what difference did it make?
Marjorie wouldn't care whether they recited together or not. Very likely
she had already made plans with that odious Constance Stevens that would
leave her out. Marjorie had already said that she and Constance
intended to go on with French together. Then there were Caesar's
Commentaries. She had finished first-year Latin. She would have to take
them next. Suddenly a naughty idea came into her perverse little brain.
Why not purposely leave Marjorie out of her calculations? Marjorie had
wished her to take chemistry. Very well. She would disappoint her by
choosing something else. Then if Mr. Dean fitted out a laboratory, his
daughter would have the pleasure of working in it all by herself. She
would show a certain person what it meant to cast aside a lifelong
friendship. Oh, yes, Marjorie was anxious for her to take English
literature. She would take rhetoric instead. She would go still further.
If when classes assembled she found herself in the same geometry section
with her chum she would make an excuse and change to another period of
recitation. The frown deepened on her smooth forehead as she jotted down
her subjects on the sheet of paper before her.

Suddenly conscious of the intent regard of someone, she raised her head.
A pair of elfish black eyes were fixed upon her in curious intent.

"Who are you?" asked Mignon La Salle with cool impudence. "You look like
that priggish Miss Stevens. I hope for your sake you are not a relative
of hers."

"Most certainly I am not," retorted Mary, flushing angrily. It was too
provoking. Why must she be constantly reminded of her resemblance to one
she disliked so intensely? In her annoyance at the nature of the French
girl's remarks, she quite overlooked the impertinence of her address.

A gleam of satisfaction flashed across Mignon's face. "Then there is
hope," she returned, holding up her forefinger in an impish imitation of
a world-wide advertisement. "Say it again. I can't believe the evidence
of my own ears."

"I am not a relative of Miss Stevens," repeated Mary a trifle stiffly.
The French girl's mocking tones were distinctly unpleasant. "Why do you
ask?"

"Because I wish to know," shrugged Mignon Then she added tactfully,
"Please don't think me rude. I am always too frank in expressing my
opinions. If I dislike anyone I can't smile deceitfully and pretend them
to be my dearest friend."

Mary's sullen face cleared. Here at last was a girl