CHAPTER XIV
UNPOPULAR MARJORY
Twice a week, from half past seven to nine, there was dancing in thedining room. The tables were pushed back and the floor waxed. SallieDickinson had to help with that, so, though she loved to dance, she wasusually too tired to do it. Miss Julia Rhodes and the three Seniors tookturns at the piano. Miss Julia played "The Blue Danube," and othersentimental waltzes left over from her own rather remote girlhood. TheSeniors were much more modern. They played Sousa's rousing marches withso much vigor that even Mabel, who had never really learned to dance,felt simply compelled to get up and two-step. And when _two_ of theSeniors, at separate pianos, pounded out "The Washington Post," stoutMiss Woodruff, who had been brought up to believe that it was wicked todance, kept time so vigorously with her feet that (in spite of herhectic nightwear) she always suffered next day from rheumatism in herplump ankles.
Mabel's sense of rhythm was good and, for a heavy child, she provedsurprisingly light on her feet. At the same time she was clumsy and wascontinually bumping into other dancers or getting in their way and beingbumped. Jean and Bettie danced only moderately well. Inexperienced Jeanwas a trifle stiff as to knees and elbows and Bettie was not stiffenough. Marjory was like a bit of thistledown, here, there andeverywhere, so that Jane Pool and little Lillian Thwaite were the onlypersons sufficiently nimble to keep step with her.
Henrietta danced very well indeed. She had had several terms of dancinglessons and was, besides, naturally graceful. As a partner, Henriettawas in great demand. In the early months of the school year, all five ofthe Lakeville girls had been fairly popular, but now, since soon afterthe Christmas holidays, something was wrong. Except for the girls fromher own town, no one but Sallie, Maude Wilder and Jane Pool askedMarjory to dance. Little Lillian Thwaite had even gone so far as torefuse Marjory's invitations.
"I'm engaged for _all_ the dances," fibbed Lillian, glibly.
Marjory might have believed her if she had not later heard Lillianasking Gladys for the next two-step. For some reason Marjory wasbecoming more and more unpopular and the little girl was quite troubledabout it. Any little girl _would_ have been.
Gladys danced almost as well as Henrietta did; but Henrietta was thepleasanter dancer to look at. She carried herself prettily, her clothesseemed always just exactly right and Henrietta herself, with hersparkling eyes, her vivid coloring, her dark, becoming curls, was alwaysan attractive sight. Gladys was invariably overdressed for theseoccasions. Her hair was over-done and her complexion entirely unnatural.She arched her back in an artificial way, crooked her elbows at curiousangles and managed to stick her left little finger out in a mostpeculiar and quite ridiculous manner. Added to this, she invariablychewed gum quite as industriously as she danced.
"It wouldn't be so bad," commented Mrs. Henry Rhodes, viewing thisspectacle with amusement, "if Gladys chewed in time to the music; butshe doesn't."
Even the frozen countenance of the older Mrs. Rhodes thawed intosomething like a smile when Gladys danced and chewed. Still, apparentlymany of the girls liked to dance with Gladys; but those who did heldaloof from the four Lakeville girls and more particularly from Marjoryand Mabel.
"I know what I think," said Marjory, confiding in Mabel one evening whenthey were the only girls who had not been asked by some one else towaltz. "Laura Milligan has been saying things about us again, and moreand more of the girls are believing what she says. It gets a littleworse every dancing night. It's terrible to be _unpopular_."
"I know it," agreed Mabel. "The only friends we have in this school noware the girls that won't associate with Laura. Maude just hates her andso does Sallie. Jane Pool does, too. And I don't think Victoria Websterlikes her any too well, even if she _does_ room with her."
"The Seniors make fun of her," said Marjory; "I've seen them do it. MissWilson imitates the way she chews gum and Miss Pratt sticks her littlefinger out the way Laura does. If Augusta wasn't just a silly gooseherself she'd never waste a minute on Laura. And the Miller girls andIsabelle haven't as many brains in their three heads as little Jane Poolhas in her one--I heard Miss Woodruff tell them that in school yesterday.And Grace Allen hasn't any mind of her own at all. She just thinks whatLaura _wants_ her to think, and then passes it on."
"The friends we have are _nice_ girls," returned Mabel. "Maude, Cora,Sallie and the others. Just the same it makes me just mad to be snubbedand cold shouldered and left out by _anybody_."
"Me too," said Marjory. "I know you can't waltz, but let's get up and doit anyway. We don't need to _look_ like wallflowers even if we are."
There was another evidence of Marjory's growing unpopularity. Once intwo weeks there was a general spell down in the Assembly room. Some ofthe girls loved it, some of them hated it, according to their ability tospell; but they all quivered with excitement while it was going on.
Two of the Seniors marched importantly to the far corners of the roomfrom which point, turn and turn about, they chose sides; and of courseit was considered an honor to be among the first called--and a disgraceto be among the last.
Jean and Marjory spelled very well indeed and were usually among thefirst to be chosen. Mabel spelled just about as badly as anybody couldand was always the last. She _expected_ to be. She had grown accustomedto her place at the end of the line and felt as if it belonged to her.Bettie, Grace Allen, Augusta Lemon and Cora were easily downed; butsometimes survived the first word. Isabelle Carew could spell if shekept her mind on it, but once Miss Woodruff had given her the word"Claritude," and she had gone to dreaming in the middle of it. Shespelled it "Clar_ence_." Of course, after that, everybody knew thatIsabelle could not be considered a dependable speller.
But Marjory was. Her ears were keen and she liked to spell. It was adifficult matter to spell her down. Sometimes _both_ Seniors, in theireagerness to get her, called her name in the same breath and thensquabbled just like ordinary girls over which should have her. But now,for some undiscoverable reason, Marjory was being left with Mabel untilthe very last moment--until every other possible girl had been chosen.And this dreadful thing had happened _twice_.
The first time this happened, Marjory was so disconcerted that shealmost forgot how to spell the very easy word that fell to her lot. Thesecond time she was glad to hide behind tall Isabelle, who stood besideher; for there was a large lump in her throat, tears in her gray eyesand a tell-tale pink flush dyeing her small fair face from brow to chin.
Truly it was a terrible thing to be an unpopular person. Marjory wishedshe could sink through the floor, even if she landed, as she thought she_might_, in the laundry tubs beneath.