Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman

by Josephine Chase

  CHAPTER XVII

  MARJORIE MEETS WITH A LOSS

  By eight o'clock the following night twenty-eight invitations toMarjorie Dean's Thanksgiving party were on their way. No one of theinvitations ran the risk of being declined. Marjorie had invited onlythose boys and girls of her acquaintance who were quite likely to comeand when the momentous evening arrived they put in twenty-eight joyfulappearances and enjoyed the Deans' hospitality to the full.

  But to Constance, who wore her beautiful blue gown and went to the partyunder the protection of her father, whose somber eyes gleamed with astrange new happiness, and old John Roland, whose usually vacantexpression had changed to one of inordinate pride, it was, indeed, anight to be remembered by the three. Charlie was to remain at home inthe care of a kindly neighbor.

  The long living-room had been stripped of everything save the piano, andthe polished hardwood floor was ideal to dance on. Uncle John hadreceived careful instructions beforehand from both Mr. Stevens andConstance as to his behavior, and with a sudden flash of reason in hisfaded eyes had gravely promised to "be good."

  He had kept his word, too, and from his station beside the piano he hadplayed like one inspired from the moment his violin sang the first magicstrains of the "Blue Danube" until it crooned softly the "Home, SweetHome" waltz.

  The dancers were wholly appreciative of the orchestra, as their coaxingapplause for more music after every number testified, and before theevening was over several boys and girls had asked Marjorie if "thosedandy musicians" would play for anyone who wanted them.

  "Mother's giving a tea next week, and I'm going to tell her about thesemen," the Crane had informed Marjorie.

  "Hal and I are going to give a party before long, and we'll have them,too," Jerry had promised. Lawrence Armitage, who had managed to be foundnear Constance the greater part of the evening, insisted on beingintroduced to her father, and during supper, which was served at smalltables in the dining-room, he had sat at the same table with the twoplayers and Constance, and kept up an animated and interested discussionon music with Mr. Stevens.

  But the crowning moment of the evening had been when, after supper, theguests had gathered in the living-room to do stunts, and Constance hadsung Tosti's "Good-bye" and "Thy Blue Eyes," her exquisite voice comingas a bewildering surprise to the assembled young people. How they hadcrowded around her afterward! How glad Marjorie had been at the successof her plan, and how Mr. Stevens' eyes had shone to hear his daughterpraised by her classmates!

  In less than a week afterward Constance rose from obscurity tosemi-popularity. The story of her singing was noised about throughschool until it reached even the ears of the girls who had despised herfor her poverty. Muriel and Susan had looked absolute amazement when atalkative freshman told the news as she received it from a girl who hadattended the party. Mignon, however, was secretly furious at the, toher, unbelievable report that "that beggarly Stevens girl could actuallysing." She had never forgiven Constance for refusing to dishonorablyassist her in an algebra test, and after her unsuccessful attempt tofasten the disappearance of her bracelet upon Constance she had dislikedher with that fierce hatred which the transgressor so often feels forthe one he or she has wronged.

  Next to Constance in Mignon's black book came Marjorie, who had causedher to lose her proud position of center on the team, and in Miss Mertonand Marcia Arnold she had two staunch adherents. Just why Miss Mertondisliked Marjorie was hard to say. Perhaps she took violent exception tothe girl's gay, gracious manner and love of life, the early years ofwhich she was living so abundantly. At any rate, she never lost anopportunity to harass or annoy the pretty freshman, and it was only bykeeping up an eternal vigilance that Marjorie managed to escapeconstant, nagging reproof.

  Last of all, Marcia Arnold had a grievance against Marjorie. She was nolonger manager of the freshman team. A disagreeable ten minutes withMiss Archer after the freshman team had been disbanded, on that dreadfulday, had been sufficient to deprive her of her office, and arouse herresentment against Marjorie to a fever pitch.

  There were still a number of girls in the freshman class who clung toMuriel and Mignon, but they were in the minority. At least two-thirds of19-- had made friendly overtures not only to Marjorie, but to Constanceas well, and as the short December days slipped by, Marjorie began toexperience a contentment and peace in her school that she had not feltsince leaving dear old Franklin High.

  "Everything's going beautifully, Captain," she declared gaily to hermother in answer to the latter's question, as she flashed into theliving-room one sunny winter afternoon, with dancing eyes and pinkcheeks. "It couldn't be better. I like almost every one in school;Constance's father has more playing than he can do; you bought me thatdarling collar and cuff set yesterday; I've a long letter from Mary;I've studied all my lessons for to-day, and--oh, yes, we're going tohave creamed chicken and lemon meringue pie for dinner. Isn't thatenough to make me happy for one day at least?"

  "What a jumble of happiness!" laughed her mother.

  "Isn't it, though? And now Christmas is almost here. That's anotherperfectly gigantic happiness," was Marjorie's extravagant comment. "Ilove Christmas! That reminds me, Mother, you said you would help me playSanta Claus to little Charlie. I don't believe he has ever spent areally jolly Christmas. Of course, Mr. Stevens and Constance will givehim things, but he needs a whole lot more presents besides. He climbedinto my lap and told me all about what he wanted when I was over thereyesterday. I promised to speak to Santa Claus about it. Charlie isn'tgoing to hang up his stocking. He's going to leave a funny little wagonthat he drags around for Santa Claus. He told me very solemnly that heknew Santa Claus couldn't fill it, for Connie had said that he never hadenough presents to go around, but she was sure he would have a few leftwhen he reached Charlie.

  "So Constance and I are going to decorate the wagon with evergreen andhang strings of popcorn on it and fill it full of presents after hegoes to bed. He has promised to go very early Christmas eve. Mr. Rolandhas a little violin he is going to give him, and Mr. Stevens has acunning chair for him. He has never had a chair of his own. Constancehas some picture books and toys, and I'm going to buy some, too. I savedsome money from my allowance this month on purpose for this."

  Marjorie's face glowed with generous enthusiasm as she talked.

  "I am going shopping day after to-morrow," said Mrs. Dean, "and as longas it is Saturday, you had better go with me."

  "Oh, splendid!" cried Marjorie, dancing up and down on her tiptoes."Things are getting interestinger and interestinger."

  "Regardless of English," slyly supplemented her mother, as Marjoriedanced out of the room to answer the postman's ring.

  "Here are two letters for you, Captain, but not even a postcard for me.I'd love to have a letter from Mary, but I haven't answered her last oneyet. I'll write to her to-morrow and send her present, too, with specialorders not to open it until Christmas."

  The next morning Marjorie hurried off to school early, in hopes ofseeing Constance before the morning session began. Her friend enteredthe study hall just as the first bell rang, however, and Marjorie hadonly time for a word or two in the corridor as they filed off to theirrespective classes.

  "I'll see her in French class," thought Marjorie. "I'll ask ProfessorFontaine to let me sit with her." But when she reached the French roomand the class gathered, Constance was not among them, nor did she enterthe room later. Wondering what had happened, Marjorie reluctantly turnedher attention to the advance lesson.

  "We weel read this leetle poem togethaire," directed Professor Fontaine,amiably, "but first I shall read eet to you. Eet is called 'LePapillon,' which means the 'botterfly.'"

  Unconsciously, Marjorie's hand strayed to the open neck of her blouse.Then she dropped her hand in dismay. Her butterfly, her pretty talisman,where was it? She remembered wearing it to school that morning, orthought she remembered. Oh, yes, she now recalled that she had pinned itto her coat lapel. It had always shone so bravely against the soft
bluebroadcloth. She longed to rush downstairs to her locker before reportingin the study hall for dismissal, but remembering how sourly Miss Mertonhad looked at her only that morning, she decided to possess her soul inpatience until the session was dismissed.

  Once out of the study hall she dashed downstairs at full speed andhastily opened her locker. As she seized her coat she noted vaguely thatConstance's hat and coat were missing, but her mind was centered onher pin. Then an exclamation of grief and dismay escaped her. The lapelwas bare of ornament. Her butterfly was gone!

  "I wonder if I really did leave it at home?" was her distracted thought,as she climbed the basement stairs with a heavy heart, after havingthoroughly examined the locker. But a close search of her room that noonrevealed no trace of the missing pin. Hot tears gathered in her eyes,but she brushed them away, muttering: "I won't cry. It isn't lost. Itcan't be. Oh, my pretty talisman!" She choked back a sob. "I sha'n'ttell mother unless it is really hopeless. It won't do any good andshe'll feel sorry because I do. It's my own fault. I should have seenthat my butterfly was securely fastened."

  On the way home from the school that afternoon Marjorie reported theloss of her pin to Irma, Jerry and Constance, who had returned for theafternoon session.

  "What a shame!" sympathized Jerry. "It was such a beauty."

  "I'm so sorry you lost it," condoled Irma.

  "So am I," echoed Constance. "I don't remember it. I'm not veryobserving about jewelry, but I'm dreadfully sorry just the same."

  "It was----" began Marjorie, but a joyful whistle far up the street andthe faint ring of running feet put a sudden end to her description.Lawrence Armitage, Hal Macy and the Crane had espied the girls fromafar and come with winged feet to join them. Their evident pleasure inthe girls' society, coupled with the indescribably funny antics of theCrane, who had apparently appointed himself an amusement committee ofone, drove away Marjorie's distress over her loss for the time being,and it was not until later that she remembered that she had notdescribed the butterfly pin to Constance.