Three days later Marjorie's theory seemed destined to prove itself
correct. Ellen Seymour came to her, wrath in her eye. "See here,
Marjorie," she burst forth impulsively, "if Miss Davis sends for you to
meet her in the gym after school, let me know. I'm going there with you.
Yesterday while you girls were at practice she stood there watching you.
Do you remember?"
"Yes. I noticed her. She stared at me so hard she made me nervous and I
played badly. She has always had that effect on me. Last year when she
managed the team she was fond of watching me. She used to criticize my
playing, too, and call out one thing to me just when I knew I ought to
do another. She was awfully fussy. I hope she isn't going to begin it
again this year. I thought she had left everything to you."
"So did I," retorted Ellen grimly. "It seems she hasn't. Someone, you
can guess who, went to her after the game and said something about your
playing. She came to me and said: 'I understand there is a great deal of
dissatisfaction on the part of the juniors over Miss Dean's being on the
junior team.' You can imagine what I said. When I saw her in the gym
after school I knew she had an object. But leave things to me. I know a
way to stop her objections very quickly. If she sends for you, go
straight to the junior locker room from the study hall and wait there
for me. If she doesn't send for you, then you'll know everything is all
right. Remember now, don't set foot out of that locker room until I come
for you." With this parting injunction Ellen hurried off, leaving
Marjorie a victim to many emotions.
So the Observer's, or rather Mignon's, prophesy bordered on fulfillment.
Mignon and the few juniors who still adhered to the La Salle standard
had made complaint against her to Miss Davis in the name of the junior
class. As a friend of Miss Merton, Miss Davis had always favored the
French girl. Last year it had been whispered about that her motive in
creating a second sophomore team had arisen from her wish to help
Mignon's fortunes along. No doubt she had been very glad to listen to
this latest appeal on Mignon's part.
But Marjorie was only partially correct in her conclusions. Though it
was, indeed, true that Mignon had besieged Miss Davis with a plea that
Marjorie be removed from the team, no other member of the junior class
had accompanied her. She was flanked by the far more powerful allies,
Charlotte Horner and Rowena Farnham. The plan of attack had originated
in Rowena's fertile brain as the result of a bitter outburst against
Marjorie on Mignon's part. It was directly after the game that she had
stormed out her grievances to Rowena and Charlotte. Personally, Rowena
cared little about Mignon's woes. Her mischief-making faculties were
aroused merely on Marjorie's account. Had it been Susan, or Muriel
against whom Mignon raved she would have laughed and dubbed her friend,
"a big baby." But Marjorie--there was a chance to even her score.
"You just let me manage this," Rowena had declared boastfully. "This
Miss Davis is easy. She's a snob. So is Miss Merton. If they weren't
they'd have put you in your place long ago. They can see through you.
It's money that counts with both of them. I've made it a point right
along to be nice to Miss Davis. In case that frosty Miss Seymour tried
to make trouble for me, I knew I needed a substantial backing. Now I'll
ask her to my house to dinner to-morrow night. If she can't come, so
much the better for me. If she can, so much the better for you. Of
course you'll be there, too. Then we'll see what we can do. You ought to
be very grateful to me. I expect she'll bore me to death. I'm only doing
it for your sake."
Rowena was too crafty not to hang the heavy mantle of obligation on
Mignon's shoulders. Thus indebted to her, Mignon would one day be
reminded of the debt. As a last perfect touch to her scheme she had
shrewdly included Charlotte Horner in the invitation. Providentially for
Mignon, Miss Davis had no previous engagement. So it fell about that
Rowena became hostess to three guests. At home a young despot, who
bullied her timid little mother and coaxed her indulgent father into
doing her will, she merely announced her intention to entertain at
dinner and let that end it. The final results of that highly successful
dinner party were yet to be announced.
Unwittingly, however, Miss Davis had blundered. In order to strengthen
her case she had purposely complained of Marjorie to Ellen Seymour.
Knowing nothing of Ellen's devotion to the pretty junior, she had not
dreamed that Ellen would set the wheels in motion to defeat her. She was
in reality more to be pitied than blamed. Of a nature which accepted
hearsay evidence, declining to go below the surface, it is not to be
wondered at that Rowena's clever persuasion, backed by Mignon's and
Charlotte's able support, caused her to spring to the French girl's aid.
She was one of those aggravating persons who refuse to see whatever they
do not wish to see. She was undoubtedly proficient in the business of
physical culture. She was extremely inefficient in the art of reading
girls. Sufficient unto herself, she, therefore, felt no compunction in
sending forth the word that should summon Marjorie to the gymnasium,
there to be deprived of that which she had rightfully earned.
Like many other days that had come to poor Marjorie since the beginning
of her junior year, suspense became the ruling power. Two things she
knew definitely. Ellen Seymour was for her. Miss Davis against her. The
rest she could only guess at, losing herself in a maze of troubled
conjecture. Judge her surprise when on reaching the locker room, she
found not only Ellen awaiting her, but her teammates as well. They had
made a most precipitate flight from the study hall in order to be in the
locker room when she arrived.
"Why, Ellen! Why, girls!" she stammered. A deeper pink rushed to her
cheeks; a mist gathered in her eyes as she realized the meaning of their
presence. They had come in a body to help her.
"We're here because we're here," trilled Captain Muriel Harding. "In a
few minutes we'll be in the gym. Then someone else will get a surprise.
Are we ready to march? I rather think we are. Lead the procession,
Ellen."
"Come on, Marjorie, you and I will walk together. Fall in, girls. The
invincible sextette will now take the trail."
Amid much laughter on their part and openly curious glances from
constantly arriving juniors who wondered what was on foot, the six girls
had swung off down the corridor before the curious ones found
opportunity to relieve their curiosity.
"She's not here yet," commented Susan, as they entered the place of
tryst. "Isn't that too bad. I hoped she'd be on hand to see the mighty
host advancing."
"Here she comes," warned Rita Talbot. "Now, for it."