Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman

by Josephine Chase

  CHAPTER VII

  THE WARNING

  The afternoon session of school passed uneventfully for Marjorie. Shehad returned too late from luncheon to hold more than a few words ofconversation with the Picture Girl. In spite of the watchful espionageof Miss Merton, whose eyes seemed riveted to her side of the room,Muriel managed to convey to Marjorie the news that the girls were dyingto meet her and were so sorry they had missed her at noon.

  "We waited for you more than ten minutes," Muriel whispered guardedly."Mignon saw you stop at Professor Fontaine's desk. We knew what thatmeant. It always takes him forever to explain anything. Do you remembera black-haired, black-eyed girl in the French class this morning? Shewore the sweetest brown crepe-de-chine dress. Well, that's Mignon LaSalle. Her father is the richest man in Sanford. Mignon could go away toschool if she liked, but she doesn't care about it. Tell you morelater."

  Muriel faced front with a sudden jerk that could mean but one thing.Marjorie cast a fleeting glance at Miss Merton. The teacher was frowningangrily, as though about to deliver a rebuke. Luckily for the two girls,the first recitation bell rang and they stood not upon the order oftheir going, but went with alacrity. Once outside the study-hall doorthey were safe.

  "I don't know what ails Miss Merton," complained Muriel. "She has neversaid a word to me before. That's twice to-day she has shown her claws."

  "She doesn't like me," said Marjorie, calmly, "and I don't like her. Ithink she is the rudest teacher I ever knew. It was I, not you that shemeant that scolding for this morning."

  "Nonsense!" scoffed Muriel. "She likes you as well as she likes the restof us. I don't believe she is awfully, terribly, fearfully fond ofgirls. When she was young she must have been one of those stiff, primgoody-goodies; the distressingly snippy sort that made all her friendsso tired." Muriel laughed softly.

  Marjorie smiled at Muriel's unflattering description of Miss Merton'syouth, then her face sobered. In her heart she knew that Miss Mertondisliked her, and the knowledge was not pleasant. She made an earnestresolve to overcome the teacher's prejudice. She would make Miss Mertonlike her.

  Muriel went with her as far as the door of the history room, which wasin charge of Miss Atkins, a stout, middle-aged woman, who beamed amiablyupon Marjorie, entered her name in the class register, motioned her to afront seat and promptly appeared to forget her existence. But thoughMiss Atkins exhibited small personal interest in her new pupil, such wasnot the case with regard to the subject which she taught. The lessondealt with the coming of the Virginia colonists, their settlement inJamestown and the final burning of the town. Miss Atkins' vividdescription of the colonists' determined struggles to gain a foothold inthe New World was well worth listening to. The reading of extracts fromspecial reference books pertaining to that gallant expedition into thetreacherous forests of an unknown, untried country made the lesson seemdoubly interesting. When the recitation was over Marjorie went back tothe study hall congratulating herself on the fact that she had notdropped history, and reflecting that no one would ever have suspectedMiss Atkins of being so fascinating.

  As she groped in her desk for her textbook on physiology, she lookedabout her for some sign of Constance Stevens. She recollected that shehad not seen her in her seat when the afternoon session began. Themoment her recitation in physiology was over she hastened to the lockerroom. No, her new friend's hat was not there. She had not returned toschool after luncheon. Marjorie reached for her own hat, vaguelywondering what had happened to keep Constance away from school.

  She stood meditatively poking her hatpins in and out of her hat, whenthe sound of footsteps on the stairs came to her ears. School was overfor the day. She put on her hat in a hurry, took a swift peep at herselfas she passed the one large mirror that hung at the end of thefreshmen's lockers, and ran up the stairs. She would not disappointMuriel's friends again.

  This time she was first on the scene, standing on the identical spotwhere she had stood the day Constance rushed weeping past her. Whydidn't her class come out? Surely she had heard their footsteps on thestairs. But it was fully five minutes before the stream of girls beganto issue from the big doors. Then Muriel appeared, surrounded by herfriends, and in another instant the girl with the dimples, thefair-haired girl, the stout girl and the Evil Genius were, with varyingdegrees of friendliness, telling Marjorie Dean that they were glad tomeet her.

  Susan Atwell said so frankly with a delightful show of dimples. IrmaLinton looked the acme of gentle friendliness. Geraldine Macy's facewore an expression of open admiration. Mignon La Salle's greeting,however, was distinctly reserved. To be sure, she smiled; but Muriel,who had been furtively watching her, knew that the French girl was notpleased with the idea of admitting another girl to their fellowship.

  "The rest of the girls like her," thought Muriel. "Mignon will findshe'll have to give in this time." Purposely, to make sure she wasright, she said boldly: "Miss Dean, will you go to the basketball tryoutwith us on Friday afternoon?"

  "Yes, do," urged Geraldine Macy, eagerly.

  "We'd love to have you," came from Susan Atwell. "We understand that youare a star player."

  "Of course you must," smiled Irma Linton.

  The French girl alone hesitated. Her eyes roved speculatively from oneface to another, then she said suavely, "Come by all means, Miss Dean.It will be quite interesting."

  "Thank you. I shall be pleased to go with you." Marjorie ignoredMignon's slight hesitation, although she had noted it. "I wonder if youare all as fond of basketball as I," she went on quickly. "It's asplendid game, isn't it?"

  Her new acquaintances answered with emphasis that it was certainly agreat game, and, the ice now broken, they began to ply their newacquaintance with questions. How did she like Sanford? Did it seemstrange to her after a big city high school? What subjects had sheselected? Had she met any other girls besides themselves?

  Marjorie answered them readily enough. She was glad to be one of acrowd of girls again.

  "Have you met any other girls?" asked Geraldine Macy, abruptly.

  "I met a Miss Seymour before I had even gone as far as Miss Archer'soffice. She is a delightful girl, isn't she?"

  No one of the five girls made answer. The little freshman regarded themperplexedly.

  "Mm!" ejaculated Muriel Harding. "You wouldn't think her quite so niceif you knew as much about her as we do. Wait until you see her playbasketball. She plays center on the sophomore team, and she makes somevery peculiar plays. She's always creating trouble, too. She and some ofher sophomore friends seem to have a particular grudge against Mignon.They are forever criticising her playing. They have even gone so far asto say that we don't play fairly; that we are tricky. The idea!" Muriellooked highly offended at the mere idea of any such thing.

  Marjorie listened without comment. Muriel's ready tirade against thepleasant-faced sophomore who had willingly offered her services thatmorning made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. Then Miss Seymour'sstraightforward speech to Miss Archer came back to her. The sophomorehad been generous to her enemies, if they were enemies, in that she hadrefused to mention any names. Marjorie wondered if Muriel or Mignonwould be equally generous in the same circumstances. She resolved to saynothing of what she had been privileged to hear. It was not hers totell.

  Suddenly she divined, rather than saw, Mignon's elfish eyes fixed uponher. "You met another girl, at noon, did you not, Miss Dean?" asked theFrench girl, with an almost sarcastic inflection.

  "Yes; Miss Stevens," was the composed answer. "We share the same locker.She is a nice girl, too, and I like her very much, so, please, don't sayanything against her," she ended, in half-smiling warning.

  Mignon La Salle's face grew dark. She recognized the challenging note inthe new girl's tone. Muriel, too, frowned. Susan Atwell sidled up toMignon, Irma Linton looked distressed and Geraldine Macy calmly curiousas to what would come next. It came in the way of a small tempest, forthe French girl lost her temper over Marjorie's retort.

  She stamped h
er foot in childish rage, saying vehemently: "She is anobody, that Stevens person, and her family are vagabonds. You will makea great mistake if you choose her for your friend." Then, her ragereceding as suddenly as it had come, she shrugged her shouldersdeprecatingly. "Pardonnez moi." She bowed to Marjorie. "I spoke toostrongly. It is not for me to choose Miss Dean's friends." Slipping herarm through Muriel's, she drew her ahead of the others. Susan Atwelltook a hurried step forward and caught her other arm, leaving Marjorieto walk between Irma and Geraldine.

  "Don't mind her," said Jerry, in a low voice. "She has it in for thatMiss Stevens. She, the Stevens girl, did something, no one knows what,to make Mignon angry with her. Mignon says Miss Stevens talked about herand Muriel and Susan believed it, but Irma and I are not so silly."

  Two blocks further on Marjorie bade good-bye to the five girls. She saidit without enthusiasm. Their carping, quarrelsome attitude had taken allthe pleasure from knowing them. She made mental exception in favor ofIrma and Jerry. The gentleness of the one and the sturdy, outspokenmanner of the other had impressed her favorably. But she was sorelydisappointed in Muriel.

  Should she tell her mother of the disagreeable ending of her first day?She decided not to do so. She would carry nothing save pleasant tales toher captain to-day. And so that night, when she entered the living-roomand found her mother, in a becoming negligee, occupying the wide leathercouch by the window, she saluted, like a dutiful soldier, and includedin her report only the pleasant happenings of her first,never-to-be-forgotten day in Sanford High School.