milk-and-water babies, but had a great deal of spirit and daring."
Marjorie's lip curled unconsciously. "I'd rather be a 'milk-and-water baby' than as cruel and heartless as she. I'll never forgive her for the way she treated Connie. Let's not talk of her, Irma. It makes me feel cross and horrid, and, of all days, I'd like to be happy to-day. There's so much to be happy over, and I'm so glad to see all of you. Life would be a desert waste without high school, wouldn't it?"
Marjorie's soft hand found Irma's. She was very fond of this quiet, fair-haired girl, who, with Jerry Macy, had stood by her so resolutely through dark days.
"Here she comes – our dear teacher. Look out, girls, or you'll be ushered out of Sanford High before you've had a chance to look at the bulletin board," warned Muriel Harding's high-pitched voice. Her sarcastic remarks carried farther than she had intended they should, as a sudden hush had fallen upon the study hall. Miss Merton, Marjorie's pet aversion, had stalked into the great room. She cast a malignant glance, not at Muriel, but straight at Marjorie Dean.
"Oh," gasped Muriel and Marjorie in united consternation.
"That's the time you did it, Muriel," muttered Jerry Macy. "I always told you that you ought to be an orator or an oratress or something. Your voice carries a good deal farther than it ought to. Only Miss Merton didn't think it was you who made those smart remarks. She thought it was Marjorie. Now she'll have a new grievance to nurse this year."
"I'm awfully sorry." Muriel was the picture of contrition. "I didn't intend she should hear me – but to blame you for it! That's dreadful. I'll go straight and tell her that I said it."
Muriel made a quick movement as though to carry out her intention. Marjorie caught her by the arm. "You'll do nothing of the sort, Muriel Harding. My sophomore shoulders are broad enough to beat it. Perhaps she didn't really hear what you said. She can't dislike me any more for that than she did before she thought I said it."
"Young ladies, I am waiting for you to come to order. Will you kindly cease talking and take seats?" Miss Merton's raucous voice broke harshly upon the abashed group of girls. They scuttled into the nearest seats at hand like a bevy of startled partridges.
"What a horrid woman," was Mary Raymond's thought, as she slipped into a seat in front of Marjorie, and stared resentfully at the rigid figure, so devoid of womanly beauty, in its severe brown linen dress, unrelieved by even a touch of white at the neck.
With a final glare at Marjorie, the teacher proceeded at once to the business at hand. Within the next few minutes she had arranged the girls of the freshman class in the section of the study hall they were to occupy during the coming year. Marjorie awaited the turn of the sophomores to be assigned to a seat with inward trepidation. She had had no opportunity to introduce Mary to Miss Merton. What should she do? She half rose from the seat, then sat down undecidedly.
Miss Merton had arranged the freshmen to her satisfaction. Now she was calling for the sophomores to rise. Perhaps she would not notice Mary. If she did not, then Mary could pass with the sophomores to their section. As soon as the session was dismissed, she would introduce her to Miss Merton.
But Miss Merton was lynx-eyed. "That girl there in the blue dress," she blared forth. "You were not in the freshman class last year."
Mary turned in her seat and shot a glance of appeal to Marjorie. The girl rose bravely in friend's behalf.
"Miss Merton," she said in her clear, young voice, "I brought Miss Raymond here with me. She – "
"You are not supposed to bring visitors to school, Miss Dean," was the teacher's sarcastic reminder.
Marjorie's eyes kindled with wrath. Then, mastering her anger, she made courteous reply. "She is not a visitor. She expects to enter the sophomore class."
"Come down to this front seat, young woman," ordered Miss Merton, ignoring Marjorie's explanation. "I'll attend to you later."
Mary sat still, surveying Miss Merton out of two belligerent blue eyes.
"Do as she says, Mary," whispered Marjorie.
Mary obeyed. Walking down the aisle with maddening deliberation, she seated herself on the bench indicated.
"No talking," rasped Miss Merton, as a faint murmur went up from the girls in the sophomore section.
Once the classes had been assigned to their places for the year there was little more to be done. Nettled by her recent resentment against Marjorie, Miss Merton took occasion to deliver a sharp lecture on good conduct in general, making several pointed remarks, which caused Marjorie to color hotly. More than one pair of young eyes glared their resentment of this harsh teacher who had never lost an opportunity in the past school year of censuring their favorite.
The moment the short session was over the girls of her particular set gravitated toward Marjorie.
"Well, of all the old cranks!" scolded Geraldine Macy.
"She's the most hateful teacher in the world," was Muriel Harding's tribute.
"I wouldn't pay any attention to her, Marjorie. I'd go straight to Miss Archer," advised Susan Atwell. "Just see her now! She looks as though she'd actually snap at your friend."
Miss Merton was engaged in interviewing the still belligerent Mary, who stood listening to her, a sulky droop to her pretty mouth.
"Oh, I must go and help Mary out. Wait for me outside, girls."
"Do you need any help?" inquired Jerry. "I never was afraid of Miss Merton, if you'll remember."
"Oh, no." Marjorie hurried toward her friend, and stood quietly at Mary's side.
"Well, Miss Dean, what is it?" Miss Merton eyed Marjorie with her most disagreeable expression.
"I came to tell you, Miss Merton," began Marjorie in her direct fashion, "that Miss Raymond saw Miss Archer this morning before we came to the study hall. She sent us – "
"That will do, Miss Dean," interrupted Miss Merton. "I hope Miss Raymond is capable of attending to her affairs without your assistance. I should greatly prefer that you go on about your own business and leave this matter to me. I believe I have been a teacher in Sanford High School long enough to be trusted to manage my own work."
A bitter retort rose to Marjorie's lips. She forced it back and with a dignified bow to Miss Merton and, "I will wait for you in the corridor, Mary," walked from the room, her head held high, her eyes burning with resentful tears.
CHAPTER VI
MARY'S DISTURBING DISCOVERY
Once outside the study hall Marjorie Dean's proud manner left her. Her recent joy in returning to high school gave place to a feeling of deep dejection. Everything had certainly gone wrong. She had had so many pleasant little thrills of anticipation that she had quite forgotten Miss Merton and the teacher's unreasoning dislike for her, which she had never taken pains to conceal. Muriel's injudicious remarks had made a bad matter worse. Marjorie knew that from now on she would have to be doubly on her guard. It was evident that Miss Merton intended to take her to task whenever the slightest opportunity presented itself. Marjorie even had her suspicions that Miss Merton had known that it was Muriel instead of herself who had uttered those distinctly unflattering words.
"I'll have to be very careful not to offend Miss Merton," she ruminated gloomily, as she stood waiting for Mary, her eyes fastened on the big study-hall
