“I am sorry you think me impertinent. I do not mean to be.” The soft voice rang with quiet decision. “But I cannot give you this note.” Marjorie calmly put the note in her blouse, and, folding her hands, awaited the storm.
“You will stay here to-night until you give it to me,” decreed Miss Merton grimly. Beaten for the time, she stalked back to her desk, quite aware that she could hardly have imposed a more crushing penalty. True, her effort to obtain the note had been fruitless, but one thing was patent: Marjorie Dean would not be present at the junior basket ball try-out.
CHAPTER XI—AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR
Left to herself for a brief respite, Marjorie drew out the note and read it. An expression of amused consternation flashed into her eyes as she took in its spirit. Knowing the writing to be Muriel’s she was now glad she had stood her ground. Note writing was not forbidden in Sanford High and never had been. Miss Merton alone, of all the teachers, strenuously opposed it. To be sure, it was not regarded by them with special favor. Nevertheless, in the class-rooms no one was ever taken to task for it unless it seriously interfered with the recitation. Marjorie did not know Miss Archer’s views on the subject, but she believed her principal too great-minded to cavil at such trifles.
The instant she had finished reading the note, she reduced it to unreadable bits, leaving them in plain sight on her desk. Not by so much as a backward glance did she betray the writer. Knowing Miss Merton to be on the alert, she took no chances. Should the latter send her to Miss Archer, she would very quickly express herself on the subject. As a junior she believed that the time for treating her as a member of the primary grade had long since passed.
It was not until she had effectually blocked all possibility of the note falling into Miss Merton’s possession that she remembered the try-out. Her heart sank as she recalled what a lengthy, lonely stay in the study hall meant. The try-out would go on without her. She would lose all chance of obtaining a place on the junior team. Her changeful face paled a trifle as she sadly accepted this dire disaster to her hopes. If only Muriel had not written that note.
The first closing bell sent a tremor of despair to her heavy heart. She wondered how long Miss Merton would detain her. She had said, “You will stay here to-night until you give it to me.” Even in the midst of misfortune the edict took a humorous turn. She had a vision of herself and Miss Merton keeping a lonely, all-night vigil in the study hall.
At the second bell the long lines of girls began a decorous filing down the aisles to the great doors. Marjorie watched them go, vainly pondering on why, thus far, her junior year had been so filled with mishaps. A bad beginning sometimes made a good ending was her only comforting reflection. She hoped that in her case it would prove true.
“Why are you staying, Miss Harding?” rasped forth Miss Merton when the big room had at last emptied itself.
Marjorie faced about with a start. She had not reckoned on this. She made a desperate sign to Muriel to go. Muriel merely shook an obstinate head. Then she announced bravely, “I wrote that note to Miss Dean.”