Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman

by Josephine Chase

  CHAPTER XXI

  MIGNON PLANS MISCHIEF

  To Marjorie, torn between resentment of Constance's bold display of thestolen pin and shame for her utter absence of honor, the French lessonwas a confused jumble. She heard but dimly the rise and fall ofProfessor Fontaine's voice as he conducted the lesson, and when hecalled upon her to recite she stared at him dazedly and finally managedto stammer that she was not prepared.

  "Ah, Mademoiselle Dean, I am of a certainty moch surprised that youcannot translate thees paragraph," the little man declaredreproachfully. "I weel begeen eet for you, and you shall do the rest,_N'est pas?_"

  Marjorie stumbled through the paragraph with hot cheeks and a strongdesire to throw her book into the air and rush from the recitation. Whenclass was over she seized her books and left the room without looking inConstance's direction.

  The eyes of the latter followed her with an expression of perplexed,questioning sorrow that, had Marjorie noted and interpreted as such,might have caused her to doubt what seemed plain, thresh the matter outfrankly with Constance, and thus save them both many weeks ofmisunderstanding and heartache.

  At the close of the morning session Marjorie lingered until she was surethat Constance had taken her wraps from the locker and departed. Thethought of her beloved pin ornamenting the other girl's blouse was toobitter to be tamely borne. Fierce resentment crowded out her gentlerfeelings, and she could not trust herself to come in contact with herfaithless classmate and remain silent.

  On the steps of the school she met Jerry and Irma, who had postedthemselves to wait for her.

  "I thought you had decided to stay in there all day," grumbled Jerry.

  "It's only five minutes past twelve," protested Marjorie.

  "I thought it was at least half-past," retorted Jerry. "Say, Marjorie,didn't you say that you'd lost your butterfly pin?"

  "Yes," replied Marjorie, shortly, bracing herself for what she feltwould follow. She was not the only one who had seen the pin inConstance's possession.

  "Did Constance Stevens find it?" quizzed Jerry.

  "Yes."

  "Oh, then that's all right. I saw her wearing it this morning; and I'mnot the only one who saw her, either. Mignon had her eye on it in Frenchclass, and I wouldn't be surprised to hear of some hateful remark shehad made about it. You know, she still insists that Constance took herbracelet. She might be mean enough to say that Constance found your pinand didn't give it back to you."

  Marjorie stared at Jerry in amazement. Without knowing it, the stoutgirl had exactly stated the truth about the pin.

  "You needn't stare at me like that," went on Jerry. "Of course, we knowthat Constance wouldn't be so silly as to try to keep a pin belonging tosomeone else that everyone recognized; but lots of girls would believeit. I suppose you let Constance wear it because you two are so chummy;but you'd better get it back and wear it yourself. Then Mignon can't saya word."

  "I'll think about it," was Marjorie's evasive answer, but once she hadsaid good-bye to the two girls she began to deliberate within herself asto what she had best do. Here was an exigency against which she hadfailed to provide. She had resolved never to betray Constance to thegirls, but now Constance had, by openly wearing the pin, betrayedherself. Either she would be obliged to go to Constance and demand herown or allow her to wear the bit of jewelry and create the impressionthat she had sanctioned the wearing of it.

  When she returned to school that afternoon she had half determined tosee Constance and put the situation fairly to her, but rather to herrelief Constance did not appear at the afternoon session, nor was she inschool the next day. When Friday came and she was still absent, Marjoriewas divided between her pride and a desire to go to the little grayhouse and settle matters. On Saturday she was still halting between twoopinions, and it was four o'clock Saturday afternoon before she put onher wraps with the air of one who has made up her mind and started forthe Stevens'.

  As she approached the house she looked toward the particular windowwhere Charlie was so fond of stationing himself to peer out on the dingylittle street, but there was no sign of the boy's white, eager face. Toher vivid imagination the very house itself wore a sad, cheerless aspectthat filled her with a vague apprehension of some impendingunpleasantness.

  She knocked briskly at the door, then waited a little. There was noresponse. She knocked again, harder and longer, but still silenceunbroken by any footfall, reigned within. After pounding upon the doorat intervals for at least ten minutes, she turned and walked dejectedlyaway from the house of denial, speculating as to what could possiblyhave become of the Stevens'.

  At the corner she almost ran against Mr. Stevens, who, with his softblack felt hat pulled low over his forehead, was hurrying along, hisviolin case under his arm.

  "Oh, Mr. Stevens," cried Marjorie, "where is Constance? I have just comefrom your house, and there is no one at home."

  Mr. Stevens looked mildly surprised. "I thought you knew," he answered."Didn't Constance tell you she was going away? She and Charlie went toNew York City yesterday. They are to meet Constance's aunt there. It wasvery unexpected. She received a letter from her aunt on Tuesday. I wassure she had told you." Mr. Stevens' fine face took on an expression ofperplexity.

  "I did not know it," responded Marjorie, soberly. "When will shereturn?"

  "I am not quite sure. I shall not know definitely until I hear fromher," was the discouraging reply.

  "I'm sorry I didn't see her," was all Marjorie could find words for, asshe turned to go. "Good-bye, Mr. Stevens."

  "Good-bye, Miss Marjorie." The musician bared his head, his thick, whitehair ruffling in the wind. "You will hear from Constance, no doubt."

  "No doubt I won't," breathed Marjorie, as she walked on. "What would hesay, I wonder, if he knew? He'll never know from me, neither will anyoneelse. I hope those girls will forget all about seeing Constance wear thepin."

  But the affair of the pin was destined not to sink into oblivion, forthe next morning Marjorie found on her desk the following note:

  "Miss Dean:

  "Do you think you are doing right in shielding a thief? It looks asthough a certain person either stole or found and kept a certain articlebelonging to you and yet you allow her to wear it before your very eyeswithout protest. If you do not immediately insist on the return of yourproperty and denounce the thief, we will put the matter before MissArcher, as this is not the first offense. This is the decision ofseveral indignant students who insist that the girls of the freshmanclass shall be above reproach."

  Marjorie's eyes flashed her contempt of the anonymous missive. Shefolded it quietly, then, reaching into her desk, drew forth a sheet ofnote paper and wrote:

  "Miss La Salle:

  "Although the note I found on my desk is not signed, I am sure that youwrote it. I do not think you have the slightest right to dictate to mein a personal matter. Miss Stevens and I are perfectly capable ofsettling our own affairs without the help of any member of the freshmanclass.

  "Marjorie Dean."

  Mignon's pale face flushed crimson as she read the note which Marjorielost no time in sending to her via the student route, which was merelythe passing of it from desk to desk until it reached its destination.With a scornful lifting of her shoulders she flung the note on her desk,then snatching it up, tore it into tiny pieces.

  When school was dismissed she lingered and twenty minutes afterwardemerged from Miss Archer's office in company with Marcia Arnold, anexpression of triumph in her black eyes.

  When she reached home that afternoon she took from the drawer of herdressing-table something small and shining and examined it carefully."It looks the same, but is it?" she muttered. "Where did the other comefrom? I don't understand it in the least. Just the same, Marjorie Deanthinks Miss Smarty Stevens took her pin. She was thunderstruck when shesaw that Stevens girl wearing it this morning. She's too much afraid ofnot telling the truth to deny it in her letter. There's something gonewr
ong with their friendship, too. I'm sure of it from the way they havebeen acting. I don't know what it's all about, but I do know that this,"she touched the small, shining object, "shall never help them solvetheir problem."