"She's expelled me!" groaned Marjorie.
"That's bad. Aren't there any extenuating circumstances?"
But Marjorie, utterly crushed and miserable, only shook her head.
The Principal was sincerely concerned and grieved by the occurrence. It is always a blot on a school to be obliged to expel a pupil. She talked the matter over carefully with some of the teachers. Marjorie's record at Brackenfield had unfortunately been already marred by several incidents which prejudiced her in the eyes of the mistresses. They had been done innocently and in sheer thoughtlessness, but they gave a wrong impression of her character. Miss Norton related that when she first met Marjorie at Euston station she had found her speaking to a soldier, with whom she had acknowledged that she had no acquaintance, and that she had brought a novel to her dormitory in defiance of rules. Mrs. Morrison remembered only too plainly that it was Marjorie who had asked the aviator for his autograph on the beach at Whitecliffe, and had started the ill-timed episode of snowballing the soldiers. Judging by these signposts she considered her tendencies to be "fast".
"I can't have the atmosphere of the school spoilt," said Mrs. Morrison. "Such an attitude is only too catching. Best to check it before it spreads further."
"But I have always found Marjorie such a nice girl," urged Miss Duckworth. "From my personal experience of her I could not have believed her capable of unladylike conduct. She has always seemed to me very unsophisticated and childish—certainly not 'fast'. Can there possibly be any explanation of the matter?"
"I fear not—the case seems only too plain," sighed Mrs. Morrison. "I am very loath to expel any girl, but——"
"May I speak to her before you take any active steps?" begged Miss Duckworth. "I have a feeling that the matter may possibly admit of being cleared up. It's worth trying."
No principal is ever anxious for the unpleasant task of writing to a parent to request her to remove her daughter. Mrs. Morrison had nerved herself to the unwelcome duty, but she was quite willing to defer it until Miss Duckworth had instituted enquiries. She had an excellent opinion of her mistress's sound common sense.
Marjorie spent a wretched day in the isolation ward. Sister Johnstone plied her with magazines, but she had not the heart to read them, and sat looking listlessly out of the window at the belt of laurels that separated the field from the kitchen garden. She wondered when she was to leave Brackenfield, if her mother would come to fetch her, or if she would have to travel home by herself. It was after tea-time that Miss Duckworth entered.