“Of course I saw her. I have eyes,” reminded Jerry gruffly. “Pretty girl, isn’t she?” This last comment was a naughty inspiration on Jerry’s part. The French girl’s contemptuous tone informed her that the newest senior had already become a mark for ridicule in Mignon’s eyes. She, therefore, took a contrary stand.
“Pretty!” Mignon’s tones rose still higher. “That staring-eyed, white-faced creature! Your eyes can’t be very keen. She’s a servant, too; a servant.”
“You can’t expect me to see that,” retorted Jerry. “All the more credit to her if she is. A girl who has to work for her living, but is smart enough to walk into a strange school and into the senior class is good enough for anybody to know. You’re a snob, Mignon, and you ought to be ashamed to say such things.” Coolly turning her back on the scowling girl, Jerry busied herself with her locker. Privately she wondered how Mignon happened to know so much about the newcomer.
Mignon watched her resentfully, longing to say something particularly cutting, but not daring to do so. When it came to an argument, Jerry Macy was capable of more than holding her own. As the seniors were now beginning to arrive in numbers, she had no wish to be publicly worsted. She could not resist saying satirically, however, as Marjorie Dean passed her: “Did you see that servant girl of Miss Archer’s in our section this morning?”
“Servant girl?” chorused two or three bystanders, crowding closer to their informant. “What do you mean? Whom do you mean?”
Marjorie’s sweet face clouded at the intentional cruelty of Mignon’s speech. How could she exhibit such heartlessness toward one whom she hardly knew? “Are you referring to Veronica Browning?” she asked in a clear, decided voice. “I am ever so glad she is going to be in our class. I think she’s a dear.”
“Veronica Browning,” repeated Mignon, laughing. “I wonder how she came by such a high-sounding name. Most servants are satisfied with a common, ordinary one, like Jane or Maggie. It seems to me——”
A little flutter of dismay, which suddenly swept the group of seniors, checked Mignon’s caustic remarks. A gray-eyed girl had walked into the locker room just in time to get the full effect of them. Under heavy masses of golden brown hair her pale face looked out with a sweetly appealing air which made her extremely attractive. In her serviceable gown of plain brown linen, made in simple fashion, she was in wren-like contrast to the more gaily-dressed girls who stood about the locker room.
“How are you, Miss Browning?” greeted Marjorie genially. “I am glad you are going to be a senior. You gave me quite a surprise. Girls, this is Veronica Browning.” Marjorie named in turn those of her schoolmates who stood nearest to herself and Veronica. Among them were Jerry, Constance Stevens and Harriet Delaney. The trio greeted her in a far more friendly fashion than was shown by the others.
The newcomer bowed to them pleasantly, her calm face betraying no sign of the unkind speeches she must undoubtedly have overheard. Not troubling herself to greet Veronica, Mignon seized her hat, slammed the door of her locker shut and switched out, followed by several girls who were impatient to learn more of the stranger’s history.