"Did you enjoy the dance? It was nice in Connie to give it in your honor. We are all very fond of her and of little Charlie."
Mary's wan face brightened at the mention of the child's name. "Isn't he dear?" she asked impulsively.
"Mary has stolen Charlie from me," put in Marjorie. "He adores her already. I don't blame him. So do I, and so does Connie, too. We three are going to have splendid times together this winter."
During the rest of the breakfast Marjorie regaled her mother with an account of the dance. Mary said little or nothing, but amid her friend's merry chatter her silence passed unnoticed.
"Wear your raincoats," called Mrs. Dean after them, as, their breakfast finished, they ran upstairs for their wraps.
Fifteen minutes later they had joined the bobbing umbrella procession that wended its way into the high school building.
"You'll have to go to Miss Merton, Mary, and be assigned to a seat. She didn't give you one yesterday, did she?" asked Marjorie. "You can put your wraps in our locker. We are to have the same lockers we had last year. Connie and I have a locker together. There is lots of room in it for your things, too. I'll task Marcia Arnold to let you in with us. She has charge of the lockers."
Mary's first impulse was to decline this friendly offer. On second thought she closed her lips tightly, resolved to make no protest. Later—well, there was no telling what might happen.
"Don't be afraid of Miss Merton," was Marjorie's whispered counsel, as they crossed the threshold of the study hall. "She can't eat you."
"I'm not afraid." Mary's lip curled a trifle scornfully. Marjorie treated her as though she were a baby.