It was sweet +to hope that she <em>had</em> been and was still a power for +good. Yet it made her feel very humble. She could +only resolve to try always to live up to that difficult +standard. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XX—CONSTANCE POINTS THE WAY</h2> +<p> +“This is a nice state of affairs,” scolded Jerry +Macy. “What do you suppose has happened, Marjorie?” +Overtaking her friend in the corridor on the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +way from recitation, Jerry’s loud question cut the +air like a verbal bomb-shell. Without waiting for +a reply she continued in a slightly lower key. “Harriet +has tonsilitis. Isn’t that the worst you ever +heard? And only three days before the operetta, +too. We can’t give it until she gets well, unless +somebody in the chorus can sing her rôle. I’m going +to telephone Laurie after my next class is over and +tell him about it. The chorus is our only hope. +Some one of the girls may know the part fairly +well. They all ought to after so much rehearsing +last Spring. Most of them can’t do solo work, +though. Do you think you could sing it?” Jerry +had drawn Marjorie to one side of the corridor as +she rapidly related her bad news. +</p> +<p> +“Mercy, no!” Marjorie registered dismay at the +mere suggestion. “I wouldn’t dream of attempting +it. Isn’t it too bad that Harriet hasn’t an understudy? +I’m ever so sorry she’s sick. How dreadfully +disappointed she must be.” +</p> +<p> +“Not any more so than half of Sanford will be +when they hear the operetta’s been postponed. +Every reserved seat ticket’s been sold. Who’d have +thought that Harriet would go and get tonsilitis?” +mourned Jerry. “There’s a regular epidemic of +it in Sanford. You know Nellie Simmons had it +when the sophs wanted that basket ball game postponed. +Quite a number of Sanford High girls have +had it, too. Be careful you don’t get it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +</p> +<p> +Marjorie laughed. “Oh, <em>I</em> won’t. Don’t worry. +I’m never sick. We’ll have to go, Jerry. There’s +the last bell.” +</p> +<p> +“You had better touch wood.” Jerry hurled this +warning advice over one plump shoulder as she +moved off. +</p> +<p> +It brought a smile to Marjorie’s lips. She was +not in the least superstitious. She grew grave with +the thought that the operetta would have to be postponed. +At the first performance of the “Rebellious +Princess,” Harriet had sung her part at a moment’s +notice. Until then she had been Mignon La Salle’s +understudy. Struck by a sudden thought Marjorie +stopped short. Jerry had evidently forgotten that +Mignon knew the rôle. Still, it would do no good +to remind her of it, or Laurie either. She believed +that Jerry, at least, would infinitely prefer that the +operetta should never be given rather than allow +Mignon to sing in it. The mere mention of it was +likely to make her cross. Marjorie decided to keep +her own counsel. She had no reason to wish to see +Mignon thus honored, particularly after her treacherous +attempt to do Constance out of her part. +Then, too, there was the new grievance of the Observer +against her. +</p> +<p> +By the time school was over for the day, Constance +had already been acquainted with the dire +news. Apart from her two chums, Jerry had told +no one else except Hal and Laurie. When the three +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +girls emerged from the school building, accompanied +by Susan, Muriel and Irma, they saw the two +young men waiting for them across the street. +The latter three faithful satellites immediately took +themselves off with much giggling advice to Jerry +that four was a company, but five a crowd. Jerry +merely grinned amiably and refused to join them. +She knew her own business. +</p> +<p> +“This is too bad, Jerry,” were Laurie’s first +words. “What are we to do?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s for you to say,” shrugged Jerry. “All I +can think of to do is have a try-out of the chorus. +If none of them can sing Harriet’s part, we’ll have +to call it off. I mean postpone it.” Jerry cast a sly +glance at Hal to see if he had noticed her polite +amendment. +</p> +<p> +“What have you to say, Constance and Marjorie?” +queried Laurie. “But the street is not the +place for a consultation. Suppose we go down to +Sargent’s to talk it over. I spoke to Professor Harmon +this afternoon, but he said he’d rather leave it +to me. He’s busy just now with that new boy +choir at the Episcopal Church. He wants me to +direct the operetta.” +</p> +<p> +Voicing approval of this last, the three girls allowed +their willing cavaliers to steer them toward +Sargent’s hospitable doors. Hal, Marjorie and +Jerry took the lead, leaving Constance and Laurie +to follow. Nothing further relating to the problem +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +that had risen was said until the five were seated at +a rear table in the confectioner’s smart little shop. +Then Laurie abruptly took it up. “We are ready +for suggestions,” he invited. +</p> +<p> +“I have one.” There was a peculiar note of uncertainty +in Constance’s voice as she spoke. “You +are not going to be pleased with it, but it seems to +me the only thing to do.” More boldly she added: +“Let Mignon La Salle sing the part.” +</p> +<p> +“Never!” burst from Laurie and Jerry simultaneously. +</p> +<p> +The appearance of a white-coated youth to take +their order halted the discussion for a moment. As +he hurried away Marjorie’s soft voice was heard: +“I thought of that, too, this morning. I had made +up my mind not to speak of it. Connie makes me +ashamed of myself. Connie is willing for Mignon +to sing the part that she cheated herself of. I think +we ought to be.” +</p> +<p> +In silence Laurie stared at her across the table, +his brows knitted in a deep frown. Then his gaze +rested on Constance. “You girls are queer,” he +said slowly. “I don’t understand you at all.” +</p> +<p> +“I do,” declared Jerry, far from pleased. “I can’t +say I agree with them, though. If we ask Mignon +to sing the part (I don’t know who’s going to ask +her), she will parade around like a peacock. She +may say ‘no’ just for spite. She doesn’t speak to +any of us.” Then she added in a milder tone, “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +suppose her father would dance a hornpipe if we +let her sing it. I heard he felt terribly about the +way she performed last Spring. You know he put +off a business trip just to go to hear her sing, and +then she didn’t. She had nobody but herself to +blame, though.” +</p> +<p> +Unwittingly, Jerry had struck a responsive chord +in Hal. Leaning forward, he said impulsively, +“Then I think I’d ask her, Laurie. Mr. La Salle is +a fine man. His office is next to Dad’s. I often go +in there and talk to him. He is mighty interesting. +He has traveled all over the world and knows how +to tell about what he’s seen. He’s all wrapped up +in Mignon. You can see that. I wish you’d ask +her just on his account. It would pay up for last +Spring.” +</p> +<p> +“Three against two,” grumbled Jerry, “and one +of them my own brother. Do we stand our ground, +Laurie, or do we not?” +</p> +<p> +Laurie did not answer immediately. He had not +forgiven the French girl her transgression against +Constance. The battery of earnest blue and brown +eyes bent upon him proved fatal to his animosity. +“Our ground seems to be shaky,” he answered. +“The majority generally rules.” +</p> +<p> +“Then you <em>will</em> ask her?” Constance flashed him +a radiant smile that quite repaid him for his hinted +decision in Mignon’s favor. “It will have to be +you. She wouldn’t do it for us.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +</p> +<p> +Laurie showed lively consternation. “Oh, see +here——” Innate chivalry toward girlhood overtook +him. “All right,” he answered. “I’ll ask her.” +</p> +<p> +In the midst of countless woes, arising from her +unwilling allegiance to Rowena Farnham, Mignon +next day received the glorious invitation from a +most studiedly polite young man. If anyone other +than Lawrence Armitage had come to her with the +request she would, in all probability, refused pointblank +to countenance the idea. Mignon still cherished +her school-girl preference for the handsome +young musician. She, therefore, assented to the proposal +with only the merest show of reluctance. Laurie +made it very plain, however, that Constance Stevens +desired it. Inwardly, Mignon writhed with +anger; outwardly, she was a smiling image of amiability. +</p> +<p> +Afterward she experienced the deepest satisfaction +in boasting to Rowena of the honor which had +come to her. +</p> +<p> +“I think I’ll be in that operetta, too,” had been +Rowena’s calm decision. “I’ll go to that Lawrence +Armitage and tell him I shall sing in the chorus.” +Straightway, she went on this laudable errand, only +to be politely but firmly informed that there were +no chorus vacancies. Over this she raged to Mignon, +then consoled herself and dismayed the French +girl by calmly announcing, “I’m going to the theatre +with you just the same and watch the silly operetta +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +from behind the scenes. Let me know when you +have your rehearsals, for I intend to go to them, +too.” +</p> +<p> +Resorting to craft, Mignon managed to attend the +first rehearsal without Rowena. The latter discovered +this and pounced upon her on her way home +with a torrent of ungentle remarks. Bullied to tears, +Mignon was obliged to allow Rowena to accompany +her to the second and third rehearsals, the third being +the last before the public performance. +</p> +<p> +Though the cast secretly objected to this, they +made no open manifestation of their disgust. It +was now fairly well known how matters stood between +Rowena and Mignon. The latter had no +reason to complain of the universally civil treatment +she received. It was merely civil, however, and contained +no friendliness of spirit. By the entire cast +the French girl was regarded as an evil necessity. +For that reason they also reluctantly endured Rowena’s +presence. But Rowena derived no pleasure +from her intrusion, except the fact that she was a +source of covert annoyance to all parties. Her jealous +soul was filled with torment at being left out +of the production. Shrewd intuition alone warned +her not to create even the slightest disturbance. She +had determined to go with the cast to Riverview. +Consequently, she did not propose cutting off her +nose to spite her face. +</p> +<p> +The knowledge that the proceeds from the operetta were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +to be devoted to school use, rallied the Sanfordites +to the cause. The Sanford performances +went off without a hitch before a huge and delighted +assemblage. It may be set down to her credit that +Mignon La Salle sang the part of the proud step-sister +even better than Harriet Delaney had rendered +it. Her dramatic ability was considerable and her +voice and temperament were eminently suited to her +rôle. On this one occasion her long-suffering parent +was not disappointed in his daughter. Natural perspicacity +caused him to wonder not a little how it +had all come about, and he made a mental note to +inquire into it at the first opportunity. Strongly +disapproving of the intimacy between Mignon and +Rowena Farnham, he was hopeful that this honor +done his daughter would throw her again among the +finer type of the Sanford girls. From his young +friend Hal Macy he had received glowing descriptions +of Marjorie and her close friends, and he +longed to see Mignon take kindly to them. +</p> +<p> +Could he have peeped into Mignon’s subtle brain, +his dreams would have vanished in thin air. Ever +the ingrate, she was thankful to none for the unexpected +chance to glitter. At heart she was the same +tigerish young person, ready to claw at a moment’s +notice. Within her lurked two permanent desires. +One of them was to win the interest of Lawrence +Armitage; the other to be free of Rowena. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span>CHAPTER XXI—ROWENA RE-ARRANGES MATTERS</h2> +<p> +The Sanford performance of “The Rebellious +Princess” took place on Friday evening. Late the +following afternoon the illustrious cast were conveyed +by train or motor to Riverview, the scene of +Saturday evening’s operations. Marjorie, Constance, +Mr. and Mrs. Dean drove there in the Deans’ +motor. Accompanied by Mrs. Macy, Jerry, Susan, +Muriel and Irma motored to Riverview together. +Hal and Laurie sought temporary freedom from the +fair sex in the latter’s roadster. Mr. La Salle had +promised, at Mignon’s earnest request, to drive to +Riverview with her in her runabout. She had +adopted this means of thus temporarily eliminating +Rowena. Not daring to thrust herself upon Mignon +when bolstered by her father’s protection, Rowena +had declared buoyantly that she would be there +anyway. +</p> +<p> +Unfortunately for Mignon, a sudden business +emergency sent Mr. La Salle speeding to Buffalo on +the Saturday morning train. Before going, however, +he instructed his chauffeur to drive Mignon +to the train for Riverview and see her safely on it. +With others of the cast on the same train, she would +be in good company. But the best laid plans often +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +go astray. Ever on the alert for treachery, Rowena +saw Mr. La Salle depart and hurrying to the La +Salle’s home soon bullied the true state of affairs +from his petulant offspring. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t bother about taking the train,” Rowena +counseled arrogantly. “James will drive us over +to Riverview in our limousine. He can stay there +until the show is over and bring us home.” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t do that,” parried Mignon. “My father +gave orders to William to drive me to the train the +cast is to take and put me on it. If I were to go +with you, William would tell him.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, he wouldn’t,” retorted Rowena. “Just +let me talk to William.” Without waiting for further +excuses from Mignon, the self-willed sophomore +dashed out of the house in the direction of +the La Salle garage. Mignon followed her, divided +between vexation and approbation. She was far +from anxious to make the journey to Riverview by +train. For once Rowena stood for the lesser of +two evils. +</p> +<p> +“Come here, William,” called Rowena, pausing +outside the open garage door and imperiously beckoning +the chauffeur who was engaged in putting a +fresh tire on Mignon’s runabout. +</p> +<p> +“What is it, Miss?” asked the man, as he frowningly +approached Rowena. +</p> +<p> +“You needn’t take Miss La Salle to the train this +afternoon. She’s going with me. She has so much +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +luggage she can’t manage it on the train, so she +had to make different arrangements.” Rowena presented +a formidably smiling front as she gave her +command. +</p> +<p> +“But Mr. La Salle——” protested William. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be impertinent,” was the freezing interruption. +“We know our own business. Miss La +Salle’s father will know all about it when he returns. +Won’t he?” She turned to Mignon for confirmation. +</p> +<p> +“It is all right, William,” the latter assured him, +purposely neglecting to answer Rowena’s question. +“My father will be told when he returns. He forgot +about my luggage.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, Miss Mignon.” William was far too +discreet to court the double attack, which he knew +would be forthcoming, should he continue to protest. +Miss Mignon always did as she pleased, regardless +of her father. He made mental note, however, +to clear himself the instant his employer returned. +</p> +<p> +“That was simple enough,” exulted Rowena, as +they turned away. “You ought to be glad I fixed +everything so nicely for you. I expect some of those +snippy girls will be anything but pleased to have me +behind the scenes to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“You’d better keep to my dressing room,” warned +Mignon. “On account of it being a different theatre, +there is sure to be some confusion. Laurie Armitage +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +won’t like it if you go strolling around among +the cast the way you’ve done at rehearsals.” +</p> +<p> +“You just attend to your own affairs,” blustered +Rowena, “and I’ll attend to mine. Who cares what +that high and mighty Lawrence Armitage thinks? +He’s so wrapped up in that milk-and-water baby of +a Constance Stevens he doesn’t know you are alive. +Too bad, isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +Mignon turned red as a poppy. She began to wish +she had not allowed Rowena to alter the arrangements +her father had prudently made. Frowning +her displeasure at the brutal taunt, she cast a half-longing +glance toward the garage. There was still +time to inform William that she had changed her +mind. +</p> +<p> +Instantly Rowena marked the glance and divined +its import. It did not accord with her plans. If +she drove Mignon to reconsider her decision, it +meant one of two things. To quarrel openly with +her would place beyond reach the possibility of accompanying +her to Riverview. If Rowena went +there alone she could not hope to be allowed to go +behind the scenes. On the other hand she dared not +jeopardize her control over Mignon by permitting +her to gain even one point. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t be foolish,” she advised in a more conciliatory +tone. “I was only teasing you about that +Stevens girl. One of these days this Armitage boy +will find out what a silly little thing she is. If you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +are nice to me, I daresay I can help him to find it +out.” +</p> +<p> +Mignon brightened visibly. From all she had +learned of Rowena’s practical methods, she believed +her capable of accomplishing wonders in the mischief-making +line. “I suppose you mean well,” she +said a trifle sullenly. “Still, I don’t think you ought +to say such cutting things to me, Rowena.” +</p> +<p> +Thus once more a temporary truce was declared +between these two wayward children of impulse. +Though neither trusted the other, sheer love of self +admonished them that they could accomplish more +by hanging together. Mignon, however, was destined +to learn that an unstable prop is no more to be +relied upon than no prop at all. +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII—THE RESULT OF PLAYING WITH FIRE</h2> +<p> +“See here, Jerry, can’t something be done to keep +that Miss Farnham from completely upsetting the +cast?” Laurie Armitage’s fine face was dark with +disapproval as he halted Jerry, who was hurrying +by him toward Constance’s dressing room. “I just +heard her telling one of the girls in the chorus that +her costume was ‘frightfully unbecoming.’ The +poor girl turned red and looked ready to cry. She’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +been circulating among the chorus ever since she and +Mignon landed in the theatre. Goodness knows +what else she has been saying. It won’t do. This +isn’t Sanford, you know. We hope to give a perfect +performance here. I wish I had told Mignon not +to bring her. I hated to do it, though. She might +have got wrathy and backed out at the last minute. +If ever I compose another operetta, I’ll let somebody +else manage it. I’m through,” Laurie concluded in +disgust. +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t you ask Mignon to keep her in the +dressing room?” suggested Jerry. “She’s the only +one who can manage Row-ena. I doubt if <em>she</em> can.” +</p> +<p> +“Might as well touch a match to a bundle of firecrackers,” +compared Laurie gloomily. “Can’t you +think of anything else?” +</p> +<p> +Jerry studied for a moment. As Laurie’s helper +she felt that she ought to measure up to the situation. +“It’s almost time for the show to begin,” +she said. “The chorus will soon be too busy to +bother with her. After the first act, she’ll be in Mignon’s +dressing room. Then I’ll slip around among +the girls and whisper to them not to mind her. She +can’t bother the principals. She doesn’t dare go +near Constance or any of the boys like Hal and the +Crane.” +</p> +<p> +“Please do that.” Laurie sighed with relief. “It +will help me a great deal.” +</p> +<p> +Unaware that she had become the victim of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +needful strategy, Rowena was serenely deriving +huge enjoyment from the brutally frank criticisms +she was lavishing right and left among the unoffending +choirsters. It was a supreme happiness to her +to see her carefully delivered shots strike home. But +her ambition to wound lay not entirely with the +chorus. She was yearning for a chance to nettle +Constance Stevens, whom she hated by reason of +the impassable gulf that lay between Constance and +herself. Never, since she had come to Sanford, had +Constance appeared even to know that she existed. +This galled Rowena beyond expression. As a leader +among the high school girls she had deemed Constance +worth cultivating. She might as readily have +tried to bring down the North Star as to ingratiate +herself with this calm, lovely girl, and she knew it. +Here was something which she could not obtain. +Failing, she marked her as a victim for ridicule and +scorn. +</p> +<p> +The first act over at last, Rowena posted herself +in Mignon’s dressing room and proceeded to regale +the latter with a derisive, laughing account of her +fruitful wanderings among the cast. Mignon listened +to her with indifference. As she opened the +second act, her mind was on her rôle. She was +hardly aware that her tormentor had left the dressing +room until she became conscious that the high-pitched +tones had suddenly ceased. +</p> +<p> +Mignon proving altogether too non-committal to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +suit her difficult fancy, Rowena had fared forth in +search of fresh adventure. The star dressing room, +occupied by Constance, lay two doors farther down +the corridor. In passing and repassing it that evening, +Rowena had vainly ransacked her guileful brain +for an excuse to invade it. Now as she left Mignon’s +dressing room she decided to put on an intrepid +front and pay Constance a call. Her large, +black eyes danced with pure malice as she doubled +a fist and pounded upon the closed door. +</p> +<p> +“Who is there?” came from within. The vigorous +tattoo had startled Constance. +</p> +<p> +For answer Rowena simply swung open the door +and stepped into the room. “I thought I’d pay you +a call,” she announced with cool complacence. +</p> +<p> +Seated before a low make-up shelf on which reposed +a mirror, Constance was engaged in readjusting +her coiffure, which had become slightly loosened +during the first act. Her blue eyes showed +wondering surprise as she turned in her chair to +face the intruder. From Jerry she had already +heard angry protests against this mischievous girl. +Quiet Constance now read fresh mischief in the intrusion. +She resolved to treat her uninvited guest +civilly. If possible she would try to keep her in the +dressing room until the second act was called. Better +that than allow her to further annoy the other +girls. As she had no change of costume to make +she was free to entertain her unbidden visitor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +</p> +<p> +“Sit down,” she evenly invited, neither cordial nor +cold. “How do you like the operetta?” +</p> +<p> +Rather taken aback by this placid reception, Rowena +dropped gracefully into a chair, her dark eyes +fixed speculatively on her hostess. Shrugging her +shoulders she gave a contemptuous little laugh as +she answered: “Oh, these amateur productions are +all alike. <em>Some</em>, of course, are more stupid than +others.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you include the poor Princess among the +more stupid?” asked Constance, smiling in spite of +herself at this patent attempt to be disagreeable. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t include it in anything. I don’t even +know what it’s all about. I only came to rehearsals +and here to amuse myself. Sanford is the deadest +town I was ever in and Sanford High School is a +regular kindergarten. I suppose you know who I +am, don’t you?” Rowena crested her auburn head +a trifle. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. You are Miss Farnham.” Constance made +reply in an enigmatic tone. +</p> +<p> +A threatening sparkle leaped to the other’s eyes. +She was beginning to resent Constance’s quiet attitude. +“If you knew who I was, why didn’t you +speak to me at the first rehearsal?” she sharply +launched. +</p> +<p> +“I merely knew you by sight. There are many +girls in Sanford High whom I do not know personally.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +</p> +<p> +“But <em>I’m</em> different,” pursued Rowena. “My +father is very rich and I can have whatever I like. +You must know that. You ought to associate with +girls of your own class. Your aunt has lots of +money and can give you social position. That Geraldine +Macy is the only rich girl you ever go with. +All the others are just middle class. You’re foolish +to waste your time on Marjorie——” +</p> +<p> +Constance had received Rowena’s first words with +secret amusement. As she continued to listen her +inward smile changed to outward, rather. At mention +of Marjorie her self-imposed placidity flew to +the winds. “Kindly leave my dressing room,” she +ordered, her voice shaking with indignation. “Marjorie +Dean is my dearest friend. No one can belittle +her to me. Least of all, <em>you</em>.” Constance had +slowly risen, her blue eyes dark with the injury to +one she loved. +</p> +<p> +“I thought that would bring you to life,” laughed +Rowena, making no move to rise. As she sat there, +the light playing on her ruddy hair, her black eyes +agleam with tantalizing mirth, Constance could not +but wonder at her tigerish beauty. To quote Muriel, +she did resemble “a big, striped tiger.” +</p> +<p> +Without answering, Constance moved to the door +and opened it. She was about to step into the corridor +when Rowena sprang forward and clutched +her by the arm. “You milk-and-water baby, do you +think——” She did not finish. As Constance stepped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span> +over the threshold she came almost into collision +with Lawrence Armitage. His keen glance +immediately took in the situation. He saw Rowena’s +arm drop to her side. Brushing past Constance +like a whirlwind, she gained the shelter of +Mignon’s dressing room and disappeared. +</p> +<p> +“Hurry. You’ll miss your cue. I didn’t see you +in the wings and came to warn you. Run along. +I’ll see you later,” uttered Laurie rapidly. His +words sent Constance moving rapidly toward the +stairway. His lips tightened as he watched her disappear. +For a moment he stood still, then, turning, +took the same direction. +</p> +<p> +“Just a moment, Miss La Salle.” Seeking the +stairway at the close of the second act, Mignon was +halted by a troubled young man. “I don’t wish to +be disagreeable, but—Miss Farnham must either remain +in your dressing room during the third act or +go out in the audience. I am not blaming you. +You’ve sung your part splendidly to-night and I appreciate +your effort. Will you help me in this? We +don’t wish anything to occur to spoil the rest of the +operetta. I am sure you understand.” Appeal +looked out from his deeply blue eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Of course I’ll help you.” Mignon experienced +a sudden thrill of triumph. Lawrence Armitage was +actually asking her to do him a favor. Valiance +rose within her. She quite forgot her dread of +Rowena’s bluster. Flashing him her most fascinating +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +smile, she held out her hand in token of good +faith. Inwardly she was hoping that Constance +might happen along to witness the tableau. Laurie +clasped it lightly. He was not in the least impressed. +“Thank you.” He wheeled abruptly and turned +away. +</p> +<p> +Mignon ran lightly down the stairs and to her +dressing room. Inspired by the recent interview, she +promptly accosted the ubiquitous Rowena, as she +lounged lazily in a chair. “You mustn’t go out of +the dressing room or upstairs again until the operetta +is over,” she dictated. “Laurie doesn’t want you +to. He just spoke to me about it. He has allowed +you a lot of liberty already, so I think you’d better +do as he says. It won’t be long now until——” +</p> +<p> +“So <em>Laurie</em> thinks he can order me about, does +he?” Rowena sprang to her feet in a rage. “<em>That</em> +for Laurie!” She snapped contemptuous fingers. +“This is your work. You’ve been talking about me +to him. But you’ll be sorry. I know a way——” +</p> +<p> +Her mood swiftly changing she threw back her +head and laughed. Resuming her chair she sat silently +eyeing Mignon with a mirthful malevolence +that sent a shiver of apprehension up and down +the French girl’s spine. Rowena had undoubtedly +been inspired with an idea that boded no good to +her. As she dressed for the third act she cast more +than one nervous glance at the smiling figure of insolence +in the chair. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +</p> +<p> +Not a word further had been exchanged between +the two when the third act was called. Mignon half +expected to see Rowena rise and follow her up the +stairs, there to create a scene with Laurie that would +delay the rise of the curtain. Nothing of the kind +occurred, however, and the last act began and went +on to a triumphant end. +</p> +<p> +After the curtain had been rung down on the +final tableau, she made a dash for the stairs to encounter +Rowena ascending them. She had already +donned her evening cape and scarf. At sight of +Mignon she called out in the careless, good-humored +fashion she could assume at will: “Hurry up. I’m +going on out to the limousine. I need a breath of +fresh air.” +</p> +<p> +Partially convinced that Rowena had recovered +from her fit of temper, Mignon gladly hastened to +do her bidding. It was not until she began to look +about for her high-laced boots that she changed her +mind concerning her companion. They were nowhere +to be seen. “Rowena has hidden them, just to +be aggravating!” she exclaimed angrily. “That was +her revenge. But I’ll find them.” +</p> +<p> +After a frantic ten-minutes’ search she managed +to locate them, tucked into either sleeve of the long +fur coat she had worn. Thankful to find them, she +laced them in a hurry and proceeded to dress with all +speed. A repeated receding of footsteps and gay +voices from the direction of the stairway warned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +her that the dressing rooms were being rapidly deserted. +Those who had come to Riverview by railway +had only a short time after the performance +in which to catch the last train for the night. +</p> +<p> +Taking the stairs, two at a time, Mignon made a +rush for the stage door and on out into the cold, +starlit night. The first thing she noted was a large +part of the cast hurriedly boarding a street car for +the station. But where was the Farnham limousine +and Rowena? Where was the little line of automobiles +she had seen parked along the street when she +entered the theatre? Only one now remained, almost +a block farther up the street. Her heart beat +thankfully as she observed it. It looked like the +Farnham limousine. It was just like Rowena to +thus draw away a little distance in order to scare her +into thinking she had been left behind. +</p> +<p> +Racing toward it she saw that the chauffeur was +engaged in examining one of its tires. She heard a +cheery voice call out, “All right, Captain,” and her +knees grew weak. The voice did not sound like +that of James, the Farnhams’ chauffeur. Hoping +against hope she came abreast of it. Then her elfin +eyes grew wide with despair. It was not the Farnhams’ +car. It belonged to none other than the +Deans. +</p> +<p> +Heartsick, she was about to turn away when a +fresh young voice called out, “Mignon La Salle!” +Forgetting everything except that she was in difficulties, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +she halted and managed to articulate, “Have +you seen Miss Farnham’s car?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, no,” came the wondering reply. “Have +you missed her?” +</p> +<p> +“I saw her go by in a limousine,” stated Constance +Stevens, from the tonneau of the Deans’ car. “She +was driving and the chauffeur was sitting beside +her.” +</p> +<p> +A belated light now dawned upon Mignon. She +understood that this was the fruition of Rowena’s +threat. She had purposely run off and left her, +knowing that she could not hope to catch the last +train. +</p> +<p> +In the dark of the tonneau, Constance gave Marjorie’s +hand a quick pressure. Its instant return +signified that her chum understood. Without hesitation +she called to the tragic little figure on the sidewalk, +“We’ll take you home, Mignon. It’s lucky +that General stopped to examine that tire.” Then +to her father, “This is Mignon La Salle, Father. +You know her, Mother.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” Mrs. Dean bowed in reserved fashion. +“Get into the tonneau with the girls, Miss La Salle. +We will see that you arrive safely at your own +door.” +</p> +<p> +The unexpected courtesy very nearly robbed the +stranded girl of speech. Stammering her thanks, +Mignon climbed ruefully into the tonneau and seated +herself by Marjorie. As the car began a loud purr, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +preparatory to starting, her outraged feelings overcame +her and she burst into tears. “It was hateful +in her,” she sobbed, “perfectly hateful.” +</p> +<p> +“It was,” agreed Marjorie positively. “But I +wouldn’t cry about it. You are all right now.” +Then with a view to cheering the weeper, she added: +“You sang your part beautifully both nights, Mignon. +That’s something to be glad of. This little +trouble doesn’t really matter, since everything turned +out well.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s nice in you to say it,” quavered Mignon. +“But, oh, how I despise that hateful, hateful girl. +I’ll never, never speak to her again as long as I +live.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie might easily have assured her that this +was a wise decision. Instead, she prudently refrained +from committing herself. Mignon’s mind +continued to dwell on her wrongs. She cried and +raged against her treacherous companion during +most of the ride home. Constance and Marjorie +were obliged to listen and administer judicious consolation. +It did not appear to sink deep. Mignon +was too self-centered to realize their generosity of +spirit. When they left her at the La Salle’s gate +she tried to put graciousness into her thanks, but +her thoughts were too firmly fixed upon faithless +Rowena and herself to appreciate the kindness she +had received. +</p> +<p> +“For once Mignon had to swallow a dose of her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +own medicine,” commented Constance grimly, as +the Deans’ car sped away toward their home, where +Connie was to spend the night with Marjorie. +</p> +<p> +“She found it pretty hard to take,” mused Marjorie. +“It’s a good thing, though. This will end +Mignon’s friendship with Rowena, but it won’t +change her one little bit. I don’t believe she’ll ever +change.” +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII—A PECULIAR REQUEST</h2> +<p> +“Four letters for you, Lieutenant. Hunt them,” +decreed Mrs. Dean, as Marjorie burst into the living +room, her cheeks rosy from the nipping kisses +of the winter air. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I know where they are.” Jubilantly overturning +the contents of her mother’s sewing basket, +she triumphantly drew them forth. Without bothering +to remove her wraps she plumped down at +her mother’s feet to revel in her spoils. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s one from Mary. I’ll read that last. +Here’s one from Harriet.” Opening it she read it +through and passed it to her mother. “Harriet’s +almost well again. Isn’t that good news? +Why——” she had opened the next—“it’s from +Mignon; a little note of thanks. Oh, Captain!” she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +stared hard at the note. “I’ve discovered something. +Mignon’s not the horrid Observer. See. The writing +and paper and all are quite different. I’m sure +she isn’t. She’d never ask anyone else to write such +letters. It’s not her way.” +</p> +<p> +“Then that is good news, too,” smiled Mrs. Dean. +“I am also glad to know it. It is dreadful to misjudge +anyone.” +</p> +<p> +“I know that. I wish I knew who the Observer +was, too.” Marjorie sighed and took up the next +letter. As she read it she laughed outright. “It’s +from General, the old dear. Just listen: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“<span class='sc'>Esteemed Lieutenant</span>: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Head up, forward march to the downtown +barracks. Report for stern duty at 4:30 to-morrow +(Thursday) P. M. Your most military +presence is requested to assist in conferring +with an official committee in a matter of great +importance to the parties concerned. Failure +to appear on time will be punished by court-martial. +Be warned not to try to ambush your +general in the living room to ascertain the facts +beforehand. You will only be captured and sent +to the guard house. +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>“Signed, </p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>“<span class='sc'>General Dean.</span>”</p> +<p> +“It’s a surprise,” nodded Marjorie. “I know it +is. Very well, I’ll show him that I’m not a bit curious. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> +I’ll tell him, though, that it’s not fair to +threaten a soldier. Do you know what it’s about, +Captain?” +</p> +<p> +“No; I am equally in the dark. I wouldn’t tell +you if I knew,” Mrs. Dean answered teasingly. +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t let you,” retorted Marjorie. “I have +to be loyal to my orders. Now I’ll read Mary’s letter +and then go and answer it. If I don’t answer +it now I might put it off.” +</p> +<p> +Laying the three notes aside, she busied herself +with the long letter from Mary, reading it aloud +with numerous exclamations and comments. True +to her word, she made no mention to her father of +his letter. Delighting to tease her, he hinted broadly +concerning it, but failed to draw Marjorie into questioning +him. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, it was a most curious young woman +who entered his office the following afternoon at +the exact moment of appointment. Her curiosity +was lost in wide-eyed amazement as she saw that +he was not alone. Seated in a chair beside his desk +was a stout, dark man of middle age, whose restless, +black eyes and small, dark mustache bespoke the +foreigner. But this was not the cause of her astonishment. +It lay in the fact that the man was +Mignon La Salle’s father. Both men rose as she entered, +Mr. La Salle bowing to her in the graceful +fashion of the Frenchman. +</p> +<p> +“Sit here, Lieutenant. Mr. La Salle wishes to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +talk with you. He is kind enough to allow me to be +present at the conference.” +</p> +<p> +“Miss Marjorie, I have not had the pleasure of +meeting you before to-day. It is a very great pleasure. +I have already thanked your father for his +kindness to my daughter several evenings since. +Now I must thank you, too. But I wish also to ask +a far greater favor. My daughter, Mignon,” he +paused as though at a loss to proceed, “is a somewhat +peculiar girl. For many years she has had +no mother.” He sighed, then continuing, “I wish +her to be all that is good and fine. But I am a busy +man. I cannot take time to be with her as I would +desire. From my friend Harold Macy I have heard +many pleasant things of you and your friends. So I +have thought that it might be well to ask you if +you——” Again he paused, his black eyes riveted +on Marjorie, “if you will take an interest in my +daughter, so that I may feel that her associates are +of the best. +</p> +<p> +“I regret greatly her friendship with Miss Farnham. +But that is past. She has told me all, and I +have forbidden their further intimacy. Perhaps you +are already the friend of my Mignon? If so, it is, +indeed, well. If not, may I hope that you will soon +become such, indeed?” There was a trace of pleading +in his carefully enunciated speech with its +slightly foreign accent. +</p> +<p> +A queer, choking sensation gripped Marjorie’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +throat. She was immeasurably touched. Happy in +her General’s love, she glimpsed something of the +tender motive, which had actuated this stern man +of business to plead for his daughter’s welfare. +</p> +<p> +“I am willing to be Mignon’s friend, if she is +willing to be mine,” she answered with grave sweetness. +“I think I may speak for my friends, also.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you. She will respond, I am sure.” A +faint tightening of his thin lips gave hint that he +would see to the exaction of that response. “It will +be a pleasure to invite you to dine with us to-morrow +evening,” he added. La Salle Père evidently intended +to allow no grass to grow under his feet. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you. May I go, General?” Marjorie’s +eyes sought her father’s. Though she had maintained +a gracious composure, he guessed that she was +far from easy over this queer turn of affairs. There +was a faintly martyred look in her brown eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” he said in a steady, reassuring tone. +“Your General approves.” He flashed her a mischievous +glance. +</p> +<p> +“Then you may expect me.” Marjorie rose and +offered her hand to the anxious father. “I must go +now,” she said. “I am very glad to have met you, +Mr. La Salle.” +</p> +<p> +Once outside the office she drew a long breath of +dismay. “I’m quite sure of most of the girls,” was +her reflection, “but what, oh, what will Jerry say?” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span>CHAPTER XXIV—AN UNEXPECTED CALAMITY</h2> +<p> +Jerry had a great deal to say. She was so justly +wrathful she very nearly cried. “It’s the worst thing +I ever heard of,” she sputtered. “I wish we’d never +revived that old operetta. Then Mignon wouldn’t +have sung in it and got left at the switch, and you +wouldn’t be asking us to make martyrs of ourselves. +After all you’ve said about being through with Mignon, +too! It’s a shame!” +</p> +<p> +“But just suppose her father had come to you and +asked you to help her, what would you have done?” +pleaded Marjorie. +</p> +<p> +“Told him Mignon’s history and advised him to +lock her up,” snapped Jerry. “I hope—— Oh, I +don’t know what I hope. I can’t think of anything +horrible enough to hope.” +</p> +<p> +“Poor Jeremiah. It’s too bad.” Marjorie’s little +hand slipped itself into the plump girl’s fingers. +“You know you’d have done just as I did. I had +quite a long talk with Mignon last night. After dinner +her father left us to ourselves. It wasn’t exactly +pleasant. She would say mean things about Rowena. +Still, she said she’d like to try again and +wished that we would all help her. So I said for all +of us that we would. You won’t back out, will you, +Jerry?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. Wait a week or two and see what +she does, then I can tell better. You’ve got to show +me. I mean, I must be convinced.” Jerry wrinkled +her nose at Marjorie and giggled. Her ruffled good +humor was smoothing itself down. +</p> +<p> +“That means, you <em>will</em> help her,” was Marjorie’s +fond translation. “Constance is willing, too. I am +sure of Irma and Harriet, but Susan and Muriel are +doubtful. Still, I think I can win them over if I +tell them that you are with me in our plan.” +</p> +<p> +“There’s just this much about it, Marjorie.” +Jerry spoke with unusual seriousness. “Mignon will +have to play fair or I’ll drop her with a bang. Just +like that. The first time I find her trying any of +her deceitful tricks will be the last with me. Remember, +I mean what I say. If anything like that +happens, don’t ask me to overlook it, for I won’t. +Not even to please you, and I’d rather please <em>you</em> +than anybody else I know.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll remember,” laughed Marjorie. She was not +greatly impressed by Jerry’s declaration. The stout +girl was apt to take a contrary stand, merely for the +sake of variety. She had expected that Jerry would +scold roundly, then give in with a final threatening +grumble. +</p> +<p> +Susan and Muriel she found even harder to convince +of Mignon’s repentance than Jerry. Muriel +was especially obstinate. “I’ll speak to Mignon,” +she stipulated, “but I won’t ask her to my house or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +go any place with her. Now that we’ve made over +five hundred dollars out of the operetta for the library, +you know we’ve been talking about getting up +a club. Of course, she’ll want to be in it. But she +sha’n’t.” +</p> +<p> +“Then there’s no use in trying to help her,” said +Marjorie calmly, “if we don’t include her in our +work and our good times.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s precisely what you said last year,” retorted +Muriel. “You invited her to your party and +she nearly broke it up. After that I wonder that you +can even dream of trusting her. I’ve known her +longer than you, Marjorie. When we all went to +grammar school together she was always the disturber. +She used to fight with us and then come +sliding around to make up. She’d promise to be +good, but she never kept her word for long. +</p> +<p> +“Once she behaved pretty well for three months +and we began to like her a little. Then one day +some of us went to the woods on a picnic. We took +our luncheon and spread a tablecloth on the grass. +When we had all the eats spread out on the tablecloth +and sat down around it, Mignon got mad because +Susan said something to me that made me +laugh. We happened to look at her, but we weren’t +talking about her. She thought so, though. She +began sputtering at us like a firecracker. The more +we all tried to calm her the madder she got. Before +we could stop her she caught the tablecloth in both +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +hands and gave it a hard jerk. You can imagine +what happened! All our nice eats were jumbled together +into the grass. The ants got into them and +we had to throw nearly everything away. She +didn’t stop to help pick up things. She rushed off +home and none of us spoke to her for the rest of the +year. That’s why I can’t believe in her repentance. +Sooner or later she’s bound to upset things again, +just as she did that time.” +</p> +<p> +Marjorie could not resist laughing a little at Muriel’s +tragic tale of a woodland disaster. “I can’t +blame you for feeling as you do,” she said, “but I +must keep my word to her father. It means so +much to him. Being in the operetta has given her +a little start. Perhaps she’s begun to see that it pays +to do well. She knows now how it feels to be treated +badly. It must remind her of some of the mean +things she’s done. If she’s ever going to change, the +time has come. But if no one believes in her, then +she’ll get discouraged and be worse than ever. Connie +is willing to help. I’d be ashamed to refuse after +that. Even Jerry says she’ll consider it.” +</p> +<p> +“Connie is a perfect angel, and Jerry is a goose,” +declared Muriel, flushing rather guiltily. It was difficult +to continue to combat Marjorie’s plan in the +face of Constance’s nobility of spirit. Constance +had been the chief sufferer at Mignon’s hands. Reminded +of this, Muriel weakened. “I suppose I +ought to get in line with Connie,” she admitted. “I’d +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +feel pretty small if I didn’t. I can’t afford to let +Jerry beat me, either.” +</p> +<p> +Muriel’s objections thus overruled, Susan proved +less hard to convince. Once more the reform party +banded itself together to the performance of good +works. Smarting from the effects of Rowena’s cowardly +spite, Mignon was quite willing to be taken +up again by so important a set of girls as that to +which Marjorie belonged. It pleased her not a little +to know that she had gained a foothold that Rowena +could never hope to win. Then, too, her father had +taken a hand in her affairs. He had sternly informed +her that she must about-face and do better. +Relief at being plucked from a disagreeable situation, +rather than gratitude toward her preservers, +had predominated her feelings on the eventful night +at Riverview. Fear of her father’s threat to send +her away to a convent school if she did not show +rapid signs of improvement made her pause. +</p> +<p> +Returning from his business trip, Mr. La Salle +had interviewed first William, the chauffeur, then +Mignon. From an indulgent parent he became suddenly +transformed into a stern inquisitor, before +whose wrath Mignon broke down and haltingly confessed +the truth. As a result he had forbidden her +further acquaintance with Rowena. Reminded +afresh of his parental duty, he had pondered long, +then through the kindly offices of Mr. Dean, arranged +the meeting with Marjorie. Thus Mignon’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> +affairs had been readjusted and she had been forced +to agree to follow the line of good conduct he had +stretched for her. +</p> +<p> +It was a distinct relief, however, to Marjorie and +her friends to find that Mignon was content to be +merely on equitable terms. She did not try to force +herself upon them, though she received whatever +advances they made with an amiability quite unusual +to her. They were immensely amused, however, at +her frigid ignoring of Rowena Farnham. Her revenge +consummated, Rowena decided to re-assume +her sway over her unwilling follower. Mignon +fiercely declined to be reinstated and the two held +a battle royal in which words became sharpest arrows. +Later, Rowena was plunged into fresh rage +by the news that Mignon had been taken up by the +very girls she had over and over again disparaged. +</p> +<p> +Determined not to be beaten, she continued to +waylay Mignon as she went to and from school. +Changing her bullying tactics, she next tried coaxing. +But Mignon maintained her air of virtuous +frigidity and took an especial delight in snubbing +the girl she had once feared. It also gave her infinite +pleasure to paint Rowena in exceedingly dark colors +to whomever would listen to her grievances. +Much of this came in round-about fashion to the +reformers. They disapproved of it intensely, but +held their peace rather than undo the little good they +hoped they had already accomplished. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span> +</p> +<p> +Among her schoolmates the account of Mignon’s +near misfortune was received with varying degrees +of interest. A few were sympathetically disposed; +others merely laughed. Rowena, however, lost +caste. Neither her costly clothes, her caustic wit +nor her impudently fascinating personality could +cover the fact that she had done a treacherous and +contemptible deed. The fact that she had left a +young girl stranded at midnight in a strange town +did not add to her doubtful popularity. Quick to +discover this state of affairs, she realized that she +had gone a step too far. There was only one way +in which she might redeem herself and that lay in +the direction of basket ball. +</p> +<p> +February was speedily living out his short, +changeable life. The third of the four games between +the sophomore-junior teams was to be played +on the last Saturday afternoon of the month, which +fell on the twenty-seventh. Thus far each side had +won a game. Rowena decreed that the two games +yet to be played should go to the sophomores. She +would play as she had never played before. Nothing +should stand in her way. She would lead the +sophomores on to glory and the acclamation of her +class would cleanse her blurred escutcheon. Once +she had re-established her power she would make +Mignon sorry. +</p> +<p> + Fortunately for her plans, the members of her +team had showed no great amount of prejudice +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +against her since the affair of the operetta. They +treated her cordially enough during practice and +applauded her clever playing. Shrewd to a degree, +she divined instantly that they cherished no special +regard for her. They were simply using her as a +means to the end. Knowing her value as a player, +they were egging her on to do well because of their +hope of victory in the next two games. She did +not doubt that when the season was over there would +be a general falling-off in their cordiality unless she +so greatly distinguished herself as to win their ungrudging +admiration. +</p> +<p> +Alas for her dream of power, when the third +game came off between the two teams, it was the +juniors who carried off the palm with a score +of 26-14 in their favor. What galled her +most was the remarkably brilliant playing of +Marjorie Dean. If there lingered a doubt in +the mind of Miss Davis regarding Marjorie’s ability +to play basket ball, her work on the floor that Saturday +afternoon must have completely discounted +that doubt. What Miss Davis thought when, from +the gallery, she watched the clever playing of the +girl she had endeavored to dismiss from the team, +was something which was recorded only on her own +brain. It was noted by several pairs of watchful +eyes that she did not applaud the victors. She had +not forgiven them for the difficulties into which they +had plunged her on that fateful afternoon. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +</p> +<p> +Losing the game to the enemy made matters distinctly +mortifying for Rowena. Among themselves, +her teammates gloomily conceded that they had +over-rated her as a player. Though they made some +effort to conceal their resentment, their cordiality +became less apparent. This second defeat precluded +all hope of doing more than tieing the score in the +one game still to be played. They needed Rowena’s +help to bring about that result. Therefore, they +dared not express themselves openly. It may be recorded +here that the ideals of the four sophomore +players were no higher than those of Rowena. +Their attitude toward her was glaringly selfish and +they were possessed of little loyalty. +</p> +<p> +The final game was set for the thirteenth of +March. Doggedly bent on escaping a whitewashing, +the sophomores devoted themselves to zealous practice. +So insistently frequent were their demands +for the use of the gymnasium that the junior team +were obliged to make equally insistent protest +against their encroachment. +</p> +<p> +“I am really glad that this next game is to be the +last,” remarked Marjorie to her teammates one afternoon +as they were preparing to leave the dressing +room after practice. “Basket ball hasn’t seemed the +same old game this year. Perhaps I’m outgrowing +my liking for it, but really we’ve had so much +trouble about it that I long for victory and peace.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s not the game,” contested Muriel. “It’s those +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +sophs with Rowena Farnham leading them on. +Why, even when Mignon was continually fussing +with us we never had any trouble about getting the +gym for practice. Oh, well, one week from to-morrow +will tell the story. If we win it will be a three +to one victory. We can’t lose now. All the sophs +can do is to tie the score.” +</p> +<p> +“Where were our subs to-day?” demanded Daisy +Griggs. “I didn’t see either of them.” +</p> +<p> +“Harriet couldn’t stay for practice. She was going +to a tea with her mother,” informed Susan. “I +don’t know where Lucy Warner was. I didn’t see +her in school, either.” +</p> +<p> +“She must be sick. She hasn’t been in school for +almost a week,” commented Muriel. “She is the +queerest-acting girl. You’d think to look at her that +she hated herself and everybody. She makes me +think of a picture of an anarchist I once saw in a +newspaper. When she does come to practice she just +sits with her chin in her hands and glowers. I can’t +understand how she ever happened to come out of +her grouch long enough to make the team.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s awfully distant,” agreed Marjorie dispiritedly. +“I have tried to be nice to her, but it’s no +use. My, how the wind howls! Listen.” Going to +the window of the dressing room, she peered out. +“It’s a dreadful day. The walks are solid sheets of +ice. The wind blew so hard I could scarcely keep +on my feet this noon.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +</p> +<p> +“I fell down twice,” giggled Susan Atwell. “It +didn’t hurt me much. I scraped one hand on a +piece of sharp ice, but I’m still alive.” +</p> +<p> +“Be careful going down the steps,” warned Daisy +Griggs, ever a youthful calamity howler. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t croak, Daisy. If you keep on someone +will take a tumble just because you mentioned it,” +laughed Muriel. “We can’t afford that with the +game so near.” +</p> +<p> +Dressed at last, their paraphernalia carefully +stowed away, the team trooped from the gymnasium +and on to their locker room. “I wish I had worn my +fur coat,” lamented Muriel. “I’ll surely freeze in +my tracks. Are you ready, girls? Do hurry. I +am anxious to face the wind and get it over with. I +think I’ll take the car home.” +</p> +<p> +“Ugh!” shuddered Susan. Issuing from the high +school building a blast of piercing air struck her full +in the face. “We’ll be blown away before we get +down the steps.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, come along, Susie,” urged Muriel laughingly. +“Don’t mind a little thing like that. Look +at me. Here goes.” Muriel valiantly essayed the +first icy step. A fresh gust of wind assailing her, +the hand holding her muff sought her face to protect +it. +</p> +<p> +How it happened no one quite knew. A concerted +scream went up from four throats as Muriel suddenly +left her feet to go bumping and sliding down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +the long flight of ice-bound steps. She struck the +walk in a heap and lay still. +</p> +<p> +“Muriel!” Forgetting the peril of the steps, Marjorie +took them heedlessly, but safely. A faint +moan issued from Muriel’s lips as she knelt beside +her. Muriel moaned again, but tried to raise herself +to a sitting posture. She fell back with a fresh +groan. +</p> +<p> +“Where are you hurt?” Marjorie slipped a supporting +arm under her. By this time the others had +safely made the descent and were gathered about the +two. +</p> +<p> +“It’s my right shoulder and arm. I’m afraid my +arm is broken,” gasped Muriel, her face white with +pain. +</p> +<p> +“Let me see.” Marjorie tenderly felt of the injured +member. “Do I hurt you much?” she quavered +solicitously. +</p> +<p> +“Not—much. I guess it’s—not—broken. It’s my +shoulder that hurts most.” +</p> +<p> +Several persons had now gathered to the scene. +A man driving past in an automobile halted his car. +Leaping from the machine he ran to the scene. +“Someone hurt?” was his crisp question. “Can I +be of service?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, if you would.” Marjorie’s face brightened. +“Miss Harding fell down those steps. She’s badly +hurt.” +</p> +<p> +“Where does she live? I’ll take her home,” offered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +the kindly motorist. Lifting Muriel in his +arms he carried her to the car and gently deposited +her in its tonneau. “Perhaps you’d better come with +her,” he suggested. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, I will. Good-bye, girls. Go on over +to my house and wait for me. I’ll be there in a little +while.” Lifting her hand to the three frightened +girls, who had advanced upon the machine with sundry +other curious pedestrians, Marjorie gave Muriel’s +rescuer the Hardings’ address, climbed into the +car and slammed the door shut. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Muriel,” wailed Daisy Griggs, as the car +rolled away. “I told her to be careful. I hope she +isn’t hurt much. And the game next week!” +</p> +<p> +Three pairs of startled eyes met and conveyed the +same dismaying thought. What would the team do +without Captain Muriel? +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV—A STRENUOUS HIKE TO A TRYING ENGAGEMENT</h2> +<p> +Everybody knows the trite saying: “It never +rains but that it pours.” The disasters of the following +week seemed quite in accord with it. Muriel’s +spectacular slide down the ice steps brought +her a broken collarbone. The three anxious girls +had awaited news of Muriel at Marjorie’s home +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +had hardly taken their leave when the ring of the +postman brought her fresh misery. Little knowing +what he did, that patient individual handed Marjorie +a letter which filled her with angry consternation. +Why in the world had the hated Observer +come to life again at such a time? +</p> +<p> +Without waiting to read the unwelcome epistle +in her Captain’s presence, Marjorie ripped open the +envelope with a savage hand. This time the unknown +was detestably brief, writing merely: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“<span class='sc'>Miss Dean</span>: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“I hope you lose the game next Saturday. +You are more of a snob than ever. Defeat will +do you good. Prepare to meet it. +</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right:2em;;'>“<span class='sc'>The Observer.</span>”</p> +<p> +“Oh!” Marjorie dashed the offending letter to +the floor. Muriel’s accident was bad enough. It +had not needed this to complete her dejection. Recapturing +the spiteful message she was about to +tear it into bits. On second reflection she decided to +keep it and add it to her obnoxious collection. +Something whispered to her that the identity of the +tormenting Observer would yet be revealed to her. +</p> +<p> +Facing the lamentable knowledge that Muriel +must be counted out of the coming contest, Harriet +replaced her. This in itself provided a grain of +comfort. Harriet was a skilful player and would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +work for the success of the team with all her energy. +The other four players congratulated themselves on +thus having such able support. Due to Muriel’s +absence, Marjorie had been asked to assume temporary +captainship. Her mind now at ease by reason +of Harriet’s good work, she gave her most conscientious +attention to practice. +</p> +<p> +Matters skimmed along with commendable +smoothness until the Wednesday before the game. +Then she encountered a fresh set-back. Word came +to her that Susan Atwell had succumbed to the +dreaded tonsilitis that all through the winter had +been going its deadly round in Sanford. On receipt +of the news she recalled that for the past two days +Susan had complained of sore throat. She had +given it no serious thought, however. Her own +throat had also troubled her a trifle since that stormy +day when Muriel had come to grief. There was +but one thing to do. Put Lucy Warner in Susan’s +position. Her heart almost skipped a beat as she +faced the fact that Lucy, too, had been absent from +school for over a week. Someone had said that +Lucy was also ill. Marjorie reproached herself for +not having inquired more closely about the peculiar +green-eyed junior. “I ought to have gone to see +her,” she reflected. “I’ll go to-night. Perhaps she +is almost well by this time, and can come back to +school in time for the game. If she can’t, then I’d +better ask Mignon to play in Susan’s place.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +</p> +<p> +School over for the day she accosted Jerry and +Irma with, “I can only walk as far as the corner +with you to-night. I’m going to see Lucy Warner. +She’s been sick for over a week. Did you ever hear +of such bad luck as the team has been having lately? +I feel so discouraged and tired out. I don’t believe +I’ll try for the team next year.” Marjorie’s usually +sprightliness was entirely missing. Her voice had +taken on a weary tone and her brown eyes had lost +their pretty sparkle. +</p> +<p> +“You’d better go straight home and take care of +<em>yourself</em>,” gruffly advised Jerry, “or you won’t be fit +to play on the team Saturday.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m all right.” Marjorie made an attempt +to look cheerful. “I’m not feeling ill. My throat +is a little bit sore. I caught cold that day Muriel +fell down the steps. But it’s nothing serious. I +shall go to bed at eight o’clock to-night and have a +long sleep. I’m just tired; not sick. I must leave +you here. Good-bye. See you to-morrow.” Nodding +brightly she left the two and turned down a +side street. +</p> +<p> +“See us to-morrow,” sniffed Jerry. “Humph! I +doubt it, unless we go to her house. She’s about +half sick now. It’s the first time I ever saw her look +that way. She’s so brave, though. She’d fight to +keep up if she were dying.” +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, as she plodded down the snowy street +on her errand of mercy, Marjorie was, indeed, fighting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +to make herself believe that she was merely a little +tired. Despite her languor, generosity prompted +her to stop in passing a fruit store and purchase an +attractive basket filled with various fruits likely to +tempt the appetite of a sick person. She wondered +if Lucy would resent the offering. She was such +a queer, self-contained little creature. +</p> +<p> +“What a dingy house!” was her thought, as she +floundered her way through a stretch of deep snow +to Lucy’s unpretentious home. Detached from its +neighbors, it stood unfenced, facing a bit of field, +which the small boys of Sanford used in summer +as a ball ground. It was across this field that Marjorie +was obliged to wend a course made difficult +by a week’s fall of snow that blanketed it. An irregular +path made by the passing and repassing of +someone’s feet led up to the door. It appeared that +the Warners were either too busy or else unable to +clear their walk. +</p> +<p> +Finding no bell, Marjorie removed her glove and +knocked on the weather-stained front door. It was +opened by a frail little woman with a white, tired +face and faded blue eyes. She stared in amazement +at the trim, fur-coated girl before her, whose attractive +appearance betokened affluence. “How do +you do?” she greeted in evident embarrassment. +</p> +<p> +“Good afternoon. Are you Mrs. Warner?” Marjorie +asked brightly. “I have come to see Lucy. +How is she to-day? I am Marjorie Dean.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, are you Miss Dean? I mailed a letter she +wrote you several days ago. Come in, please,” invited +the woman cordially. “I am very glad to see +you. I am sure Lucy will be. She is better but still +in bed. Will you take off your wraps?” +</p> +<p> +“No, thank you. I can’t stay very long. I feel +guilty at not coming to see her sooner. What is +the trouble with her—tonsilitis? So many people in +Sanford are having it.” Marjorie looked slightly +mystified over Mrs. Warner’s reference to the letter. +She had received no letter from Lucy. She +decided, however, that she would ask Lucy. +</p> +<p> +“No; she was threatened with pneumonia, but +managed to escape with a severe cold. I will take +you to her. She is upstairs.” +</p> +<p> +Following Mrs. Warner up a narrow stairway +that led up from a bare, cheerless sitting room, Marjorie +was forced to contrast the dismal place with +the Deans’ luxurious living room. Why was it, she +sadly pondered, that she had been given so much and +Lucy so little? The Warners’ home was even more +poverty-stricken than the little gray house in which +Constance Stevens had once lived. Then she had +deplored that same contrast between herself and +Constance. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Dean has come to see you, Lucy,” said +Mrs. Warner. Marjorie had followed the woman +into a plain little bedroom, equally bare and desolate. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +</p> +<p> +“You!” Glimpsing Marjorie behind her mother, +Lucy sat up in bed, her green eyes growing greener +with horrified disapproval. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I.” Marjorie flushed as she strove to answer +playfully. That single unfriendly word of +greeting had wounded her deeply. The very fact +that, half sick herself, she had waded through the +snow to call on Lucy gave her a fleeting sense of +injury. She tried to hide it by quickly saying: “I +must apologize for not visiting you sooner. Our +team has had so many mishaps, I have been busy +trying to keep things going. I brought you some +fruit to cheer you up.” +</p> +<p> +“I will leave you girls to yourselves,” broke in +Mrs. Warner. As she went downstairs she wondered +at her daughter’s ungracious behavior to this +lovely young friend. Lucy was such a strange child. +Even she could not always fathom her odd ways. +</p> +<p> +“Why have you come to see me?” demanded +Lucy, hostile and inhospitable. All the time her +lambent green eyes remained fixed upon Marjorie. +</p> +<p> +“Why shouldn’t I come to see you?” Marjorie +gave a nervous little laugh. Privately she wished +she had not come. Embarrassment at the unfriendly +reception drove the question of the letter from her +mind. +</p> +<p> +“You never noticed me in school,” pursued Lucy +relentlessly. “Why should you now?” +</p> +<p> +“You would never let me be friends with you,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +was Marjorie’s honest retort. “I’ve tried ever so +many times. I have always admired you. You are +so bright and make such brilliant recitations.” +</p> +<p> +“What does that matter when one is poor and +always out of things?” came the bitter question. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, being poor doesn’t count. It’s the real you +that makes the difference. When I was a little girl +we were quite poor. We aren’t rich now; just in +comfortable circumstances. If I chose my friends +for their money I’d be a very contemptible person. +You mustn’t look at matters in that light. It’s +wrong. It shuts you away from all the best things +in life; like love and friendship and contentment. I +wish you had said this to me long ago. Then we +would have understood each other and been friends.” +</p> +<p> +“I can never be your friend,” stated the girl solemnly. +</p> +<p> +“Why not?” Marjorie’s eyes widened. “Perhaps +I ought not to ask you that. It sounded conceited. +I can’t blame you if you don’t like me. There are +many persons I can’t like, either. Sometimes I try +to like them, but I seldom succeed,” she made frank +admission. +</p> +<p> +“You are a puzzling girl,” asserted Lucy, her +green eyes wavering under Marjorie’s sweetly naïve +confession. “Either you are very deceitful, or else +I have made a terrible mistake.” She suddenly lay +back in bed, half hiding her brown head in the pillow. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span> +</p> +<p> +“I would rather think that you had made a mistake.” +The rose in Marjorie’s cheeks deepened. “I +try never to be deceitful.” +</p> +<p> +Lucy did not reply, but buried her face deeper in +the pillow. An oppressive silence ensued, during +which Marjorie racked her brain as to what she had +best say next. What ailed Lucy? She was even +queerer than Marjorie had supposed. +</p> +<p> +With a convulsive jerk Lucy suddenly sat upright. +Marjorie was relieved to observe no indication +of tears in the probing green eyes. She had +feared Lucy might be crying. Why she should cry +was a mystery, however. +</p> +<p> +“If you had made a mistake about someone and +then done a perfectly dreadful thing and afterward +found out that it was all a mistake, what would you +do?” Lucy queried with nervous intensity. +</p> +<p> +“I—that’s a hard question to answer. It would +depend a good deal on what I had done and who +the person was.” +</p> +<p> +“But if the person didn’t know that it was you +who did it, would you tell them?” continued Lucy. +</p> +<p> +“If I had hurt them very much, I think my conscience +would torment me until I did,” Marjorie said +slowly. “It would be hard, of course, but it would +be exactly what I deserved. But why do you ask me +such strange things?” +</p> +<p> +“Because I must know. I’ve done something +wrong and I’ve got to face it. I’ve just found out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +that I have a very lively conscience. What you said +is true. I deserve to suffer. I am the Observer.” +Lucy dropped back on her pillow, her long, black +lashes veiling her peculiarly colored eyes. +</p> +<p> +Undiluted amazement tied Marjorie’s tongue. +Staring at the pitifully white, small face against the +pillow, she came into a flashing, emotional knowledge +of the embittered spirit that had prompted the +writing of those vexatious letters. “You poor little +thing!” she cried out compassionately. The next +instant her soft hands held one of Lucy’s in a caressing +clasp. +</p> +<p> +Lucy’s heavy lids lifted. “I don’t wonder your +friends love you,” she said somberly. Her free +hand came to rest lightly on Marjorie’s arm. “I +know now that I could have been your friend, too.” +</p> +<p> +“But you shall be from this minute on,” Marjorie +replied, her pretty face divinely tender. “You’ve +proved your right to be. It was brave in you to tell +me. If you hadn’t been the right sort of girl you +might have decided to like me and kept what you +told me to yourself. I would never have known the +difference. I am glad that I do know. It takes away +the shadow. I understand that you must have suffered +a great deal. I blame myself, too. I’m afraid +I’ve thought too much about my own pleasure and +seemed snobbish.” +</p> +<p> +“I wouldn’t have done it, only one Sunday when +you were walking along with that Miss Macy and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +that girl who used to live at your house, I met you +and you didn’t speak to me. All three of you were +dressed beautifully. It made me feel so bad. I +was wearing an old gray suit, and I thought you +cut me on account of my clothes. I know now that +I was wrong. That was the beginning of the mistake. +Then when you girls had those expensive +basket ball suits made, I thought you chose them +just to be mean to me. Of course, I didn’t expect +to be invited to your parties, but it hurt me to be +passed by all the time in school.” +</p> +<p> +“I never saw you that day, and I’m sure we never +thought about how it might look to others when we +ordered our suits. You’ve taught me a lesson, Lucy. +One ought to be made careful about such things in a +large school. Someone is sure to be made unhappy. +Now we must put all the bad things away for good +and think only of the nice ones. When you get well +you are going to have some good times with me. +My friends will like you, too. No one must ever +know about—well, about the mistake.” +</p> +<p> +But Lucy could not thus easily take things for +granted. Remorse had set in and she felt that she +ought to be punished for her fault. After considerable +cheerful persuasion, Marjorie brought her +into an easier frame of mind. When finally she +said good-bye she left behind her a most humble +Observer who had given her word thereafter to observe +life from a happier angle. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +</p> +<p> +Once away from the house a feeling of heavy +lassitude overwhelmed the patient Lieutenant. It +had been a strenuous hike to a trying engagement. +Her head swam dizzily as she stumbled through the +drifted field to better walking. Her wet shoes and +stockings added to her misery. How her cheeks +burned and how dreadfully her throat ached! Was +Jerry’s prediction about to be fulfilled? Was she +only tired out, or had actual sickness descended upon +her just when she needed most to be well? +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI—“TURN ABOUT IS FAIR PLAY”</h2> +<p> +“What did I tell you yesterday?” saluted Jerry +Macy, the instant she found opportunity to address +Irma Linton the next morning. “Marjorie’s sick. +Her mother telephoned me before I started for +school. She came from Lucy Warner’s yesterday +so sick she couldn’t see straight. Her mother put +her to bed and sent for the doctor. She has tonsilitis. +Isn’t that hard luck?” +</p> +<p> +“I should say so. Poor Marjorie. I was afraid +of that yesterday. You know she said her throat +was sore.” Irma looked unutterably sympathetic. +“And the game on Saturday, too. But it can’t be +played with Marjorie, Muriel and Susan all laid up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> +That leaves only Rita, Daisy and Harriet on the +team.” +</p> +<p> +“The sophomores will have to call it off,” decreed +Jerry. “It’s only fair. The juniors did that very +thing when two of the sophs were sick.” +</p> +<p> +“You’d better see Ellen this noon or before, if +you can, and tell her,” Irma advised. “Then she +can break it to the sophs to-day.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to wait for her in the senior locker +room this noon,” nodded Jerry. “Then she can post +a notice at once. Now I must beat it for Cæsar +recitation. I wished he’d been killed in his first battle. +It would have saved me a good deal of bother.” +Jerry’s jolly chuckle belied her vengeful comment +on the valorous general. +</p> +<p> +“You don’t say so!” exclaimed Ellen when Jerry +broke the news to her. “That <em>is</em> too bad. Certainly +the game will have to be postponed. I’ll write a notice +instantly asking the sophs to meet me in the +gym at four this afternoon. I must call up on the +’phone and inquire for Marjorie. Dear little girl, +I wish I could do a great deal more for her. Thank +you for telling me, Jerry.” Ellen hurried off to +write and then post the notice before going home +to luncheon. Her lips wore a quizzical smile. She +wondered what the sophomore team would say when +she told them. +</p> +<p> +She had just finished tucking it into the bulletin +board when Nellie Simmons, a member of the sophomore +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span> +team, paused curiously to read it. The very +fact that it came from Ellen’s hands indicated basket +ball news. “Hmm!” she ejaculated as she took +in its contents. “What’s the matter now?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll tell you at four o’clock,” Ellen flashed back. +With a slight lift of her shoulders, she walked away. +Nellie’s tone had verged on the insolent. She had +hardly disappeared when Nellie faced about and hurried +toward the sophomore locker room, bumping +smartly against Rowena Farnham, who was in the +act of leaving it. +</p> +<p> +“Look out!” cried Rowena. “What are you trying +to do? I’m not made of iron.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Rowena, I was hurrying to find you!” exclaimed +Nellie. “Ellen Seymour just posted a notice +on the bulletin board for the team to meet her +in the gym at four o’clock. I think I know what it’s +about. Marjorie Dean is sick. I heard Jerry Macy +tell Esther Lind. You know what that means to +the junior team, with two others away from it. I’m +sure Ellen’s going to ask us to postpone the game.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll forgive you for almost knocking me down,” +laughed Rowena, her black eyes glowing. “So Miss +Seymour thinks we will postpone the game to please +her and that goody-goody Dean girl. I’ll see that +she gets a surprise. Lucky you came to me. I can +fix things before I go home to luncheon. I’m going +to have a talk with Miss Davis.” +</p> +<p> +Leaving Nellie plunged in admiration at her daring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +tactics, Rowena sped up the basement stairs and +down the corridor toward Miss Davis’s tiny office. +“How are you, Miss Davis?” was her offhand greeting. +“I’ve come to you for help.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Davis viewed her visitor with mild disapproval. +“I don’t care to implicate myself in any +more of your tangles, Rowena,” she declared firmly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, this isn’t entirely my affair. It’s about +basket ball, though. That Dean girl is sick and Miss +Seymour is going to ask us to postpone the game just +on her account. Of course, we’ll say ‘no,’ but Miss +Seymour won’t mind that unless you stand by us. +It’s pure favoritism. Miss Harding and Miss Atwell +are sick, too. Even so, there are three of the team +left. If you say the game must go on, it will give +poor Mignon a chance to sub in the Dean girl’s +place. That Esther Lind played on the sophomore +team last year. She could fill the other position and +we could have the game. Miss Seymour knows that, +but she won’t pay any attention to it. Mignon ought +to have been chosen in the first place. You owe it +to her to do this for her. Besides, it will give you a +good chance to even things with the Seymour-Dean +combination.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t like your tone, Rowena. It’s hardly respectful. +As a teacher I have no desire to ‘even +things,’ as you express it.” Miss Davis’s censure +did not ring true. She knew that this domineering +girl had no illusions concerning her dignity of position. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +</p> +<p> +Rowena merely smiled in the bold, cheerful fashion +that she always adopted and which passed for +real good humor. She did not take Miss Davis at +her word. “Think it over,” she advised. “You +know you detest favoritism.” She was well aware +that Miss Davis deplored it, only to practise it as +regarded herself and Mignon. Mignon in particular +had always ranked high in her favor. +</p> +<p> +To have heard Rowena thus pleading her cause +would have astonished Mignon not a little. It was +by this very means that Rowena proposed to seek +her and win back the French girl’s allegiance. Without +her companionship, school had become very tame +for lawless Rowena. +</p> +<p> +“When is this meeting to take place?” asked Miss +Davis with well-simulated indifference. +</p> +<p> +“At four o’clock.” Rowena thrilled with triumph. +She knew she had gained her point. +</p> +<p> +“I may attend it,” was the teacher’s vague promise. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you. I hope for Mignon’s sake you’ll be +there.” With this sly reminder Rowena set off, determining +to waylay Mignon on her walk back from +luncheon. Not troubling to go home that noon, +Rowena swallowed a hasty luncheon at a nearby +delicatessen shop and posted herself at a corner, +which Mignon was due to pass. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a minute, Mignon,” she hailed, as the latter +was about to pass her by with a haughty toss of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +her head. “You must listen to me. I’ve just fixed +it for you to play on the junior team Saturday.” +</p> +<p> +Astounded by this remarkable statement, Mignon +halted. Rowena had guessed that she would. “I +don’t understand you,” she said haughtily. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, you do,” assured Rowena blithely. “Three +of the juniors are sick. I just asked Miss Davis to +let you help out. She is going to see Miss Seymour +about it this afternoon. All you have to do is to +keep still until you’re asked to play, then say ‘yes.’ +Now do you believe I’m your friend?” she concluded +in triumph. +</p> +<p> +Mignon’s inimitable shrug went into play. “You +are very kind,” she returned with a trace of sarcasm. +“It’s about time you did something to make up for +all the trouble you caused me.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s just it.” Rowena clutched at this providential +straw, which Mignon had unwittingly cast +to her. “I <em>am</em> trying to make it up to you. I won’t +bother you any more now. But I hope——” she +paused significantly. +</p> +<p> +“You may walk to school with me,” graciously +permitted Mignon. The old fascination of Rowena’s +lawlessness was beginning to steal over her. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you.” Rowena spoke humbly. Inwardly +she was jubilant. She was obliged to endure these +stupid persons, but they were all her pawns, willed +to move about at her dictation. +</p> +<p> +After she had left Rowena in the corridor, Mignon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +indulged in sober speculation. There was more +to the affair than appeared on the surface. Formerly +she would have entered into it with avidity. +Now she was bound to respect her father’s mandate +or be packed off to a convent school. She alone +knew positively that recent association with Marjorie +and her chums had not changed her. But she +must make a pretense at keeping up an appearance of +amiable docility. Rowena’s words still sounded in +her ears like a clarion call to battle. But she was resolved +to do nothing rash. She would wait and see +before accepting the chance to play on the junior +team. It was lucky that she need not lend her presence +to the meeting that afternoon. +</p> +<p> +When at four o’clock Ellen Seymour put the matter +of postponement to five impassive-faced girls, +she was not greatly surprised to listen to their unanimous +refusal to consider the proposal. One and all +they stolidly set themselves against it. +</p> +<p> +“You forget that the juniors treated you very +nicely when your team met with misfortune,” reminded +Ellen gravely. She had vowed within herself +that she would not lose her temper. +</p> +<p> +This reminder brought stubborn replies of, “That +was different,” and “They have plenty of equally +good players to draw from.” +</p> +<p> +In the midst of the discussion, Miss Davis appeared +on the scene. Ellen understood only too well +what that meant. “What seems to be the matter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +here?” she asked. “Are you discussing the question +of postponing the game?” +</p> +<p> +Rowena cast a sidelong glance of triumph toward +Nellie Simmons, which said: “What did I tell you?” +</p> +<p> +“We are,” was Ellen’s crisp return. “The game +must be postponed.” +</p> +<p> +It was an unlucky speech on Ellen’s part. Miss +Davis had entered the gymnasium only half decided +upon championing Rowena’s cause. The cool decision +in the senior’s tones angered her. “I hardly +think that will be necessary,” she retorted. “Three +of the juniors are ready to play. Miss La Salle and +Miss Lind can substitute for the others. The game +will go forward on Saturday.” +</p> +<p> +“That is absolutely unfair,” cried Ellen. “The +juniors were extremely lenient with——” +</p> +<p> +“That will do.” Miss Davis held up an authoritative +hand. “Another word and I will report you +to Miss Archer. Then there will be <em>no</em> game on +Saturday.” +</p> +<p> +Ellen did not answer this threat. Her head erect, +color high, she walked from the gymnasium and +straight to Miss Archer’s office. <em>She</em> had not threatened. +She intended to act and act quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Archer, I have something important to say +to you,” she burst forth on entering the principal’s +office. +</p> +<p> +“Sit down, Ellen. I am sure it must be. Don’t +tell me it is basket ball!” Miss Archer’s lips tightened. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +</p> +<p> +“But it is.” Impetuously, Ellen poured forth her +story. When she had finished, Miss Archer’s face +was not good to see. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll attend to this, Ellen. You did right to come +to me. There will be no game on Saturday.” +</p> +<p> +The following morning five girls received a summons +to the principal’s office that put fear into their +hearts. When, one by one, they appeared, she motioned +them to be seated until the last one had completed +the line on the oak bench. Swinging in her +chair, she faced them with: “There is an old saying, +girls, ‘Turn about is fair play.’ Since you seem to +have forgotten it, I am forced to remind you. I +understand that you asked the juniors to postpone +the first basket ball game of the season, due to the +fact that your team was temporarily incapacitated. +They did so. That in itself points to an adherence +to fair play. Very well. Now there comes a time +when the situation reverses itself. Having proved +themselves honorable, the juniors have called for a +like demonstration of honor on the part of the sophomores. +You know best what has happened. You +have shown yourselves not only grossly ungrateful, +but unfit to be trusted. No one enjoys dealing with +ingrates. One understands precisely what one may +expect from such persons. +</p> +<p> +“During the year I have not been pleased with the +various reports which have been brought to me concerning +sophomore and junior basket ball; particularly sophomore +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +basket ball. It is not long since I +was obliged to interfere with sophomore methods. +At that time I stated that a repetition of such unfair +tactics would result in the stoppage of the game for +the rest of the year. I now declare the sophomore +and junior teams disbanded. There will be no more +games between them this year. I have just one +thing further to say. It is unfortunate that the innocent +should be obliged to suffer with the guilty. +You are dismissed.” +</p> +<p> +A wavering breath of dismay passed along the +row of girls as Miss Archer pronounced sentence +upon them. Their own treachery had proved a +boomerang. Dejection laid heavy hand upon four +of them, as with downcast eyes they rose and quitted +the place of judgment. But the fifth member of +the disbanded team was not thus so easily dismissed. +Far from disheartened, Rowena Farnham sprang +forward, hands clenched at her sides, her face an +angry flame. +</p> +<p> +“Who are you that you dare talk of unfairness?” +In her devouring rage she fairly screamed the question. +“You have disbanded the team just to please +that smug-faced, priggish Marjorie Dean. You are +not fit to have charge over a school of girls. I am +ashamed to be under the same roof with you. I shall +ask my father——” +</p> +<p> +“It strikes me that it is I who should inform your +father of your outrageous behavior to me,” interrupted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +Miss Archer in a stern voice. “I hardly believe +that he would countenance such impudence on +your part to one in authority over you. You may +go home and remain away from school until I send +for you. I shall insist on an interview with your +father at the earliest possible moment in order to +decide what is to be done with you.” +</p> +<p> +“You won’t have to insist on seeing him,” sneered +Rowena. “He will call on you this afternoon. My +father won’t see me abused by you. He will use +his influence with the Board of Education. Then +<em>you</em> won’t be principal of Sanford High School.” +With this furious prediction of downfall Rowena +flung herself out of the office, confident that she had +delivered a telling thrust. Not daring to return to +the study hall she sped to the locker room, hastily +seized her wraps and departed for her father’s office +in high dudgeon. +</p> +<p> +The brilliantly-colored account of Miss Archer’s +misdeeds which she poured into the ears of her too-credulous +father sent him on the trail of the offending +principal with fury in his eye. Less than an +hour after Rowena had made her sensational exit, +a very tall, red-haired, red-faced man stalked into +Miss Archer’s office with the air of a blood-thirsty +warrior. +</p> +<p> +“Madam,” he thundered, omitting polite preliminaries, +“I am Mr. Farnham and I wish you to understand +most emphatically that you cannot criticize +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +my methods of bringing up my daughter. Though +she may need occasional mild discipline it is extreme +bad taste in you to cast unjust reflections upon her +parents.” +</p> +<p> +“I was not aware that I had done so.” Miss Archer +had risen to confront the slandered (?) parent. +She met his angry gaze unflinchingly. “I had intended +to send for you, however. Now that you +are here we may as well settle matters at once. Your +daughter——” +</p> +<p> +“My daughter has been shamefully abused,” cut +in Mr. Farnham majestically. “I regret that I ever +allowed her to enter a public school. I shall remove +her at once from it. The contaminating influence——” +</p> +<p> +It was Miss Archer’s turn to interrupt in clear, +cutting speech. “Allow me to amend your last statement +to <em>her</em> contaminating influence. Your daughter +is a trouble-maker. I have borne very patiently +with her. I cannot regret your decision to remove +her from Sanford High School. It simplifies matters +immeasurably.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer’s quiet, but intense utterance sent an +unbidden thrill of consternation over the irate man. +His blustering manner had not intimidated this regal, +calm-featured woman. He experienced a sudden +sense of defeat. Fearful lest he might reveal it, he +cut his call short with, “My daughter will not return +to school. Good morning.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +</p> +<p> +Miss Archer bowed him out, feeling sorry rather +than displeased with the big, blustering man whom +fatherly love had blinded to his daughter’s faults. +She wondered when, if ever, his eyes would be +opened. Under what circumstances would he +awaken to full knowledge of the real Rowena? +</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII—THE FIRST DUTY OF A SOLDIER</h2> +<p> +“And we can have the party in her room? Oh, +fine! You’re awfully dear, Mrs. Dean. We’ll be +there at two this afternoon. Good-bye.” Jerry +Macy hung up the telephone receiver and did an +energetic dance about the hall. +</p> +<p> +“Training for the Russian Ballet?” asked Hal, +as, emerging from the breakfast room, he beheld +Jerry in the midst of her weird dance. +</p> +<p> +“No, you goose. I’m doing a dance of rejoicing. +Marjorie’s well enough to see us. We are going to +have a party for her this afternoon.” +</p> +<p> +“You are a lovely girl, Jerry, and you dance beautifully.” +Hal became suddenly ingratiating. “Am +I invited to the party?” +</p> +<p> +“Certainly not. It’s an exclusive affair; no boys +allowed. You may send Marjorie some flowers, +though. You’ve only sent them twice this week.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ll do it. What time is the party?” +</p> +<p> +“Two o’clock. Get them at Braley’s. That’s the +nicest place.” Jerry was obliged to shout this last +after Hal, as, seizing his cap and coat, he raced out +the front door. +</p> +<p> +Over two weeks had elapsed since the Thursday +morning which had marked the downfall of basket +ball. During that time, Marjorie had lain in her +dainty pink-and-white bed, impatiently wondering if +she were ever going to get well. But one thing had +helped to make her trying illness endurable. Never +before had she realized that she had so many friends. +Her pretty “house” looked like a florist’s shop and +her willow table was piled with offerings of fruit +and confectionery sent her by her devoted followers. +Every day the mail brought her relays of +cheery letters, the burden of which was invariably, +“You must hurry and get well.” +</p> +<p> +And now the day of convalescence had dawned. +She was able not only to sit up, but to take brief +strolls about her room. Her faithful Captain had +just brought her word that Jerry and the girls would +be with her that afternoon. What a lot they would +have to talk about! Marjorie lay luxuriously back +among her pillows and smilingly patted a fat letter +from Mary Raymond. “How I wish you could be +here, too, Lieutenant,” she murmured. “We need +you to help us with our good time. Connie’s coming +over early to help Captain dress me in my wonderful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +new pink negligee. It has ruffles and ruffles. I +wish you could see it, Mary.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>You</em> are only playing invalid,” laughingly accused +Constance Stevens. It was a little after one +o’clock. She and Mrs. Dean had just finished arraying +Marjorie in the half-fitted pink silk negligee +that had been one of Captain’s cheer-up gifts to +her. “I never before saw you look so pretty, Marjorie,” +she declared, as she stepped back to view the +effect. “You ought always to wear your hair down +your back in long curls.” +</p> +<p> +“Just imagine how I’d look. And I so nearly a +senior, too. Connie, do you suppose Mignon will +come to my party?” Marjorie asked with sudden +irrelevance. +</p> +<p> +“When I invited her to it she said she’d come,” +returned Constance. “You can’t tell much about her, +though. The day before Miss Archer forbade basket +ball I saw Rowena stop her and walk into school +with her. I thought it rather queer. She had said +so much against Rowena after that night at Riverview.” +</p> +<p> +“She is a strange girl,” mused Marjorie. “I am +not very sorry that Rowena Farnham has left high +school. Judging from what you just said, it +wouldn’t have been long until they grew chummy +again. Rowena would have found a way to win +Mignon over to her.” +</p> +<p> +In making this prediction Marjorie had spoken +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> +more accurately than she knew. Emboldened by her +success in once more attracting Mignon’s attention +to herself, Rowena had planned to follow that move +with others equally strategic. But before she had +found opportunity for a second interview, basket +ball had been doomed and she had ceased to be a +pupil of Sanford High. +</p> +<p> +Being among the first to get wind of Miss Archer’s +decree and Rowena’s exodus from school, +Mignon secretly rejoiced in the thought that she had +not been implicated in the affair. She had fully +made up her mind to accept the invitation to play +on the junior team, were it extended to her. When +she discovered the true state of matters, she made +haste to declare openly that had she been asked, +nothing would have induced her to accept the offer. +As for Rowena, she should have known better. +After the shabby treatment she had received from +Rowena, it was ridiculous in her to dream that she, +Mignon, would lend herself to anything so contemptible. +A few such guileful speeches to the more +credulous girls caused Mignon’s stock to rise considerably +higher. Others who knew her too well +looked wise and held their peace. Mignon alone +knew just how narrowly she had missed falling into +a pit of Rowena’s digging. +</p> +<p> +Quiet Constance entertained her own view of the +incident. It coincided completely with Marjorie’s +thoughtful opinion. “It’s hard to part a pair of girls +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +like those two,” she said. “They have too much in +common. Between you and me, I don’t imagine +Mignon will stick to us very long. She’s not interested +in us.” +</p> +<p> +“No, I suppose she thinks us rather too stiff-necked. +Oh, well, we can only do our best and let +the future take care of itself. There’s the doorbell, +Connie. That must be Jerry. She told Captain +she’d come over early. Will you go down and +escort her in state to my house?” +</p> +<p> +Constance vanished to return almost immediately, +but without Jerry. She had not come back empty-handed, +however. A large, white pasteboard box +bearing the name “Braley’s” revealed the fact that +Hal had outstripped his sister. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the gorgeous things!” gurgled Marjorie, as +she lifted a great sheaf of long-stemmed pink rosebuds +from the box. Her pale cheeks took color from +the roses as she spied Hal’s card with a cheering +message written underneath in his flowing, boyish +hand. “He’s been such a comfort! Just as soon as +I get well I’m going to have a little dance and invite +all the boys.” Marjorie touched the fragrant token +with a friendly hand. “Laurie sent me some violets +yesterday. Those on the chiffonier.” +</p> +<p> +“He sent me some, too,” admitted Constance +rather shyly. +</p> +<p> +“How strange!” dimpled Marjorie. “Oh, there’s +the bell again! That surely must be Jerry!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +</p> +<p> +Before Constance was half way downstairs, Jerry +was half way up, her broad face beaming, her arms +laden with a large, round object, strangely resembling +a cake. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, take it!” she gasped. “My arms are breaking.” +</p> +<p> +Constance coming to her rescue, the two girls soon +made haven with Marjorie and a lively chattering +began. Frequent alarms at the front door denoted +steadily arriving guests and a little past two found +Marjorie’s strictly informal reception in full swing, +with girls tucked into every convenient corner of her +room. Her own particular chums, including Ellen +Seymour and Esther Lind, were all there. Even +Susan and Muriel, who had been busy getting well +while she lay ill, were able to be present. Lucy +Warner was also among the happy throng, a trifle +shy, but with a new look of gentleness in her green +eyes and a glad little smile on her somber face. +</p> +<p> +Mignon appeared, but did not stay to the merry-making. +She was full of polite sympathy and apparently +bent on doing the agreeable. But in her +black eyes lay a curious, furtive expression, which +Marjorie mentally decided made her look more than +ever like the Evil Genius. After a sojourn of perhaps +twenty minutes, during which she walked about +restlessly from girl to girl, exchanging commonplaces, +she pleaded an engagement and took her +leave. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> +</p> +<p> +Her presence somewhat of a strain, her departure +was not mourned. Now wholly congenial, the party +dropped all reserve and became exceedingly hilarious. +Despite Mrs. Dean’s protests, they had insisted +on bringing their own refreshments, and later +on Marjorie’s pink-and-white house was turned into +a veritable picnic ground. Jerry’s weighty contribution +turned out to be an immense many-layered +cake, thickly iced and decorated. “A regular whale +of a cake,” she styled it, and no one contradicted +her. After the luncheon had been eaten to the ceaseless +buzz of girlish voices, each trying to out-talk +the other, the company proceeded further to amuse +the lovely convalescent with various funny little +stunts at their command. +</p> +<p> +“Girls,” at last reminded thoughtful Irma, “it is +after four o’clock. We mustn’t tire Marjorie out. +I move we go downstairs to the living room and lift +up our voices for her benefit in a good, old-fashioned +song. Then we’ll come back, say good-bye and run +home.” +</p> +<p> +The wisdom of Irma’s proposal conceded, the +singers trooped downstairs. Presently, through the +open door, the sound of their clear, young voices +came up to her as she lay back listening, a bright +smile irradiating her delicate features. It was so +beautiful to know that others cared so much about +making her happy. She had so many things to be +thankful for. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +</p> +<p> +Afterward when all except Jerry and Constance +had kissed her good-bye and departed with bubbling +good wishes, she said soberly: “Girls, doesn’t it make +you positively shiver when you think that next year +will be our last in Sanford High? After that we’ll +be scattered. Most of us are going away to college. +That means we’ll only see each other during vacations. +I can’t bear to think of it.” +</p> +<p> +“Some of us will still be together,” declared Jerry +stoutly. “Susan, Muriel and I are going to Hamilton +College if you do. You see, you can’t lose us.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t wish to lose you.” Marjorie patted Jerry’s +hand. Her brown eyes rested a trifle wistfully +on Constance. Marjorie knew, as did Jerry, that +Connie intended to go to New York to study grand +opera as soon as her high school life was over. +</p> +<p> +“You are thinking of Connie.” Jerry’s eyes had +followed Marjorie’s glance. “She won’t be lost to +us. Hamilton isn’t so very far from New York. +But what’s the use in worrying when we’ve some of +this year left yet and another year before us? One +thing at a time is my motto.” +</p> +<p> +“You are a philosopher, Jeremiah.” Marjorie +brightened. “‘One thing at a time,’” she repeated. +“That’s the right idea. When I go back to school +again, I’m going to try my hardest to make the rest +of my junior year a success. I can’t say much about +my senior year. It’s still an undiscovered territory. +I’m just going to remember that it’s a soldier’s first +duty to go where he’s ordered and ask no questions. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span> +When I’m ordered to my senior year, all I can do is +salute the colors and forward march!” +</p> +<p> +“Lead on and we’ll follow,” asserted Jerry Macy +gallantly. “I guess we can hike along and leave a +few landmarks on that precious senior territory. +When I come into senior estate I shall use nothing +but the most elegant English. As I am still a junior +I can still say, ‘Geraldine, Jerry, Jeremiah, you’ve +got to beat it. It’s almost five o’clock.’” +</p> +<p> +Left together, after Jerry had made extravagantly +ridiculous farewells, Constance seated herself beside +Marjorie’s bed. “Are you tired, Lieutenant?” was +her solicitous question. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit. I’m going to make Captain let me +go downstairs to-morrow. It’s time I was up and +doing again. I am way behind in my lessons.” +</p> +<p> +“You’ll catch up,” comforted Constance. Inwardly +she was reflecting that she doubted whether +there were any situation with which Marjorie Dean +could not catch up. Her feet were set in ways of +light that wandered upward to the stars. Though +to those who courted darkness it might appear that +she sometimes faltered, Constance knew that those +same steady feet would carry her unfalteringly +through her senior year to the wider life to come. +</p> +<p> +How Marjorie explored her new senior territory +and what landmarks she left behind in passing will +be told in “<span class='sc'>Marjorie Dean, High School Senior</span>.” +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p style='margin-top:15px;'>THE END</p> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Marjorie Dean, High School Junior, by +Pauline Lester + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR *** + +***** This file should be named 36823-h.htm or 36823-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/8/2/36823/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Katherine Ward and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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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