“Perhaps. I’ll ask the girls if they know.”
Neither Susan, Muriel nor Irma, the latter joining the quartette immediately after, knew the reason for Constance Stevens' absence. The five girls trooped out of the building together, chatting gaily as they started home for luncheon. Marjorie gave a little shiver as it occurred to her how near she had come to losing her right to be a pupil of Sanford High. She felt that nothing save the loss of her dear ones would have hurt her more than to have been dismissed from school under a cloud.
“Now tell me everything,” began Jerry, the moment they had parted from the three girls to continue on up the pleasant, tree-lined avenue.
“I think that was simply _awful_,” burst forth the now irate Jerry, as Marjorie concluded her narration. “Talk about Mignon—she’s an angel with beautiful feathery wings, when you come to compare her with Row-ena. I hope the Board says she can’t set foot in school again. That’s what I hope. I’ll tell my father to vote against letting her try any more examinations. That’s what I’ll do.”
“You mustn’t do that.” Marjorie spoke with unusual severity. “What I’ve said to you is in confidence. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair. For her father’s and mother’s sake I think she ought to have another chance. It might be the very best thing for her to go to high school. She will be far better off at home than away at boarding school. If she could go away to a college it would be different. Colleges are more strict and dignified. A girl just has to live up to their traditions. General says that even in the most select boarding schools the girls have too much liberty. So you see it wouldn’t be a good place for this girl.”
“I see you’re a goose,” was Jerry’s unflattering comment. “You’re a dear goose, though. You certainly have the reform habit. I can tell you, though, that you are all wrong about this Farnham girl. You remember how beautifully we reformed Mignon, and how grateful she was. Mignon’s a mere infant beside gentle, little Row-ena. You notice I still say _Row_. It’s a very good name for her. Of course, we could change off occasionally and call her Fightena, or Quarrelena, or Scrapena.” Jerry giggled at her own witticism.
