It was cruel of Cologne, but she could not resist.
“Yes, human nature,” replied Jean sarcastically. “And I found a fine specimen.”
“Good,” said Cologne. “Be sure to produce it at class for we have gone stone dry.”
Jean was getting desperate. Everything went wrong with her, and all her plans to make a great “splurge” at school were falling flat. Her secret club could not be depended upon—she suspected everyone. While never the brightest of scholars, she had lately been so distracted that her lessons were not only neglected, but seemed to be too much for her tortured mind.
One thing only she never failed in, and that was in the matter of dress. Her pride in her personal appearance was a part of her very nature, but Jean, to-day, wished heartily that she could go home!
Home! She rarely thought of that. Her mother—Jean sighed heavily when the thought pressed itself upon her. Somehow, that fortune teller always made her gloomy. She would never see her again. With such a confusion of thoughts she entered the classroom.
Tavia had gotten back, and could not resist giving her a sharp glance. Dorothy was busy with her books—she was pale, but the sun shone through her hair, and cast a beautiful glow about her.
Little Zada was so bent over that she seemed a part of her desk. She had to work hard now to make up for the time lost in worry.
All the girls were in their seats when Jean entered the room. Why did they all seem to question her with looks?
“Miss Faval,” said Miss Cummings, the English teacher, “you are ten minutes late. This is a day for hard work, and we cannot afford to lose a moment. Please get to your lesson at once.”