Kitabı oku: «Marjorie Dean, College Freshman», sayfa 13

CHAPTER XXVI. – FRIENDS GOOD AND TRUE

“Do you see anything about me to laugh at?” demanded Marjorie one snowy afternoon in early March, as she walked into her room, eyes sparkling, cheeks aglow, not only from the winter air, but from annoyance as well.

Jerry looked up from an illustrated magazine she was interestedly perusing. “No; I don’t. I’ll laugh if you say so. Ha, ha! Ha, ha!” This obligingly and without a smile.

“You needn’t mind. That laugh of yours has a hollow sound. It’s not what I would call true mirth.”

“No wonder it has a hollow sound. I’m hungry,” Jerry complained. “It is almost an hour until dinner, too. Tell me what’s bothering you. It will take my mind off my hungry self.”

“Oh, nothing startling, only every time I meet any of the Sans or those few freshmen who go around with them, they look me all over and then they do everything from smiling just the least bit, a hateful sarcastic smile, to laughing outright. Just now, as I came across the campus, I met Miss Cairns. Miss Elster, Miss Myers and Miss Weyman were with her. As soon as they saw me, they began to talk among themselves, quite loudly. I didn’t hear what they said. I know it was about me. Then they all laughed. The other day I met the same girls and they simply smiled. I know they are doing it purposely; but why?”

“Humph!” ejaculated Jerry, her blue eyes widening in sudden belligerence. “I know why! They have started out to rag you. That’s a nice proposition! I suppose they are sore at you because you were on that committee.”

“But that was quite a while ago. This making fun of me has only been of late. I noticed it first the Sunday after the game. I met a crowd of those girls as I came from chapel. I felt just a little hurt. I had had such a peaceful time in chapel. It was the Sunday you had a cold and did not attend chapel. If they keep it up, I shall probably grow so used to it that it won’t trouble me.”

“Well, if they confine themselves to snickering, smirking, ha-ha-ing and te-he-ing, let ’em enjoy themselves. If they start to say anything to you, for that’s the next stage in ragging, give them one lovely call-down that will settle them for good. You can do it. I’ve heard you speak straight from the shoulder. Will you ever forget the day you and I had the fuss with Rowena Fightena Quarrelena Scrapena?”

“No; I will not.” Marjorie never could resist giggling at the long name which Jerry had applied to Rowena Farnham on account of the latter’s quarrelsome disposition. “I hope none of those Sans will try her tactics. I don’t wish to come to bitter words with any of those girls. They are set against me on account of having served on that committee, perhaps. Maybe because Muriel and I went over to the gym occasionally and helped the team along. They have not liked us, you know, from the night Miss Cairns, Miss Weyman and Miss Vale called and privately rated us as nobodies. It is queer they never tried to take Ronny up, for she has made no secret of her name this year. They must surely have heard of Alfred Lynne, her father. Leila says that Miss Cairns is always writing her father and asking him to have this or that student’s parents looked up financially.”

“Contemptible!” Jerry’s scorn of such tactics was sweeping. “If ever they try to look me up and I hear of it, even long afterward, I will get them together and give them such a call-down their hair will stand on end and stay that way for a week. If you should happen to see the Sans switching around the campus with their coiffures resembling that of Feejee Islanders, you will know what has occurred to the dear creatures. I shall probably do that, anyhow, if they don’t let you alone.”

“No.” Marjorie’s negative was decided. “You must never fuss with them on my account. I daresay they will grow tired before long of making fun of me. All I can do is this. Appear not to see them at all.”

“I would just as soon fuss with them as look at them,” Jerry declared valorously. “Now who are they, pray tell me? One thing is certain to come to pass. Sooner or later we will have to tell that crowd where they get off at. I have seen it coming ever since the freshman dance. Miss Weyman is so mad at you she can’t see straight. She expected to win that contest. Helen Trent called my attention to her that night. She was posing to beat the band for the judges’ benefit. Helen was worried a little. She thought Leila ought not to have pitted you against Miss Weyman. That is what she did, you know. Afterward Helen said she guessed you would have been unofficially declared the college beauty anyway, for so many of the girls were already raving over you. Now don’t rave at me for telling you that. You are such an old sorehead about that contest. I hardly dare think of it in the same room with you.”

Marjorie sat very still, an expression of blank amazement on her lovely face. She now recalled her own vexation on the night of the dance when Leila had brought her into too prominent notice by hurrying her across one end of the gymnasium to join the line. So Leila had purposely dragged her into that contest! For a moment or two she wavered on the verge of indignation at Leila. Then the Irish girl’s face, brooding and wistful, as she had seen it so many times when Leila was referring to her own affairs, rose before her. No; it was too late to be angry with Leila. Marjorie was tempted to laugh instead at the clever way in which Leila had managed the whole affair.

“You have told me some news,” she said at last. “I had no idea Miss Weyman was anxious to win the contest. I didn’t know, either, that Leila had a hand in it. She didn’t say much about it after it was over, except to congratulate me. I don’t think she has ever mentioned it since.” Marjorie had begun to smile.

“She is a clever one.” Jerry grinned appreciation of the absent Leila. “Why, Marjorie, she arranged that contest! She took it from an old book on the Celts. She brought the book with her from Ireland. She got up the contest to score one against the Sans and take a rise out of Miss Weyman. I would have told you this before, but Helen told me in confidence. She said the other day she didn’t care if I told you, for she felt that you understood Leila well enough now not to be cross with her. She was afraid of making trouble in the beginning if she said anything.”

“It’s past now. I don’t care. Miss Weyman is nothing to me. I am glad I know about it, though.” Marjorie considered for a brief space. “Perhaps that is why those girls are acting so queerly toward me. They may think me very much elated over winning the contest. If that’s the case, all the more reason why I should pay no attention to them.”

Jerry agreed that this was so and the subject was dropped for the time being. Having resolved to appear oblivious to any ill-bred acts on the part of the Sans, Marjorie proceeded to carry out her resolution. For a week or more she presented a strictly impersonal face whenever she chanced to encounter any of the Sans or their friends in going about the college premises. She was greatly annoyed to find that this method seemed to have no effect. Instead, their derision of herself was growing more pronounced. Several times she thought she detected a difference in the salutations of certain upper class students who had formerly shown cordiality of greeting. Late one afternoon she met Miss Kingston, one of the seniors on the sports committee, on the steps of the library, and received from her merely a blank stare. Marjorie went on to the Hall, feeling very much crushed. To be sure she was not particularly interested in Miss Kingston. She had sided with Miss Reid at the try-out. Since the freshmen had regulated matters, however, Miss Kingston had been quite affable to her when they had chanced to meet in the gymnasium.

In the growing dusk of the hall, for the maid had not yet turned on the lights, she ran plump into another girl who had just come from upstairs. “I beg your pardon,” she apologized.

“Ex-cuse me!” exclaimed a familiar voice. “Blame the maid for no light, but never yours truly. And where may you be hurrying to, Miss Marjorie of the Deans?”

“Oh, is that you, Leila? I didn’t know you in the dark until you spoke.”

“Nor I you,” returned Leila. “I have been to your room twice looking for you. I was just going back to see if Miss Remson knew where you were. Ronny is in my room. I am needing you there, too. Will you come up with me now?” Leila turned toward the stairs.

“Certainly, I will. What has happened, Leila?”

“Nothing, dear heart. Only Vera and I have something to talk over with you and Ronny.” Leila spoke in the friendliest kind of tones. Marjorie followed her up the stairs to the third floor where Leila and Nella Sherman roomed. Nella was absent, but Vera and Ronny greeted their entrance with expressions of satisfaction.

“I had the good fortune to bump into Marjorie in the hall,” Leila said, as she ranged herself beside Marjorie, who had taken a seat on Leila’s couch bed. “Now for the talk I must give you. Some of it will make you laugh and some of it will not. May I ask you, Ronny, do you spell your name L-y-n-n or L-i-n-d?”

“Neither way. It is spelled L-y-n-n-e,” responded Ronny. “It is an old English name.”

Leila and Vera both broke into laughter. Marjorie and Ronny regarded them with mild wonderment.

“Oh, my gracious! Did you know, Ronny, that the thick-headed Sans call you Lind? They are walking about on the campus proclaiming that you are a poor Swedish servant girl who lived with the principal, Miss Someone, I have not the name, of Sanford High School. She pays your expenses here. You are not much, Ronny, so never think you are.” Again Leila broke into laughter. “Do poor Swedish servant girls have imported gowns of gray chiffon? I am remembering one of yours.”

“They do not, as a rule.” Ronny’s whole face was alive with mirth. “Now who could have started that absurd tale?” She turned to Marjorie.

“I don’t know.” Marjorie looked troubled. Incidental with Leila’s recital, Jerry’s remarks concerning being “looked up” by the Sans had returned to her. “Part of that amazing information must have come from some one in Sanford who wanted to be malicious. Not the Lind part. That is funny.” Her sober features relaxed into an amused smile. “You had better explain to the girls about the servant girl part, Ronny.”

“O-h-h!” sighed Ronny. “You tell them, please, Marjorie.”

“All right; glad to.” Marjorie’s revelation of the part Ronny had played during the previous year at high school was received with absorbed attention. When she went on to say that Ronny’s father was Alfred Lynne, the noted western philanthropist, Leila gave a sharp little whistle of surprise.

“Oh, the poor Sans!” she chuckled. “Might not your father be able to buy out all their fathers and still have a dollar left?”

“He might,” emphasized Ronny, with a companion chuckle. “I haven’t made a secret of my identity this year. Oh, those simpletons! Well, I shall not disabuse them of their beliefs concerning me. Let them hug them to their hearts if they choose.”

“That is not all, girls.” Leila’s features grew suddenly grave. “The rest has to do with you, Marjorie. We can’t get at it. A sophomore friend of ours told Vera and me this. She asked us to pass it on to you. The Sans are talking you over among the upper class girls. Those who will listen, I mean. Our friend heard it from a soph who is about half snob, half democrat. One of the Sans received a letter from someone who seems to know all about your town and you, Marjorie. The letter is making mischief. There is something against your high school record in it. We have found out that much. We believe in you. We would like to know what you wish done concerning it.”

As Leila continued speaking, Marjorie had turned very white. It was the white of righteous wrath. “There is only one person I know in Sanford who would write such a letter,” she said, her voice thick with anger. “I mean Rowena Farnham, Ronny. How she happens to be in touch with the Sans I do not know. It isn’t surprising. She is ill-bred, unfair and untruthful; a girl, who, without knowing me, tried to make trouble for me on her very first day at high school. I will find out who has that letter and make the person read it to me. Then I shall post a notice on the bulletin board saying that an untruthful, injurious letter is being circulated at Hamilton about me. I will not allow such a letter to gain headway!” Her tones rose in passionate protest.

“Easy, now. Don’t worry.” Leila’s hand, warm and reassuring, closed over Marjorie’s clenched fingers. “You can’t make the Sans give up the letter, Marjorie. The ring king of ’em has it. Leslie Cairns is carrying this outrage on. I believe you are right about this Farnham person. Where is she now?”

“At boarding school, I suppose. She went away to school last year. The Farnhams have a cottage at the sea shore. It is about ten miles from Severn Beach. That’s where the Macys always go. Maybe Miss Cairns met Rowena there,” Marjorie speculated. “I am going to tell you the whole story of my trouble with Rowena Farnham. Then you will see for yourselves the sort of a person she is.”

It was a long story Marjorie had to tell. It was listened to with deep interest. Ronny had already heard the details of it from her God-mother.

“Whatever she has said against me she has made up. That doesn’t remedy things; just to know yourself that it is all untrue,” she concluded almost piteously. “I didn’t wish such troubles to creep into my college life like hideous snakes.”

“It remedies matters when you have some one to fight for you,” asserted Ronny, her gray eyes steely with purpose. “I am going to make an ally of Miss Remson. Now this is my plan. I shall ask her to notify all the students that she wishes them to come to the living room at a certain time, on a certain evening. They will all respond for they will think it is something concerning their own welfare. Then I shall rise and lay down the law. You won’t need to resort to the bulletin board, Marjorie. We will quash the whole thing right in the living room of Wayland Hall.”

“That will be best,” nodded Vera. “Miss Remson will be there and she won’t stand any nonsense from the Sans. She doesn’t need to accept their applications for rooms at the Hall next year.”

“Well they know it,” put in Leila. “Remember we shall all be there to support you, Ronny. We will rage like lions at your command.”

“I shall not need it. I mean I can forge through alone. I shall love your support.” Ronny’s face had taken on the old mysterious expression. Too much engrossed in her own sense of injury, Marjorie did not notice this.

“My advice to you, Marjorie, is – act as though you had never seen any of the Sans when you meet them,” counseled Vera. “The sooner we can call the house together the better. It is easier to spread scandal than to crush it. We must lose no time.”

“This is Monday,” mused Ronny. “Friday night will be best, I think.”

“That is late, Ronny,” objected Leila. Marjorie also regarded her chum with somber anxiety.

“It must be then,” Ronny made firm reply. “Trust me in this. I have my own reasons for setting the date for Friday. There is one little item in my plan that I am not going to speak of just yet. All I can say is that it will be of great help when the time comes.”

CHAPTER XXVII. – THE SECOND VICTORY

That particular week seemed the longest to Marjorie she had ever spent. While she could only guess that the damaging letter held by Leslie Cairns was from Rowena Farnham, she was quite positive that there was no one else who would be mean-spirited enough to write it. Her high school record entirely clear, still it would have to be proven. She had been vilified by Rowena, and lies about her published among the students of Hamilton. Unchecked, there was no telling how wide a circulation it might gain.

Jerry, who had been told of the trouble, was ready to descend upon the entire college and vanquish it single-handed. Muriel and Lucy were no less incensed. As for Miss Remson, she was for vindication on Friday night. Being as shrewd as she was good, she merely posted a notice on the house board requesting every student at the Hall to meet her in the living room at eight o’clock on Friday evening. All attempts to find out from her the nature of the meeting were fruitless. She kept her own counsel. The Sans, not wishing to curtail their chances for next year’s accommodations, prudently decided to attend in a body.

“It is better to meet her, girls,” Natalie Weyman urged. “She won’t keep us long. She has some idiotic bee in her bonnet that is aching to buzz. We had best humor her.”

“It isn’t my policy to humor anyone,” objected Leslie Cairns.

“Except Lola Elster,” cut in Natalie with jealous sarcasm.

“That will be about all from you,” retorted Leslie, insolence animating her heavy features.

“Oh, really!” flashed back Natalie, ready for battle. “How long since you acquired any authority over me?”

“Forget it,” advised Joan Myers wearily. “All you two have done this evening is quarrel. I thought we were to meet in Nat’s room for a good time, not a general row.”

“Nat is to blame,” muttered Leslie. “Let her be a little less waspish and I will try to get along with her. This is no time for us to fuss. I have been a good friend to Nat. She forgets that.”

“I don’t,” icily contradicted Natalie. “Only I won’t take dictation from my father and mother, let alone my friends.”

“Drop it, then, and listen to me.” Leslie still continued to dictate, but in a modified tone. This was not lost on Natalie. She bore it, however, in discreet silence. “It is time to start on that Dean girl. I mean, to do some talking. We must catch her out on the campus and rag her a little. Leave it to me. I know how to begin on her. The rest of you, who happen to be along, can join in. Notice what I say and how I say it.”

By the merest chance, Marjorie’s path did not cross that of the Sans during the early part of the week. On Wednesday, after classes, she saw a number of them far down the drive, hurrying toward the Hall. Within a few yards of the steps, she entered the house and was opening the door of her room when she heard their voices in the lower hall. She tried not to think of the blight which hung over her, but she could not throw off a sense of heavy-heartedness such as she had not experienced since the time when Lucy Warner had chosen to disbelieve her word. Of all her chums, Lucy longed most to help her. She was understanding now how much her disbelief had made Marjorie suffer. Nothing could be done until Friday night, and the work of clearance lay in Veronica’s capable hands.

Friday dawned, clear and sunshiny. Marjorie hailed the day with relief. That evening would end her suspense. It was time it ended, she thought. She had received signs of what might lead to partial coventry on the part of a number of upper class students. She mentally set them down as girls whom she would take a just pleasure in avoiding, later on, when the smudge had been erased from her escutcheon.

From Ronny she had learned that Miss Remson expected a full attendance in the living room that evening. The brisk little manager was up in arms at the affair and declared that she would lend every effort to stamp out the rumor. “These young women are becoming insufferable,” she confided to Ronny. “Between you and me, they are not going to room at Wayland Hall next year unless the management should change hands.”

On Friday afternoon Marjorie hurried from the laboratory, where she had been at work during the last recitation period of the afternoon, and set off at a rapid walk across the campus. Her hands were stained from experimentations, and she was anxious to bathe and dress for the evening before dinner. She had thought of wearing a dark green cloth gown, fur-trimmed, as the most inconspicuous dress she owned. She was greatly depressed at the idea of being dragged again into prominence. Nevertheless, no one could have persuaded her not to go on and thresh the matter out with those who had sought to injure her.

Influenced by her thoughts, her face showed a sternness which seldom visited it. A fairly strong east wind which had risen and blew against her caused her to bow her head to it a trifle. Enwrapped in her somber reflections, she was over half way to the Hall when the sound of voices smote her ears. Looking up quickly, she saw a bevy of girls coming toward her. She recognized them as Sans. More, that she was their objective. She could not avoid them, nor did she wish to do so. She simply kept on walking until within a few feet of them.

“Steady there, Joan!” suddenly drawled a voice Marjorie knew and disliked. “Be careful. Don’t walk over the college beauty. Why, good afternoon, Miss Bean! Oh, I beg your pardon; Dean, I believe is correct. A fine day, isn’t it? I imagine it is much colder in Sanford. A fine little town, I hear. It has such a splendid high school. One has to have a high standard of honor to be admitted to it. If one cheats in examinations or does anything dishonest one is expelled from school. Just like that!” Leslie struck her hands smartly together. “One really should be very careful. Even if one has been expelled and then happened to get back into this wonderful high school, through influence, the story of one’s dishonesty is likely to travel into college.”

“Yes, I have heard that, too,” chimed in Natalie Weyman. “We should be delighted to hear your opinion, Miss Dean. Don’t be in a hurry. We have been told that you can make the prettiest little speeches. Make a speech now.”

“Speech! Speech!” chorused the others, simulating avid enthusiasm. Very innocently they drew nearer, as though partially to hem her in.

“Oh, she doesn’t care to make a speech now, girls,” sneered Dulcie Vale. “Too bad! We really ought to take her down to the Colonial and blow her off to one of our real dinners. I doubt if you could get one like these specials to the San Soucians in Sanford. We haven’t yet had the honor of escorting the college beauty about the campus.”

“She has so many studies,” sighed Leslie Cairns, “and with committee meetings and team work, too, her valuable time is just simply all taken up! What I would advise, Miss Bean; no, Dean, is a little less interest in – ”

Up to this point Marjorie had listened with calm serenity to the Sans’ attempts to follow out an old English school custom of “ragging.” The instant she noted the change from sarcasm to belligerence in Leslie Cairns’ tones, she became ready to speak and act.

“How utterly silly you all are,” she said with the utmost composure. “You have no wish to know me. I have no wish to know you. As for the things you are attempting to insinuate against me, what possible harm in the end can such untruths do? Good afternoon.”

Her steady brown eyes turned searchingly on her tormentors for an instant, Marjorie made a detour, passed the momentarily speechless group and continued steadily across the campus.

“What?” Leslie Cairns uttered her usual expression blankly. “What?” she said again. This time with growing displeasure.

“Well, I never!” exclaimed Natalie Weyman’s high cold voice. “Of all the insolence! One might think we were peasants and she a princess!”

“Why didn’t somebody say something before she got away?” demanded Joan Myers wrathfully. “I was speechless when she said that about our being silly. She might as well have called us all liars.”

“Are you sure your friend Rowena is right about that high school trouble, Les?” Natalie anxiously inquired.

“Yes, she is,” Leslie snapped, irritated out of her customary drawl. “She saw the whole thing. Then this Dean girl tried to lay it to her. Her father was so enraged over it that he took Rowena out of high school and sent her to Miss Alpine’s School for Girls. That is an expensive school, too. The Farnhams have millions. You ought to see their place at Tanglewood! An English duke built the house and then went broke. It’s a humming little palace, I will say. Cost a million at least.”

“Is that so?” returned several impressed satellites, who, while eligible to the Sans, could not boast of million dollar summer homes, built by English dukes.

“Why don’t you invite your friend Rowena down here for a day or so, Les?” asked Dulcie Vale. “It would be good sport to see her and that little Dean prig meet. I am so furious to think we let her stand there and have her say without simply extinguishing her before she had said three words.”

“Oh, yes; this is a nice time to tell it,” grumbled Leslie. “Why didn’t you do it while you had the opportunity?”

“Why didn’t you?” pertly queried Lita Stone. “You had the same opportunity.”

“What?” Leslie cast a withering look at Lita, then deliberately turned her back on the questioner and began talking to Natalie in an undertone. She had not given up her intention to continue to rag Marjorie. Next time, she planned, she would dispense with the company of all but Natalie and Dulcie. The three of them would not bungle matters.

As for Marjorie, the reaction had set in. Divided between anger and the nervous shock attending the sudden attack, she trembled a little as she continued her way to the Hall. She was glad that she was to be cleared of the shadow that night. If Ronny had not insisted on taking up the cudgels for her, she would have braved Leslie Cairns in the latter’s room and fought her own fight for honor.

Not knowing that Natalie Weyman was jealous of her, Marjorie resolved to look her prettiest, with a view toward exasperating the vain sophomore. In her wardrobe hung a frock she had not yet worn at Hamilton. It was a one-piece frock of fine wisteria-colored broadcloth which her captain had designed and made. It had a wide bertha, cuffs and over panels of wisteria panne velvet. The velvet was further beautified by a two inch appliqué of silk violets on an old gold background. It was the most becoming of her afternoon gowns, and stunning enough to make the Sans wonder if it were imported.

She reached her room to find Jerry out. She sat down limply in one of the easy chairs. After ten minutes of absolute quiet, she felt better and rose to prepare for the evening in her usual methodical manner. An hour later Jerry entered to find Marjorie, looking exceptionally charming, seated at the table, deep in her trigonometry theorems for next day’s class.

“You look perfectly sweet, Marjorie,” was Jerry’s honest praise. “I’m glad you chose that dress. I was afraid you wouldn’t dress up much. I am going to wear that dark blue velvet gown you like so well. It’s my best outside my evening dresses. Ronny is going to wear her black taffeta. You know how stunning she is in black. I haven’t seen Muriel today, and I don’t know what Lucy will wear. I know that frozen expression of hers will be there. If it doesn’t scare the Sans it ought to. I must hustle along to get togged out before dinner.”

It took Jerry until the last minute before the bell rang to dress for the momentous evening. She and Marjorie went down to dinner without the latter having told her of the afternoon’s disagreeable occurrence. When the Five Travelers sat down at their table there was a peculiar gleam of satisfaction in Ronny’s eyes. She had the air of one who had accomplished something which greatly pleased her.

“I had a little trouble with the Sans this afternoon,” Marjorie quietly informed her chums as they began their dessert. She had waited until this moment rather than distract their attention from the substantial part of the dinner. “I wish you would come to Jerry’s and my room after we leave the dining room. You ought to know of it before we meet the rest of the students in the living room. I hope those Sans will all be there.” Into her eyes leaped stern resentment of the afternoon’s insults.

“Miss Remson thinks they will all be on hand,” Muriel replied. “Oh, won’t I enjoy watching their faces when they hear why she called them together!”

“They may turn on you Ronny, and me, too,” warned Marjorie. “If they do, don’t give way a particle to them.”

Ronny smiled on Marjorie in the rare wonderful fashion she so loved. “You don’t know what a good fighter I am,” she returned. “Wait until you see my defenses.”

There was no sign of a smile on Ronny’s face when she listened with the others to Marjorie’s recital of the Sans ill-bred act of the afternoon. Her face registered an austerity which gave her the expression of an offended deity. Jerry and Muriel sputtered angrily over it and Lucy’s green eyes gleamed threateningly enough to promise any of the offenders, who chanced to meet their concentrated stare, an uncomfortable moment.

“It is five minutes to eight.” Jerry pointed to the clock. “Let’s go down. On where victory points the way!” she declaimed humorously.

“And it will be victory,” said Veronica, with a sureness of tone that was vastly comforting to Marjorie.

She walked down the stairs and into the living room with Veronica. Lucy, Muriel, Katherine Langly and Jerry were directly in their wake. Chairs from the dining room had been brought into the living room and placed in regular rows facing the west wall. These chairs were already occupied by the house students. Of the thirty-six girls who lived at Wayland Hall, the Lookouts and Katherine were the last to enter. At the west end of the room were three chairs. Miss Remson occupied one. She was talking busily to a dark-haired, fine-featured woman who sat in the chair next to her own. The third chair was still vacant. Five of the six girls seated themselves on a large oak bench at the back of the room, which was still vacant on their arrival. Ronny walked serenely up the improvised side aisle to where Miss Remson and her guest were seated. Very demurely she slipped into the vacant chair.

A united gasp arose from four of the occupants of the oak bench as their eyes lighted upon Miss Remson’s guest. A great wave of unexpected joy swept over Marjorie. She realized how much the presence of that beloved guest meant to her. She felt Lucy’s hand slip into hers. The two girls clasped hands in an expression of silent thankfulness and rejoicing.