“I won’t listen to you.” Lucy’s smoldering anger flashed into instant flame. “You can’t make me believe anything hateful of Marjorie. You are only trying to make trouble.” Discretion overcome by wrath she continued heatedly, “Marjorie herself warned me not to take your gossip seriously. She knew that——”
“I’d tell you certain things she has said about you to me,” sneered Mignon.
“Certain things? What do you mean?” Lucy’s too-suspicious nature now sprang to the fore. This was the second time that Mignon had insinuated that Marjorie had gossiped about her.
“After all, what’s the use of telling you?” Mignon craftily changed her tactics with a view toward whetting Lucy’s morbid curiosity. “You’ll go straight to Marjorie Dean with them. She will deny them, of course. Then you will be down on me more than ever.”
“If you can tell me anything that will actually prove to me that Marjorie Dean is not my friend, I promise you faithfully never to go to her with it.” Lucy spoke with hurt intensity. “If she has been deceitful with me, as you insist that she has, I will never willingly speak to her again. But I am sure she is honorable and loyal. I can’t believe otherwise,” she ended with a quick, sobbing breath.
“That for her loyalty!” Mignon snapped her fingers. “What about the Observer?”
Lucy shrank from Mignon as though the latter had dealt her a physical blow. In the November twilight the paleness of her set face stood out sharply. “Stop!” she gasped. Catching Mignon’s arm in a tense hold, she planted herself squarely before her tormentor. “What—do—you—know—about the Observer?” she stammered, her green eyes gleaming like those of a cat.
Mignon laughed unpleasantly. “Not as much, perhaps, as you know, but enough. You were an idiot to ask Marjorie Dean’s forgiveness. She loves to make persons believe they are in the wrong, so that she can have the pleasure of forgiving them. She is really clever at that sort of thing. She made poor Mary Raymond’s life miserable during that winter Mary lived at the Deans. Mary was a silly to make up with her. Why, the very day that Marjorie and I went to Miss Archer’s to see about getting you the secretaryship, she mentioned the trouble you and she had last year. She was quite cautious about it then and didn’t tell me much. Later I found out about the Observer, though.”
Stunned by Mignon’s revelations, Lucy silently fought back the burning tears that threatened to overflow her eyes. But one thought obscured her sorely troubled mind. Marjorie Dean had cruelly betrayed her to Mignon. She had pledged her word of honor never to reveal Lucy’s misdeed to anyone, and she had broken her word. Utterly crushed, poor Lucy did not stop to consider that Mignon was the least likely of all persons to whom Marjorie would confide such a secret. She knew only that the mere mention of the word “Observer” was clear proof of her false friend’s perfidy. Over-suspicious by nature, she was prone to believe all persons villains until they had given signal manifestation of their honesty. Nor had she been long enough associated with Marjorie and her friends to easily retreat from that unjust viewpoint.
“Don’t feel downhearted about it,” was Mignon’s sneering consolation. “Now that your eyes have been opened to a few things, you can show Marjorie Dean that you aren’t as dense as she seems to think you. I don’t mind in the least about that Observer business. I dare say if you told me your side of it I should find that it wasn’t anything very dreadful. As for Marjorie Dean’s version, well——” Mignon made a significant pause.