Two days later, the forewoman, seated at her desk, was apparently
absorbed in the newspaper she was reading while leisurely disposing of
her noonday lunch. In reality she was covertly watching an excited group
of girls on the other side of the room who were discussing some matter
of evident importance. Without doubt, something was wrong. The forewoman
rather surmised what the trouble was and smiled behind the shelter of
her newspaper. She knew these girls and was quite sure that the
difficulty, whatever it was, would be brought to her for settlement. As
she had said to Julie, she loved her girls, and they in turn loved and
trusted her.
In this instance she had not long to wait. Presently the girls cast
aside napkins and lunch boxes and moved toward the corner of the room
where their forewoman was waiting. She watched their approach in smiling
silence. Slightly in advance of the others came a small, impetuous
figure, a painfully thin, cross-eyed girl of fifteen, whose abundant
crop of freckles had earned for her the sobriquet of "Speckles." She had
answered to that name for so long now that she had almost forgotten she
ever owned any other. She was impulsive, good-hearted, and a general
favorite in spite of her rather sharp little tongue. Rushing up to the
forewoman's desk, she said excitedly:
"Miss Merton, it can't be true, what Louise has just been telling us,
that you are going to let that horrid Julie Benoit come back again.
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