Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman
Page 12
CHAPTER XII
ON THE FIRING LINE
Introductions followed thick and fast. More than one pair of boyish eyeshad been centered approvingly on the girls that "Macy" was "rushing,"and he was soon besieged with gentle reminders not to be stingy, but togive someone else a chance.
When the enlivening strains of a popular dance began, Hal Macy pointedsignificantly to his name on Marjorie's card. She nodded happily thenglanced quickly about to see if Constance had a partner. Surely enough,she was just about to dance off with a rather tall, slender lad, whosedark, sensitive face, heavy-browed, black-lashed eyes of intense blueand straight-lipped, sensitive mouth caused her to say impulsively, "Oh,who is that nice-looking boy dancing with Constance?"
Hal glanced after the two graceful, gliding figures. "That's LawrenceArmitage. He's one of the best fellows in school and my chum. You oughtto hear him play on the violin. He's going to Europe to study when hefinishes high school."
"How interesting," commented Marjorie as they joined the dancers. Then,as Mignon La Salle, wearing an elaborate apricot satin frock, flashed bythem on the arm of a rather stout boy, with a disagreeable face,Marjorie suddenly remembered the existence of Mignon, Muriel and Susan.Her eyes began an eager search for the Picture Girl. Muriel was sure tolook pretty in evening dress. Mignon's frock made her look older, shedecided. She soon spied Muriel, whose gown of white lace was vastlybecoming. So was Susan Atwell's dress of old rose and silver. Shewondered a trifle wickedly if they had not been surprised to seeConstance blossom out in such brave attire. Then she put the thoughtaside as unworthy and determined to remember only the good time she washaving.
After each dance the four friends managed to meet and compare notesbefore they were off again with their next partners, and as the partyprogressed it became noticeable that there were no wallflowers in thatparticular group.
"What do you think of that Stevens girl to-night, Mignon?" inquiredSusan Atwell as she and the French girl stood together for a momentbetween dances.
Mignon's elfish eyes gleamed angrily. "I think such beggars as she oughtnever to be allowed to come to our parties. Goodness knows where sheborrowed that dress. Perhaps she didn't borrow it." She raised hershoulders significantly. "If Laurie Armitage knew what a low,disreputable family she has, I don't think he'd waste his time withher."
"Did Laurie ask you to dance to-night?" asked Susan inquisitively.
But with a muttered, "I want to speak to Marcia," Mignon flounced offwithout answering Susan's question, and the latter confided to Murielafterward that Mignon was mad as anything because Laurie hadn't noticedher, but was trailing about after Miss Nobody Stevens.
Completely unaware that she was adding to the French girl's list ofgrievances, Constance had danced to her heart's content, quite positivein her own mind that she had never met a more delightful boy thanLawrence Armitage, and that never before had she so greatly enjoyedherself. And now the wonderful party was almost over. She examined hercard to see with whom she had the next dance. Then her glance strayingdown, she noticed that a bit of the tiny plaiting at the bottom of herchiffon skirt had become loose and was hanging. Fearful of a fall, shehurried toward the dressing-room. She would have the maid take a stitchor two in it.
But the maid was not in the room.
A solitary figure in an apricot gown stood before the mirror, lingeredfor a moment after Constance entered, then glided noiselessly out.Evincing no sign of having seen Mignon, Constance began a diligenthunt for a needle and thread. Failing to find them, she fastened theloose bit of plaiting with a pin and hurried out into the gymnasium. Hernext dance was with Lawrence Armitage. She must not miss it.
To her surprise Mignon re-entered the dressing-room as she left it.Constance quickly made her way toward the corner which her friends hadselected as their headquarters.
"I tore the plaiting of my dress," she said ruefully to Marjorie. "Icouldn't find the maid or a needle, so I had to pin it. I'm awfullysorry. I don't know how it happened."
"That's nothing," returned Marjorie, cheerfully. "I have a great longtear in my sleeve. Someone caught hold of it in Paul Jones, and away itwent. Don't look so guilty over a little thing like that."
"You don't----" began Constance, but she never finished.
A tense little figure clad in apricot satin confronted her, crying outin tones too plainly audible to those standing near, "Where is mybracelet? What have you done with it?"
Constance stared at her accuser in stupefied amazement. Her friends,too, were for the moment speechless.
"Answer me!" commanded Mignon. "I left it on the table in thedressing-room. You were the only one in there at the time. When Iremembered and came back for it you were just leaving, but the braceletwas gone. No one else except you could have taken it."
Still Constance continued to stare in horror at the French girl. Shetried to speak, but the words would not come. Attracted by Mignon'sshrill tones, the dancers began to gather about the two girls. It wasMarjorie who came to her friend's defense.
Even as a wee girl Marjorie Dean had possessed a temper. It was not anordinary temper. It was not easily aroused, but when once awakened itshook her small body with intense fury and the object of her rage waslikely to remember her outburst forever after. Knowing it to be hergreatest fault, she had striven diligently to conquer it and it burstforth only at rare intervals. To-night, however, the French girl'sheartless denunciation of Constance during a moment of happiness was toomonstrous to be borne. In a voice shaking with indignation she turned tothose surrounding her and said, "Will you please go on dancing? I havesomething to say to Miss La Salle."
They scattered as if by magic, leaving Marjorie facing Mignon, her armabout Constance, her face a white mask, her eyes flaming with scorn.Then she began in low, even tones:
"I forbid you to say another word either to or about my friend ConstanceStevens. She has not taken your bracelet. She knows nothing about it. Iwill answer for her as I would for myself. You have accused her of thisbecause you wish to disgrace her in the eyes of her friends andschoolmates. I am not at all sure that you have lost it, but I am verysure that Miss Stevens hasn't seen it. And now I hope I shall never becalled upon to speak to you again, for you are the cruelest, mostcontemptible girl I have ever known; but, if I hear anything further ofthis, I will take you to Miss Archer, to the Board of Education, ifnecessary, and make you retract every word. Come on, Constance."
With her arm still encircling the now weeping girl, Marjorie made herway to the dressing-room. Jerry followed her within the next fiveminutes.
"The car's here," she announced briefly. "Hal and Laurie and the Craneare going home with us."
"Don't you cry, Constance," she soothed, patting the curly, golden head."Mignon made a goose of herself to-night. The boys are all disgusted,and everyone knows she was making a fuss over nothing. You did exactlyright, too, Marjorie, when you sent us all about our business. I'm sorryit happened, but you remember what I tell you, Mignon has hurt herself agreat deal more than she has hurt you."