As she left her home for the high school, Marjorie smiled in wry fashion at the thought of Rowena’s anger when she learned that her unfair tactics had been discovered and reported. If she treated Miss Archer to a scene similar to that which Marjorie had undergone in Rowena’s home, she was very likely to find herself out of high school before having actually entered. As it was, Rowena stood a strong chance of forfeiting the privilege to try the remainder of her examinations.
Twenty minutes past one found Marjorie on the threshold of the principal’s office. At sight of her Miss Archer bowed distantly and went on with her writing. As yet Rowena had not put in an appearance. Ten minutes later she strolled nonchalantly in, her bold, black eyes registering supreme contempt of the world in general. Her smart gown of delft blue crêpe set off her dazzlingly fair skin and heavy auburn hair to perfection. She was a stunning young person, and well aware of her good looks.
“I understand you wish to see me,” she drawled in a tone bordering on impatience. Ignoring Marjorie, save for one swift, menacing glance, she addressed herself to the woman at the desk.
Miss Archer had already risen. Now she fixed the newcomer with stern, searching eyes. “Sit over there, Miss Farnham.” She waved her to a seat beside Marjorie on the oak bench.
With an insolent shrugging of her shoulders, Rowena sat down, placing the length of the bench between herself and its other occupant. “Well, what is it?” she asked unconcernedly.
Miss Archer’s lips compressed themselves a trifle more firmly. “Your manner is distinctly disrespectful, Miss Farnham. Kindly remember to whom you are speaking.”
Rowena’s shoulders again went into eloquent play. “Oh, excuse me,” she murmured.
Ignoring the discourtesy, Miss Archer reached to her desk for the letter, the contents of which Marjorie already knew. Handing it to Rowena she said: “Read this letter. You will then understand why I sent for you.”
Looking distinctly bored, the girl perused the letter. A tantalizing smile curved her red lips as she finished. “This is your work,” she accused, turning to Marjorie.
The latter opened her brown eyes in genuine amazement. The accusation was totally unexpected. “You know very well it is not,” she flung back, the pink in her cheeks deepening.