Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman

by Josephine Chase

  CHAPTER IV

  SANFORD'S LATEST FRESHMAN

  "Will you tell me the way to the principal's office, please?"

  A clear voice broke in upon the conversation of two girls who had pausedbefore the broad stairway leading to the second floor of the SanfordHigh School for a last word before separating for their morningrecitations.

  At the sound of the soft, interrupting voice, which contained a touch ofperplexity in its tones, both girls turned quickly to regard the owner.They saw an attractive little figure, wearing a dainty blue cloth gown,which was set off by hand-embroidered cuffs and an open rolling collarof sheerest white. From under a smart blue hat escaped a wealth of soft,brown curls, while two brown eyes looked into theirs with an expressionof appeal that brought forth instant reply.

  "Miss Archer's office is the last room on the east side of thesecond-floor corridor. I am going there now and shall be glad to showyou the way," was the quick response of the taller of the two girls,accompanied by a cheery smile that warmed Marjorie Dean's heart and madeher feel the least bit less of a stranger in this strange land which shewas about to explore.

  "Thank you," she returned gratefully, trying to smile in an equallyfriendly manner.

  Marjorie's first day of school had begun far from propitiously. She hadnot reckoned on making her initial appearance in Sanford High Schoolalone. It had been planned that her mother should accompany her, butwhen Monday morning came, her beloved captain had awakened with aracking headache, which meant nothing less than lying in bed for a long,pain-filled day in a darkened room.

  Torn between sympathy for her mother and her own disappointment,Marjorie had experienced a desire to go to her captain's room and cryher eyes out, but being fashioned of sturdier stuff, she made adesperate effort to brace up and be a good soldier. This was justanother of those miserable "vicissitudes" that no one could foresee. Shemust face it without grumbling. Her father had already telephoned for aphysician when she entered her mother's room, and Marjorie put on hersweetest smile as she kissed her mother and assured her that she didn'tin the least mind going to school alone.

  As she followed the young woman up the stairs and down the long corridorMarjorie felt her heart beat a little faster. Her low spirits of theearly morning began to rise. How good it seemed actually to be in schoolagain! And what a beautiful school it was! Even Franklin would appeardingy beside it. She gazed appreciatively at the high ceiling and theshining oak wainscotings of the wide corridor through which she waspassing. When her guide, who was tall, thin and plain of face, openedthe last door on the right and ushered her into a beautiful sunshinyoffice which seemed more like a living-room than a place whereinbusiness was transacted, Marjorie uttered an involuntary, "Oh, howlovely!"

  "Yes, isn't it though," returned the tall girl. "This is Miss Archer'sown idea, and, so far, it's proving a brilliant success. That is, we allthink so. Is Miss Archer in her private office?" she asked the youngwoman who had risen from her desk near the door and came forward toreceive them.

  Marjorie would have liked to ask her new acquaintance what she meant,but at that moment a door at the farther end of the room opened and astately, black-haired woman, with just a suspicion of gray at hertemples, emerged. She turned a pair of grave, deep-set eyes upon thetall girl and said, pleasantly: "Well, Ellen, what can I do for you thismorning?"

  "Oh, Miss Archer!" exclaimed the tall girl, eagerly, with an impulsivestep forward, "you haven't forbidden basketball this year, have you?Stella and I couldn't believe our ears when we heard it this morning!"It was evident that the impetuous Ellen was on the best possible termswith her principal.

  "I don't remember having issued an order to that effect," smiled MissArcher. "Where did you hear that bit of news?"

  Ellen Seymour's plain face flushed, then paled. "It was just a rumor,"she replied with reluctance. "I'd rather not mention names. Still, whenI heard it, I could not rest until I had asked you. The sophomores hopeto do something wonderful this year. We couldn't bear to believe for aminute that there would be no basketball. We had planned to have atryout some day this week, after school. I'm so glad," she addedfervently. "Thank you, Miss Archer. Oh, pardon me," she turned toMarjorie, "this is Miss Archer, our principal. Miss Archer, this younglady wishes to see you. I met her in the corridor downstairs andvolunteered my services as guide."

  With a courteous nod to Marjorie, the tall girl left the room and theprincipal turned her attention toward the prospective freshman.

  At the calm, kindly inquiry of the gray eyes Marjorie's feeling ofshyness vanished, and she said in her most soldierly manner, as thoughspeaking to her mother: "Miss Archer, my name is Marjorie Dean, and Iwish to enter the freshman class of Sanford High School. We moved toSanford from the city of B----. We have been here just a week. I was afreshman in Franklin High School at B----."

  Miss Archer took the young girl's hand in hers. Her rather stern facewas lighted with a welcoming smile. Marjorie's direct speech and frank,honest eyes had pleased the older woman.

  "I am glad to know that we are to have a new pupil," she said cordially."The freshman class is smaller than usual this year. So many girls leaveschool when their grammar school course is finished. I wish we couldpersuade these mothers and fathers to let their daughters have at leasta year of high school. It would help them so much in whatever kind ofwork they elected to do later."

  "That is what mother says," returned Marjorie, quickly. "My motherintended to come with me to-day, but was unable to do so." She did notgo into details. Young as she was, Marjorie had a horror of discussingher personal affairs with a stranger. "She will call upon you later."

  "I shall be pleased to meet your mother," Miss Archer made courteousanswer. "The first and most important matter to be considered thismorning is your class standing. Let me see. B---- is in the same state asthe town of Sanford. I believe the system of credits is the same in allthe high schools throughout this state, as the examinations come fromthe state board at the capital. What studies had you begun at B----?"

  "English composition, algebra, physiology, American history and French,"recited Marjorie, dutifully.

  Miss Archer raised her eyebrows. "You are ambitious. We usually allowour pupils to carry only four subjects."

  "But these are quite easy subjects," pleaded Marjorie; "that is, allexcept algebra. I am not especially clever in mathematics. I am obligedto study very hard to make good recitations. Still, I should like tocontinue with the subjects I have begun. Won't you try me until the endof the first term?" she added, a coaxing note in her voice.

  "I will at least try you for a week or two. Then if I find that you arenot overtaxing your strength you may go on with them."

  "Thank you." Marjorie's relieved tone caused the principal to smileagain. It was not usual for a pupil to show concern over the prospect oflosing a subject. Many of the students rebelled at having to carry foursubjects.

  "Have you your grammar school certificate with you?" asked Miss Archer,the smile giving way to a businesslike expression.

  Marjorie handed the principal the large envelope she had been carrying.Miss Archer drew forth a square of thick white paper, ornamented withthe red seal by which the state board of school commissioners hadsignified their approval of Marjorie Dean and her work in the grammarschool.

  The older woman read it carefully. "Yes, this is, as I thought the sameform of certificate. From this moment on you are a freshman in SanfordHigh School, Miss Dean. I trust that you will be happy here. Sanford hasthe reputation of being one of the finest schools in the state. I amgoing to assign you to a seat in the study hall at once. Miss Merton isin charge there. She will give you a printed form of our curriculum ofstudy. School opens at nine o'clock in the morning. The morning sessionlasts until twelve o'clock. We have an hour and a quarter for luncheon,and our last recitation for the day is over at half past three o'clock.We have devotional exercises in the chapel on Monday and Fridaymornings, and the course in gymnastics is optional. There are, ofcourse, man
y other things regarding the regulations of the school whichyou will gradually come to know."

  "Miss Arnold," the thin-faced, sharp-eyed young woman, who had beencovertly appraising Marjorie during her talk with Miss Archer, camelanguidly forward. "This is Miss Dean." The two girls bowed ratherdistantly. Marjorie had conceived an instant and violent dislike forthis lynx-eyed stranger. "Take Miss Dean to the locker room, then toMiss Merton. Say to Miss Merton that Miss Dean is a freshman, and that Iwish her assigned to a desk in the freshman section."

  With a last glance of pleasant approval, which Marjorie's pretty face,dainty attire and frank, yet modest bearing had evoked, the principalretired to her inner office, and Marjorie obediently followed her guide,who, without speaking, set off down the corridor at almost unnecessaryspeed. "This way," she directed curtly as they reached the maincorridor. They passed down the corridor, descended a second stairway andbrought up directly in front of long rows of lockers. Within fiveminutes Marjorie's hat had been put away, and she had received a lockerkey. This done, her companion hurried her upstairs and down the widecorridor through which they had first come.

  Then she suddenly opened a door, and Marjorie found herself in anenormous square room, which contained row upon row of shining oak desks,occupied by what seemed to her hundreds of pupils. In reality there werenot more than two hundred and forty persons in the room, but in the eyesof the little stranger everything was quadrupled. How different it wasfrom Franklin! So this was the study hall, one of the things on whichthe school prided itself. In front of the rows of desks was one largedesk on a small raised platform, reminding Marjorie of an island in themidst of a sea. At the desk sat a small, gray-haired woman, who peeredsuspiciously over her glasses at Marjorie as she was lifelesslyintroduced by Miss Arnold.

  "I don't like _her_ at all," was the young girl's inward comment as shewalked behind the stiff, uncompromising, black-clothed back to a deskalmost in the middle of the last row of seats on the east side. ButMarjorie experienced a little shiver of delight as she seated herself,for directly in front of her, and gazing at her with reassuring, smilingeyes, was the Picture Girl.