Marjorie Dean, High School Junior Part 8

"Well, well!" She had mounted the steps of her home when a cheery voice thus called out to her. The next instant she was in her father's arms.

Delight in seeing him, coupled with all she had just undergone, broke down the difficult composure she had managed to maintain while in Miss Archer's presence. With a little sob, Marjorie threw herself into her father's arms, pillowing her curly head against his comforting shoulder.

"My dear child, what has happened?" Mrs. Dean regarded her daughter's shaking shoulders with patient anxiety as she cried out the startled question.

"There, there, Lieutenant." Mr. Dean gathered the weeping girl close in his protecting arms. "Surely you aren't crying because your worthy general has come home?"

"No-o-o," came the m.u.f.fled protest. "I'm-glad. It's-not-that.

I've-been-suspended-from-school."

"What!" Mr. Dean raised the weeper's head from his shoulders and gazed deep into the overflowing brown eyes.

"It's true," gulped Marjorie. "I'm not-to-blame-though. It's all-a-misunderstanding."

"Then we'll straighten it out," soothed Mr. Dean. "Come, now. You and Captain and I will go into the living room and sit right down on the nice comfy davenport. Then you can wail your troubles into our sympathetic ears. Your superior officers will stand by you. You take one arm, Captain, and I'll take the other."

Resigning herself to the guidance of those who loved her best, Marjorie suffered herself to be led into the living room and deposited on the friendly davenport, a solicitous parent on either side.

"You're wonderful, both of you," she sighed, possessing herself of a hand of each. Her brief gust of grief had spent itself. Her voice was now almost steady.

Mrs. Dean had already made a shrewd guess regarding the reason for Marjorie's tears. "Is that affair of yesterday responsible for your suspension from school, Lieutenant?" she questioned abruptly.

"Yes." With an occasional quaver in her speech, Marjorie went over the details of both visits to the princ.i.p.al's office.

"Hm!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Dean, his eyes seeking his wife's. "Suppose you tell your general the beginning of all this."

"It strikes me that Miss Archer behaved in a a rather high-handed manner," he observed dryly when Marjorie had ended her sad little story.

"I can't blame her so much." Marjorie was loyal to the death. "I know just how terribly it must have hurt her. I suppose I should have told her everything in the first place."

Mrs. Dean released Marjorie's hand and rose from the davenport, intense determination written on every feature. "Miss Archer will listen to _me_," she announced grimly. "I shall go to Sanford High School at once.

My daughter is ent.i.tled to justice and she shall receive it. I am surprised at Miss Archer's unfair att.i.tude. Go upstairs and bathe your face, Marjorie. General, will you see to the car?"

"But she won't see me, I am afraid."

"Nonsense," returned her mother with unusual brusqueness. Stepping into the hall, she consulted the telephone directory. "Give me Sycamore 213,"

she called into the transmitter. "Miss Archer? This is Mrs. Dean.

Marjorie has just come from school. I am sure you will accept my word that she has done nothing dishonest. Will it be convenient for you to see us at once? Thank you. We will be at the high school within the next half hour."

During the short telephone conversation, Marjorie stood at her mother's side, hardly daring to breathe. Mrs. Dean hung up the receiver to the accompaniment of her daughter's wild embrace. "Go and make yourself presentable," she chided. Disengaging the clinging arms, she gave Marjorie a gentle shove toward the stairs.

Youth's tears are quickly dried, its sorrows soon forgotten. Ten minutes afterward, a radiant-faced lieutenant presented herself in the hall, renewed buoyancy in her step as she and her captain pa.s.sed through the gate to where the automobile awaited them with Mr. Dean at the wheel.

"I'll stay here," he decided as they drew up before the high school.

"Let our valiant captain lead the charge. You can fall back on your reserves if you are routed with slaughter."

"Captain's won half the battle," joyfully declared Marjorie. "Now I am sure I can win the other half." Blowing a kiss to her father she set her face toward vindication.

Miss Archer greeted Mrs. Dean in a friendly, impersonal fas.h.i.+on, which showed plainly that she was not displeased with the latter for taking such prompt action. Her bow to Marjorie was distinctly reserved, however. She had yet to be convinced of the girl's innocence.

"According to Marjorie's story, Miss Archer," began Mrs. Dean with gentle directness, "she has been the victim of circ.u.mstantial evidence.

I am not here to criticize your stand in this affair. I understand that you must have been severely tried. I merely wish to ask you to allow Marjorie to tell her story from beginning to end. She came to me yesterday with it, and asked my advice. I deferred decision until to-day. It seems I was a day too late. However, I wish her to do the explaining."

A faint, embarra.s.sed flush stole to Miss Archer's face as she listened.

She was beginning to realize that she had for once been too quick to condemn. Mrs. Dean was too high-principled a woman to attempt to smooth over her own child's offences. Under the battery of her friend's clear eyes, the princ.i.p.al found herself penitently responding: "Mrs. Dean, I must admit that I am at fault. Had I stopped to listen to Marjorie, I am now certain that I should have found her explanation satisfactory."

"Thank you." Mrs. Dean extended a gracious hand in which the princ.i.p.al laid her own with a smile. The two women understood each other perfectly.

Marjorie's sensitive lips quivered as Miss Archer's hand went out to her also. "I am only too glad to be able to apologize for misjudging you, Marjorie," she said with grave gentleness. "The truest atonement which I can make is to say 'I believe in you' without a hearing."

"But I wish to tell you everything, Miss Archer," a.s.sured Marjorie earnestly. "It was only because I hated the idea of tale-bearing that I didn't tell you this morning. I thought that Miss Farnham--"

"Would tell me," supplemented the princ.i.p.al. "I quite understand.

Frankly it would help me very much if you put me in complete possession of the facts of the case. I hardly believe you owe it to Miss Farnham to conceal anything."

With a charitable striving toward placing the other girl in the least obnoxious light, Marjorie gave Miss Archer a true but unmalicious version of all that had pa.s.sed between herself and Rowena Farnham.

"This is simply outrageous," was Miss Archer's emphatic verdict. "Miss Farnham is a menace to Sanford High School. In all my experience with young women I have never met with her equal. I shall recommend the Board that she be not allowed to enter the school. A firebrand such as she has shown herself to be is more than likely to spread her devastating influence throughout the school. We have a duty to perform to the parents who intrust their daughters to us which cannot be overlooked."

"I agree with you," was Mrs. Dean's grave response. "Still, I am very sorry for this girl, and for her parents. We all wish to be proud of our children. It must be dreadful to be disappointed in them."

"You, at least, will never be called upon to bear such a disappointment." Miss Archer's hearty reply caused an exchange of affectionate glances between her hearers.

"I hope I shall always prove worthy of Captain's and your trust."

Marjorie's little speech rung with modest sincerity. Hesitatingly she added: "Miss Archer, couldn't you possibly give Miss Farnham another chance? When I was at her house the other day she said that her father and mother wanted her to go to high school. She'd rather go to boarding school, but they won't let her. If she isn't allowed to enter Sanford High she will have to go away to school. That might not be the best thing for her." Marjorie paused, blus.h.i.+ng at her own temerity.

"You are a very forgiving little girl." Miss Archer eyed the pleader in a whimsical fas.h.i.+on. "There is a great deal in your view of the matter, too. It is a question of one girl's parents against many, however. So far as I can remember this is the first case in the history of the school that warranted dismissal. As you have been the chief sufferer in this tangle, your plea for clemency should be respected. It shall be mentioned to the members of the Board of Education. That is all I can promise now. Personally, as _you_ are great-spirited enough to plead for her, I am willing to do my part. But only on your account. I doubt the advisability of allowing her to go on with her examinations. However, 'forewarned is forearmed.' Should she be permitted to enter the school, I shall keep a watchful eye on her."

Real admiration of Marjorie's readiness to help one who had treated her so shabbily caused the princ.i.p.al to speak as confidentially to her pupil as she might have to a member of the Board. Marjorie, as well as her mother, was aware of this. Yet far from being elated at the mark of confidence, the pretty junior bore her honors almost humbly. She merely thanked Miss Archer in the sweet, gracious fas.h.i.+on that set her apart from all other girls with whom the princ.i.p.al had come in contact during her long service on the field of education.

Almost immediately afterward the Deans said farewell and departed happily to convey the good news to their somewhat impatient chauffeur, who sat in the automobile pondering whimsically on the length and breadth of women's chats. Long after they had gone, Marjorie's winsome, selfless personality haunted the busy princ.i.p.al. To be truly great one must be truly good was her inner reflection. Remembering past circ.u.mstances in which Marjorie had figured ever as a force for good, she marveled that she could have doubted her. And as a vision of the girl's lovely face, animated by the light from within, rose before her she mentally prophesied that Marjorie Dean was destined one day to reach the heights.

CHAPTER IX-A SUDDEN ATTACK

"Where were you yesterday afternoon?" demanded Jerry Macy, as Marjorie walked into the locker room at the close of the morning session.

Marjorie considered for a moment. Should she tell Jerry or should she not? She decided in the negative. "I was at home a part of the afternoon."

Jerry measured her with a calculating eye. "You don't want to tell me, do you?" was her blunt question. "All right. Forget it. Anyway, we missed you. You're a mysterious person. One day you march off on a dark, secret errand after making lavish promises to treat on the next. When that day rolls around you don't appear at all. Never mind. I saved your face by treating for you." Jerry delivered her opinion of her friend's peculiar behavior good-humoredly enough. Underneath, however, she was a tiny bit peeved. She was very fond of Marjorie and prided herself that she was entirely in the latter's confidence.

"You're not cross with me, are you, Jerry?" Marjorie regarded the stout girl rather anxiously. She could not conceive of being on the outs with funny, bluff Geraldine Macy.

"No; I'm not a silly like Mignon," mumbled Jerry gruffly. "You ought to know that by this time without asking me."

"Jerry Macy, I believe you are angry with me," declared Marjorie, looking still more troubled.