“That’s just what I think,” agreed Jerry. “We all know Mignon so well now that we can pretty nearly beat her at her own game. As for this Rowena, she’d better wait until she gets back into Sanford High before she plans to do much. All that sort of thing is so silly and useless, now isn’t it? It reminds me of these blood-and-thunder movies like ‘The Curse of a Red Hot Hate,’ or ‘The Double-dyed Villain’s Horrible Revenge,’ or ‘The Iron Hand of Hatred’s Death-Dealing Wallop.’” Jerry saw fit to chuckle at this last creation of fancifully appropriate title. “You’re right about those two, though. Don’t you remember I said the same thing when I first told you of this Farnham girl? Mignon has met her match, at last. She’ll find it out, too, before she’s many weeks older, or my name’s not Jerry Macy.”
CHAPTER X—A CRUSHING PENALTY
As Jerry had guessed, Constance Stevens’ absence from school was due to the fact that her foster-father had descended upon Gray Gables for a brief visit. He was delighted to see both Marjorie and Jerry. Constance insisted that they should remain to dinner, whereupon the tireless telephone was put into use and the two remained at Gray Gables, there to spend a most agreeable evening. At about eleven o’clock Hal Macy appeared to take them home in the Macy’s smart limousine. Thus, in the pleasure of being with her friends, Marjorie quite forgot the disagreeable incident that had earlier befallen herself and Jerry. Strange to say, Cæsar’s Commentaries, also, faded from recollection, and it was not until they were driving home that the estimable Roman was tardily remembered along with previous good intentions. “It’s unprepared for ours,” was Jerry’s doleful cry, thereby proving that the will to abolish slang was better than the deed.
Due to placing pleasure before duty, Marjorie felt it incumbent upon her to make an early entrance into school the next morning for the purpose of taking a hasty peep at her neglected text books. She was lucky, she told herself, in that the last hour in the morning would give her an opportunity to go over her Cæsar lesson. She, therefore, confined her attention to her English literature, deciding that she could somehow manage to slide through her French without absolute failure. Civil government would also have to take its chance for one recitation.
When at fifteen minutes past eleven she came into the study hall from French class and settled herself to begin the business of Latin, she was for once glad to lay hold on the fat, green volume devoted to the doings of the invincible Cæsar. Opening it, a faint cluck of surprise fell from her lips as she took from it a square, white envelope addressed to herself. It was unsealed and as she drew forth the folded paper which it held she wondered mightily how it had come to be there. She was very sure she had not placed it in the book. Her bewilderment deepened as she read:
“Miss Dean:
“After what occurred the other day in the principal’s office it is surprising that you were not expelled from Sanford High School. It proves you to be a special pet of Miss Archer. Such unfairness is contemptible in a principal. It should be exposed, along with your dishonesty. Sooner or later even that will be found out and you will receive your just deserts. It is a long lane that has no turning.
“The Observer.”
Marjorie emitted a faint sigh of pure amazement as she finished reading this sinister prediction of her ultimate downfall. It was a piece of rank absurdity, evidently penned by someone who had no intimate knowledge of inside facts. Still it filled her with a curious sense of horror. She loathed the very idea of an anonymous letter. Once before since she had first set foot in Sanford High the experience of receiving one of these mysterious communications had been hers. It had pertained to basket ball, however. She had easily guessed its origin and it had troubled her little. This letter was of an entirely different character. It proved that among the girls with whom she daily met and associated there was one, at least, who did not wish her well.