Marjorie Dean, High School Junior Part 5

"See if you think I did this right, will you? I'm curious to know." The stranger thrust into her hand a second paper, covered with figures.

Marjorie inspected it, feeling only mildly interested. "No; you made a mistake here. It goes this way. Have you a pencil?"

The pencil promptly forthcoming, the obliging junior seated herself at a nearby table and diligently went to work. So busy was she that she failed to note the covert glances which her companion sent now and then toward the door. But, during the brief s.p.a.ce of time in which Marjorie was engaged with the difficult equation, no one came. Altogether she had not been in the office longer than fifteen minutes. To her it seemed at least half an hour.

"Here you are." She tendered the finished work to the other girl, who seized it eagerly with a brief, "Thank you. I can see where I made my mistake when I have time to compare the two." With a smile, which Marjorie thought a trifle patronizing, she carelessly nodded her grat.i.tude. Laying the printed examination sheet on a pile of similar papers, she placed a weight upon them and walked gracefully from the office, taking with her the two sheets of paper, bearing the results of her own and Marjorie's labor.

Another fifteen minutes went by. Still no one came, except a student or two in quest of Miss Archer. Marjorie decided that she would wait no longer. She would come back again that afternoon, before the second session opened. It was almost noon. Were she to return to the study hall just then, it meant to court the caustic rebuke of Miss Merton. The locker room offered her a temporary refuge. Accordingly, she wended her steps toward it.

"Where were you that last period?" demanded Jerry Macy, coming up behind her as she stood at the mirror adjusting her rose-weighted hat.

"Oh, Jerry! How you startled me." Marjorie swung about. "I was up in Miss Archer's office."

"So soon?" teased Jerry, putting on a shocked expression. "I _am_ surprised."

"Don't be so suspicious," responded Marjorie, adopting Jerry's bantering tone. "I had a note, if you please, from Captain, to deliver to Miss Archer. I saw the new secretary, too."

"Humph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jerry. "You must have only thought you saw her. So far as I know Miss Archer hasn't secured a secretary yet."

"But she must have," Marjorie insisted. "There was a tall girl in her office when I went there. She must surely be the girl to take Marcia's place, for she was standing at Miss Archer's desk, going over some papers."

"That's funny. What did she look like? You said she was tall?"

"Yes; tall and very pretty. She had big, black eyes and perfectly gorgeous auburn hair--" Marjorie broke off with a puzzled frown. Her own words had a curious reminiscent ring. Someone else had said the very same thing about--Who had said it, and about whom had it been said?

"Now I know you didn't see Miss Archer's new secretary," cried Jerry in triumph. "There's only one person that can answer to your description.

She's that Rowena Farnham I told you about, Mignon's side partner. I told you she was going to enter the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s. She was probably waiting for Miss Archer herself. She has to try her exams, I suppose."

"But what was she doing at Miss Archer's desk?" asked Marjorie sharply.

"Why did she answer me and make me think she was the secretary? She told several other girls that Miss Archer was out!"

"Search me," replied Jerry inelegantly. "If she's much like Mignon it's hard to tell what she was up to. Believe me, they're a precious pair of trouble-makers and don't you forget it."

"I ought to have recognized her," faltered Marjorie. A curious sense of dread had stolen over her. "Don't you remember Mary described her almost as I did just now, that day you came to see us, when first you got back to Sanford?"

"Well, n.o.body's going to kill you because you didn't, are they?"

inquired Jerry with a grin. "What's the matter? What makes you look so solemn?"

"Oh, I was just wondering," evaded Marjorie. Outwardly only slightly ruffled, tumult raged within. She had begun to see clearly what had hitherto been obscure and the revelation was a severe shock. All she could hope was that what she now strongly suspected might not, after all, be true.

CHAPTER V-A STORMY INTERVIEW

Marjorie returned to school that afternoon in a most perturbed state of mind, occasioned by Jerry Macy's identification of Rowena Farnham as the girl whom she had a.s.sisted in the working out of the problem in quadratic equations. She was now almost certain that she had unwittingly a.s.sisted in a most dishonest enterprise. If the papers on Miss Archer's desk comprised the trial examination to soph.o.m.ore estate, then Rowena had no doubt been guilty of tampering with what should concern her only at the moment when the test began. If they were the soph.o.m.ore examination papers, why had Miss Archer left them thus exposed on her desk? And now what was she, Marjorie, to do about it? She felt that when she delivered her mother's note to Miss Archer, she ought to inform the princ.i.p.al of what had occurred during her absence. Yet she hated to do this. It was tale bearing. Besides, her suspicions might prove unfounded.

She was still juggling the trying situation when she entered Miss Archer's office to deliver her captain's note. Should she speak of it or not? The fact that Miss Archer was now accessible but extremely busy, with several girls occupying the office benches, caused her to put off her decision for a time. She stopped only long enough to receive a kindly welcome from the princ.i.p.al and to perform her mission as messenger. Then she went dejectedly to her recitation in civil government, wondering resentfully if the event of the morning was the beginning of an unpleasant year.

By a determined effort of will, Marjorie put the whole thing aside to attend strictly to her recitations. But during the study hour that preceded dismissal for the day, a way of settling the difficulty presented itself to her. It was not an agreeable way, but her straightforward soul welcomed it as a means toward settlement. She was resolved to seek Rowena Farnham and learn the truth. The question of where to find her was next to be considered. She had not yet made an appearance into the study hall. Doubtless she was in the little recitation room on the second floor that was seldom used except in the case of pupils with special examinations to try. Marjorie mused darkly as to whether the problem she had obligingly solved would figure in Rowena's algebra paper.

Half-past three saw Marjorie on her way to the locker room, keeping a sharp lookout for a tall figure crowned with luxuriant auburn hair. Her vigilance met with no reward, however, and she left the school building in company with Irma, Jerry, Constance and Susan, deliberating as to what she had best do next. Outside the high school she caught no glimpse of her quarry among the throng of girls that came trooping down the wide stone steps. Although she took part in her friends' animated conversation, she was steadily thinking of the self-imposed task that lay before her.

"Let's go down to Sargent's," proposed Susan, gleefully jingling a handful of silver that clinked of sundaes and divers delicious cheer.

"You girls go. I can't. I've an errand to do." Marjorie's color rose as she spoke.

"Do your errand some other time," coaxed Susan. "I may not have any money to spend to-morrow."

"I'll treat to-morrow," Marjorie a.s.sured her. "I can't possibly put off my errand. You can imagine I'm with you. Always cultivate your imagination."

Four voices rose to protest her decision, but she remained firm.

"To-morrow," she compromised. "Please don't tease me. I can't really go with you to-day."

"We'll try to get along without you, just this once," agreed tactful Constance. Something in Marjorie's manner told her that her friend wished to go on her way alone.

"Go ahead then, Marjorie. Do your errand, faithful child," consented Jerry, who had also scented the unusual and shrewdly speculated as to whether it had anything to do with their conversation of the morning.

Anxious, yet regretful, to be free of her chums, Marjorie said good-bye and hurried off in an opposite direction. Jerry had said that the Farnhams lived in the beautiful residence that adjoined Mignon La Salle's home. It was not a long walk, yet how Marjorie dreaded it. Given that Rowena were at home, Mignon would, perhaps, be with her. That would make matters doubly hard. Yet she could do no less than carry out the interview she felt must take place at the earliest possible moment.

It was a very grave little girl who opened the ornamental iron gate and proceeded reluctantly up the long driveway to the huge brown stone house, set in the midst of a wide expanse of tree-dotted lawn. For all the residence was a magnificent affair, Marjorie s.h.i.+vered as she mounted the ma.s.sive stone steps. There was little of the atmosphere of home about it.

"Is Miss Rowena Farnham here?" was her low-voiced question of the white-capped maid who answered the door.

"She hasn't come home from school yet, miss," informed the maid. "Will you step into the house and wait for her?"

"Yes, thank you." Marjorie followed the woman into a high-ceilinged, beautifully appointed, square hall and across it to a mammoth drawing-room, very handsomely furnished, but cheerless, nevertheless.

She felt very small and insignificant as she settled herself lightly on an ornate gilt chair, to await the arrival of Rowena.

Her vigil was destined to be tedious, unbroken by the sight of anyone save the maid, who pa.s.sed through the hall once or twice on her way to answer the bell. Even she did not trouble herself to glance through the half-parted brocade portieres at the lonely little figure in the room beyond. Consulting her wrist watch, Marjorie read five o'clock. She had been waiting for over an hour. She guessed that the girl on whom she had come to call must be with Mignon La Salle. There was at least a grain of comfort for her in this conjecture. If Mignon were at home now, there was small chance that she would be present at the interview.

An impatient hand on the bell sent a shrill, reverberating peal through the great house. An instant and she heard the maid's voice, carefully lowered. There came the sound of quick, questioning tones, which she recognized. Rowena had at last put in an appearance. Immediately there followed a flinging back of the concealing portieres and the girl who had sprung into Marjorie's knowledge so unbecomingly that morning walked into the room.

"You wished to see--Oh, it's you!" The tall girl's black eyes swept her uninvited guest with an expression far from cordial.

"Yes, it is I," Marjorie's inflection was faintly satirical. "I made a mistake about you this morning. I thought you were Miss Archer's new secretary." She lost no time in going directly to the point.

For answer Rowena threw back her auburn head and laughed loudly. "I fooled you nicely, didn't I?" According to outward signs her conscience was apparently untroubled.

"Yes," returned Marjorie quietly. "Why did you do it?"

Rowena's laughing lips instantly took on a belligerent curve. The very evenness of the inquiry warned her that trouble was brewing for her.

"See here," she began rudely, "what did you come to my house for? I'm not pleased to see you. Judging from several things I've heard, I don't care to know you."

Marjorie paled at the rebuff. She had half expected it, yet now that it had come she did not relish it. At first meeting she had been irritated by the other girl's almost rude indifference. Now she had dropped all semblance of courtesy.

"I hardly think it matters about your knowing or not knowing me," she retorted in the same carefully schooled tone. "You, of course, are the one to decide that. What does matter is this-I must ask you to tell me exactly why you wished me to work out that quadratic problem for you. It is quite necessary that I should know."