"I don't believe I'll play next term," said Marjorie, slowly, "but I feel as though I ought to stay on the team for the rest of this term. Our game with the sophomores is set for two weeks from to-morrow; then, I believe we are to play against two teams from nearby towns. It wouldn't be fair to leave the team now, after having practiced with it."
"I don't believe I'd bother my head much about that part of it," sniffed Jerry, "I'd just quit."
"No, you wouldn't, Geraldine Macy," laughed Irma. "You might grumble, but you wouldn't be so hateful."
"You don't know how hateful I can be," warned Jerry. "Some other girls are likely to find out, though."
"Good-bye. I must not stop here another second," declared Marjorie.
"Good-bye!" floated after her as she walked rapidly toward home.
"How goes it, Lieutenant?" asked her father, who, with her mother, was already seated at the table as she entered the dining-room.
"Pretty well, thank you, General," she replied, touching her hand to her curly head.
"I haven't heard you say a word about school for at least a week, my dear," commented her mother. "Has the novelty of Sanford High worn off so soon?"
"No, indeed, Captain," returned Marjorie, earnestly. "I'm finding out new things every day." She did not add that some of the "new things" had not been agreeable, nor did she volunteer any further information concerning her school. This touch of reticence on the part of her usually talkative daughter caused her mother to look at her searchingly and wonder if Marjorie had something on her mind which in due season would be brought to light. The subject of the dance returning to the young girl's thoughts, she began at once to talk of it, and her enthusiastic description of the coming affair served to allay her mother's vague impression that Marjorie was not quite happy, and she entered into the important discussion of what her daughter should wear with that unselfish interest belonging only to a mother.