Part 8 (1/2)
”I'm not afraid.” Mary's lip curled a trifle scornfully. Marjorie treated her as though she were a baby.
”I have come to you for my seat,” was her terse statement, as she paused squarely before Miss Merton's desk.
Miss Merton glanced up to meet the unflinching gaze of two purposely cold blue eyes. Something in their direct gaze made her answer with undue civility, ”Very well. I will a.s.sign you to one. Come with me.”
She stalked down the aisle, Mary following, to the last seat in one of the two soph.o.m.ore rows, and paused before it. ”This will be your seat for the year,” she said.
”Thank you.” Mary sat down and took account of her surroundings. Across the aisle on one side, Susan Atwell's dimpled face flashed her a welcome. On the other side sat a tall, severe junior who wore eye-gla.s.ses. The seat in front of her was vacant. Marjorie sat far down the same row. Mary could just see the top of her curly head. It still lacked five minutes of opening time and the students were, for the most part, conversing in low tones. Now and then an accidentally loud note caused Miss Merton to raise her head from her writing and glare severely at the offender.
Susan Atwell leaned across the aisle and patted Mary's hand in friendly fas.h.i.+on. ”I'm so glad you are going to sit here,” she said in an undertone. ”I was afraid Miss Merton would put some old slow-poke there who wouldn't say 'boo' or pa.s.s notes or do anything to help the soph.o.m.ore cause along.”
”I'm glad she put me near you,” returned Mary affably. She had made up her mind to win friends. They would be indispensable to her now that all was over between her and Marjorie. ”I don't imagine that tall girl is very sociable.”
”She's a dig and a prig,” giggled Susan. ”You'd get no recreation from labor from that quarter.”
Mary echoed Susan's infectious giggle. ”Who sits in front of me?” she asked.
”No one, yet. Who knows what manner of girl is in store for us? That's the only vacant seat in the section. The first late arrival into our midst will get it. I don't believe we'll have any more girls, though, unless someone comes into school late as Marjorie came last year. It's too bad. It makes an awkward stretch if one wants to pa.s.s a note. I always am caught if I throw one. Last year I threw one and hit Miss Merton in the back. She was standing quite a little way down the aisle.
I thought it was a splendid opportunity. I'd been waiting to send one to Irma Linton, who sat two seats in front of me. The girl between us wouldn't pa.s.s it. So I threw it, and it went further than I thought.”
Susan's fascinating giggle burst forth anew. She rocked to and fro in merriment at the recollection.
Mary found herself laughing in concert. Just then the opening bell clanged forth its harsh note of warning. The low buzz of voices in the great study hall died into silence. Every pair of eyes faced front. Miss Merton rose from her chair to conduct the opening exercises. A sudden murmur that swept the hall caused her to say sternly, ”Silence.” Then, noting that the eyes of her pupils were fixed in concerted gaze on the study-hall door, she turned sharply.
A black-haired, black-eyed girl, whose elfish face wore an expression of mingled contempt and amus.e.m.e.nt, advanced into the room with a decided air of one who wishes to create an impression.
”Mignon!” gasped Susan. ”Well, _what_ do you think of that?”
CHAPTER IX
THE BLINDNESS OF JEALOUSY
At sight of the newcomer Miss Merton's severe face underwent a lightning change. She stepped from the platform and hurried toward the dark-eyed girl with outstretched hand. Her harsh voice sounded almost pleasant, as she said, ”Why, Mignon, I am delighted to see you!”
Mignon La Salle tossed her head with an air of triumph as she took Miss Merton's hand. In her, at least, she had a powerful ally. Lowering her voice, the teacher asked her several questions. Mignon answered them in equally guarded tones, accompanied by the frequent significant gestures which are involuntary in those of foreign birth.
A subdued buzzing arose from different parts of the study hall.
Apparently engrossed in her conversation with the girl who had been her favorite pupil during her freshman year, Miss Merton paid no attention to the sounds provoked by Mignon La Salle's unexpected arrival. As a matter of fact, she was quite aware of them, but chose to ignore them solely on Mignon's account. To rebuke the whisperers would tend toward embarra.s.sing the French girl.
”There is just one vacant place in the soph.o.m.ore section,” she informed Mignon. ”I think I must have reserved it specially for you.” She contorted her face into what she believed to be an affable smile.
Mignon answered it in kind, with an inimitable lifting of the eyebrows and a significant shrug.
”Look at her,” muttered Jerry Macy in Marjorie's ear. ”Miss Merton is taffying her up in great style. She always puts on her cat-that-ate-the-canary expression when she's pleased.
And to think that we've got to stand for _her_ again this year!” Jerry gave a positive snort of disgust.
”Shh! They'll hear you, Jerry,” warned Marjorie.
”Don't care if they do. Wish they would,” grumbled the disgruntled Jerry. ”I'll bet you ten to one she was sent home from boarding school.”