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[Illustration: "WHY, MIGNON, I DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE HOME FROM SEVERN
BEACH! HOW DO YOU DO?"]




                             MARJORIE DEAN
                           High School Senior

                                   By

                             PAULINE LESTER

                               AUTHOR OF

                 "Marjorie Dean, High School Freshman"
                 "Marjorie Dean, High School Sophomore"
                  "Marjorie Dean, High School Junior"

                           A. L. BURT COMPANY
                          Publishers--New York




                            Copyright, 1917
                         By A. L. BURT COMPANY

                   MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR




                                CONTENTS

   CHAPTER                                                          PAGE
        I. A Pretense of Friendship                                    3
       II. A Humble Senior                                            13
      III. Missing: a Letter                                          25
       IV. Laying a Cornerstone                                       36
        V. The Hard Road of Duty                                      50
       VI. Strictly Local Politics                                    63
      VII. A Step Toward Popularity                                   69
     VIII. The Rule of Rules                                          77
       IX. A Real Lookout                                             86
        X. Hallowe'en Mysteries                                       99
       XI. An Unwilling Cavalier                                     112
      XII. A Discouraged Reformer                                    128
     XIII. Jerry Declares Herself                                    141
      XIV. An Unrepentant Sinner                                     154
       XV. The Fulfillment of the Plan                               165
      XVI. A Puzzling Young Person                                   176
     XVII. Choosing a Victim                                         186
    XVIII. Not at Home?                                              199
      XIX. The Sign                                                  212
       XX. When Friends Fall Out                                     223
      XXI. A Message from Jerry                                      236
     XXII. Marjorie Decides                                          244
    XXIII. A Stormy Session                                          254
     XXIV. A Treasureless Treasurer                                  262
      XXV. The Treacherous Treasurer and the Slippery Sleuth         272
     XXVI. Her Better Self                                           282
    XXVII. Commencement                                              299




MARJORIE DEAN, HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR




CHAPTER I--A PRETENSE OF FRIENDSHIP


"Marjorie! Marjorie Dean!" The black-eyed girl in the runabout
accompanied her high-pitched call by a gradual slowing down of the smart
little car she was driving.

The dainty, white-gowned figure on the sidewalk tilted a white parasol
over one shoulder and turned a pair of startled brown eyes in the
direction of the voice. "Why, Mignon, I didn't know you were home from
Severn Beach! How do you do?" Advancing to the runabout, Marjorie Dean
stretched forth a white-gloved hand.

"I've been in Sanford since Wednesday," returned Mignon. Leaning out of
the runabout, she lightly clasped the proffered fingers. "Get into my
car and I'll take you wherever you want to go. I'm glad I saw you. It's
been deadly dull in Sanford with most of the girls still away." Her
elfish eyes noting that Marjorie's smart attire betokened a possible
luncheon or tea, Mignon was consumed with a lively curiosity to learn
the pretty senior's destination. "You look as though you were going to
an afternoon tea," she continued artfully. "Say where and I'll ride you
there."

"Thank you, but I don't believe I'll ride. I was out in the car all
morning with General. It's so lovely this afternoon I'd rather walk. I'm
not bound for a tea, though. I am going to make a call."

Mignon's dark brows drew together in a faint frown. "Oh, pshaw!" she
exclaimed. "Why not ride? Unless you don't wish me to know where you are
going?" she added suspiciously.

"I never thought of that," was Marjorie's honest protest. Yet now that
Mignon had mentioned it, it struck Marjorie rather forcibly that she was
not specially anxious to reveal her destination. "I am going to call on
Miss Archer," she informed her, making an effort to be casual.

"Then I'll take you there. I should like to see her, too," announced
Mignon calmly. She had decided that to call on the principal in
Marjorie's company would be of great advantage to her. "Come on," she
urged.

Too well-bred to exhibit pointed reluctance, Marjorie resigned herself
to the inevitable and stepped into the runabout. Her visit to Miss
Archer was of a somewhat personal nature. Still, she reflected, it was
nothing very secret, after all. Should her mission prove successful,
Mignon would, under any circumstances, soon learn the result.

"How do you know Miss Archer will be at home?" inquired Mignon as she
drove slowly down the shady avenue. "I thought she was still in the
West."

"She came home only yesterday. I telephoned her," returned Marjorie.
"This call of mine is really more like a business appointment. I would
rather have waited until she had her house fairly opened again, but I
couldn't very well. It might be too late."

"Oh!" Mignon was burning to demand further information, but the finality
in Marjorie's tones warned her to go slowly. Between herself and the
latter there remained always a curious wall of reserve created by their
mental attitude toward each other. Mignon did not believe that
Marjorie's friendliness toward herself was sincere. On the other hand,
Marjorie sensed the note of unbelief. She felt that Mignon did not trust
her and it made her uncomfortable when in the French girl's presence.

It was a comparatively short ride to the spacious, old-fashioned house,
set in the midst of giant elms, which the last three generations of
Archers had called home. Of them all Miss Archer and an elder sister
alone remained. The two women had arrived in Sanford from a visit to
Western relatives on the previous day. Even in that short time the big
house had taken on an air of new life. The shuttered windows and
boarded-up doors were now open and a hospitable array of comfortable
wicker and willow chairs on the wide veranda proclaimed that someone was
at home.

"We'll leave the runabout here," decreed Mignon, as they brought up
outside the tall iron gate. She alighted from it in her lithe, cat-like
manner, her restless eyes fixed on the house. Quite forgetting that she
was merely a second party to the call, Mignon motioned impatiently for
Marjorie to follow and set off up the walk in her most imposing manner.
Divided between amusement and vexation, Marjorie gave a little sigh and
stepped quickly after the French girl.

By the time she had reached the veranda, Mignon had rung the door bell.
A moment and it was answered by a young woman whose blue bungalow apron
and dust cap marked her as maid of all work. "Good afternoon," she said
politely. To Marjorie she appeared a trifle embarrassed. "She must be a
new maid," was her first thought. "I wonder if Hulda has left the
Archers." As a frequent guest at Miss Archer's, Marjorie had always
delighted in Hulda, the good-natured Swedish maid. Impulsively she asked
with a winning smile, "Isn't Hulda here any more?"

"Hulda!" The young woman stared curiously at Marjorie, then replied
quickly. "She will be here next week. I am trying to take her place
until she comes." A faint flickering smile touched the corners of her
red lips as she said this.

"Kindly tell Miss Archer that Miss La Salle and Miss Dean are here"
broke in Mignon haughtily. She had already decided that, for a servant,
this girl appeared to feel herself above her position. It was partially
Marjorie's fault. It was always a mistake to treat a servant as an
equal.

The maid favored Mignon with another strange, inscrutable glance. "Miss
La Salle and Miss Dean," she repeated. "Please come into the drawing
room. I will tell Miss Archer that you are here." Politely ushering them
into the long, cool drawing room, the maid obsequiously bowed them to
seats and vanished.

"What a pretty girl," was Marjorie's first remark when they were left to
themselves. "She had such lovely golden brown hair and big gray eyes."

"I didn't notice. All maids look alike to me," shrugged Mignon. "I
thought she was altogether too presuming for a servant."

"I thought she was sweet," came Marjorie's earnest reply. She had taken
an instantaneous liking to the new maid. "After all, we're just human
beings, you know, and free and equal. Why, Delia is as much a part of
our home as I am."

"It's very unwise to give servants too much liberty," disagreed Mignon
loftily. "Every one of ours has to keep his or her place. I see to that.
My father is quite apt to let them do as they please. It takes _me_ to
manage them."

Marjorie felt a strong return of her ancient dislike for Mignon sweep
over her. Quickly she conquered it, adroitly turning the conversation
into a more pleasant channel. It was at least ten minutes before the
maid reappeared in the wide curtained doorway. Announcing that Miss
Archer would be with them directly, she nodded almost curtly and
disappeared.

"Good afternoon, Marjorie. I am very glad to see you again," was the
principal's cordial salutation as she entered the room. "How do you do,
Mignon?" Although she gave the French girl her hand, there was an almost
imperceptible reserve in her greeting. To her, Mignon's call was as
unexpected as her sudden decision to pay it had been to Marjorie. "You
must excuse the unsettled appearance of things. We have not yet found
time to take the covers off most of the furniture. When we left for the
West, I sent Hulda off on a visit to her father and mother. She will not
return until next week. Fortunately, my sister and I have Veronica to
help us."

"Veronica," repeated Mignon. "That is a queer name for a maid, isn't
it?"

"'What's in a name?'" quoted Miss Archer lightly. There was a faint
touch of amusement in her quiet tones that nettled Mignon. She concluded
that, as she never had liked Miss Archer, she now merely liked her a
trifle less.

"As you are so busy, Miss Archer, we must not detain you long. I really
ought to apologize for breaking in upon you before you are rested from
your long journey, but I had something quite important to ask you. So I
thought I had better not wait. This may seem like a very personal
question, but----Have you engaged a secretary for this year?" Marjorie
colored faintly at her own temerity.

"No." An expression of annoyance leaped into Miss Archer's fine eyes.
"Miss Lansing, as you know, was graduated last June. That leaves her
place vacant. I cannot tell you how much I have missed Marcia Arnold.
She made an ideal secretary. As I have always selected my secretary from
among those of the Sanford High School girls who are anxious to do extra
work, I suppose I shall have to attend to it as soon as possible. Were
you thinking of applying for the position, Marjorie?" she questioned
humorously.

Marjorie laughed. "Oh, no; I am not clever enough. But I know a girl who
is. She would like the position, too. I am speaking of Lucy Warner. She
really needs the work, Miss Archer, and I am sure she could do it and
keep up in her classes. She is _so_ bright."

"Lucy Warner. Ah, yes, I had not thought of her. She is a remarkably
bright girl. I imagine she would suit me admirably. She seems extremely
capable." Miss Archer appeared signally pleased with the prospect of
Lucy as her secretary. "What do you wish me to do, Marjorie? Shall I
write her?"

"I shall be ever so glad if you will, Miss Archer." Marjorie spoke as
gratefully as though it were she who was the most interested party to
the affair. "I am sure she will accept. Thank you for listening to my
suggestion."

After a little further exchange of conversation, Marjorie rose to make
graceful farewell. Mignon followed suit, a trace of contempt lurking in
her black eyes. She had confidently expected that their call would take
on a purely social tone. As it was, Marjorie had held the floor, giving
her no opportunity to make a favorable impression on Miss Archer. And
all for that frumpy, green-eyed Lucy Warner! It was just like Marjorie
Dean to interest herself in such dowdy persons.

"And is that what your wonderful business appointment was about?" she
asked pettishly as the two girls strolled down the pebbled walk bordered
on each side with clumps of sweet alyssum. "I can't see why you should
trouble yourself about a girl like Lucy Warner. She used to hate you.
She told me so. I suppose the reason she turned around all of a sudden
and began to be nice to you was because she thought you would use your
influence with Miss Archer to get her that position. She knows you are
Miss Archer's pet."

"I am not Miss Archer's pet." Marjorie's voice quivered with vexation.
"She likes ever so many other girls in Sanford High as well as she likes
me." Striving hard to regain her composure, she added, "Lucy hasn't the
least idea that I tried to get her the secretaryship. I know that at one
time she didn't like me. It was a misunderstanding. But it was cleared
up long ago."

"What was it about?" queried Mignon, always eager for a bit of gossip to
retail at her pleasure. "You must tell me."

"It lies between Lucy and me. I have never told anyone about it. I
intend never to tell anyone."

"Oh, I don't care to know." Mignon tossed her head. "I'm sorry now that
I bothered myself to call on Miss Archer. I really shouldn't have taken
the time. I'll have to drive fast to make up for it."

"Don't let me trouble you," assured Marjorie evenly. "I won't be going
back the way we came. I intend to walk on to Gray Gables." By this time
they had passed through the gateway to the runabout.

"As you please," returned Mignon indifferently. "Come over and see me
before school opens, if you have time. Better telephone beforehand,
though, else I may not be at home when you call."

"Thank you." Not forgetting courtesy, Marjorie added, "The same applies
to you in regard to me."

"Thank you. Good-bye," returned Mignon coolly.

"Good-bye." Marjorie turned from the French girl to begin her walk to
Gray Gables. "It's no use," she told herself soberly. "We are both
pretending to be friendly when really we can never be friends. I ought
to feel awfully cross with Mignon. Somehow I feel sorry for her, just as
I've always felt toward her. But for her father's sake, he's such a
splendid man, I'm going to keep on trying. Poor Mignon. It seems as
though she must have started wrong when she was a baby and can never get
set right. She may, perhaps, some day, but I'm afraid that some day is a
long way off."




CHAPTER II--A HUMBLE SENIOR


"Did you see that latest addition to the senior class?" Mignon La
Salle's voice rose in profound disgust as she hurled the question at
Jerry Macy, who had entered the senior locker room directly behind her.

"Of course I saw her. I have eyes," reminded Jerry gruffly. "Pretty
girl, isn't she?" This last comment was a naughty inspiration on Jerry's
part. The French girl's contemptuous tone informed her that the newest
senior had already become a mark for ridicule in Mignon's eyes. She,
therefore, took a contrary stand.

"_Pretty!_" Mignon's tones rose still higher. "That staring-eyed,
white-faced creature! _Your_ eyes can't be very keen. She's a servant,
too; a _servant_."

"You can't expect me to see that," retorted Jerry. "All the more credit
to her if she is. A girl who has to work for her living, but is smart
enough to walk into a strange school and into the senior class is good
enough for anybody to know. You're a snob, Mignon, and you ought to be
ashamed to say such things." Coolly turning her back on the scowling
girl, Jerry busied herself with her locker. Privately she wondered how
Mignon happened to know so much about the newcomer.

Mignon watched her resentfully, longing to say something particularly
cutting, but not daring to do so. When it came to an argument, Jerry
Macy was capable of more than holding her own. As the seniors were now
beginning to arrive in numbers, she had no wish to be publicly worsted.
She could not resist saying satirically, however, as Marjorie Dean
passed her: "Did you see that servant girl of Miss Archer's in our
section this morning?"

"Servant girl?" chorused two or three bystanders, crowding closer to
their informant. "What do you mean? Whom do you mean?"

Marjorie's sweet face clouded at the intentional cruelty of Mignon's
speech. How could she exhibit such heartlessness toward one whom she
hardly knew? "Are you referring to Veronica Browning?" she asked in a
clear, decided voice. "I am ever so glad she is going to be in our
class. I think she's a dear."

"Veronica Browning," repeated Mignon, laughing. "I wonder how she came
by such a high-sounding name. Most servants are satisfied