"Well, how about it?" challenged the irrepressible Jerry Macy. Marjorie
joined the stout girl and Constance, who stood waiting for her across
the street from the high school. Both friends knew why Marjorie had
lingered in the school building when the afternoon session was over.
They were among the first to whom she confided the news of yesterday's
loss. She had announced to them her intention of apprising Lucy Warner
of the unpleasant fact, and Jerry in particular was curious to know what
effect the disclosure would have upon Lucy.
"I'm glad _that's_ over." Marjorie gave a little sigh. "It was pretty
hard for me to tell Lucy. It served me right for being so careless,
though."
"What did she say? Was she mad?" Curiosity looked forth from Jerry's
round face.
"No; that is, not exactly. Still, she wasn't very well pleased,"
admitted Marjorie. "I hope someone finds the letter yet and brings it to
me. But where are the rest of the girls?" She decided that a change of
subject was in order. Lucy's too-evident umbrage had hurt her
considerably. She therefore preferred to try to forget it for a time at
least.
"They've gone on ahead," informed Constance. "Muriel had an errand to do
in town and so had Susan. Irma and Harriet went with them. They are to
meet us at Sargent's at four-thirty."
"Then we had better be starting for there." Marjorie consulted her wrist
watch. "It's ten after four now. Let's hurry along. Did either of you
have a chance to talk with Veronica after school?" she continued as they
set off for Sargent's three abreast.
"I saw her for a moment in the locker room," replied Constance. "She
seemed to be in quite a hurry. She smiled at me but didn't say anything.
Then she put on her hat and left the locker room without stopping to
talk to any of us."
"I suppose she has to go straight home from school and help Miss
Archer's sister," surmised Jerry. "I'd hate to have to study all day and
then go home and shell peas or scrub floors or answer the doorbell or do
whatever had to be done. I guess we ought to be thankful that we don't
have to earn our board and keep."
"I ought to be doubly thankful," agreed Constance seriously. "Not so
very far back in my life I had no time to play, either. Every once in a
while when I feel specially self-satisfied, I take a walk past the
little gray house where I used to live before my aunt played fairy
god-mother to all of us. It makes me remember that my good fortune was
just a lucky accident and takes all the conceit out of me."
"Now that we are seniors I believe we ought to make it our business to
do all we can for the girls in school who aren't able to have the good
times we do," stated Marjorie soberly. "It seems to me that we might
band ourselves together into some sort of welfare club. If we do well
with it we can pass it on to the next senior class when we have been
graduated from Sanford High."
"Hurrah!" Jerry waved a plump hand on high. "That's the talk. Every
since last year I've had that club idea on my mind. Let's hurry up and
organize it at once. For that matter we can do it this afternoon; the
minute we meet the girls at Sargent's. There will be seven of us to
start with. Then we can decide on how many more girls we'd like to have
in it."
"Oh, splendid!" exclaimed Marjorie, the sober expression vanishing from
her pretty face. "Once we organize a club and get it well started, who
knows what distinguished members we may become."
As the three girls swung blithely along toward Sargent's the incessant
flow of conversation that went on among them betokened their signal
interest and enthusiasm in the new project.
"Here we are," proclaimed Jerry noisily to the quartette of girls seated
at a rear table in the smart little shop. "Strictly on time, too, or
rather five minutes ahead of it. How long have you been here?"
"Oh, we just came." It was Muriel Harding who answered. "Maybe we didn't
hustle our errands through, though. Sit down and we'll order our ice
cream. Then we can talk."
"The time has come, the walrus said,
To talk of many things,"
quoted Jerry mysteriously as she seated herself.
"Well, Walrus, what's on your mind?" giggled Susan Atwell, promptly
applying Jerry's quotation to the stout girl herself.
"I'm no walrus. I don't consider that I resemble one in the least,"
retorted Jerry good-humoredly. "I'm sorry you don't recognize a
quotation when you hear one. But I forgive you, giggling Susan."
The approach of a white-clad youth to take their order interrupted
Jerry's discourse. The instant the order had been given she continued:
"Girls, as I just said, the time has come."
"For what?" demanded Harriet, smiling.
"Marjorie will answer that. She's the real promoter of the enterprise. I
am merely the press agent. Go ahead, little Faithful."
Marjorie's cheeks grew rosy at the broadly-implied compliment. "You're a
goose, Jerry," she affectionately chided. "You tell the girls about it."
"I'd rather be a goose than a walrus," grinned Jerry. "As for telling;
let Marjorie do it. No; I mean, I'd rather you'd spring it on them. Oh,
what's the use? Slang and I are one." Jerry sighed an exaggerated sorrow
over her vain effort at eliminating inelegant English from her
vocabulary.
"It must be something very important," put in Susan, with a derisive
chuckle, "or Jeremiah would _never_ resort to slang."
Jerry's grin merely widened. "Go ahead and tell them, Marjorie. Hurry
up."
"It's just this way, children." Marjorie leaned forward a trifle, her
brown eyes roving over the little group of eager-faced listeners. "For a
long time Jerry and I have had the idea of forming a club. We talked of
it last year, after Christmas, and again after we gave the operetta. But
you know what a hard year we had over basketball, and then so many of us
became sick that somehow the club idea was put away and forgotten. But
now, as Jerry says, 'the time has come.' What we'd like to do is to form
a club from a certain number of girls in the senior class. It mustn't be
just a social affair but one devoted to the purpose of looking out for
anyone that needs our help. Of course when first we start we won't be
able to do much. Later we may find it in our power to do a good deal."
"And if the club's a success," interposed Jerry, "Marjorie thinks it
would be nice to pass it along, name and all, to the next senior class.
Then they could will it to the next and so on. It would be a sorority,
only I hope you won't go and burden it with a Greek letter name. We
ought to give it a name that would mean a lot to anyone who happens to
hear of it." Despite her insistence that Marjorie should put forward the
project, Jerry could not resist having her say, too.
"That's a fine idea," glowed Harriet Delaney. "How many girls ought we
to have in it?"
"I should think ten or twelve would be enough to start with," returned
Marjorie meditatively. "If we decide later that we need more we can have
the pleasure of initiating them. Has anyone of you a pencil and paper?"
Muriel immediately brought forth a notebook from her leather school bag.
Susan Atwell promptly produced the required pencil.
"Write on the back page of it, Marjorie," directed Muriel. "If you put
down our illustrious names anywhere else in the book, I am likely to mix
them with my zoology notes."
"Imagine Muriel standing up in class and innocently reading: 'To the
Crustacean family belong Jerry Macy, Marjorie Dean, Harriet Delaney,
etc.,'" giggled Susan Atwell. Whereupon a ripple of giggles swept the
zealous organizers.
"Let me see." Turning obediently to the last leaf of the notebook
Marjorie glanced about the circle and began to write. "We are seven,"
she commented after a moment. "Now for the others. Esther Lind, Rita
Talbot and Daisy Griggs, of course. That makes ten. I'd like to ask Lucy
Warner. Have you any objections?" Marjorie had resolved to overlook
Lucy's recent cavalier treatment of herself.
No one objected and Lucy's name went down on the list.
"We ought to ask Veronica," reminded thoughtful Constance.
"Of course." Marjorie jotted down their new friend's name. Suddenly she
raised her eyes, a faint frown touching her smooth forehead. "Girls,"
she said slowly, "it's our duty to ask Mignon La Salle to join the
club."
"I knew it!" exclaimed Jerry disgustedly. "I've been expecting to hear
you say that. Must we always have _her_ tied to our apron strings?"
"Oh, I wouldn't ask her, Marjorie." Muriel's face registered plain
disapproval. "If you do, we won't have a peaceful minute. Besides, she
would be the thirteenth member."
"I'd hate to belong to a thirteen-member club," declared Harriet
superstitiously. "We'd never have a minute's luck."
"We'll never have even that much luck if we drag Mignon into our club,"
was Jerry's gruff prediction.
Marjorie's troubled gaze strayed from one to another of her schoolmates.
Constance and Irma alone looked tranquil. She read strong opposition in
the faces of the others.
"I am perfectly willing that Mignon shall become a member of the club."
Constance ranged herself boldly on Marjorie's side.
"So am I," reinforced Irma. "We all gave Marjorie our promise to help
Mignon in any way that we could. I won't go back on my part of it."
"If you put it that way, neither ought the rest of us," grumbled Muriel.
"Still, we have the welfare of the club to consider. Mignon is, and
always has been, a disturber. Just at present she is pretending to
behave herself because her father has taken her in hand. The hateful way
she has acted about Veronica shows very plainly that she hasn't really
reformed. If Rowena Farnham hadn't left Sanford High, she and Mignon
would be as chummy as ever by this time."
"I said that same thing to Marjorie last year," confessed Constance. "I
am perfectly willing to admit it. Even so, that has nothing to do with
our agreement to try to help Mignon. If Rowena were here, and she and
Mignon began to go around together again, it would be our duty to look
out for Mignon just the same, or else go frankly to Mr. La Salle and ask
him to release us from our promise."
"I'd rather do that than have Mignon in our club," asserted Jerry
stubbornly. "As long as you've mentioned Rowena I'll tell you something
that I've been keeping to myself. You know that the La Salles always go
to Severn Beach for the summer, and so does our family. Last year the
Farnhams were there, too. But this year they were at Tanglewood. It's
not more than ten miles from Severn Beach.
"Twice, while Hal and I were motoring through Tanglewood in his
roadster, we saw Mignon and Rowena together. Once, in their bathing
suits on the beach, and another time we saw them walking together in a
little grove about a mile above Tanglewood. They didn't see us either
time. I know perfectly well that Mignon slipped away to visit Rowena
without permission. It proves that they can't be kept apart. I
understand that Rowena went away to boarding school last week. That
means the two will correspond. Rowena will do her best to bother
Marjorie through Mignon. She will never forgive her for last year. All I
have to say is that in order to protect Marjorie from her spite we ought
to keep Mignon out of the club. We can try to help her in other ways."
"That settles it!" exclaimed Muriel Harding. "I mean that I think
Jerry's reason for not asking Mignon to join the club is a good one.
Every year of high school, so far, she has managed to make things hard
for Marjorie. Now it's time to put a stop to her mischief-making."
"I agree with Muriel," announced Harriet.
"So do I," chimed in Susan.
Marjorie smiled a trifle wistfully. "The majority rules," she said
slowly. "It's a case of four against three. I hardly know what to do. If
I say that I won't join the club, after being the one to propose it, it
will appear that I am backing out just because I can't have my own way.
If I say, 'very well, let us organize the club and leave Mignon out,'
then I shall be breaking my word to Mr. La Salle.
"I have never yet broken a promise I made. I should hate now to feel
that I had failed to be true to myself. Please don't think that I am
asking you girls to accept my views. You must do whatever you feel to be
best. For me it means one of two evils: refuse to join the club or break
my promise. To do either would make me feel dreadfully."
As Marjorie finished blank silence reigned. It was Jerry Macy who broke
it. "You've set us a pretty stiff example to live up to, Marjorie," she
said bluntly. "You haven't left us a foot to stand on. We all gave you
our word to help Mignon. As long as you think that this is one of the
ways we can help her then it must be so. We want you in the club and we
want you to keep your promise to Mr. La Salle. But I've just one thing
to say. I've said it before and I say it again. If after she joins the
club she starts to make mischief for you or any of us, I'll resign. If I
do, you needn't try to coax me back for I shan't come. Remember that."
"Thank you, Jerry, for being so splendid." Marjorie's slender hand
reached out to Jerry in token of her gratitude. "I know that all of you
would like me to be in the club. That is why it was so hard for me to
say what I just said."
"Here's my hand, too." Muriel flushed as she proffered it. "Susan and
Harriet, you are beaten. Salute the victor. I agree with Jerry, though,
about resigning from the club."
"I'll risk both of you," declared Marjorie happily, as she shook hands
with the three girls. "Thank you ever so much. I didn't say so before,
because I was afraid you might think that I was trying to influence you,
but don't you see that Mignon needs us now more than ever? We must try
to win her away from Rowena's hurtful influence over her. For her to
join the club may be the very best way to do it. If we can interest her
in whatever we may decide to do for others, she will, perhaps, care more
for us and less for Rowena."
"I guess there's something in that," nodded Jerry. "But what are we
going to do about Mignon being the thirteenth member?"
"We had better add one more name to the list," suggested Irma. "Why not
ask Florence Johnston? She is such a nice girl."
Concerted assent greeted Irma's suggestion, and Marjorie duly inscribed
Florence's name below Mignon's.
"We might as well make it fifteen," asserted Jerry. "Gertrude Aldine is
a worthy senior. How about her?"
Jerry's choice approved, Marjorie read down the list as she had compiled
it. "That much is settled," she declared. "The next thing is to choose a
name. Suppose we think hard about it while we eat our ice cream. When
we've finished, then each one must tell the name she has thought of. Out
of seven names we ought to find one that will suit our club."
In the interest of deciding upon the club members, for once Sargent's
toothsome concoctions had stood neglected on the table. The girls now
proceeded to make up for lost time and an unusual stillness settled down
upon them as they ate their ice cream.
Quick-witted Jerry was the first to make the announcement, "I've thought
of one."
Inspiration did not come so easily to the others, however.
"I can never think of anything like that on the spur of the moment,"
lamented Harriet. "The only thing that sticks in my brain is 'The
Serious Sanford Seniors,' which is awful."
"Mine is even worse," snickered Susan Atwell. "All I can think of is
'The Happy Hustlers.'"
"Mine's 'The Ever Ready Club,'" smiled Irma. "But that's not an
interesting name."
"It wouldn't be a bad name for us," praised Marjorie. "I thought of
'_Bon Aventure_' but it really ought to be a good plain English name,
instead of a French one."
"'_Bon Aventure_' sounds very pretty," asserted Constance. "Mine is 'The
Searchlight Club.'"
"That's good!" came from two or three of the circle.
"My naming faculty isn't working," was Muriel's rueful cry. "I can't
think of a single thing. Go ahead and tell us yours, Jerry. I know you
are anxious to."
"When first it came to me, it seemed pretty good, but I like the other
names just as well. What I thought of was the 'Lookout Club.' You see
that is what we are going to pledge ourselves to do. We must look out
for others who need our help."
"I like that name," was Marjorie's opinion. "It's short and plain, yet
it means so much. Every time we heard it or said it or even thought
about it, it would make us remember our object. Those in favor of the
'Lookout Club' raise your right hand."
Seven right hands promptly went up. And although they could not then
know it, they laid the cornerstone that afternoon for a famous high
school sorority that was destined to flourish and endure long after
their Sanford High School days had become but a dear memory.