Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman

  MARJORIE DEANHIGH SCHOOL SERIES

  By PAULINE LESTER

  Cloth Bound, Cover Designs in Colors

  MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN.MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SOPHOMORE.MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR.MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR.

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  Poising herself on the bank, she cut the water in aclean, sharp dive. Page 234. Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman]

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  MARJORIE DEANHIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN

  by

  PAULINE LESTER

  Author of"Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore""Marjorie Dean, High School Junior""Marjorie Dean, High School Senior"

  A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York

  Copyright, 1917 by A. L. Burt Company

  MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN

  CHAPTER I

  THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

  "What am I going to do without you, Marjorie?" Mary Raymond's blue eyeslooked suspiciously misty as she solemnly regarded her chum.

  "What am I going to do without _you_, you mean," corrected MarjorieDean, with a wistful smile. "Please, please don't let's talk of it. Isimply can't bear it."

  "One, two--only two more weeks now," sighed Mary. "You'll surely writeto me, Marjorie?"

  "Of course, silly girl," returned Marjorie, patting her friend's armaffectionately. "I'll write at least once a week."

  Marjorie Dean's merry face looked unusually sober as she walked down thecorridor beside Mary and into the locker room of the Franklin HighSchool. The two friends put on their wraps almost in silence. Themajority of the girl students of the big city high school had passed outsome little time before. Marjorie had lingered for a last talk with MissFielding, who taught English and was the idol of the school, while Maryhad hung about outside the classroom to wait for her chum. It seemed toMary that the greatest sorrow of her sixteen years had come. Marjorie,her sworn ally and confidante, was going away for good and all.

  When, six years before, a brown-eyed little girl of nine, with longgolden-brown curls, had moved into the house next door to the Raymonds,Mary had lost no time in making her acquaintance. They had begun withshy little nods and smiles, which soon developed into doorstepconfidences. Within two weeks Mary, whose eyes were very blue, and whoseshort yellow curls reminded one of the golden petals of a daffodil, hadbecome Marjorie's adorer and slave. She it was who had escorted Marjorieto the Lincoln Grammar School and seen her triumphantly through herfirst week there. She had thrilled with unselfish pride to see howquickly the other little girls of the school had succumbed to Marjorie'scharm. She had felt a most delightful sense of pardonable vanity when,as the year progressed, Marjorie had preferred her above all the others.She had clung to Mary, even though Alice Lawton, who rode to schoolevery day in a shining limousine, had tried her utmost to be bestfriends with the brown-eyed little girl whose pretty face and lovablepersonality had soon made her the pet of the school.

  Year after year Mary and Marjorie had lived side by side and kept theirchildish faith. But now, here they were, just beginning their freshmanyear in Franklin High School, to which they had so long looked forward,and about to be separated; for Marjorie's father had been made managerof the northern branch of his employer's business and Marjorie was goingto live in the little city of Sanford. Instead of being a freshman indear old Franklin, she was to enter the freshman class in Sanford HighSchool, where she didn't know a solitary girl, and where she was sureshe would be too unhappy for words.

  During the first days which had followed the dismaying news thatMarjorie Dean was going to leave Franklin High School and go hundreds ofmiles away, the two friends had talked of little else. There was so muchto be said, yet now that their parting was but two weeks off they feltthe weight of the coming separation bearing heavily upon them. Bothyoung faces wore expressions of deepest gloom as they walked slowly downthe steps of the school building and traversed the short space of stonewalk that led to the street.

  It was Marjorie who broke the silence.

  "No other girl can ever be as dear to me as you are. You know that,don't you, Mary?"

  Mary nodded mutely. Her blue eyes had filled with a sudden rush of hottears.

  "But it won't do any good," continued Marjorie, slowly, "for us to mournover being separated. We know how we feel about each other, and that'sgoing to be a whole lot of comfort to us after--I'm gone." Her girlishtreble faltered slightly. Then she threw her arm across Mary's shoulderand said with forced steadiness of tone: "I'm not going to be a sillyand cry. This is one of those 'vicissitudes' of life that ProfessorTaylor was talking about in chapel yesterday. We must be very brave.We'll write lots of letters and visit each other during vacation, andperhaps, some day I'll come back here to live."

  "Of course you will. You must come back," nodded Mary, her facebrightening at the prospect of a future reunion, even though remote.

  "Can't you come with me to dinner?" coaxed Marjorie, as they paused atthe corner where they were accustomed to wait for their respectivestreet cars. "You know, you are one of mother's exceptions. I never haveto give notice before bringing you home."

  "Not to-night. I'm going out this evening," returned Mary, vaguely. "Imust hurry home."

  "Where are you going?" asked Marjorie, curiously. "You never said aword about it this morning."

  "Oh, didn't I? Well, I'm going out with----Here comes your car,Marjorie. You'd better hurry home, too."

  "Why?" Marjorie's brown eyes looked their reproach. "Do you want to getrid of me, Mary? I've oceans of time before dinner. You know we neverhave it until half-past six. Never mind, I'll take this car. Good-bye."

  With a proud little nod of her head, Marjorie climbed the steps of thecar which had now stopped at their corner, without giving her friend anopportunity for reply. Mary looked after the moving car with a ruefulsmile that changed to one of glee. Her eyes danced. "She hasn't theleast idea of what's going to happen," thought the little fluffy-hairedgirl. "Won't she be surprised? Now that she's gone, Clark and Ethel andSeldon ought to be here."

  A shrill whistle farther up the street caused her to glance quickly inthe direction of the sound. Two young men were hurrying toward her,their boyish faces alight with enthusiasm and good nature.

  "It's all O.K., Mary," called the taller of the two, his black eyesglowing. "Every last thing has been thought of. Ethel has the pin.She'll be along in a minute."

  "It's a peach!" shouted the smaller lad, waving his cap, then jammingit down on his thick, fair hair. "We've been waiting up the street forMarjorie to take her car. Thought she'd never start."

  "I am afraid I hurt her feelings," deplored Mary. "I forgot myself andtold her she'd better hurry home. She looked at me in the mostreproachful way."

  "Cheer up," laughed Clark Grayson, the black-eyed youth. "To-night'llfix things. All the fellows are coming."

  "So are all the girls," returned Mary, happily. "I do wish Ethel wouldhurry. I'm so anxious to see the pin. I know Marjorie will love it. Oh,here comes Ethel now."

  Ethel Duval, a tall, slender girl of sixteen, with earnest, gray-blueeyes and wavy, flaxen hair, joined the trio with: "I'm so glad wewaited. I wanted you to see the pin, Mary." She was fumbling busily inher shopping bag as she spoke. "Here it is." She held up a small, squarepackage, which, when divested of its white paper wrapping, disclosed ablue plush box. A second later Mary was exclaiming over the daintybeauty of the bit of jewelry lying securely on its white satin bed. Thepin was fashioned in the form of a golden butterfly, the body of whichwas set with tiny pearls.

  "Oh-h-h!" breathed Mary. "Isn't it wonderful! But do you suppose hermother will allo
w her to accept such an expensive gift? It must havecost a lot of money."

  "Fifteen dollars," announced Clark, cheerfully, "but it was a case ofonly fifty cents apiece, and besides, it's for Marjorie. Fifteen timesfifteen dollars wouldn't be too much for her. Every fellow and girl thatwas invited accepted the invitation and handed over the tax. To makethings sure, Ethel went round to see Marjorie's mother about it and wonher over to our side. So that's settled."

  "It's perfectly lovely," sighed Mary in rapture, "and you boys haveworked so hard to make the whole affair a gorgeous success. I'm afraidwe had better be moving on, though. It won't be long now until half-pastseven. I do hope everyone will be on time."

  "They've all been warned," declared Seldon Ames. "Good-bye, then, untilto-night." The two boys raised their caps and swung down the street,while Mary and Ethel stopped for one more look at the precious pin thatin later days was to mean far more to their schoolmate, Marjorie Dean,than they had ever dreamed.