Marjorie was silent. What Harriet said in regard to Muriel was undoubtedly true. Since the latter had turned from Mignon La Salle to her, she had been the soul of devotion. She had never forgiven Mignon for her cowardly conduct on the day of the class picnic. Muriel reverenced the heroic, and Mignon had disgraced herself forever in the eyes of this impulsive, hero-worshipping girl.
"We had better show this letter to the other girls," Marjorie said with sudden decision. "Come upstairs to my house. I'll hurry and dress. Suppose you have a few more bites of breakfast with me. Your early morning rush must have made you hungry, and you ought to be well fed, if you expect to do valiant work on the field of battle this afternoon."
"I _am_ hungry," conceded Harriet, "and I won't wait to be urged. I'd love to take breakfast with you." Then, lowering her voice, she asked: "Is Mary going to the game?"
A faint wistfulness tinged Marjorie's voice as she said slowly. "I don't know. I haven't asked her. I suppose she is, though."
Although it was whispered among Marjorie's close friends that the unpleasant scene at her party had left a yawning gap between the two friends, never, by so much as a word, had Marjorie intimated the true state of affairs to any one except Constance and Jerry Macy. Not even Susan Atwell and Muriel Harding knew just how matters stood. Harriet remembered this in the same moment of her question, and, flushing at her own inquisitiveness, remarked hurriedly, "Everyone in school is coming to see us play."
"I'm glad of that." Marjorie had recovered again her usual cheerfulness, and answered heartily. She kept up a lively stream of talk as she completed her dressing. Tucking the letter inside her white silk blouse she led the way downstairs to the dining room. She was slightly relieved to see Mary's place at the table vacant. She guessed that the latter had heard Harriet's voice and had purposely remained in her room. She had not gone astray in this supposition. Mary _had_ heard Harriet speak and knew only too well what had brought her to the Deans' house so early that morning.
It was nine o'clock when Marjorie and Harriet left the house to call on Susan Atwell, who lived nearest. Susan read the mysterious warning and was duly impressed with its significance. She was equally at sea as to the writer. It soon developed, however, that Harriet had been correct in assuming that Susan's wrath at the first game played against Mignon's team had been occasioned by their unfair tactics. She had been slyly tripped by Louise Selden, she asserted, and had fallen heavily.