"I can't blame her," laughed Harriet. "I am fond of doing the same. But I've a special reason for being out early this morning. It's about basket ball. You may be sure of that."
"Basket-ball is enjoying its usual popularity. I hear a great deal about it of late," returned Mrs. Dean. "Pardon me." Raising her voice, she called up the stairway, "Mar-jorie!"
"Coming down on the jump, Captain!" answered Marjorie's voice. Verifying her words, she bounded lightly down the stairs, still in her dressing gown, her hair falling in long loose curls about her lovely face. "I knew who was here. I heard Harriet's voice."
"Oh, Marjorie," burst forth Harriet, taking a quick step forward. "I—something awfully queer has happened!" She glanced nervously about her, but Mrs. Dean had already vanished through the doorway, leading into the dining room. She rarely intruded upon Marjorie's callers longer than to welcome them.
"What is it, Harriet?" fell wonderingly from Marjorie's lips. Her friend's early call, coupled with her agitated manner, betokened something unusual.
"Read this!" Harriet thrust a sheet of pale gray note paper into Marjorie's hand. "It's the strangest thing I ever heard of!"
Marjorie swept the few scrawling lines of which the paper boasted with a keen, comprehensive glance. As its import dawned upon her, her brown eyes grew round with amazement. She re-read it twice. "Where did you receive it?" came her sharp question, as she continued to hold it in her hand.
"I don't know when it came. Mother found it on the floor in the vestibule this morning. I was still in bed. She sent Nora, our maid, upstairs with it. You can imagine I didn't stop to finish my nap. I hurried and dressed, ate about three bites of breakfast and started for your house as fast as I could travel. I thought you ought to see it first. What do you make of it?"
"I hardly know what to think." Marjorie's glance strayed from Harriet's perturbed face to the mysterious letter of warning. "Somehow, I don't believe it was written for a joke. Do you?"
"No, I don't." Harriet shook her head positively. "I think it was intended for just what it is, a warning to be on our guard to-day. I'll tell you something, Marjorie. I never mentioned it before because—well—you know I've never liked Mignon La Salle since she nearly broke up basket ball at Sanford High last year, and I was afraid it might sound hateful on my part, but the girls of Mignon's squad are as tricky as can be. Twice, in the first practice game we played, I had my own troubles with them. Once Daisy Griggs nearly knocked me over. She pretended it was an accident, but it wasn't. Then, in the second half, Mignon poked me in the side with her elbow. We were bunched so close that not even the referee saw her. I almost had the ball, but my side hurt me so that I missed it entirely. Susan Atwell was awfully cross about something that day, too. I asked her what had happened, but she only muttered that she hoped she'd get through the game without being murdered. She wouldn't say another word, but you can guess from what I've told you that she must have had good reason for getting mad. Did she say anything to you?"