A Dear Little Girl at School. Blanchard Amy Ella

laughed. “Won’t they be disappointed?”

      “They will that. Now come along and let’s get out of here.”

      “Which way shall we go?”

      “Oh, we will take the back road and come out there below the MacDonald barn so they won’t get a hint of our coming home, for the barn is below the woods, you know. It is a little further, but I hope you don’t mind that.”

      “No, indeed, I am so glad to have you get out of the way of those boys.”

      “If I can manage to side-track them for a while perhaps they won’t be so keen. I thought they had it in for me, and have been rather expecting an onslaught.”

      They cut through the woods, coming out the other side and taking a short road not much used, which brought them out a little distance from the main road which was then easily reached. “Now we’re safe,” said Edna with satisfaction as she saw her own gate.

      “We? You don’t suppose they’d haze you, do you?”

      “Oh, no, but I feel safer when I am near home.”

      Ben dropped his bantering tone when they came up to the gate. “I say, Edna,” he said, “you are a real Trojan to do this for me, and I shall not forget it in a hurry. Lots of big girls and boys, too, would have let the thing go, and not have taken the trouble. I am a thousand times obliged to you.”

      “Oh, but I wanted to do it, you know. I should have been very unhappy if anything had happened to you.”

      “I believe you would,” returned Ben seriously; and they went in the house together.

      This was the last Edna heard of hazing and if Cousin Ben was ever caught he did not tell her or anyone else.

      Monday came around quite soon enough and Edna started off with her sister Celia to go to the city. It seemed quite natural to be back in the room which she had occupied the year before, only now Celia would share it with her. Ada was put in her old place on a little chair, her trunk by her side, and then the two girls went down to the school-room where a number of the pupils had already gathered. One of these was Clara Adams, a little girl whom Edna was sorry to see entering the school that year. She was a spoiled, discontented child who was continually pouting over some fancied grievance, and was what Dorothy and Edna called “fusty.” For some reason she was always trying to pick a quarrel with Edna, and by the whispering which went on when Edna entered the room and the sidelong looks which were cast at her, as two or three girls, with hands to mouths, nudged one another, she felt sure that on this special occasion she was being talked about. However, she paid no attention to this little group but went over to where Dorothy was sitting and began to tell her about the preserves which Celia had successfully given in Ellen’s charge.

      At recess the same group of girls which had been whispering in the morning, again gathered in one corner and began their talk in low tones. Clara Adams was in the centre and it was she to whom the others were all looking. Clara was a favorite because of her wealth rather than because of her disposition, and she had followers who liked to have it said that they were intimate with her.

      “What do you suppose they are talking about?” said Dorothy after a while.

      “I’m sure I don’t know and what’s more I don’t care,” replied Edna. “Do you care, Dorothy?”

      “Oh, I don’t know; just a little, I think. See, they are going over and whispering to Molly Clark, and she is getting up and going over there. I wonder what it is all about.”

      Edna wondered, too, but neither she nor Dorothy found out that day. The same thing went on the next day. One by one most of the girls whom Edna and Dorothy liked the best were seen to join the little company of whisperers, and whenever Clara Adams would pass the two friends she would give them a look as much as to say: Wouldn’t you like to know what we know?

      “I think it is just horrid mean of them,” said Dorothy when the next day came and they were no nearer to knowing the secret than they had been in the beginning.

      “I heard Molly say something about to-morrow afternoon,” said Edna. “They are all going to do something or go somewhere. I am going to tell sister, so I am.”

      “And I’ll tell my sister. Maybe they know something about it, Edna.”

      They lost no time in seeking out their sisters to whom they made known the state of affairs. “And they are getting hold of nearly all the nicest girls,” complained Edna. “Molly Clark, and Ruth Cutting and all those. They haven’t said anything to Margaret, for I asked her. She isn’t here to-day.”

      “Have you any idea what they are going to do?” Dorothy asked her sister.

      “I have an idea, but it may not be right.”

      “Oh, tell us, do.” The two younger girls were very eager.

      Agnes leaned over and said in a low voice, “I believe they are getting up some sort of club.”

      “Oh!” This idea had never occurred to either of the little girls before.

      “And they don’t want us in it,” said Edna, “I wonder why.”

      “It is all that horrid Clara Adams,” declared Dorothy. “She is jealous of you because you always know your lessons and behave yourself, and she don’t like me because I go with you and won’t give you up for her.”

      “How do you know?” asked Edna.

      “I know,” returned Dorothy, and then she shut her lips very tightly.

      “All the girls used to like us,” said Edna sadly.

      “Bless your dear heart,” said Agnes drawing the child to her, “I shouldn’t care. They will be sorry enough after a while, you may be sure, and will wish they had treated you two better. Celia, we mustn’t let those little whippersnappers have it all their own way. Never you mind, children, we’ll do something, too. Celia and I will talk it over and let you know to-morrow. You and Celia come up to our house Saturday afternoon and we’ll see if we can get Margaret and perhaps one or two others. Now run along and let us talk over a plan I have.”

      The two went off joyously, arms around one another. When Agnes championed their cause there was no more reason to be troubled, and they finished their recess in a corner by themselves quite content.

      There were not more than a dozen little girls in the class and when half of these had gone over to the enemy, and one or two were absent it left a very small number for Edna and Dorothy to count upon, but they did not care after the older girls had taken up their cause, and they cast quite as independent looks at Clara as she did at them. They would have a secret too. “And it will be a great deal nicer than theirs,” declared Dorothy. So when the bell rang they went back to their seats in a very happy frame of mind.

      The next day a new pupil appeared and at recess she was swooped down upon by one of Clara’s friends and was borne away, but after a while she left the group and went back to her seat. Dorothy and Edna were out in the school yard playing, but when they came in the new scholar looked smilingly at Edna and after a while she made her way to where they were standing. “Isn’t this Edna Conway?” she asked.

      “Yes, I’m Edna,” was the reply from the little round-faced girl who smiled at her.

      “I’m Jennie Ramsey, and my mother told me to be sure to speak to you and tell you I was at the fair last year and I was so glad when you got the doll.”

      “Oh, were you there?” Edna looked pleased. “I am so glad you have come here to school. This is Dorothy Evans.”

      Jennie and Dorothy smiled at each other and Edna went on. “Dorothy don’t you remember about Mrs. Ramsey who took so much trouble to get Margaret away from that dreadful woman? She must be a lovely mother, for she was so dear to Margaret.”

      “Do tell me about her,” said Jennie. “I have been so much interested, for mother told me all about how you ran against her in the street and how you won the doll for her and all about her being adopted so I did hope I should know you some day.