portunity to introduce Mary to Miss Merton. What should she do? She
half rose from the seat, then sat down undecidedly.

Miss Merton had arranged the freshmen to her satisfaction. Now she was
calling for the sophomores to rise. Perhaps she would not notice Mary.
If she did not, then Mary could pass with the sophomores to their
section. As soon as the session was dismissed, she would introduce her
to Miss Merton.

But Miss Merton was lynx-eyed. "That girl there in the blue dress," she
blared forth. "You were not in the freshman class last year."

Mary turned in her seat and shot a glance of appeal to Marjorie. The
girl rose bravely in friend's behalf.

"Miss Merton," she said in her clear, young voice, "I brought Miss
Raymond here with me. She----"

"You are not supposed to bring visitors to school, Miss Dean," was the
teacher's sarcastic reminder.

Marjorie's eyes kindled with wrath. Then, mastering her anger, she made
courteous reply. "She is not a visitor. She expects to enter the
sophomore class."

"Come down to this front seat, young woman," ordered Miss Merton,
ignoring Marjorie's explanation. "I'll attend to you later."

Mary sat still, surveying Miss Merton out of two belligerent blue eyes.

"Do as she says, Mary," whispered Marjorie.

Mary obeyed. Walking down the aisle with maddening deliberation, she
seated herself on the bench indicated.

"No talking," rasped Miss Merton, as a faint murmur went up from the
girls in the sophomore section.

Once the classes had been assigned to their places for the year there
was little more to be done. Nettled by her recent resentment against
Marjorie, Miss Merton took occasion to deliver a sharp lecture on good
conduct in general, making several pointed remarks, which caused
Marjorie to color hotly. More than one pair of young eyes glared their
resentment of this harsh teacher who had never lost an opportunity in
the past school year of censuring their favorite.

The moment the short session was over the girls of her particular set
gravitated toward Marjorie.

"Well, of all the old cranks!" scolded Geraldine Macy.

"She's the most hateful teacher in the world," was Muriel Harding's
tribute.

"I wouldn't pay any attention to her, Marjorie. I'd go straight to Miss
Archer," advised Susan Atwell. "Just see her now! She looks as though
she'd actually snap at your friend."

Miss Merton was engaged in interviewing the still belligerent Mary, who
stood listening