"She's rather too officious to suit me," Mable Westervelt retorted, "and
she's younger than any of us. One would think, the way she poses as
monitor at this second-rate, run-down boarding school, that Mary Louise
Burrows made the world."

"Oh, Mable! I've never known her to pose at all," said Sue. "But, hush;
she mustn't overhear us and, besides, if we want her to intercede with
Miss Stearne we must not offend her."

The girl they were discussing came leisurely down a path, her books
under one arm, the other hand holding a class paper which she examined
in a cursory way as she walked. She wore a dark skirt and a simple
shirtwaist, both quite modish and becoming, and her shoes were the
admiration and envy of half the girls at the school. Dorothy Knerr used
to say that "Mary Louise's clothes always looked as if they grew on
her," but that may have been partially accounted for by the grace of her
slim form and her unconscious but distinctive poise of bearing. Few
people would describe Mary Louise Burrows as beautiful, while all would
agree that she possessed charming manners. And she was fifteen--an age
when many girls are both awkward and shy.

As she drew near to the group on the bench they ceased discussing Mary
Louise but continued angrily to canvass their latest grievance.

"What do you think, Mary Louise," demanded Jennie, as the girl paused
before them, "of this latest outrage?"

"What outrage, Jen?" with a whimsical smile at their indignant faces.

"This latest decree of the tyrant Stearne. Didn't you see it posted on