to the temptation to linger
long enough to watch the five girls pass in whom she had become
interested. They were among the last to emerge and, the moment they
reached the steps, their voices rose in a confused babble, each one
determined to make herself heard above the others.

"I knew she wouldn't do it," shrilled the stout girl, as they neared
Marjorie. "She's too stingy for words. That's the third time she's
refused to go into things with the rest of us."

"Be still," reminded the Picture Girl; "she might have very good
reasons----"

"Good reasons," scornfully mimicked the little dark girl, her black eyes
glittering angrily. "It was only because the plan was mine. She hates
me, and you all know why. I don't think you ought to stand up for her,
Muriel. You know how deceitful she is and what unkind things she said
about me."

"I'm not standing up for her," contradicted Muriel, but her tones
lacked force. "I only felt a little bit sorry for her. She looked ready
to cry all the afternoon. I think she went home early to avoid meeting
us."

"That proves she is a coward," was the triumphant retort. "Remember----"
With a sudden swift movement she rose on tiptoe and, drawing the Picture
Girl's head to the level of her mouth, whispered something to her. The
fair-haired girl looked annoyed, the fat girl openly sulky and the
dimpled girl disapproving. Exchanging significant glances, they walked
on ahead of the other two.

Without the slightest intention of being an eavesdropper, Marjorie had
heard every word of the loud-spoken conversation. Her eyes were fixed in
fascination upon the dark, sharp-featured face so close to the fair,
beautiful one. She suddenly recalled a picture she had once seen called
"The Evil Genius," in which a dark, mocking face peered over the
shoulder of a young man who sat at a table as though in deep thought.
This girl's vivid face bore a slight resemblance to that of the Evil
Genius, and it was not until the end of Marjorie's junior year in
Sanford that this sinister impression faded and disappeared forever.

When the little company had passed on down the street, Marjorie turned
and followed them from a distance. For several blocks her way lay in the
same direction, but as she turned into her own street she swept a last
glance toward the five girls. She wondered whom they had been discussing
so freely. She was vaguely disappointed in the Picture Girl, who seemed
to her independent mind too ea