WHAT HAPPENED ON BLUE MONDAY
For the next ten minutes the air was rent with the lusty voices of the
sophomore chorus and the joyous cheers of their fans. No echoing song
arose from freshman lips. The vanquished team had already betaken
themselves to their quarters, but the sophomore players were holding an
impromptu reception on the ground they had so hotly contested.
Marjorie and Constance watched them eagerly.
"Go downstairs, girls, and join the hero worshipers," smiled Miss
Archer. "We will excuse you, won't we, Mrs. Dean?"
"Yes; after the fervent manner in which they hung over the railing it
would be cruel to keep them with us," smiled Mrs. Dean.
"Let's find Jerry and Irma," said Marjorie, as they paused in the open
doorway of the gymnasium.
Hardly had she spoken, when Jerry's unmistakable tones rose behind her.
The stout girl was talking excitedly, a rising note of indignation in
her voice.
"I tell you I saw her push against Ellen Seymour," she declared. "You
must have seen her, too, Irma."
"I thought so," admitted Irma, "but I wasn't sure."
"Well, I was. Oh, girls, we were just going upstairs to find you! Now
that you're here, let's go into the gym, and join the celebration. I
don't know how you feel about it, but I'm glad the sophomores won,"
Jerry ended, with an emphatic wag of her head.
"Listen, Jerry," said Marjorie, earnestly, "you were talking so loudly
when you were behind us that I couldn't help hearing you. Did it seem to
you as though Mignon deliberately pushed against Ellen Seymour?"
"I know she did," reiterated Jerry. "I watched her, for she is always
unfair and tricky. Anyone who has ever played on a team could tell. I'm
surprised that you----" She stopped abruptly. "I believe you saw her,
too. Confess, you did see her; now, didn't you?"
Marjorie nodded.
"Now's your chance to get even with her. Let's go to Miss Archer and
tell her," proposed the stout girl. "She'll send for Ellen Seymour and
then, good-bye freshman basketball for a while. But what do you care?
You aren't on the team any more. It would serve them right at that."
"Oh, no," Marjorie looked her horror at the bare idea of tale-bearing.
"Just as you say," shrugged Jerry. They were still standing just inside
the door watching the sophomore team receiving congratulations, when
they beheld a familiar figure in a black gymnasium suit pause squarely
in front of Ellen Seymour. They saw Ellen start angrily, then a confused
murmur of voices arose and the circle of fans and players closed in
about the two girls.
"What's happened?" demanded Jerry. "Come on, girls." She hurried toward
the crowd, the three girls at her heels. Even as they joined the throng
they heard Mignon declare in a tone freighted with malice! "You
purposely pushed against me when we ran for the ball in our last play
and nearly threw me off my feet. You know that deliberate pushing,
striking or any kind of roughness is forbidden, and you could be
disqualified as a player. I do not know where the referee's eyes were, I
am sure, but I do know that you are not fit to be on a team, and I can
prove it by the other players of my team. I shall certainly complain to
Miss Archer about it the first thing Monday morning."
"All right, I'll meet you in Miss Archer's office the first thing after
chapel," answered Ellen, coolly, ignoring everything save the French
girl's final threat. "Come along, girls." She beckoned to the other
members of her team, who had listened in blank amazement to the bold
accusation. With her head held high, a careless smile on her fine face,
Ellen marched through the crowd, which made way for her, and across the
gymnasium to the sophomores' room, accompanied by her team.
"Isn't that a shame?" burst out Jerry. "Ellen will have an awful time to
prove herself innocent. She never touched Mignon. It was Mignon who
pushed her away. I saw her with my own eyes, and so did you, Marjorie.
Say," she looked blankly at Marjorie, "do you suppose it's our duty to
go to Miss Archer and tell her what we saw?"
"I--don't--know." The words came doubtfully. "Perhaps it will all blow
over. I hate to carry tales. Suppose we wait until Monday and see?
Mignon may change her mind. Even if she doesn't, Miss Archer may not
listen to her. But, if she should, then we'll have to do it, Jerry. It
wouldn't be fair to Ellen to keep still about it; I heard Miss Archer
tell mother Monday that she would not tolerate the least bit of
roughness in the girls' games. She knew of several schools where girls
had been tripped or knocked down and seriously hurt. She said that if
any reports of rough playing were brought to her she would 'deal
severely with the offender.' Those were her very words."
"All right; we'll wait," agreed Jerry. "I'm not crazy about reporting
even Mignon. Ellen can take care of herself, I guess."
So the matter was apparently settled for the time, and the four girls
strolled home discussing the various features of the game.
"How did you like the game, Captain?" she asked, saluting, as an hour
later she entered the living-room, where her mother sat reading.
"Very well, indeed," replied her mother, laying down her magazine.
"Neither Miss Archer nor I understand all the fine points of the game,
but we managed to keep track of most of the plays. By the way, Marjorie,
when you go to school on Monday morning, I wish you to take this
magazine to Miss Archer. It contains an article which I have marked for
her. It is quite in line with a discussion we had this afternoon."
"I'll remember," promised Marjorie, and when Monday morning came she
kept her word, starting for school with the magazine under her arm.
"I'll run up to Miss Archer's office with it after chapel," she decided.
When the morning service was over, Marjorie returned to the study hall,
and obtained Miss Merton's grudging permission to execute her
commission.
"I wish to see Miss Archer," she said shortly, as Marcia Arnold looked
up from her writing just long enough to cast a half insolent glance of
inquiry in her direction.
"You can't see her. She's busy."
The color flew to Marjorie's cheeks at the bold refusal. Her first
impulse was to turn and walk away. She could see Miss Archer later. Then
her natural independence asserted itself, and she determined to stand
her ground at least long enough to discover whether or not Miss Archer
were really too busy to be seen.
"Then I'll wait here until she is at liberty."
Marcia frowned and seemed on the verge of further unpleasantness when
the sound of a buzzer from the inner office sent her hurrying toward it.
As she opened the door, Marjorie caught a fleeting glimpse of two
persons; one was Miss Archer, her face set and stern, the other Mignon
La Salle, her black eyes blazing with satisfaction.
"Oh!" gasped Marjorie, remembering Mignon's threat, "she is reporting
poor Ellen."
The door swung open again and the secretary glided past her and out into
the corridor with the peculiar sliding gait that had caused Jerry to
liken her to a "nice, wriggly snake."
"She is going to bring Ellen here," guessed Marjorie.
Sure enough, within five minutes Marcia returned, followed by Ellen
Seymour, whose pale, defiant face meant battle. Again the door of the
inner office closed with a portending click. Marcia Arnold did not
return to the outer office.
Marjorie waited apprehensively, wondering if Ellen were holding her
own. Then to her utter amazement, the secretary appeared with a sulky,
"Miss Archer wants you," and returned to her desk.
"Good morning, Miss Dean," was the principal's grave salutation. "I did
not know until I asked Miss Arnold to go for you that you were in the
outer office."
"I have been waiting to give you the magazine that mother promised you.
She asked me to say to you that she had marked the article she wished
you to read."
"Please thank your mother for me," returned Miss Archer, her face
relaxing, "and thank you for bringing it. To return to why I sent for
you, you understand the game of basketball, do you not?"
"Yes," answered Marjorie, simply.
"You have played on a team?" inquired the principal.
"Yes."
"Did I not see you at practice with the freshmen shortly before the
game?"
Marjorie colored hotly. "I made the team, but afterward was asked to
resign because I did not play well enough."
"Who asked you to resign?"
"The note was signed by the manager of the team."
"And is that the reason you stopped playing?" broke in Ellen Seymour,
with impulsive disregard for her surroundings. "I might have known it."
Then she whirled upon Mignon in a burst of indignation as scathing as it
was unexpected.
"How contemptible you are! I haven't the least doubt that you are to
blame for Miss Dean's leaving the team. You knew her to be a skilful
player and you were afraid she would outplay you. You know, too, that
when we jumped for the ball Saturday you purposely pushed me away from
it, almost throwing me down. It didn't do you the least bit of good, and
because you are spiteful you have set out to disgrace me and put a stain
on the sophomores' victory."
"How dare you? You are not telling the truth! Prove your charge against
me, if you can," challenged Mignon, with blazing eyes.
"It will be easier to prove than yours against me," flung back Ellen.
"Girls, this is disgraceful! Not another word." Miss Archer's tone of
stern command had an immediate effect on the belligerents.
"Please pardon me, Miss Archer." There was real contrition in Ellen's
voice. "I didn't mean to be so rude. I lost control of my temper."
Mignon, however, made no apology. Her elfish eyes turned from Marjorie
to Ellen with an expression of concentrated hate.
"Now, girls," began Miss Archer, firmly, "we are going to settle this
difficulty here in my office before anyone of you goes back to her
classes. That is the reason I have sent for Miss Dean. When Miss La
Salle entered her complaint against you, Miss Seymour, I decided that
you should have a chance to speak in your own behalf. No sooner were you
brought face to face than one accused the other of treachery. From the
front row of the gallery, where I sat on the afternoon of the game, I
could see every move of the players, but my eyes were not sufficiently
trained to detect the roughness of which you accuse each other. Then I
remembered that Miss Dean sat next to me and that she was a seasoned
player. So I sent for her to ask her in your presence if she saw the
alleged roughness on the part of either of you."
There was a half-smothered exclamation of dismay from Marjorie. Ellen
was regarding her in mute appeal. Mignon's lips curled back in a sneer.
It was dreadful to remain under a cloud.
"I am waiting for you to speak, Miss Dean."
Marjorie drew a long breath. "Miss Seymour spoke the truth. I saw Miss
La Salle purposely push Miss Seymour away from the ball. Someone else
saw her, too--someone who sat on the other side of the gallery." Her
tones carried unmistakable truth with them.
"It isn't true! It isn't true!" Mignon's voice rose to an enraged
shriek. "She only says so because she wants to pay me for making her
resign from the team."
"What did I tell you?" asked Ellen Seymour, triumphantly. "She admits
that she was responsible for that resignation."
"That will do," commanded Miss Archer, raising her hand.
Ellen subsided meekly.
Realizing that she had said too much, Mignon quieted as suddenly as she
had burst forth.
"Miss Dean, are you perfectly sure of what you say?" questioned Miss
Archer.
"I am quite sure," was the steady answer.
A seemingly endless silence followed Marjorie's reply. The principal
surveyed the trio searchingly.
"What girls comprise the freshman team?" At last she put the question
coldly to Mignon.
The French girl sulkily named them. Miss Archer made note of their
names. The principal then pressed the buzzer that summoned her
secretary.
"Send these young women to me at once," she directed, handing Marcia the
slip of paper.
Turning to the three girls before her she said, "Miss Seymour, you may
go back to the study hall. Unless you hear from me further you are
exonerated from blame. I shall not need you either, Miss Dean. I am
sorry that I was obliged to involve you in this affair, but I am glad
that you were not afraid to tell the truth."
Marjorie turned to follow Ellen Seymour from the room, when the door
opened and the freshman basketball team filed in. For a brief instant
the principal's attention was fixed upon the entering girls, and in that
instant Mignon found time to mutter in Marjorie's ear, "I'll never
forgive you for this and you'll be sorry. Just wait and see if you're
not."