AN IRATE GUEST
Jerry Macy and Marjorie Dean whirled about at the sound of that wrathful
voice. Mignon La Salle confronted them, her eyes flashing, her fingers
closing and unclosing in nervous rage, looking for all the world like a
young tigress.
"Oh, for goodness' sake, some one lead her away!" muttered the Crane to
Irma Linton. "I told Hal to-day that, with Mignon aboard the good old
party ship, we'd be sure to have fireworks. Real dynamite, too, and no
mistake. I wonder what's upset her sweet, retiring disposition?" His
boyish face indicated his deep disgust.
"I heard every word you said!" screamed Mignon. Rage had stripped her of
the thin veneer of civilization. She was the same young savage who had
kicked and screamed her way to whatever she desired when years before
she had been the terror of the neighborhood. "So, that's the reason you
invited me to your old party! You got together and picked me to pieces
and decided to reform me! Just let me tell you that you had better look
to yourselves. I don't need your kind offices. You are a crowd of
hateful, deceitful, mean, horrible girls! I despise you all! Everyone of
you! Do you hear me? I despise you! And _you_, Jerry Macy, had better be
a little careful as to what you gossip about me. I can tell you----"
There came a sudden interruption to the tirade. Through the amazed
groups of young people who could not resist lingering to find out what
it was all about, Mrs. Dean resolutely made her way.
"That will do, Miss La Salle," she commanded sternly. "I cannot allow
you to make such a disgraceful scene in my home, or insult my daughter
and her guests. If you will come quietly upstairs with me and state your
grievance, I shall do all in my power to rectify it. Marjorie," she
turned to her daughter, who stood looking on in wide-eyed distress, "ask
the musicians to start the music for the next dance."
Marjorie obeyed and, somewhat ashamed of their curiosity, the dancers
forgot their thirst for lemonade and flocked into the ballroom. Only
Jerry Macy and Mary Raymond remained.
"It's all my fault, Mrs. Dean," began Jerry contritely. "I didn't know
Mignon was in the alcove. I can't help saying she had no business to
listen, but----"
"It _is_ my business," began Mignon furiously. "I have a right----"
"Don't begin this quarrel all over again." Mrs. Dean held up her hand
for silence. "I repeat," she continued, regarding Mignon with marked
displeasure, "if you will come upstairs with me----"
"Mrs. Dean, it's a shame the way Mignon has been treated to-night,"
burst forth Mary Raymond, "and I for one don't intend to stand by and
see her insulted. Miss Macy said perfectly hateful things about her. I
heard them. Marjorie is just as much to blame. She listened to them and
never said a word to stop them."
"Mary Raymond!" Mrs. Dean's voice held an ominous note that should have
warned Mary to hold her peace. Instead it angered her to open rebellion.
"Don't 'Mary Raymond' me," she mocked in angry sarcasm. "I meant what I
said, every word of it. Mignon is my dear friend and I shall stand up
for her."
"Oh, let me alone, all of you!" With an agile spring, Mignon gained the
stairway and sped up the stairs on winged feet. Two minutes later,
wrapped in her evening coat and scarf, she reappeared at the head and
ran down the steps two at a time. "Thank you so much for a delightful
evening," she bowed ironically. "I'm so sorry I haven't time to stay and
be lectured. It's too bad, isn't it, Miss Mary, that the reform couldn't
go on?" To Mary she held out her hand. "Come and spend the day with me
to-morrow, Mary. You may like it so well, you'll decide to stay. If you
do, why just come along whenever you feel disposed. I can assure you
that our house is a pleasanter place to live in than the one you are in
now." With this pointed fling she bowed again in mock courtesy to the
silent woman who had offended her and flounced out the door and into the
starlit night to where her own electric runabout was standing.
"Can you beat that?" was the tribute that fell from Jerry Macy's lips.
Mrs. Dean looked from one to the other of the three girls. "Now, girls,
I demand an explanation of all this. Who of you is at fault in the
matter?"
"I told you it was I," answered Jerry. "Marjorie and I were talking
about Mignon and saying that she was having a good time. Then I had to
go on and say some more things that I don't take back, but that weren't
intended for listeners. I didn't know Mignon and Mary were hidden in
that alcove. Do you suppose I'd have spoiled our reform, after all the
trouble we've had making it go, if I'd known they were there?"
Mrs. Dean could not repress a faint smile at Jerry's rueful admissions.
She liked this stout, matter-of-fact girl in spite of her rough, brusque
ways.
"No, I don't suppose you would, but you were in the wrong, I am afraid.
You must learn to curb that sharp tongue, Jerry. It is likely, some day,
to involve you in serious trouble."
"I know it." Jerry hung her head. "But, you see, Marjorie understands
me. That's why I say to her whatever I think."
"Mary," Mrs. Dean gravely studied Mary's sulky face, "I am deeply hurt
and surprised. Later I shall have something to say to you and Marjorie.
Now go back to your friends, all of you, and try to make up to them for
this unpleasantness."
Marjorie, who all this time had said nothing, now began timidly. She had
seldom seen her beloved Captain so stern. "Captain, we are----"
"Not another word. I said, 'later.'"
Jerry and Marjorie turned to the ballroom. Mary however, with a scornful
glance at Mrs. Dean, faced about and went upstairs. She had been imbued
with a naughty resolve and she determined to proceed at once to carry it
out.
The dancing went on for a little, but the disagreeable happening had
dampened the ardor of the guests and they began leaving for home soon
afterward.
It was midnight when the last sound of the footsteps of the departing
youngsters echoed down the walk. Side by side, Marjorie and her mother
watched them go, then the latter slipped her arm through that of her
daughter and said, "Now, Marjorie, we will get to the bottom of this
affair. Come with me to Mary's room."
They reached it to find the door closed. Mrs. Dean knocked upon one of
the panels.
"What do you want?" inquired an angry voice.
"We wish to come in, Mary," was Mrs. Dean's even response.
There was a muttered exclamation, a hurry of light feet, then the door
was flung open.
"You can come in for all I care," was Mary's rude greeting. "You might
as well know now that I'm not going to live here after to-night. I'm
going to Mignon's house to live." Piles of clothing scattered about and
a significantly yawning trunk bore out the assertion.
Mrs. Dean knew that the time for action had come. Walking over to the
girl, she placed deliberate hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, Mary
Raymond," she said decisively. "You are _not_ going one step out of this
house without my consent. Your father intrusted you to my care, and I
shall endeavor to carry out his wishes. You know as well as I that he
would be displeased and sorry over your behavior. I had intended to talk
matters over with you and Marjorie now, but you are in no mood for
reason. Therefore we will allow this affair to rest until to-morrow.
But, once and for all, unless your father sanctions your removal in a
letter to me, you will stay here, under my roof. Come, Marjorie."
With a sorrowful glance toward the tense, angry little figure, Marjorie
followed her mother from the room.