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Updated: April 30, 2025
Her eyes roved speculatively from one face to another, then she said suavely, "Come by all means, Miss Dean. It will be quite interesting." "Thank you. I shall be pleased to go with you." Marjorie ignored Mignon's slight hesitation, although she had noted it. "I wonder if you are all as fond of basketball as I," she went on quickly. "It's a splendid game, isn't it?"
Mary's sullen face cleared. Here at last was a girl who seemed to be sincere. She unbent slightly and smiled. Mignon returned the smile in her most amiable fashion. "Pardon me for a moment." Mignon turned in her seat and began fumbling in a little leather bag that lay on her desk. Mary felt a quick, light touch on her arm. Susan Atwell began making violent signs at her behind Mignon's back.
She had already started down the driveway with her venturesome charge. The little boy had been momentarily awed into silence at Mignon's menacing features. "She's a cross girl," he observed calmly, as he marched along beside Mary, "but we don't care, do we?" "No, we don't," came emphatically from Mary's lips. And she meant it.
Madame Orley and her trained steed were quite new and different now that she knew that Madame Orley's real name was Currie, and that she curled Mignon's hair every morning. Goo-Goo seemed like an intimate friend, because of the writing-lessons. Alice was even sure that she could make out old Jerry of the needle-book among the attendants. Round and round and round sped the horses.
I guess you know who is to blame for it, don't you?" Marjorie nodded. A faint touch of scorn curved her red lips. Mignon's growing friendship with Ronald Atwell was the talk of the cast. He frequently accompanied her home from school, invited her to Sargent's, and it was rumored that he was often a guest at dinner or luncheon at her home.
Madame Orley and the other women riders who were clustered beside the bed began to sob bitterly. They all loved Mignon; she was the pet and baby of the whole circus troupe. It was not long before the doctor came. He felt Mignon's pulse, and tried various things, but his face was very grave. "She's a frail little creature," he said. "No stamina to carry her through."
They added that this was all the more necessary as Mignon's position as director of the sisterhood and his well-known hate for Grandier would draw suspicions on him unworthy of his cloth, suspicions which he ought to be the first to wish to see dissipated, and that quickly; and that, therefore, the work which he had so piously begun would be completed by exorcists appointed by the court.
Yes, to be sure, when one has sworn to love a woman forever one doesn't usually take up with the first creature that comes by directly after. Oh, that's where the shoe pinches, I remember! Well, dear boy, there's nothing very savory in the Mignon's leavings! Oughtn't you to have broken it off with that dirty lot before coming and squirming on my knees?"
"Has she a mother?" asked the doctor. The words caught Mignon's ear. She looked up. "Mamma," she said "Mamma! Did you make the music?" Her head fell back, she closed her eyes. That was all. "She loved music so dearly," said one of the women weeping. "She has it now," replied the good old doctor, laying down the little hand from which the pulse had ebbed away. "Don't cry so over her, my good girl.
But as long as the music plays I don't feel tired. Sometimes before I come out I am frightened, and think I can't do it at all, but then I hear the band begin, and I know I can. Oh! don't you love music?" "Y es," said Alice wonderingly, for Mignon's eyes sparkled and her face flushed as she asked this question. "I like music when it's pretty."
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