“We’re just talking about poor Jack,” gurgled Jean. “Isn’t it a shame she had to go away? She must perfectly dread her old ‘Steppy’—stepmother, and now she’s dragged her off again.” An uncertain sigh ended the pretended sympathy.
“Too bad she isn’t long distance eared,” joked Trixy, with a shade of subtility. “I’m sure she would be flattered with such championship.”
“I don’t care,” persisted Jean, not to be quelled in her efforts at a little excitement. “Jack never gets a chance to become interested in her work, and I suppose if she flunks at exams there’ll be no more mercy shown her than——”
“Hear! Hear!” broke in Arline Spragg. “Can any one imagine our Jean casting such precious bread upon the waters——”
Arline paused. A step outside gave warning and all eyes turned toward the opening curtains that divided the “lav” from a small rest room. Mary Mears’ form was now framed in the shadow. Her face was white, her deep set, violet eyes seemed almost black, and there was no mistaking her whole attitude as one of consternation.
Trixy was the first to find speech.
“Hello, Mary,” she said quite casually. “We are enjoying the most popular indoor sport, backbiting.”
“Yes!” Eyebrows lifted and shoulders shrugged.
“You know poor Jack is gone,” chimed in Jean Engle. “Dragged away in the night by a horrid Steppy——”
“Steppy!”