"What did I tell you yesterday?" saluted Jerry Macy, the instant she
found opportunity to address Irma Linton the next morning. "Marjorie's
sick. Her mother telephoned me before I started for school. She came
from Lucy Warner's yesterday so sick she couldn't see straight. Her
mother put her to bed and sent for the doctor. She has tonsilitis. Isn't
that hard luck?"
"I should say so. Poor Marjorie. I was afraid of that yesterday. You
know she said her throat was sore." Irma looked unutterably sympathetic.
"And the game on Saturday, too. But it can't be played with Marjorie,
Muriel and Susan all laid up. That leaves only Rita, Daisy and Harriet
on the team."
"The sophomores will have to call it off," decreed Jerry. "It's only
fair. The juniors did that very thing when two of the sophs were sick."
"You'd better see Ellen this noon or before, if you can, and tell her,"
Irma advised. "Then she can break it to the sophs to-day."
"I'm going to wait for her in the senior locker room this noon," nodded
Jerry. "Then she can post a notice at once. Now I must beat it for Cæsar
recitation. I wished he'd been killed in his first battle. It would have
saved me a good deal of bother." Jerry's jolly chuckle belied her
vengeful comment on the valorous general.
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Ellen when Jerry broke the news to her.
"That _is_ too bad. Certainly the game will have to be postponed. I'll
write a notice instantly asking the sophs to meet me in the gym at four
this afternoon. I must call up on the 'phone and inquire for Marjorie.
Dear little girl, I wish I could do a great deal more for her. Thank you
for telling me, Jerry." Ellen hurried off to write and then post the
notice before going home to luncheon. Her lips wore a quizzical smile.
She wondered what the sophomore team would say when she told them.
She had just finished tucking it into the bulletin board when Nellie
Simmons, a member of the sophomore team, paused curiously to read it.
The very fact that it came from Ellen's hands indicated basket ball
news. "Hmm!" she ejaculated as she took in its contents. "What's the
matter now?"
"I'll tell you at four o'clock," Ellen flashed back. With a slight lift
of her shoulders, she walked away. Nellie's tone had verged on the
insolent. She had hardly disappeared when Nellie faced about and hurried
toward the sophomore locker room, bumping smartly against Rowena
Farnham, who was in the act of leaving it.
"Look out!" cried Rowena. "What are you trying to do? I'm not made of
iron."
"Oh, Rowena, I was hurrying to find you!" exclaimed Nellie. "Ellen
Seymour just posted a notice on the bulletin board for the team to meet
her in the gym at four o'clock. I think I know what it's about. Marjorie
Dean is sick. I heard Jerry Macy tell Esther Lind. You know what that
means to the junior team, with two others away from it. I'm sure Ellen's
going to ask us to postpone the game."
"I'll forgive you for almost knocking me down," laughed Rowena, her
black eyes glowing. "So Miss Seymour thinks we will postpone the game to
please her and that goody-goody Dean girl. I'll see that she gets a
surprise. Lucky you came to me. I can fix things before I go home to
luncheon. I'm going to have a talk with Miss Davis."
Leaving Nellie plunged in admiration at her daring tactics, Rowena sped
up the basement stairs and down the corridor toward Miss Davis's tiny
office. "How are you, Miss Davis?" was her offhand greeting. "I've come
to you for help."
Miss Davis viewed her visitor with mild disapproval. "I don't care to
implicate myself in any more of your tangles, Rowena," she declared
firmly.
"Oh, this isn't entirely my affair. It's about basket ball, though. That
Dean girl is sick and Miss Seymour is going to ask us to postpone the
game just on her account. Of course, we'll say 'no,' but Miss Seymour
won't mind that unless you stand by us. It's pure favoritism. Miss
Harding and Miss Atwell are sick, too. Even so, there are three of the
team left. If you say the game must go on, it will give poor Mignon a
chance to sub in the Dean girl's place. That Esther Lind played on the
sophomore team last year. She could fill the other position and we could
have the game. Miss Seymour knows that, but she won't pay any attention
to it. Mignon ought to have been chosen in the first place. You owe it
to her to do this for her. Besides, it will give you a good chance to
even things with the Seymour-Dean combination."
"I don't like your tone, Rowena. It's hardly respectful. As a teacher I
have no desire to 'even things,' as you express it." Miss Davis's
censure did not ring true. She knew that this domineering girl had no
illusions concerning her dignity of position.
Rowena merely smiled in the bold, cheerful fashion that she always
adopted and which passed for real good humor. She did not take Miss
Davis at her word. "Think it over," she advised. "You know you detest
favoritism." She was well aware that Miss Davis deplored it, only to
practise it as regarded herself and Mignon. Mignon in particular had
always ranked high in her favor.
To have heard Rowena thus pleading her cause would have astonished
Mignon not a little. It was by this very means that Rowena proposed to
seek her and win back the French girl's allegiance. Without her
companionship, school had become very tame for lawless Rowena.
"When is this meeting to take place?" asked Miss Davis with
well-simulated indifference.
"At four o'clock." Rowena thrilled with triumph. She knew she had gained
her point.
"I may attend it," was the teacher's vague promise.
"Thank you. I hope for Mignon's sake you'll be there." With this sly
reminder Rowena set off, determining to waylay Mignon on her walk back
from luncheon. Not troubling to go home that noon, Rowena swallowed a
hasty luncheon at a nearby delicatessen shop and posted herself at a
corner, which Mignon was due to pass.
"Wait a minute, Mignon," she hailed, as the latter was about to pass her
by with a haughty toss of her head. "You must listen to me. I've just
fixed it for you to play on the junior team Saturday."
Astounded by this remarkable statement, Mignon halted. Rowena had
guessed that she would. "I don't understand you," she said haughtily.
"Yes, you do," assured Rowena blithely. "Three of the juniors are sick.
I just asked Miss Davis to let you help out. She is going to see Miss
Seymour about it this afternoon. All you have to do is to keep still
until you're asked to play, then say 'yes.' Now do you believe I'm your
friend?" she concluded in triumph.
Mignon's inimitable shrug went into play. "You are very kind," she
returned with a trace of sarcasm. "It's about time you did something to
make up for all the trouble you caused me."
"That's just it." Rowena clutched at this providential straw, which
Mignon had unwittingly cast to her. "I _am_ trying to make it up to you.
I won't bother you any more now. But I hope----" she paused significantly.
"You may walk to school with me," graciously permitted Mignon. The old
fascination of Rowena's lawlessness was beginning to steal over her.
"Thank you." Rowena spoke humbly. Inwardly she was jubilant. She was
obliged to endure these stupid persons, but they were all her pawns,
willed to move about at her dictation.
After she had left Rowena in the corridor, Mignon indulged in sober
speculation. There was more to the affair than appeared on the surface.
Formerly she would have entered into it with avidity. Now she was bound
to respect her father's mandate or be packed off to a convent school.
She alone knew positively that recent association with Marjorie and her
chums had not changed her. But she must make a pretense at keeping up an
appearance of amiable docility. Rowena's words still sounded in her ears
like a clarion call to battle. But she was resolved to do nothing rash.
She would wait and see before accepting the chance to play on the junior
team. It was lucky that she need not lend her presence to the meeting
that afternoon.
When at four o'clock Ellen Seymour put the matter of postponement to
five impassive-faced girls, she was not greatly surprised to listen to
their unanimous refusal to consider the proposal. One and all they
stolidly set themselves against it.
"You forget that the juniors treated you very nicely when your team met
with misfortune," reminded Ellen gravely. She had vowed within herself
that she would not lose her temper.
This reminder brought stubborn replies of, "That was different," and
"They have plenty of equally good players to draw from."
In the midst of the discussion, Miss Davis appeared on the scene. Ellen
understood only too well what that meant. "What seems to be the matter
here?" she asked. "Are you discussing the question of postponing the
game?"
Rowena cast a sidelong glance of triumph toward Nellie Simmons, which
said: "What did I tell you?"
"We are," was Ellen's crisp return. "The game must be postponed."
It was an unlucky speech on Ellen's part. Miss Davis had entered the
gymnasium only half decided upon championing Rowena's cause. The cool
decision in the senior's tones angered her. "I hardly think that will be
necessary," she retorted. "Three of the juniors are ready to play. Miss
La Salle and Miss Lind can substitute for the others. The game will go
forward on Saturday."
"That is absolutely unfair," cried Ellen. "The juniors were extremely
lenient with----"
"That will do." Miss Davis held up an authoritative hand. "Another word
and I will report you to Miss Archer. Then there will be _no_ game on
Saturday."
Ellen did not answer this threat. Her head erect, color high, she walked
from the gymnasium and straight to Miss Archer's office. _She_ had not
threatened. She intended to act and act quickly.
"Miss Archer, I have something important to say to you," she burst forth
on entering the principal's office.
"Sit down, Ellen. I am sure it must be. Don't tell me it is basket
ball!" Miss Archer's lips tightened.
"But it is." Impetuously, Ellen poured forth her story. When she had
finished, Miss Archer's face was not good to see.
"I'll attend to this, Ellen. You did right to come to me. There will be
no game on Saturday."
The following morning five girls received a summons to the principal's
office that put fear into their hearts. When, one by one, they appeared,
she motioned them to be seated until the last one had completed the line
on the oak bench. Swinging in her chair, she faced them with: "There is
an old saying, girls, 'Turn about is fair play.' Since you seem to have
forgotten it, I am forced to remind you. I understand that you asked the
juniors to postpone the first basket ball game of the season, due to the
fact that your team was temporarily incapacitated. They did so. That in
itself points to an adherence to fair play. Very well. Now there comes a
time when the situation reverses itself. Having proved themselves
honorable, the juniors have called for a like demonstration of honor on
the part of the sophomores. You know best what has happened. You have
shown yourselves not only grossly ungrateful, but unfit to be trusted.
No one enjoys dealing with ingrates. One understands precisely what one
may expect from such persons.
"During the year I have not been pleased with the various reports which
have been brought to me concerning sophomore and junior basket ball;
particularly sophomore basket ball. It is not long since I was obliged
to interfere with sophomore methods. At that time I stated that a
repetition of such unfair tactics would result in the stoppage of the
game for the rest of the year. I now declare the sophomore and junior
teams disbanded. There will be no more games between them this year. I
have just one thing further to say. It is unfortunate that the innocent
should be obliged to suffer with the guilty. You are dismissed."
A wavering breath of dismay passed along the row of girls as Miss Archer
pronounced sentence upon them. Their own treachery had proved a
boomerang. Dejection laid heavy hand upon four of them, as with downcast
eyes they rose and quitted the place of judgment. But the fifth member
of the disbanded team was not thus so easily dismissed. Far from
disheartened, Rowena Farnham sprang forward, hands clenched at her
sides, her face an angry flame.
"Who are you that you dare talk of unfairness?" In her devouring rage
she fairly screamed the question. "You have disbanded the team just to
please that smug-faced, priggish Marjorie Dean. You are not fit to have
charge over a school of girls. I am ashamed to be under the same roof
with you. I shall ask my father----"
"It strikes me that it is I who should inform your father of your
outrageous behavior to me," interrupted Miss Archer in a stern voice. "I
hardly believe that he would countenance such impudence on your part to
one in authority over you. You may go home and remain away from school
until I send for you. I shall insist on an interview with your father at
the earliest possible moment in order to decide what is to be done with
you."
"You won't have to insist on seeing him," sneered Rowena. "He will call
on you this afternoon. My father won't see me abused by you. He will use
his influence with the Board of Education. Then _you_ won't be principal
of Sanford High School." With this furious prediction of downfall Rowena
flung herself out of the office, confident that she had delivered a
telling thrust. Not daring to return to the study hall she sped to the
locker room, hastily seized her wraps and departed for her father's
office in high dudgeon.
The brilliantly-colored account of Miss Archer's misdeeds which she
poured into the ears of her too-credulous father sent him on the trail
of the offending principal with fury in his eye. Less than an hour after
Rowena had made her sensational exit, a very tall, red-haired, red-faced
man stalked into Miss Archer's office with the air of a blood-thirsty
warrior.
"Madam," he thundered, omitting polite preliminaries, "I am Mr. Farnham
and I wish you to understand most emphatically that you cannot criticize
my methods of bringing up my daughter. Though she may need occasional
mild discipline it is extreme bad taste in you to cast unjust
reflections upon her parents."
"I was not aware that I had done so." Miss Archer had risen to confront
the slandered (?) parent. She met his angry gaze unflinchingly. "I had
intended to send for you, however. Now that you are here we may as well
settle matters at once. Your daughter----"
"My daughter has been shamefully abused," cut in Mr. Farnham
majestically. "I regret that I ever allowed her to enter a public
school. I shall remove her at once from it. The contaminating
influence----"
It was Miss Archer's turn to interrupt in clear, cutting speech. "Allow
me to amend your last statement to _her_ contaminating influence. Your
daughter is a trouble-maker. I have borne very patiently with her. I
cannot regret your decision to remove her from Sanford High School. It
simplifies matters immeasurably."
Miss Archer's quiet, but intense utterance sent an unbidden thrill of
consternation over the irate man. His blustering manner had not
intimidated this regal, calm-featured woman. He experienced a sudden
sense of defeat. Fearful lest he might reveal it, he cut his call short
with, "My daughter will not return to school. Good morning."
Miss Archer bowed him out, feeling sorry rather than displeased with the
big, blustering man whom fatherly love had blinded to his daughter's
faults. She wondered when, if ever, his eyes would be opened. Under what
circumstances would he awaken to full knowledge of the real Rowena?