The Lookouts met the next evening at Muriel Harding's home, and the
Campfire project was received with acclamation. Nearly everyone present
had a suggestion to tender that would go toward making the affair a
success. The decision regarding the number of booths and what each
should offer for sale had been left to the Lookouts. After much
discussion they agreed upon a number of attractions which were
calculated to meet the approval of the residents of Sanford. Not wishing
to solicit donations from those on whose attendance they counted, it was
difficult to plan features that would yield the largest profit for the
smallest outlay of money. Unsolicited donations would be thankfully
received. As a matter of fact the mothers and fathers of the members had
already offered their help.
One booth would be devoted to the sale of homemade candy, which the
mothers of the Lookouts had agreed to contribute. Another would offer
hand-painted postcards, pledged by the artistic element of the club.
There was also to be a gypsy fortune-teller, a fish pond, a lemonade
stand, an ice cream and cake booth, fruit and flower booth, a huge
pumpkin on which guesses were to be sold regarding the exact number of
seeds it contained, and various other artful attractions which would
cost little and yield much profit. It was also deemed advisable to ask
the members of the senior class to help at the various booths.
The Sanford Guards had held a meeting on the preceding evening and Hal
had informed Jerry of their willingness to take half of the work of
preparation on their shoulders. Besides Laurie's revue, they would offer
a funny side show, a shooting gallery, a patriotic booth, as well as
furnishing nightly an exhibition of military maneuvers. Jerry duly
reported this to the Lookouts, who were well-satisfied. Thanksgiving
fell on the twenty-seventh of November. As it was the evening of the
fourth on which the meeting was held, the need for swift action became
imminent.
"We'll have to hustle if we are going to do all we've planned to do in
the next three weeks," was Jerry's unofficial reminder. "We have to go
to school, you know, and we can't neglect the day nursery. We'll have to
buy some of the postcards. You girls can never turn out enough in three
weeks to supply the demand. The candy and cakes our mothers will take
care of, thank goodness. Still, we ought to buy a certain amount of
boxed candy. The boys will see to the tents and the counters and such
things. Hal says that the military tents the Guards use aren't large
enough. Most of the boys have larger ones of their own that they use to
go camping. They will be best for booths. It's a good thing the Armory
is such a whale--I mean, such a large place."
"We can't afford to waste a minute," nodded Muriel Harding. "It's a good
thing, too, that we are out of basket ball this year. I am glad of it.
Last year killed my ambition to play."
"Miss Davis is having her own troubles in making up the teams," informed
Daisy Griggs. "The sophs who played on Rowena Farnham's team last year
all refused to try for the junior team. Nellie Simmons told a girl that
she wouldn't play basket ball again for a hundred dollars. I guess the
scolding Miss Archer gave them last year was a little too much for
them."
"I am very sorry there is no senior team," declared Mignon with a
defiant toss of her head. "Basket ball is about the only thing worth
while in Sanford High. I think it is very sweet in Miss Davis to try so
hard to keep it alive after what she had to endure last year."
"Whatever she had to stand from the players was her own fault," flashed
Susan Atwell heatedly. "If she hadn't---- Oh, I forgot---- I'm a Lookout."
Susan subsided with a blush and a giggle.
Mignon's black eyes gleamed. Others beside herself, it seemed, could
gossip. Daisy Griggs and Susan Atwell were both guilty of back-biting.
Realizing her advantage she promptly seized it. "It is because I _am_ a
Lookout that I am defending Miss Davis. It is hardly fair, I think, to
gossip about her behind her back."
"I'd just as soon say it to her face," sputtered Susan.
"Suppose we drop the subject of basket ball," suggested Jerry
significantly. "We have other things more important to discuss."
Mignon opened her lips as though about to make hot reply. Reconsidering,
she contented herself with an inimitable shrug that spoke volumes. For
once she had scored. She would treasure the knowledge against a time of
need. Supremely satisfied with herself, she entered into the further
discussion of the Campfire with deceitful amiability. Only one person
utterly refuted it. Jerry Macy was not to be deceived for a moment.
Unknown to Marjorie, she had determined to constitute herself a
vigilance committee of one to keep tab on Mignon. She was entirely
through with Mignon and she vengefully hoped that the figurative hanging
she had prophesied would soon take place.
The next three weeks found the Lookouts engaged in a whirl of day
nursery, Campfire and school. Naturally the Campfire movement
predominated their interest. Had they undertaken it alone, they could
never have carried it to completion in so short a period of time. The
Guards, headed by Laurie, Hal and Danny Seabrooke, proved able
coadjutors, and the project took definite shape with a rush.
The Campfire was scheduled to open on Thanksgiving evening, and the
excited promoters of it hurried through with their Thanksgiving dinners
in order to spend the afternoon in putting the final touches to its
various attractions. In a small city like Sanford, advertising the
affair had been a simple matter. For two weeks beforehand it had been
the main topic of conversation in the two high schools. Gay posters
announcing it were prominently placed in several of the largest stores.
Typed notices ornamented the locker rooms in both high schools, the
pupils of which straightway constituted themselves as ardent
news-carriers. This in itself was an infallible method of advertising.
As for the big Armory, it hardly knew itself. A festive collection of
tents opened in front to their widest extent, lined three sides of it.
At the upper end, at the right of the platform, a palm-screened
enclosure had been arranged to hold the Sanford orchestra. Despite the
amount of room the booths took up, the space enclosed by them was large.
During the early part of the evening it would be used for the military
maneuvers. These over it would be turned into a dancing floor. An
admission fee of thirty-five cents would be levied at the door, and the
spectators would view the entertainment provided from the gallery which
extended around three sides of the drill floor.
The Lookouts, in their prettiest evening frocks, assisted by their
senior sisters, were to preside over the booths the club had fitted out
as their part of the undertaking. The Guards were to look after their
own special contributions and act as ushers and program distributors.
Colonel Dearborn, a United States Army veteran, the only Sanford
survivor of the Civil War, would open the Campfire with a speech of
welcome. Captain Baynes, the drill master of the Sanford Guards, was
also down for a speech. The latter had received injuries in the
Spanish-American war which incapacitated him for further active service
in the army. His enthusiasm unquenched, he had organized the Sanford
Guards and devoted himself assiduously to their training. He was greatly
liked and respected by the Weston High School lads, who had vigorously
pleaded for a few words from him to complete the opening ceremonies.
Miss Archer had been unanimously chosen by the Lookouts as their
representative speaker.
Owing to lack of time, Laurie's revue would begin at eight o'clock, and
last an hour. Constance and Mignon were down on the program for songs.
Veronica was to dance, Danny Seabrooke was to demonstrate his agility in
a comic juggling act. Laurie and Hal were to display themselves as
scientific handlers of fencing foils, while the Crane was to do a funny
eccentric dance which he could perform to perfection. Muriel, Susan,
Rita Talbot and three Weston High School boys were to contribute a
pretty singing and dancing number. Greatly to his discomfiture, Laurie
had received numerous requests to play on his violin, and had
reluctantly consented to render a solo as the concluding number of the
revue. The Weston High Glee Club were to open the performance. The revue
was to be followed by ten minutes of military maneuvers, a different
drill to be given each night. Then the spectators were to be cordially
invited to descend and spend their money.
"I can almost believe I'm a real soldier," Marjorie confided to
Constance, when at half past seven o'clock Thanksgiving evening the two
girls stepped into the patriotically decorated Armory which presented a
gay and busy aspect. Wherever her eyes chanced to rest she saw the
khaki-clad figures of the Guards, their uniforms patterned after those
of the regular United States Army.
"It's inspiring, isn't it?" Constance, looking very lovely in her pale
blue and silver frock, gazed eagerly about her. Standing beside
Marjorie, who was wearing her peachblow gown, the two young girls made a
pretty picture, as more than one gallant guardsman was ready to testify.
"I do hope everything will go beautifully." Marjorie clasped her hands
fervently. "I have made up my mind that our booth must sell every single
box of candy. Irma is sweet among the flowers, isn't she? The flower
booth just suits her. All the girls look lovely. Lucy Warner is a dear
in that soft, white gown. She's a good person to have in the postcards."
"Now what are you two talking about?" Unobserved, Jerry Macy had stolen
up behind them.
"Oh, hello, Jeremiah! How nice you look!" Marjorie reached out to pat
Jerry's plump shoulder. "That white net gown is so becoming."
"It'll do," conceded Jerry gruffly. According to her own statement,
praise always made her "feel foolish." "You and Connie are pretty likely
to drag down a few bouquets," she generously added.
"We'll do." Constance mischievously mimicked Jerry.
"Now that we've changed compliments, I'll throw a few bouquets at the
shrine of the Lookouts," grinned Jerry. "We certainly deserve a lot of
credit, and we owe a loud vote of thanks to our fathers and mothers. If
it hadn't been for them we wouldn't have half the stuff for the booths
that's in them now. When this thing is over, the Lookouts must send
personal letters of thanks to all who've helped us."
"We surely must," chorused Marjorie and Constance.
The Lookouts were indeed indebted to their elders. Mr. Macy, Mr. La
Salle and Miss Allison had been especially liberal with monetary gifts,
while the fathers of the members in less affluent circumstances had each
"done their bit." The mothers, too, had become loyal candy and cake
makers, not to mention the many other services they had rendered
ungrudgingly. Anxious to encourage their children to the performance of
worthy work, these broad-minded men and women believed it to be their
duty to assist the young enthusiasts in every possible way.
"I'm glad we gave Mignon that lemonade job," commented Jerry, her round
eyes wandering to where the big punch bowl stood, thus far minus the
French girl's presence. "She'll be off by herself where she can't stir
up trouble. She'll have to stay there, too, when the revue's over. I
calculated on that when I asked her to take charge of the lemonade bowl.
She doesn't know that she's going to be off in a corner away from the
rest of the girls. I didn't tell her. Maybe she'll be mad when she finds
out. I can't help it. I hope she will get here on time. It's just like
her to come straggling in late so everyone will see her."
"Jerry, you are breaking the Golden Rule," reminded Marjorie.
"Oh, I'm only bending it," retorted Jerry good-humoredly. "Besides, you
two girls don't count. I must say whatever I think to you. To others I
am a clammy clam. Hello! There she comes now. I must say she looks like
a lemon in that yellow frock. It's the exact color of one."
"She is really stunning!" Marjorie exclaimed generously. "That pale
yellow chiffon frock is quite suited to her. It brings out her black
eyes and hair."
"Handsome is as handsome does," Jerry made skeptical response. "I must
leave you now to break the sad news to her. If, in about three minutes,
you see her looking like a thundercloud you'll know the reason."
Jerry sauntered away to deliver the fateful information to Mignon. The
eyes of the two friends meeting, Marjorie made a gesture of dissent.
"I'd rather not watch to see how she takes it. It doesn't seem quite
fair. Jerry didn't stop to think or she wouldn't have said that. As I'm
not in the revue I had better go to my booth."
"I must hurry behind the scenes," said Constance. "It's ten minutes to
eight now and my song comes third on the program."
With this the two girls separated, Constance heading in the direction of
a room at the left of the Armory, nearest to the platform. From it the
girl performers made their entrance to the improvised stage. The room on
the right had been given over to the boys, Marjorie walked slowly toward
the candy booth. When half way to it she heard someone call her name.
Glancing in the direction of the post card booth, she saw Lucy Warner
beckoning eagerly to her. A happy light radiated from the girl's usually
austere features. Her bluish-green eyes sparkled with pleasure. Lucy was
childishly delighted to have the opportunity to assist in so important
an affair as the Campfire. She felt that she owed this happiness
directly to Marjorie.
"Oh, Marjorie!" she exclaimed, as her friend reached the booth. "It's
wonderful! I can't really believe that this good time has come to me!
And I have you to thank for it all! I hope some day to be able to show
you how much I appreciate your friendship."
"I'm ever so glad to see you so bright and happy, Lucy," Marjorie made
earnest response. "You must thank yourself for your good time, though.
You are a faithful Lookout. This is only the beginning. There are lots
of good times ahead of you."
Before Lucy could reply, Hal Macy appeared at Marjorie's elbow with,
"Veronica's here. She's in the girls' dressing room. She wants to see
you."
"I'll come back later, Lucy." With a friendly nod, Marjorie turned to
accompany Hal across the polished floor. A happy smile played about her
lips. Whatever the Lookouts might eventually set down to their further
credit, they had certainly succeeded in bringing happiness to Lucy
Warner.