Marjorie Dean, High School Junior Part 12

"Hurrah! Here's Marjorie." Ellen sprang up, her pleasant face breaking into a smile. "I'm so glad you came at last, and so sorry for what happened. You must tell me how you came out. But not now. We shall have to hustle to make up for lost time. I suppose you know Miss Elbert and Miss Horner. No?" Ellen promptly performed introductions.

"Pleased to meet you," nodded both young women. Neither looked specially delighted. Miss Elbert, a small, plump girl with near-sighted, gray eyes, bowed in reserved fas.h.i.+on. Miss Horner, a rather pretty brunette, acknowledged the introduction with languid grace. Marjorie had long known both by sight. On two different occasions she had been introduced to Miss Horner. Afterward, on meeting her in the street, the latter had made no sign of recognition.

"I suppose you are satisfied now, Ellen," drawled Miss Horner sweetly.

"You are lucky, Miss Dean, to have Ellen for a champion. She insisted that we must wait for you."

"I am very grateful to her," Marjorie made courteous reply. Had there lurked a touch of sarcasm in the other's polite comment?

"Miss Merton is altogether too fussy," remarked Miss Elbert. Her blunt tone quite belied her reserved nod. "She tried that with me last year.

It didn't work, though." Her air of constraint vanished in a bright glance, which indicated friendliness.

"You must remember that she has a great deal to try her," reminded Miss Horner softly.

Again Marjorie thought she sensed hostility. She laid it to the supposition that Miss Horner was, perhaps, a trifle peevish at being delayed. Yet she could not resist the quiet comment, "Miss Merton is also very trying."

"Of course she is," agreed Ellen warmly. "You know it as well as we do, Charlotte Horner. _You_ have no cause to love her. Just remember how cranky she was to you during your freshman year."

"That was a long time ago," shrugged the senior. "I understand her much better now than then." The placid answer held a suspicion of condescending approval of Miss Merton.

"I'm glad someone does," flung back Ellen with careless good humor.

"Hurry along, Marjorie, and get into your basket ball suit. I shouldn't have kept you talking." Drawing her aside, she whispered: "I'd rather see you play center on the team than any girl I know."

"It seems to me, Ellen," drawled Charlotte Horner, as her indolent gaze followed Marjorie across the floor to the dressing room, "that you are babying that Miss Dean entirely too much. Someone told me the other day that she has a bad attack of swelled head. I must say, I think her self-opinionated. She answered me very pertly."

"If you mean her remark about Miss Merton, she only spoke the truth,"

defended Ellen hotly, completely astonished by this unexpected attack on Marjorie. "She is not in the least self-opinionated nor vain. It's remarkable that she isn't. She is very pretty and awfully popular."

"Glad you told me," murmured the other, lazily unbelieving. "I know several girls with whom she is not particularly popular."

To this Ellen made no response. With vexation at her own stupidity, she now remembered too late that Charlotte Horner had always been rather friendly with Mignon La Salle. Remembering only Charlotte's undeniable prowess as a basket ball player, she had asked her to act with herself and Leila Elbert as one of the three judges at the try-out. This explained why Charlotte had not been in favor of postponing the try-out in case Marjorie were detained indefinitely. Ellen found herself hoping that personal prejudice would not influence Charlotte to decry Marjorie's work on the floor.

"I think Miss Dean is very nice." It was Leila Elbert who made this announcement. Her reserved manner had arisen merely from shyness. She was a quiet, diffident girl, who, beyond an enthusiasm for basket ball, had mixed little with the social side of high school. She was an expert player who had been on the same team with Ellen during her freshman, soph.o.m.ore and junior years. Accordingly, she was eminently fitted to judge the merits of the respective contestants.

"That's sweet in you." Ellen flashed her a grateful look. It would be two against one in Marjorie's favor.

Within ten minutes after seeking the dressing room Marjorie issued from it ready for the fray, wearing her soph.o.m.ore basket ball uniform.

Running up to Ellen she announced: "I am ready. So is Muriel." In a lower tone she added: "It was dear in you to wish me well." Then she trotted over and joined the contestants, who had gradually collected in one spot.

"All right." Ellen left the platform and approached the fruitful material for junior honors. "Girls," she began, with an elaborate bow, "behold your stern manager."

She was interrupted by giggling applause. Cheerful Ellen Seymour was beloved throughout Sanford High School.

"Much obliged," she nodded gaily. "As I was saying when interrupted by your heart-felt appreciation, _I_ am your manager. This year there will be no senior team. The seniors have soared to heights beyond mere basket ball. I had to soar with them, though I wasn't in a soaring mood. Since I can't play the good old game alone, I've decided to bury my disappointment in managers.h.i.+p. Of course, you know that you can't all play. So if you're not chosen, don't be disappointed. It's going to be an absolutely fair try-out. If you're chosen, it is because you are a better player than the girl who isn't. Now please line up until I count you over."

It was a nondescript line that whipped itself promptly into position.

There were the five gray-clad girls who had made up Mignon La Salle's famous team. There were also the five black-garbed players who had comprised Marjorie's squad. Besides these were ten new applicants in blue gymnasium suits who had not been fortunate enough to make either of the two teams that had striven against each other in the soph.o.m.ore year.

These girls had decided to try again, hoping that better luck would be theirs.

Marjorie thrilled with excitement as she cast a quick glance up and down the line. Every face was set in determined fas.h.i.+on. It was going to be much harder than ever before to make the team.

Ellen Seymour walked up and down the row of girls with the air of a general. She was shrewdly calculating the best plan of action. It would hardly be fair to try out the black and scarlet girls against the grays, leaving the other ten of lesser experience to play against each other.

Among the new girls there was, undoubtedly, some excellent material which contact with the regular players was sure to bring out. She, therefore, chose five blues to play against two grays and three black and scarlet girls. Mignon and Daisy Griggs represented the grays, Marjorie, Susan and Harriet Delaney the black and scarlet.

Clearing the floor of the others, Ellen signaled the two teams to their places and soon had the ball in play. It seemed very strange to Marjorie to find herself once more on the same team with Mignon La Salle. She was too busy attending to her own affairs, however, to give it more than a pa.s.sing thought. Centering her whole mind on her work she played with her usual snap and brilliancy.

After twenty minutes' energetic work, the warning whistle sounded retreat. Then the other ten girls remaining were ordered to the floor to show what they could do. When, after the same allowance of time, they had been called off, the three judges went into consultation with the result that ten names were struck from the list Ellen held. These names Ellen read out, expressing a regret for the failure of their owners to make good that was in a measure quite consoling. They left the floor to their more fortunate sisters apparently with the best possible grace, considering the disappointment that was theirs.

There were still left Susan, Muriel, Marjorie, Mignon, Daisy Griggs and Anne Easton of the seasoned teams. The other were four of the blue-clad girls who had done surprisingly well. These ten were again divided into opposing fives and went at it with a will.

T-r-ill! Ellen's whistle at last called an end to the spirited fray. The girls pattered off the playing floor. Grouped together they breathlessly awaited the verdict.

This time it was longer in coming. Up on the judge's stand, Ellen Seymour found herself partic.i.p.ating in the wrangle with Charlotte Horner, which she had antic.i.p.ated. But Marjorie was not alone subject of it. It was Mignon's basket ball future, too, that now tottered. Four names had been struck off the list of ten. It lay between Mignon and Marjorie Dean as to whom the fifth should be.

"Mignon is a better player than this Dean girl," sharply argued Charlotte Horner. "But poor Mignon simply wasn't up to her usual form to-day."

"But it's to-day that counts, else why have a try-out?" protested Ellen.

"Marjorie has completely outplayed her in this last test. I consider Marjorie the better player at any time. She is reliable. Mignon isn't. I insist that Marjorie shall have the position. I think she's the best player of the whole team."

"And _I_ insist that Mignon must have it." In her anger Charlotte forgot her usual languid drawl.

"It rests with Leila." Ellen shrugged her shoulders. "What is your opinion, Leila?"

"Miss Dean is the better player," declared Leila stolidly. "Anyone can see that."

"Two against one. The ayes have it." Ellen drew a firm pencil through Mignon's name.

And thus Marjorie Dean won a victory over Mignon La Salle, which was destined to bring her a great deal of unhappiness.

CHAPTER XIII-UNSEEN; UNKNOWN; UNGUESSED

Outside the school building Jerry Macy and Irma Linton were holding a patient vigil. Not permitted to witness the try-out they had declared their intention of waiting across the street for their friends.

Confidently expecting that their wait would be long, they had set off for Sargent's directly after school, there to while away at least a part of the time. It was twenty minutes after four when they returned to the school and determinedly perched themselves upon the top step of the long flight where they proposed to remain stationed until the try-out should be over. As ardent fans, they had a lively curiosity to know as soon as possible the results of the contest. They were also deeply concerned as to what had transpired between Marjorie and Miss Merton.

"Good gracious!" grumbled Jerry, as she frowningly consulted her wrist watch. "When do you suppose it will be over? It's half-past five now. I hope--"

"Hark!" Irma raised a warning hand. "I hear voices. Here they come at last."

As she spoke the heavy door behind her swung open. One after another the contestants began issuing forth to unite into little groups as they pa.s.sed down the steps to the street. Jerry and Irma were now on their feet eagerly watching for their friends. Jerry's shrewd power of observation had already been put to good use. Thus far she glimpsed defeat in the faces of those who pa.s.sed. Among them was Mignon La Salle.

Her arm linked in that of Charlotte Horner, the French girl was carrying on a low-toned monologue, the very nature of which could be read in the stormy play of her lowering features.

Jerry gave Irma a significant nudge as Mignon switched past them without sign of recognition. Irma nodded slightly to show that she understood its import. She, too, had guessed that Mignon had not made the team.

"At last!" Jerry sighed relief, as Marjorie stepped across the threshold, followed by Susan, Muriel and Daisy Griggs. "What's the good word?" She hailed.