d by certain ominous marks he placed after their
names in a fat black book that lay on his desk, plainly showed that,
despite his mild appearance, he was a force yet to be reckoned with.

"I hope he doesn't notice me until class is over," fidgeted Marjorie.
"It surely must be time for that bell to ring." She began nervously to
count those who were due to recite before her turn came. It would be so
embarrassing to do her explaining before this group of strange girls,
particularly before the Evil Genius. Ah, she had begun to read! And how
beautifully she read French! The critical professor was listening to the
smooth flow of words that tripped from her tongue with approbation
written on every feature. "She must have studied French before,"
speculated Marjorie, as the professor directed the next girl to go on
with the exercise; "or else she is French. I believe she is. Oh, dear,
only two more girls."

Clang! sounded the bell.

"Thank goodness," breathed the relieved freshman.

There was a general closing of books. "To-morrow I shall geev you a
wreetten test," warned Professor Fontaine. Then the second bell rang,
and the class filed out of the room.

"Eet ees not strange that I haf overlooked you, Mademoiselle," explained
Professor Fontaine five minutes later, after listening to Marjorie's
apology for not presenting herself to him before class. "The freshmen
like to make so many alterations in their programs. They haf soch good
excuses for changeeng classes, but, sometimes, too, they do not tell
me. Eet maks exasperation." He waved his hands comprehensively. "I am
pleased," he added, with true French courtesy, "to haf another pupil.
Ees eet that you like the French, Mademoiselle Dean?"

"It is a beautiful language, Professor Fontaine," Marjorie assured him.
"I have only begun learning it, but I like it so much."

"C'est vrai," murmured the delighted professor. "La Francais est une
belle langue. If, then, you like it, you weel study your lessons, n'est
pas?"

"I'll try very hard to make good recitations. I will bring my books
to-morrow. We used the same grammar at Franklin High School."

Marjorie hastened back to the study hall to find it empty. The clock on
the north wall pointed significant hands to ten minutes past twelve. The
Picture Girl had said that she wished Marjorie to meet her friends, but
she was not waiting. It was disappointing, but her own fault, thought
the lonely freshman as she left the study hall