THE INVITATION.
Dick’s exuberant sense of humor in making light of the whole situation,
and John’s genuine pleasure in seeing Marjorie again, acted as a
veritable tonic to the girl’s drooping spirits; by the time the cars
had stopped in front of Mrs. Hadley’s door, she was able to laugh and
joke with the others. By common consent the young people decided to
dismiss the matter from their minds, for the time being, at least.
“Come right in!” greeted their hostess, flinging the door wide open in
welcome. “I have hot chocolate all ready for you!”
“With whipped cream, I’ll wager!” cried Lily. “Mrs. Hadley, don’t you
care how fat I get?”
“My dear, you’re not fat——”
“Yes, I know what you’re going to say! Everybody politely says the same
thing! But I used to be awfully fat, didn’t I, Marj? And if I don’t
count my calories——”
“Nonsense!” contradicted Mrs. Hadley. “She’s just right, isn’t she,
Dick?”
“I’ll say so!” agreed the young man, without the least hesitation.
“Anyway, Mrs. Hadley, I’ll do justice to the chocolate!” put in
Marjorie. “I’m just about starved!”
The girls removed their wraps, while John busied himself with the
tea-wagon. Sandwiches were piled invitingly on the plates, the cocoa
steamed in its pot, and a cozy fire burned in the hearth; everything
seemed in harmony to make Marjorie forget her unpleasant experience.
These informal parties were among the happiest occasions of Mrs.
Hadley’s peaceful life, and her guests always found them equally
charming.
“How was the dance?” she inquired, after the girls had been served.
“So—so,” replied Lily indifferently. “The big interest of tonight,
Mrs. Hadley, is not the dance, but our senior class election. Marj is
up for president!”
“She’s elected by now!” prophesied Dick jovially. Then, getting up and
extending his hand, “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you,
Madame President!”
“No, no!” protested Lily, almost overturning her cup in her eagerness
to brush Dick aside. “I’m her roommate! It’s my right!” And she pressed
a resounding kiss upon Marjorie’s cheek.
“You’re both silly gooses,” exclaimed the heroine, herself, laughing
heartily. “Of course, it isn’t true! And just think, if I’m not
elected——” Her voice assumed a tragic tone, “just think how much
greater you are making my disappointment!”
“You old hypocrite!” denounced Lily. “She doesn’t care a snap of her
fingers for the highest honor a girl can get in college! Just think
of it, Mrs. Hadley, she’s done nothing but try to get out of it, ever
since she was nominated!”
“Couldn’t we call Daisy, or somebody, and learn the outcome?” suggested
John, consulting his watch. “It’s only quarter of eleven.”
“Fine!” cried Lily, delightedly. “You’re willing, aren’t you, Mrs.
Hadley?”
“Certainly—I am as much interested as any of you. I almost feel as if
I couldn’t go to sleep tonight, if I didn’t know the returns.”
“Of course, there really isn’t any doubt,” Lily repeated. “But
still——”
“Well, if you think so, why not let me have one more good night’s
sleep?” interrupted Marjorie. “Mrs. Hadley, may I have another
sandwich?”
She gave herself up to the enjoyment of the refreshments while the
others waited in suspense as John dialed his number. At last they were
relieved by his, “Hello, Daisy, that you?”
“This is John Hadley. Can you give me the election returns?”
Lily could sit still no longer; she rushed up to the instrument.
“Marj is elected!” he repeated. “Of course! ‘Overwhelming majority,’
you say? We knew it! Thanks. Hurrah! Good-bye! What did you say?
Oh, yes, the dance? All right, I guess—Marj will tell you about it
tomorrow. Good-bye!”
The mention of the unfortunate circumstance of the evening at the
settlement, directed Marjorie’s thoughts back to unpleasant channels,
so that amid the congratulations and rejoicing that followed, she
was almost an outsider. She had not thought before of Daisy’s
disappointment because of their failure, she had pictured only Miss
Winthrop’s. Yet the tender-hearted girls would probably be more deeply
affected than the other.
Noticing Marjorie’s evident fatigue, Mrs. Hadley suggested that the
party break up in order that the girls might go to bed.
The morning, however, failed to bring Marjorie a fresh point of view.
All the way out she brooded over her experience, seeking, if possible,
to consider it from the girls’ angle. She felt sure that it was not
personal insult to her companion and herself that troubled her, but
the effect of such conduct upon the offenders themselves. What kind
of homes could they come from, in which such blatant rudeness would
be overlooked or tolerated? Did their parents know what they did with
their spare time, had they met their associates and friends? How
would it be possible ever to hope to touch them, to influence them to
something better?
Then her thoughts strayed to other girls of their type, and she fell
to wondering how they too passed their time. Perhaps this little
group was on a slightly higher plane, protected as they were by the
settlement, and supervised by Miss Winthrop.
She had intended to go straight to Daisy with her story, but she
found all her plans interrupted by her class-mates. They crowded her
rooms, anxious to congratulate her and to express their good-will, and
insisted upon giving her at least part of the celebration which Lily
and Jeannette had arranged in her honor. It was evening before she
found herself alone; then she sat down to write her report for Miss
Winthrop.
She presented her facts as strongly as she knew how, denouncing the
girls’ conduct with all the ardor she felt, and yet keeping the
personal element out of it. She sketched every girl’s behavior with
a definiteness and a truthfulness that bore the impressive stamp of
thoroughness. Then, before she had a chance to lose her courage, she
posted the letter herself.
She was planning a visit to Daisy on Monday afternoon when a summons
to the reception room interrupted her project. To her surprise she
found both Lily and Daisy already there, talking with a middle-aged,
efficient-looking woman whom she immediately judged to be Miss Winthrop.
“This is Miss Wilkinson, Miss Winthrop,” said Daisy, as Marjorie
advanced towards the little group. “She thinks your report was
splendid, Marjorie.”
Miss Winthrop’s keen gray eyes seemed to be taking the girl in from
head to foot, and, not only that, but to be piercing into her mind as
well. Marjorie shifted nervously.
“I want to talk it all over, Miss Wilkinson,” declared the older woman.
“Your report was most illuminating, most thorough. In fact, it read
more like one from a trained worker than from an inexperienced college
girl.”
This statement aroused Lily’s ire.
“Marj isn’t inexperienced!” she cried, resentfully. “She’s been all
over the country, and always been a leader, no matter where she went,
or what she was doing!”
“Only inexperienced among girls of that type,” explained Miss Winthrop,
with a smile. She was secretly pleased by the girl’s loyalty.
“Yes,” murmured Marjorie, “I know what you mean. Miss Andrews and I
both felt so dreadfully inexperienced. It seems as if somebody else
would have been able to do something. All we did was sit back and
listen and watch in amazement.”
“Didn’t any one speak to you?” inquired Miss Winthrop.
Marjorie flushed; she had not meant to mention the personal insults.
“Not to us—but _at us_!” supplied Lily.
“Of course, Mrs. Morgan did,” Marjorie hastened to add.
Miss Winthrop eyed Marjorie searchingly.
“Do you think that the girls are worth doing anything for?” she asked.
Marjorie remained silent for a moment; as yet she had not been able to
settle that question to her own satisfaction.
“Yes, I think—maybe,” she replied slowly, “for the very reason that
they are so young. Their characters surely aren’t fully developed yet,
so I should judge somebody might do something with them. But I can’t
imagine who the somebody might be.”
“It would have to be somebody whom they liked and admired,” mused Lily.
Miss Winthrop’s grey eyes flashed. “Yes, that’s just it, Miss Andrews.
You have hit the nail on the head. That is the very reason I came out
here to college this afternoon. The girls took a fancy to you and Miss
Wilkinson!”
“What?” gasped Marjorie incredulously. “Surely you are mistaken, Miss
Winthrop! If you could have been there, and have seen and heard for
yourself——”
“I know—I know what you mean,” she interrupted to explain. “But that
is only their way. Don’t you know that ignorant people always ridicule
what they can’t understand? But, I repeat it, the girls liked you. They
told me so last night!”
“Really?” cried the girl, still in doubt as to the possibility of such
a fact. “Please tell me about it, Miss Winthrop. What did they say?”
“Well,” began Miss Winthrop, “it all happened last night, when I
returned from New York. I went immediately to my office and began to
open my mail, when Mrs. Morgan interrupted me by bringing in her report
of the work during my absence.”
“What did she say about the party?” asked Lily with interest.
“Merely that it went nicely and that every one had a good time,”
replied the settlement worker in amusement.
“I thought she would say as much,” remarked Marjorie. “I wish I could
have been so easily satisfied!”
“No, no, Miss Wilkinson—that very attitude is what makes you so
valuable. Mrs. Morgan is a splendid matron, and a very agreeable
person, but she will never make a social worker.”
“To continue: when Mrs. Morgan had left, two of the girls from that
group entered my office. Remember, I had not yet received your report,
and had no reason to believe anything had been other than it should
have. But these girls looked a little bit ashamed of themselves.
“‘Have you heard anything about our jazz party, Miss Winthrop?’ Queenie
Brazier—who by the way seems to be the leader of the group—asked.
“‘Yes, Mrs. Morgan just told me it went off beautifully,’ I answered,
without any hesitation.
“‘But what did the’—let me see, what did they call you?—‘the two
swell Janes,’ I believe—‘have to say about us?’ she asked almost
fearfully.
“For a minute I could not think what she meant. Then I recalled the
fact that Daisy had promised to try to get another girl from college to
help me out, and I presumed she referred to them.
“‘Nothing,’ I replied. ‘I haven’t seen or heard from them since.’
“Both girls breathed a sigh of relief. Then Queenie began, somewhat
apologetically, to tell me that they hadn’t given you a square deal,
that, as she put it, ‘We shot a lot of how do you get that way stuff
at ’em,’ and you never made any move to retaliate. Then, when your
two friends, whom the girls evidently admired immensely, for she
called them, ‘two swell fellers,’ came in and took you home, they grew
remorseful.
“‘What do you want to do about it?’ I inquired, with curiosity.
“‘Just get the word to them we ain’t as bad as we look. And if they’ll
condescend to come again, we’ll give ’em a serenade.’”
“Of all things!” cried Marjorie in astonishment, her eyes lighting up
with pleasure. “So it was really John and Dick who made the hit!”
“Well,” returned Miss Winthrop, “it wakened them up to the fact that
you aren’t old maids—like myself. And they couldn’t help admiring your
dignity, though they did not realize it.”
“Was that all they said?” asked Lily, who by now was immensely amused
at the whole affair.
“Not quite. I began to tell them something of your record in
scouting—I knew it from Daisy—and I could see that they were
impressed. It was Queenie who actually proposed that they turn their
club into a scout troop and elect Miss Wilkinson captain and Miss
Andrews lieutenant.”
Marjorie and Lily received this piece of information with bursts of
laughter.
“Imagine those girls being Girl Scouts!” the former exclaimed. “The
idea is absolutely ridiculous! They couldn’t have meant it!”
“But they did!” Miss Winthrop assured them.
“Have they any idea what the organization stands for?”
“Not much, but they have seen pictures in the papers. They know that
Mrs. Hoover is president, and that the first lady of the land is
honorary president.”
“I am afraid I couldn’t do anything with them, much as I want a troop
of my own,” sighed Marjorie. “It would require somebody older——”
“No! No!” protested Miss Winthrop. “Somebody older wouldn’t have half
the hold on them that you would—will you do it?”
Again Marjorie hesitated and Lily shook her head decidedly.
“Miss Wilkinson is our new class president, Miss Winthrop, and she’ll
be terribly busy this year.”
“And that’s too great an honor to resign,” put in Daisy.
“No, it isn’t,” said Marjorie, “not, at least, for something worth
while. But I don’t feel as if I could do much with these girls.”
“Try!” urged Miss Winthrop. “Meet with them next Saturday night—and
decide then!”
“All right,” agreed Marjorie, “as you say.”
But Marjorie Wilkinson never did things by halves; in spite of Lily’s
vigorous protests, she handed in her resignation that night as
president of the senior class.