Chapter 9 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 embarrassing the French girl.

"There is just one vacant place in the sophomore 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."

There was a general turning of heads and craning of necks as Miss Merton conducted Mignon down the aisle to the vacant seat in front of Mary Raymond. There was a brief exchange of low-toned words between the two, then Mignon seated herself, while Miss Merton marched stolidly back to her desk and without further delay began the interrupted morning exercises.

Mary Raymond viewed the black, curly head and silken-clad shoulders of the newcomer with some curiosity. The subdued ripple of astonishment that had passed over the roomful of girls told her that here was no ordinary pupil. Mignon's expensive frock of dark green Georgette crepe, elaborately trimmed, also pointed to affluence. Mary reasoned that she must be known to the others. A stranger would not have created such a buzz of comment. Then, she remembered Susan's amazed exclamation. She turned to the latter and made a gesture of inquiry, Susan shook her head. Her lips formed a silent, "After school," and Mary nodded understandingly.

"Young ladies, you will arrange your programme of recitations this morning as speedily as possible," was Miss Merton's command the moment opening exercises were over. "You will be given until ten o'clock to do so. Then there will be twenty-minute classes for the rest of the morning. Classes will occupy the usual period of time during the afternoon. Try to arrange your studies so that you will not have to waste valuable time in making changes. Please avoid asking unnecessary questions. The bulletin board will tell you everything, if you take pains to examine it carefully. Let there be no loud talking or personal conversation."

Miss Merton sat down with the air of one who has done her duty, and glared severely at the rows of attentive young faces. She was not in sympathy with these girls. Their youth was a distinct affront to her narrow soul.

The business of arranging the term's studies began in quiet, orderly fashion. The majority of the pupils had long since decided upon their courses of study. Their main duty now lay in making satisfactory arrangements of their classes and the hours on which their various recitations fell.

Marjorie Dean studied the bulletin board with a serious face. She had successfully carried five studies during her freshman year. She decided that she would do so again, provided the fifth subject held interest enough to warrant the extra effort it meant. Plane geometry, of course, she would have to take. Then there was second year French. She and Constance intended to go on with the language of which they were so fond. Her General had insisted that she must begin Latin. She should have begun it in her freshman year. That made three. Then there was chemistry. Should she choose a fifth subject? Yes, there was English Literature. It would not be hard work. She was sure she would love it. Besides, she wished to be in Miss Flint's class.

Once she had decided upon her subjects, she studied the board anew for a proper arrangement of her recitation hours. For a wonder they fitted into one another beautifully, leaving her that last coveted period in the afternoon, free for study. She sat back at last with a faint breath of satisfaction. She wondered how Mary was getting on and what she intended to study. They had agreed beforehand on Chemistry. Only the day before Mr. Dean had half-promised to fit out a tiny laboratory for them in a small room at the rear of the house.

Mary, however, was frowning darkly at the board. She wondered in which section Marjorie intended to recite geometry. She had been so busy with her own woes that gloomy morning that she had quite forgotten to plan with Marjorie. Oh, well, she reflected, what difference did it make? Marjorie wouldn't care whether they recited together or not. Very likely she had already made plans with that odious Constance Stevens that would leave her out. Marjorie had already said that she and Constance intended to go on with French together. Then there were C?sar's Commentaries. She had finished first-year Latin. She would have to take them next. Suddenly a naughty idea came into her perverse little brain. Why not purposely leave Marjorie out of her calculations? Marjorie had wished her to take chemistry. Very well. She would disappoint her by choosing something else. Then if Mr. Dean fitted out a laboratory, his daughter would have the pleasure of working in it all by herself. She would show a certain person what it meant to cast aside a lifelong friendship. Oh, yes, Marjorie was anxious for her to take English literature. She would take rhetoric instead. She would go still further. If when classes assembled she found herself in the same geometry section with her chum she would make an excuse and change to another period of recitation. The frown deepened on her smooth forehead as she jotted down her subjects on the sheet of paper before her.

Suddenly conscious of the intent regard of someone, she raised her head. A pair of elfish black eyes were fixed upon her in curious intent.

"Who are you?" asked Mignon La Salle with cool impudence. "You look like that priggish Miss Stevens. I hope for your sake you are not a relative of hers."

"Most certainly I am not," retorted Mary, flushing angrily. It was too provoking. Why must she be constantly reminded of her resemblance to one she disliked so intensely? In her annoyance at the nature of the French girl's remarks, she quite overlooked the impertinence of her address.

A gleam of satisfaction flashed across Mignon's face. "Then there is hope," she returned, holding up her forefinger in an impish imitation of a world-wide advertisement. "Say it again. I can't believe the evidence of my own ears."

"I am not a relative of Miss Stevens," repeated Mary a trifle stiffly. The French girl's mocking tones were distinctly unpleasant. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I wish to know," shrugged Mignon Then she added tactfully, "Please don't think me rude. I am always too frank in expressing my opinions. If I dislike anyone I can't smile deceitfully and pretend them to be my dearest friend."

Mary's sullen face cleared. Here at last was a girl who seemed to be sincere. She unbent slightly and smiled. Mignon returned the smile in her most amiable fashion.

"Pardon me for a moment." Mignon turned in her seat and began fumbling in a little leather bag that lay on her desk.

Mary felt a quick, light touch on her arm. Susan Atwell began making violent signs at her behind Mignon's back. She desisted as suddenly as she began. The French girl had turned again toward Mary with the quick, cat-like manner that so characterized all her movements.

"Here is my card," she offered, placing a bit of engraved pasteboard on Mary's desk.

The latter picked it up and read, "Mignon Adrienne La Salle."

"What a pretty name!" was her soft exclamation.

"I'm glad you like it," beamed Mignon. "But you haven't told me yours."

"I haven't any cards with me," apologized Mary. "My name is Mary Raymond."

"Have you lived long in Sanford?" inquired Mignon suavely. She had already decided that a girl who was in sympathy with her on one point might prove to be worth cultivating.

"Only a short time. My mother is in Colorado for her health and I am living in Marjorie Dean's home until Mother returns next summer."

Mary's innocent words had an electrical effect on the French girl. Her heavy brows drew together in a scowl and her dark face set in hard lines.

"Then that settles it," she said coldly. "You and I can never be friends." She switched about in her seat with an angry jerk.

Mary leaned forward and touched her on the shoulder. "I don't understand," she murmured. "Please tell me what you mean."

The French girl swung halfway about. She regarded Mary with narrowed eyes. Was it possible that Marjorie Dean had never mentioned her to her friend?

"Hasn't Miss Dean ever spoken to you of me?" she asked abruptly.

Mary shook her head. "No, I am sure I never before heard of you. I don't know many Sanford girls yet. I have met Miss Atwell and Miss Macy and a few others who were at Miss Stevens' dance last night."

"So, Miss Stevens is doing social stunts," sneered Mignon. "Quite a change from last year, I should say. I used to be friends with Susan Atwell and Jerry Macy, but this Stevens girl made mischief between us and broke up our old crowd entirely. Your friend, Miss Dean, took sides with them, too, and helped the thing along. She made a perfect idiot of herself over Constance Stevens. Oh, well, never mind. I'm not going to say another word about it. I'm sorry we can't be friends. I'm sure we'd get along famously together. It is impossible, though. Miss Dean wouldn't let you."

Mary suddenly sat very erect. She had listened in amazement to Mignon's recital. Could she believe her ears? Had her hitherto-beloved Marjorie been guilty of trouble-making? And all for the sake of Constance Stevens. Marjorie must indeed care a great deal for her. She had not been mistaken, then, in her belief that she had been supplanted in her chum's heart. And now Mignon was suggesting that Marjorie would not allow her to be friends with the girl whom she had wronged. Mary did not stop to consider that there are always two sides to a story. Swayed by her resentment against Constance, she preferred to believe anything which she might hear against her.

"Please understand, once and for all, that Marjorie has nothing to say about whoever I choose to have for a friend," she said with decision. "I hope I am free to do as I please. I shall be very glad to know you better, Miss La Salle, and I am sorry that you have been so badly treated."

The ringing of the first recitation-bell broke in upon the conversation.

"Oh, gracious, I haven't looked at the bulletin board. Excuse me, Miss Raymond. I'll see you later and we'll have a nice long talk. I'm sure I shall be pleased to have you for a friend."

"Are you going to recite geometry in this first section?" asked Mary eagerly. The students were already filing out of the great room.

"Let me see." Mignon consulted the bulletin board. "Why, yes, I might as well."

"Oh, splendid!" glowed Mary. "Then you can show me the way to the geometry classroom."

"Delighted, I'm sure," returned Mignon. Her black eyes sparkled with triumph. At last she had found a way to even her score with Marjorie Dean. With almost uncanny shrewdness she had divined what Marjorie herself had not discovered. This blue-eyed baby of a girl, for Mignon mentally characterized her as such, was jealous of Marjorie's friendship with the Stevens girl. Very well. She would take a hand and help matters along. Of course there was a strong chance that it might all come to nothing. Marjorie might take Mary in charge the moment school was over and tell her a few things. Yet that was hardly possible. Much as she hated the brown-eyed girl who had worsted her at every point, in her own cowardly heart lurked a respect for Marjorie's high standard of honor. So far Mary knew nothing against her. Perhaps she would never know. Perhaps if Marjorie and Jerry and Irma tried to prejudice Mary against her, the girl would rebel and send them about their business. She had looked stupidly obstinate when she said, "I hope I am free to do as I please." Mignon smiled maliciously as she walked down the long aisle ahead of Mary.

Marjorie had risen from her seat at the sound of the first bell. Now she gazed anxiously up the aisle toward Mary's seat. She looked relieved as she saw her chum approaching. She bowed coldly to Mignon as she passed. "Oh, Mary," she said, "I was looking for you. If you are going to recite geometry now, then please don't go. Wait and recite in my section. You know, we said we'd recite it together."

Mary's blue eyes glowed resentfully. "I've made up my programme," she answered with cool defiance. "I can't change it now. Miss La Salle is going to show me the way to the geometry classroom. I'll see you later."

Without waiting for a reply she marched on, leaving Marjorie to stare after her with troubled eyes.

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