Jean laughed suddenly. Then she explained the cause of her mirth.
"I had a funny thought," said she. "If Hazel's aunt and Marjory's Aunty Jane were shaken up in a bag, it might make two average aunts, mightn't it, Henrietta? Marjory's aunt doesn't believe in luxuries--"
"Then," interrupted Hazel, with an odd, searching look at Jean, "Marjory doesn't have very many?"
"None at all," returned Jean. "She's really an abused child. But I'm sure her aunt thinks all the world of her."
"Marjory was crazy about those blue beads of mine," said Hazel. "I let her wear them once in awhile before Christmas."
"That's so," said Henrietta. "You and Marjory were quite chummy for awhile, weren't you? Why aren't you chummy now, if a lady may ask?"
"I don't know," returned Hazel, evasively. "That is, I don't care to say. We just aren't friends."
"If it's anything that Gladys de Milligan has said," offered Henrietta, "you don't need to believe it. That girl has tried to say mean things to me about every girl in this school. She's a wretched little beast and I detest her."
"I don't _like_ her," said Hazel, "and I don't listen to her when I can help it, but some of the things she's said have been _true_."
"That's the worst of Gladys," said Jean. "She always manages to mix a little truth in with her yarns; and that makes people believe them."
"Mercy!" whispered Henrietta, a few minutes later. "How long have Gladys and Grace been walking just behind us? How much do you suppose they heard?"
That very night, during the dancing hour, Marjory Vale was one of a group of girls clustered about Henrietta, who was demonstrating a new dance, that later became exceedingly popular.
Marjory, in the middle of the floor, was plainly visible when she pulled her handkerchief from her pocket. Something came with it--a long string of dull blue beads. The metal clasp had been caught in the hemstitching of the handkerchief but now came loose, allowing the heavy beads to land noisily on the hardwood floor. Marjory gazed at them for a long moment.
"For goodness' sakes!" gasped Marjory, genuinely surprised. "How did I do that?"
"My beads!" shrieked Hazel, springing from her chair and pouncing on the necklace. "Marjory Vale! _You_ took those beads out of my drawer."