Marjorie Dean, High School Senior

“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.

CHAPTER V—THE HARD ROAD OF DUTY

“But why won’t you join our club, Veronica?” Marjorie’s voice held a pleading note. “We have been counting on you from the first. Of course I know you haven’t as much time to yourself as the rest of us have. Still, I am sure Miss Archer would let you come to some of our meetings, if not all of them. We are going to meet once a week at the homes of the different girls and in the evening after dinner.”

“I am sorry, Marjorie, but really I can’t. For your sake I’d love to, but I am sure it would be best for me not to join your club.” Veronica’s pretty, pale features took on a faint tinge of pink as she delivered her quiet ultimatum.

“Is it because of Mignon La Salle?” It was Marjorie’s turn to color as she asked this pertinent question. Since the first day of school when Veronica had chanced to overhear Mignon’s unkind criticism of herself, and Marjorie had rather lamely asked the former not to judge the French girl too harshly, Mignon’s name had never again been mentioned between them. From Jerry Macy, however, and various others, Marjorie had learned that Mignon never lost an opportunity to pass sneering remarks about “that servant girl.” Marjorie wondered now if at least a part of these remarks had come to Veronica’s ears. If such were the case she could hardly blame her new friend for refusing to belong to a club of which Mignon was to be a member.

For a moment Veronica did not answer. Her brief, mysterious smile flickered into evidence, then faded as she said frankly: “Yes, it is because of Miss La Salle. Understand, I am not afraid of her sneers. She is a very vain, foolish young person. It is because——” She broke off abruptly to launch forth unexpectedly with: “You remember my first day at school, when you and I walked home together?”

“Yes,” came Marjorie’s ready answer. Her eyes sought the other girl’s face in mute question.

“You spoke to me then of Miss La Salle, and I said I understood. Since then I’ve wondered a good deal whether or not I did understand you. When you and she came to call on Miss Archer that afternoon, I may say frankly that I liked you on sight and disliked her intensely. I supposed, however, that there must be some good in her or you wouldn’t be her friend. Then, too, when she sneered about me in the locker room and afterward, you asked me to think as kindly of her as I could, I still supposed that you must like her very much. Now comes the curious part. I’ve been at Sanford High only a week, but in that time I’ve managed to see and hear a great deal; enough, at any rate, to convince me that Miss La Salle is not nor never has been your friend. What I can’t understand is why a delightful girl like you should trouble your head over the welfare of such an ingrate.”

Marjorie’s face registered patent surprise at gentle Veronica’s energetic denunciation of Mignon. She realized that the flash in the former’s gray eyes betokened an anger that had been wakened in Veronica’s heart solely on her account.

“Why do you and your friends pay any attention to her?” continued Veronica warmly. “My—Miss Archer has told me a number of things that make me wonder at it. Of course, this is in strict confidence, but she was very much surprised to see Miss La Salle with you on the day you called at our—her house.”

“I knew she would be,” was Marjorie’s rueful reply, “but on that day it was merely that she happened along in her runabout and—well—and just came with me. Miss Archer doesn’t know——” Marjorie stopped. She had been on the verge of mentioning to Veronica her promise to Mr. La Salle. More than once, since that day in her general’s office when Mignon’s father had pleaded with her for his daughter’s sake, Marjorie had wished that she had never been asked to make that fateful promise.

“Doesn’t know what?” interrogated Veronica with the same energetic impatience that had characterized her blunt arraignment of the French girl.

“Veronica,” Marjorie began solemnly, “I think, as long as we are already such good friends, that I ought to tell you about Mignon. It’s not fair to you or myself or my friends to allow you to think that we approve of some of the things she does and says.” Briefly, Marjorie explained the position that she and her chums had been forced into on the French girl’s account. “You may tell Miss Archer, too, if you will. I’d like her to understand the situation.”

“You girls have a hard task on your hands,” was Veronica’s grim comment. “I’ve seen that sort of reform tried so many times in—— Well, I’ve seen it tried. It always fails. Perhaps I’m speaking too harshly for one in my humble position.” She flashed Marjorie one of her strange smiles.

“It is right for you to say whatever you think,” Marjorie made honest response. Inwardly, she decided that Veronica grew daily more baffling. For a girl who had been brought up in such humble circumstances she was astonishingly authoritative in her manner of speaking. Yet Marjorie could not help but admire her dauntless spirit of independence.

“You think me a queer girl, don’t you?” challenged Veronica. “Never mind. Some day you’ll learn to know and understand me better. About your club,” she went on hastily as though anxious to lead Marjorie’s attention away from herself, “I must refuse positively to belong to it. It would create trouble from the start. You have enough complications to manage as it is. I may have seemed unfeeling to you about Miss La Salle, but since I know more of the circumstances, I must say that I sincerely hope you may help her to find her better self. Look out, though, that she doesn’t spread a web for your feet.”

With this warning ringing in her ears, Marjorie left her new friend to continue on her way home to luncheon and entered at her own gate. Over a week had elapsed since the seven girls had congregated at Sargent’s and made their first attempt toward forming the Lookout Club. During that time all the other prospective members had been interviewed and with the exception of Veronica had heartily fallen in with the plan. This was the second time that Marjorie had invited the former to join the club. She was distinctly disappointed at Veronica’s firm refusal, yet she knew that the girl had spoken wisely when she had remarked that her advent into the club would be sure to create a disturbance on Mignon’s part.

Privately, Marjorie would not have been specially grieved if Mignon, instead of Veronica, had been the one to refuse to join. On the contrary, the French girl readily accepted the invitation.

Although Marjorie could not know it, Mr. La Salle had recently stumbled upon a letter from Rowena to Mignon among those in his morning mail. Unluckily for Mignon, it had drifted there quite by mistake. The postmark plainly revealing its source, he had sent for Mignon, forced her to identify the writing on the envelope and destroyed it unopened before her very eyes. Then he had taken her severely to task for it. Mignon had craftily pretended innocence, boldly assuring her father that she was astonished to think that Rowena Farnham would dare write to her. Partially convinced by her eager protestations, Mr. La Salle had made Mignon sit down and write Rowena a curt note, which he dictated, informing her that she, Mignon, refused absolutely to hold any further communication whatever with her. It may be stated that although he also attended to the mailing of that particular letter, he had nothing whatever to do with a second much longer epistle written by Mignon to Rowena in school the next day and surreptitiously mailed to her by special delivery.

Following on the heels of this dire calamity to Mignon’s peace of mind had come Marjorie’s invitation to join the Lookout Club. Mignon had hailed it as a timely aid toward restoring her father’s doubtful confidence in herself, and accepted the invitation with alacrity. That she had done wisely was soon made manifest. Mr. La Salle was delighted when she casually informed him of the fact, and immediately promised to buy her an expensive gold vanity case, for which she had previously teased him without avail. Secretly, Mignon was highly pleased with herself. Rowena had always impressed it upon her that she must not scruple to use others to gain her own ends. She felt that in thus using Marjorie’s invitation to appease her father’s wrath, she had indeed managed very diplomatically. As for the letter, her father had forced her to write Rowena, Mignon knew it would be of no more consequence to her friend than so much blank paper. Rowena was too shrewd not to guess that Mr. La Salle was the motive power behind it.

Marjorie’s views on the subject of Mignon, however, were not optimistic. At luncheon that day she was very quiet. Veronica’s warning still lurked in her brain. It was a queer situation she reflected. She had fought valiantly to make Mignon a member of the club, while all the time she was dreading the thought of it. On the contrary, she wished earnestly for Veronica to become a member, yet she had hardly protested against her refusal to join. Why was it, she pondered, that one’s duty was hardly ever pleasant? Why did it so often require one to put aside the nice things and keep the disagreeable ones?

“What makes you so quiet, Lieutenant?” was her mother’s solicitous question as Marjorie began a listless eating of a favorite dessert which she usually hailed with acclamation.

“Oh, I was thinking about the club. Veronica won’t join it on account of Mignon. She thinks if she did that Mignon would make it disagreeable for all of us. Of course, she is right, yet it seems dreadfully unfair to her for me to accept that view of it. Just because I made that promise to Mr. La Salle, I am obliged to consider Mignon’s welfare above Veronica’s. It’s too provoking!”

“If I felt that way about it, I would go to Mr. La Salle and ask him to release me from that promise,” was her mother’s tranquil advice. “If you lack the spirit of helpfulness, then you can hardly expect to be truly helpful. I don’t mean that as censure, Lieutenant. You know my personal views on the subject of Mignon. I am merely suggesting it as an open road out of your difficulty.”

“That is almost what Connie said to Jerry when we first talked of having the club, and Jerry objected to my asking Mignon to become a member. I stood up for Mignon then. Now I almost wish I hadn’t. Still I know it was right to do it, so I must stand by my colors. Veronica and I understand each other. She knows that she is welcome to join the club, no matter what Mignon may think. Still, I know that if I coaxed her every day for a week she wouldn’t change her mind about it. It’s just another of those miserable vicissitudes, and I shall have to accept it as such and try to meet it like a good soldier. I couldn’t go to Mr. La Salle and ask him to release me from my promise. I’d be a deserter from the army. That reminds me, Captain, may the club hold its first meeting here to-morrow evening after dinner? I’d like it ever so much if you have no objections. You know that means eats. Such a worthy organization can’t conduct a business session without a reward afterward.” Marjorie’s brown eyes danced mischievously.

“I shall feel highly honored,” laughed her mother, “and will take it upon myself to see that the worthy organization is lavishly rewarded. How many girls will be here?”

“Fourteen, counting your grateful lieutenant,” informed Marjorie. Finishing her dessert in a hurry, she sprang from her chair and fervently embraced her mother. “You are positively splendiferous, Captain,” she cried. “If I came and told you that I wanted to invite the whole four classes of Sanford High to this house to a party, you’d say ‘yes.’”

“I doubt it,” returned her mother with twinkling eyes. “Deliver me from any such invasion!”

“Oh, I am not going to try it,” Marjorie laughingly assured. “That was merely an extravagance of speech. Miss Flint continually warns us against using extravagant language. But there are times when it’s extravagantly necessary. Are you sure you won’t mind letting us have the living room for our meeting? I’d have it upstairs in my house, only we’d be rather crowded.”

“No; Lieutenant, I am willing to resign all claim to it for the evening. Mrs. Macy and I have a call to make on that poor man who was hurt so badly in that boiler explosion last week. I understand that he and his family are greatly in need of help. You will have to play hostess alone, as I am going to motor over for Mrs. Macy directly after dinner. I’ll arrange with Delia this afternoon for refreshments for the club.”

“Thank you a million times, Captain.” With a final vigorous hug and a resounding kiss, Marjorie made a hop, skip and jump exit from the dining room. A twinkle of amusement lurked in her mother’s eyes as through the wide doorway she watched her active daughter cross the hall and enter the living room to put in the fifteen minutes’ piano practice after luncheon, which formed a part of the busy lieutenant’s daily program. The last mail of the morning had been productive of a letter for Marjorie from Mary Raymond. Mrs. Dean had placed it on the rack above the keyboard directly in front of Marjorie’s open exercise book, with a view toward giving her a pleasant surprise.

That she had succeeded was immediately evidenced by the jubilant little cry which proceeded from the living room. As she had confidently expected, no sounds of practice arose from the neglected piano during the next fifteen minutes. Duty had succumbed to the fascinating wiles of Mary Raymond. As usual, Mary’s letter covered many closely-written pages of note paper. She had much to tell of the glories of her far western home. She hoped that next summer Marjorie could surely make her the long visit which she had been unable to pay her that year. She was trying her best to be a good soldier. The Magic Shield of Valor had protected her more than once during her school life of the previous year. There were a number of very snobbish girls in the senior class at school, of which she was now a member. One of them reminded her a little of Mignon La Salle. She was a new girl in school whose father owned one of the largest ranches in the state. So far this new girl had been very nice to her, but she had made up her mind to be very cautious about rushing into too-ready friendship with her.

“You see,” Mary wrote, “I’ve had one severe lesson of that sort. I don’t need another. By the way, how is Mignon behaving toward you since school began? I can’t make myself believe that she has really changed. If I were you, Lieutenant, I would keep a safe distance from her. She is likely to turn and snap at you when you least expect it. It must be a relief to you girls to know that Rowena Farnham won’t be a pupil of Sanford High this year. It wouldn’t surprise me, though, if she and Mignon were friends still on the sly. They are a well-matched pair, and, therefore, hard to separate.”

Marjorie smiled ruefully as she read Mary’s uncomplimentary opinion of the French girl and her wise conclusion regarding Mignon and Rowena. Mary Raymond had never forgiven Mignon her transgressions; moreover, she never would forgive her. She wondered what Mary would think when she wrote her chum the information that Mignon had been invited to join the Lookout Club. Mary’s forceful warning against the latter did not tend to lighten the perplexed lieutenant’s own lively apprehension. Suppose her own insistence that they keep their promise to Mr. La Salle were to later enmesh both herself and her friends in some difficult web of Mignon’s spinning? Given that this could easily happen, it might take the greater part of their senior year to extricate themselves from it. On the other hand, membership in the club might have a highly beneficial effect on Mignon. Marjorie fervently hoped that it would. At any rate she had pleaded that Mignon should be asked to become a member of the club, and come what might, she must abide by the consequence of her own act.

CHAPTER VI—STRICTLY LOCAL POLITICS

“I’m glad you came, Jerry. Captain says we can have the meeting here to-morrow evening. I wish you’d help me invite the girls. I’ll tell Lucy, Rita, Florence, Gertrude and—Mignon. I think I’d better invite them myself as long as the meeting is to be at my house. You can tell the others. But we mustn’t stand here to talk. It’s after one o’clock now.” Seizing her hat, Marjorie hastily slipped it over her curls and the two left the house.

“I’ll cheerfully invite anyone except Mignon,” stipulated the stout girl. “Is Veronica coming?” They had now started down the street toward the high school.

“No.” Marjorie’s face clouded. “She refuses to join our club.”

“Isn’t that too bad?” deplored Jerry in deep disgust. “I suppose it’s on account of Mignon that she won’t belong to the club. I can’t say I blame her much. Daisy Griggs told me this morning that Mignon said she wouldn’t be seen associating with a menial like that Browning girl. Isn’t that the limit? No apology for using slang, either. I mean what I say. There’s just one thing about it, Marjorie, we’ll have to do something to stop Mignon from making such malicious remarks about Veronica. All morning I kept thinking about what Daisy had said. While I was eating luncheon an idea popped into my head. We might as well make a special rule along with the regular club rules that the members must pledge themselves not to gossip or say hateful things about anyone. All the girls except Mignon will live up to it, I know. I’ve thought of another way, too, to keep her from gossiping. You’ll think I’ve surely gone crazy when I tell you. Yet there’s some method in my madness.”

“What is it?” asked Marjorie curiously. She could think of no effectual method of sealing Mignon’s wayward lips.

“Well, the best thing to do with Mignon is to elect her to an office in the club. Then she won’t dare to do anything but behave herself. The eyes of the club will be on her all the time. She’ll just have to walk a chalk line. She’ll do it, too. You know how well she behaved when Laurie gave her back her part in the operetta last Spring. She loves power and position. Make her an officer in the club and she’ll walk softly for fear of putting out her own bright light. What do you think about it, anyway?”

“It’s a good plan,” was Marjorie’s unhesitating answer. “I don’t believe it would be wise to have her for president, though, or even vice-president.”

“No, she’ll have to be secretary or treasurer,” declared Jerry quickly. “In a club of fourteen, four officers will be about as many as we shall need.”

“But suppose the girls don’t care to vote for her?” Tardy remembrance of this obstacle now confronted Marjorie.

“Oh, it will have to be a cut-and-dried election as far as Mignon is concerned.” Jerry grinned cheerfully as she made this bald statement. “You and I will have to do some electioneering. I’ll interview one half of the girls and leave the other half to you. We’d better decide now on the office she’s to have,” she added with the judicial air of a seasoned politician.

“We might propose her for treasurer,” said Marjorie after a moment’s reflection. “Very likely we won’t have much money at first, but it would make her feel more important to take care of it than to be secretary and just set down the minutes of the different meetings.”

“All right, we’ll see to it that she is elected treasurer. I expect it will be some surprise to her. I hope to goodness she appreciates it enough to behave like a Christian. If she doesn’t, you can blame me for the whole thing.”

“It will be just as much my fault as yours if the plan doesn’t work out well. It’s rather queer, Jerry, but just before you came I was wondering whether I had done right after all in proposing Mignon as a member of the Lookouts. I had just decided that I had, when you came and proved it to me by proposing that we elect her to an office in the club. It looks as though there were some hidden influence at work, far greater than we are, which is urging us on to help her find herself. Who knows how wonderfully our little plot may turn out after all?”

“You might better say, ‘Who knows how our little plot may turn out?’” grumbled Jerry. “It reminds me of a problem in algebra. Let X equal the unknown quantity, or rather let Mignon equal the unknown quantity. But let us once more be reformers or die in the attempt. We’ve started the ball rolling, so we’ll have to run along behind it and see that it keeps on rolling in the right direction.”

Their entrance into the school building cut the earnest conversation short. Marjorie left Jerry in the corridor and went on alone to Miss Archer’s office to apprise Lucy Warner of the new project and that the first meeting of the club was to take place at her home on the following evening. There was a distinct tinge of reserve in the green-eyed girl’s greeting, which informed Marjorie that Lucy was still slightly peeved over the incident of the lost letter. Diligent inquiry had failed to bring forth any news of it. It was now over a week since Marjorie had lost it, and there seemed small chance that it would materialize at this late date.

“I have an invitation to deliver to you, Lucy,” was Marjorie’s frank address. “Can you come to my house to-morrow evening after dinner? A number of other girls will be there, too. We are going to organize a club, and we should like to have you belong to it.”

For a moment Lucy regarded the winsome face before her with scowling indecision. She was very fond of Marjorie, yet she still cherished a slight resentment toward her. The friendly light in the other girl’s brown eyes, however, filled her with an overwhelming sense of shame for her own stubbornness. Her wrinkled forehead suddenly cleared and she said contritely: “I hope you’ll forgive me, Marjorie, for being so hateful to you about that old letter. I am sorry. Please forget that it ever happened. It is sweet of you to ask me to belong to your club. I’d love to come to your house to-morrow night, and I surely will. Thank you for asking me.”

Marjorie’s lovely face broke into smiles. “Thank you for saying you’ll come,” she nodded brightly. “The meeting is to begin at eight o’clock. Come over earlier if you can. I must hurry along now. It’s almost half-past one.”

“I’ll be there before eight,” assured Lucy. Her uncompromising manner had vanished, and her stolid features shone with renewed good will.

As Marjorie hurried toward the senior locker room to dispose of her hat before entering the study hall, she felt as though a sudden weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It was not only her own remorse at losing the letter which had troubled her. Lucy’s frosty attitude had belonged strictly to the embittered Observer. Having successfully dragged her out of that rut, Marjorie had deplored that she should be the one to shove poor Lucy back into it again. It was vastly comforting to her to find that the Observer had not risen again to dominate Lucy Warner.

CHAPTER VII—A STEP TOWARD POPULARITY

“Them’s my sentiments, too,” retorted Jerry modestly, “only I hated to praise myself too much. But forget it. I mean, give Jeremiah’s manifold virtues a rest. Let’s get busy. Ladies and no gentlemen, take your seats and the show will begin.” Jerry raised her voice in a stentorian call: “Our esteemed hostess, Marjorie Dean, will address this noisy throng as soon as she can make herself heard.”

“I wish you would do the talking, Jerry,” pleaded Marjorie. Her glance suddenly straying to the rows of chairs on which the girls were disposing themselves, she exclaimed: “We can’t begin the meeting yet. Mignon isn’t here. I knew someone was missing, but I couldn’t say who.”

“Oh, bother!” the ejaculation slipped out before Jerry could check it. “Well, sit down, all of you, just the same. Mignon will be here. She told Marjorie that she would.” Under her breath she muttered: “I hope it doesn’t take her all evening to get here.”

Hardly had Marjorie recognized the fact of Mignon La Salle’s absence, when the loud whir of the electric doorbell proclaimed her arrival.

“Good evening,” she greeted, as Marjorie ushered her into the hall. “I am sorry to be so late. An unexpected circumstance arose to delay me.” Mignon did not add, however, that the true cause of her delay was a letter from Rowena Farnham, in which the writer of it rated her scathingly for allowing the letter she had written to fall into Mr. La Salle’s hands. It had quite upset Mignon and put her distinctly out of humor with the idea of the meeting at Marjorie’s home. In consequence she had sulked in her room in solitary grandeur, and finally decided to go to the meeting merely for the sake of tantalizing Rowena by writing her a defiant account of it afterward.

“Oh, you aren’t really late,” excused Marjorie courteously. “We knew you’d soon be with us, so we waited for you. I see by your hatless condition that you drove here in your runabout. Come into the living room, Mignon, and take your place in joiner’s row.”

With a patronizing smile, which she blindly believed to be the acme of graciousness, Mignon followed Marjorie into the living room and seated herself on one of the two vacant chairs in the front row. As she greeted her companions her elfish black eyes kept up the usual incessant roving from face to face.

“Go ahead, Marjorie,” Jerry ordered as she slipped into the remaining vacant chair. “It’s up to you. I’m no orator.”

“Girls,” rang out Marjorie’s clear tones, “some of you know quite a little bit more about this club idea than others. So I’d better tell you everything from the very beginning.” Briefly, she related what had transpired among the seven seniors on the afternoon they had visited Sargent’s. This accomplished she continued: “So you see we haven’t done much as yet except choose a name and decide what our object is to be. First let me ask you: Have any of you another name that you think would be better than the ‘Lookout Club?’”

Emphatic approval forthcoming for the name already selected, she went on: “You must understand that the object of this club is purely to help anyone or any good cause we can. We must always be on the lookout with that purpose in view. At first we can’t do much. Later we may do a good deal. But whatever our hands find to do, we must do it with our might. If the club proves a success, then we can pass it on to the next senior class of Sanford High. I believe it would make us all very glad some day to be able to say that we founded the first sorority in our high school. It seems strange to me that there has never been one in Sanford High. At Franklin High, the school I had just entered before I came to Sanford to live, there were several sororities. It would be splendid if we could call ourselves the founders of one at Sanford High.

“That is about all I can say regarding the object of our club. What we ought to do first this evening is to elect our officers. As there are only fourteen of us in the club, we don’t need many officers. A president, vice-president, secretary and treasurer will be enough. For president, I wish to nominate Jerry Macy. Are there any other nominations for that office? As there are so few of us we might as well make the election a strictly informal affair. Afterward we can conform to the usual method of club procedure.”

“I nominate Marjorie Dean for president,” put in Jerry quickly.

“I refuse the nomination.” Marjorie smilingly shook her head. “I shall not accept an office. I prefer to be just a member.”

“I think Jerry would make a fine president,” said Harriet Delaney with emphasis.

“But I——” began Jerry.

“Are there any further nominations?” interrupted Marjorie mischievously.

“I don’t want to be president.” Jerry’s protesting voice alone broke the silence.

“I second the nomination,” declared Rita Talbot.

Paying no attention to the protest, Marjorie continued: “It has been regularly moved and seconded that Jerry Macy become president of the Lookout Club. Those in favor of the motion please respond by rising.”

Twelve girls immediately stood up. Jerry alone remained seated, scowling ferociously.

“I declare Jerry Macy to be president of the Lookout Club,” stated Marjorie. “Don’t look so cross about it, Jerry. You can’t help yourself. Come up here now and show us how nicely you can conduct the rest of the election.”

“Not for mine. I mean not to-night,” amended Jerry hastily. “I won’t decline to be president, because I am no quitter. If you girls are determined to have me for that high and mighty office, I’ll do my best to fill it. Still, I must say I don’t admire your taste.”

A general laugh went up at this naïve speech of acceptance. Only one girl did not smile. In her secret heart Mignon was not in favor of the stout girl for president. She had voted for her merely because she did not wish to be the only one on the contrary side.

“Since Jerry refuses to begin her duties to-night, I’ll let her off for just once,” asserted Marjorie playfully. “We will now consider the office of vice-president. Nominations are in order.”

“I move that we nominate Muriel Harding for vice-president,” volunteered Daisy Griggs.

Susan Atwell instantly seconded the nomination. The matter was then put to vote and Muriel was unanimously elected to the honor of the vice-presidency.

“Nominations for treasurer are now in order,” announced Marjorie. Her color deepened a trifle as she spoke. This particular part of the election did not appeal to her. Both she and Jerry had encountered sturdy opposition when they had privately interviewed their friends regarding their proposal to make Mignon treasurer of the club. In the end they had won a concerted though reluctant consent to the project. Marjorie now felt a trifle anxious for fear ample time for reflection might have caused one or more of them to alter their decision.

“I nominate Mignon La Salle for the office of treasurer.” Constance Stevens’ low, sweet voice cut the silence.

“I second the motion,” came reassuringly from Irma Linton.

Marjorie flashed her a quick, grateful glance. Irma Linton, too, could always be depended on to do the right thing at the right moment. Her gaze resting next on Mignon, she was inwardly amused at the expression of blank amazement that overspread the French girl’s sharp features. Mignon had, indeed, been treated to a pleasant surprise. A gleam of intense triumph shone in her large, black eyes when a moment later twelve girls loyally rose to their feet in response to Marjorie’s mechanically-stated request.

Was it really true that she, Mignon La Salle, had actually been nominated by Constance Stevens and chosen by the girls whom she privately scorned to fill an important office in the club? It looked as though at last they were beginning to come to their senses. Possessed of an overweening vanity, Mignon smilingly accepted her election to the post of treasurer as a distinct compliment to herself. Far from being grateful for it, she regarded it purely as a step toward the popularity which she had ever craved. It also gave her a thrill of malicious joy to discover in her hands an efficient means of arousing Rowena’s jealousy. How greatly she would enjoy writing Rowena the news, and how furious Rowena would be! A mocking smile touched her red lips as she gleefully anticipated Rowena’s rage.

Engaged in rapt meditation of this desirable consummation, Mignon did not realize that a pair of shrewd eyes had marked that smile and translated it with surprising accuracy. “I’ll bet you my hat she’s wondering how Rowena will take it,” was Jerry Macy’s astute conclusion. A surmise which seemed indeed to point to the truth of Jerry’s frequent assertion that she “knew everything about everybody.”

CHAPTER VIII—THE RULE OF RULES

“Will the four distinguished officers please come forward and stand in a row and receive the congratulations of the humble members?” requested Marjorie gaily. “After that I will conduct them to their official stations and let them run the meeting.”

Several minutes of merry talk and handshaking went on before Jerry assumed the scepter of office and called the meeting to order again. Mignon and Irma had now been given seats at the big library table at one end of the room. Muriel had moved her chair to the front, placing it a little to one side of where Jerry stood.

“Ahem!” ejaculated Jerry, then giggled. “As president of this club, it now becomes my duty to discuss with you a number of rules and regulations to which this distinguished organization must pledge themselves to live up. In the first place, you will all be taxed with dues. You are lucky to be charter members and thus avoid the payment of initiation fees. Now the question is how much are you willing to pay per week or per year or any other old per for your glorious privilege of membership. Now don’t all speak at once, and don’t be stingy. Remember, we are as yet a very poor and struggling concern. We have only one consolation. We needn’t hire a hall. We can meet at one another’s houses and thus practice thrift. Now let’s have a little informal discussion about it.”

“I think the per week idea would be nice.” Harriet Delaney rose promptly to the financial situation. “We could give so much each week when we came to the meeting. Mignon could have our names on a book just as the grammar school teachers keep a register. Then when we first came into the room where the meeting is held we could give her our money and she could credit us with it on her book. It’s easier to give a little each week than to have to save it up and pay it all at one time. We wouldn’t even miss it, for we are always spending small sums for candy and ice cream and moving pictures and such things. We ought to look at our club as an amusement and be willing to pay for it accordingly. Then, too, the money will be used to do good with.”

“That is a very sensible plan,” agreed Muriel Harding. “How much do you suppose we ought to give? I am willing to spend at least a quarter a week on the club.”

“I’d never miss a quarter, either,” affirmed Jerry Macy. “That’s letting us off easy. Don’t you think so, Marjorie?”

Marjorie was about to answer in the affirmative. Sudden remembrance of Lucy Warner checked her reply. Among the fourteen girls present that evening, Lucy Warner alone would be unable to spare that weekly sum. Hastily dividing 52 by 4 she realized that thirteen dollars would be a rather large slice out of Lucy’s savings toward a college education. She wondered now whether she had been wholly wise in even asking Lucy to make one of an organization of girls who squandered weekly perhaps more than poor Lucy could save in a month.

“I think it would be better to set the dues at ten cents per week,” she said slowly. “We will always be sure to pay that much. At that rate we’d be paying $5.20 a year apiece, and in many clubs the yearly dues are not more than that. Of course, we are anxious to put some money in our treasury as soon as we can. If any of you feel like paying a year’s dues in advance, so much the better for the club treasury. What we ought to do is to give an entertainment of some kind and earn quite a lot of money all at once. Almost any one in Sanford would be willing to contribute to a good cause. The Rebellious Princess netted us over five hundred dollars for the library. We could give a fair or a play or something and have a splendid time doing it, not to mention the money we’d earn.”

“But suppose we do something like that and make a lot of money, what are we going to do with the money?” asked Florence Johnston.

“Give it to anyone who needs it,” responded Marjorie. “As Lookouts we must poke around and find some good use for our money. There are always plenty of very poor people in Sanford who need help. Captain and Mrs. Macy went this evening to see a man who was hurt in an explosion. Now that he is so sick, he can’t work and he and his family have nothing to live on. There are lots of such cases right here in this city. For two years at Christmas time a number of we girls have tried to give the very poor folks a Merry Christmas. The club can do things like that. There might be some girl in our own school who would some day need our help. We’ll just have to keep our eyes open and find out where our help is needed.”

After a little further discussion, the girls agreed that the weekly sum of ten cents each would be satisfactory, at least for a beginning. Secretly two or three of them wondered at Marjorie’s unwillingness to give more than that. They had always supposed her to be very generous. Mignon, in particular, was delighted at discovering, at last, what she regarded as a great flaw in Marjorie Dean’s character. She mentally stored it away as a delectable bit of gossip to be circulated at her pleasure.

Having been provided with notebook and fountain pen, Irma busied herself with setting down the results of the various discussions regarding rules and regulations, which followed rapidly upon that of the dues. Once these points had been finally settled they were to be incorporated in a typed list and each girl was to receive a copy of the list.

Thus far during the meeting, nothing save the actual business of the club had been talked over. The object of the Lookouts, their dues, the time and place of meeting, these and other similarly important details had been gone over, each assuming the form of a set rule. The ethical side of the club had not yet been touched upon. As president it now became Jerry’s duty to introduce the delicate subject which she and Marjorie had confidentially gone over together on the previous day. This was a contingency on which blunt, good-humored Jerry had not reckoned. She had had a fixed idea that Marjorie would be elected president of the club, and had depended on her to lay down that one special rule of conduct that was intended to quiet Mignon’s too-garrulous tongue. Now it appeared that the task devolved upon herself. Yet she did not feel equal to it. She knew that her brusque fashion of speaking was likely to arouse instant aggression on Mignon’s part.

Her round, blue eyes significantly fixed on Marjorie, she now addressed the gathering with: “Is there anything else you can think of that ought to be added to the rules of our club? If there is——” She paused, continuing to stare at Marjorie with an expression of positive pleading on her plump face.

Marjorie read the glance aright and rose to Jerry’s aid. Drawing a long breath she said with a gravity that brought all eyes to bear upon her: “Girls, there is one rule that we ought to make and live up to if we hope to become useful to others. It is the good old Golden Rule. ‘Do unto others as you would that they should do unto you.’ It means to be absolutely loyal in thought, word and deed, to everyone with whom we come in contact. Then we may hope for an equal amount of loyalty in return. Of course we expect to be loyal to one another. Otherwise there would be no use in forming this club. But we must be specially careful to give outsiders a perfectly square deal. If ever we expect to hand down our sorority to those who come after us, we must offer them an unblurred escutcheon. After all, it is the little things we say and do that often amount to the most for or against us.

“As our club becomes better known, the eyes of the other girls at Sanford High School will be turned upon us. We can’t afford to do or say anything that will cause them to criticize us. We must carry ourselves so honorably that we shall be beyond criticism. That’s why I think the Lookouts should adopt the Golden Rule for their very own and try always to keep it.”

A vigorous clapping of hands followed Marjorie’s earnest little speech, accompanied by, “Good for you, Marjorie,” “The Golden Rule for the Lookouts,” “You couldn’t have chosen a better one,” and various other bursts of girlish enthusiasm. Marjorie’s sweet face grew rosy at the tributes that were hurled at her from all sides. She had guessed that, with the exception of Mignon, the girls would heartily echo her sentiments. A swift, uncontrollable flash of curiosity to see in what spirit the French girl had received her little talk, impelled her reluctant gaze to center itself upon Mignon.

The latter’s face was a study. True her lips were curved in a smile intended to convey an amiable acceptance of the measures which Marjorie had so conscientiously advocated, but her black eyes glowed with a threatening light that belied her smiling lips. Within the guileful French girl’s breast seethed a turmoil of conflicting emotions. Had she joined this silly club and accepted an office in it only to find that she had been trapped into pledging herself to become a goody-goody like Marjorie Dean? It looked very much as though she had done precisely that very thing. She reflected angrily that she might have known better. Personally, she was not in the least interested in putting herself out to help others. If certain persons in Sanford were so poor they hadn’t enough to eat and wear it was none of her concern. The club no doubt would turn out to be as prosy an affair as all the other regulation charitable organizations in Sanford. She had a wild desire to spring from her chair, tell these stupid girls that they were all babies and rush from the house.

Yet there was her office of treasurer to be considered. At last she was in a fair way toward becoming popular. Then, too, these same babyish girls were vastly important pupils of Sanford High. Third, there was the question of her stern father to be considered. As a member of the Lookout Club, she would be in high favor with him. Perhaps, after all, it would pay her to pretend to a loyalty which formed no part of her tricky, faithless composition. Later on, if she found the club unendurable, she could easily drop out of it. As for the much-vaunted Golden Rule, let the others live up to it as much as they chose. It should not trouble her in the least. She had ever been a law unto herself and she would always remain one.

CHAPTER IX—A REAL LOOKOUT

The news that fourteen seniors of Sanford High School had formed themselves into an organization called the Lookout Club soon spread itself like wildfire throughout the big school. But even that information paled into insignificance beside the fact that Mignon La Salle was not only a member of it but an officer as well. The pupils who as sophomores, juniors and seniors had come to know the tricky French girl during her freshman year for precisely what she was, had been graduated and gone on to other fields. Many of the later lower class girls had, however, seen enough of her methods in the past two years to cherish no illusions concerning her. From her own lips they had heard the most scathing criticism of Marjorie Dean and her friends. Now it became a nine days’ wonder that they should have been so foolish as to admit faithless Mignon into their club.

“I’m positively sick and tired of being quizzed about how we happened to ask Mignon to join the Lookouts,” declared Muriel Harding to Jerry one afternoon as the two girls were leaving the study hall for the day. Two weeks had passed since the meeting at Marjorie Dean’s home and during that time Mignon had lost no opportunity to expatiate at length upon the importance of her position in the club.

“I’ve been asked that a few dozen times, too,” was Jerry’s disgruntled response. “Of course, it’s nobody’s business, but then you can’t blame the girls much. Ever since she joined the Lookouts, Mignon’s been strutting around like a peacock. I suppose she has told everybody in Sanford about it that would listen to her. There’s at least one thing to be thankful for. It’s better for her to talk about herself than about somebody else.”

“Wait until the newness of being treasurer wears off, or until something happens in the club that doesn’t suit her. Then, look out,” predicted Muriel. “I am really sorry her father insisted on sending the Lookouts that check for one hundred dollars,” she added confidentially. “It puts us under obligations to her. Everyone in school knows about that, too. Connie’s aunt gave the same amount, but Mignon has never said a word concerning it.”

“I know it. Yet we couldn’t very well accept the money that others have sent us, and refuse Mr. La Salle’s check,” was Jerry’s gloomy reminder. “None of us had any idea when we started the club that our parents and friends would insist on helping us in that way. Why, we’ve nearly five hundred dollars in our treasury already.”

That their elders should have shown such immediate and generous interest in the Lookout Club had, indeed, been a matter of unparalleled surprise to its members. Jerry Macy’s father and mother had been the first to come forward with a check for fifty dollars. Mr. and Mrs. Dean had contributed twenty-five. Constance Stevens’ aunt had presented them with one hundred dollars in gold, while the parents of the other girls had contributed sums of from five to fifteen dollars. Even Lucy Warner had come to Marjorie, amazement mirrored in her green eyes, as she handed the latter an envelope containing a crisp ten-dollar note. It had been mailed to her, she explained, together with a sheet of paper on which was typed: “Please ask your mother to offer this little contribution to the Lookout Club in her name. A friend.”

This anonymous communication, folded about the ten-dollar note, was as much of a mystery to Lucy as the Observer letters had once been to Marjorie. At first she had rather resentfully suspected that it might have come from Marjorie, Jerry or Constance Stevens, out of pity for her poverty. She said as much to Marjorie, who denied all knowledge of it. After making tactful inquiry of Jerry and Constance, she had assured sensitive Lucy that neither girl was responsible for the gift. She advised Lucy to follow the giver’s direction implicitly. “You can’t return it, because you don’t know who sent it,” she had argued, “and, of course, you don’t wish to keep it. So you can only do as the giver requests.”

It had been a matter of private satisfaction to Lucy when the money had duly been mailed to Mignon with an accompanying line from her mother which merely repeated the giver’s direction. “To the Lookout Club in the name of Mrs. Margaret E. Warner.”

Marjorie had also experienced a degree of quiet happiness in the thought that someone had been so supremely thoughtful of Lucy Warner. Privately she suspected that someone might be Miss Archer. The latter was already very fond of Lucy and also deeply interested in the progress of the club. She had given ample proof of this by sending for Marjorie one afternoon shortly after it had been organized to question her in kindly fashion concerning it. During this heart-to-heart talk with her principal, Marjorie had felt constrained to explain to her concerning why Veronica Browning had refused to become a member of the Lookouts. Miss Archer had merely smiled and said: “Veronica has already explained matters to me. I think her decision a wise one. I fully understand your peculiar position in regard to Mignon, Marjorie. I can only commend you and your friends for your earnest endeavor to help her.” The next day she had mailed a check for ten dollars to Mignon as her good will offering to the young enthusiasts.

Miss Archer’s encouraging words had gone far toward imbuing Marjorie with renewed will to tackle the problem of reforming Mignon. For several days previous to it she had been daily annoyed, not only by the question, “Why have you girls taken Mignon La Salle into your club?” but by the vainglorious boasts of Mignon herself. Miss Archer’s approval had given her fresh energy to live down these annoyances. She had resolutely dismissed them as mere exhibitions of foolish vanity on the part of the French girl. She believed that, later, Mignon would weary of her bragging and subside. But the end of the second week after the club election of officers marked no change in the French girl’s tactics. On the very afternoon that Jerry and Muriel halted in the locker room to continue the exchange of confidences they had begun in the corridor, Marjorie entered it not long afterward, her thoughts on the precise subject they were freely discussing.

“Oh, here’s Marjorie at last,” called Muriel, as the former entered the nearly-empty coat-room. “What kept you and where’s Connie? The rest of the girls couldn’t wait. They all have dates or errands that sent them hustling along.”

“Connie had to see Professor Fontaine,” returned Marjorie. “She will be along soon. Lucy Warner asked me to stop at the office.” The answer contained a trace of annoyance that her hearers instantly caught.

“What did she want with you?” demanded Jerry sharply. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Marjorie. I didn’t mean to ask you that.”

“Granted.” Marjorie smiled faintly. “I intended to tell you, anyway. Lucy is very much hurt over something Mignon said to her. Yesterday morning Mignon walked part of the way to school with her. Lucy said that she was surprised, as Mignon had never even spoken to her until she joined the Lookouts. Almost the first thing she said to Lucy was that she was so glad she had helped her to get the position of secretary to Miss Archer. She went on to say that without it she guessed Lucy wouldn’t have been able to pay her dues in the club, nor could her mother have given the ten dollars to it. You can imagine how Lucy felt. She didn’t say much, only that she was surprised to know that Mignon had helped her to get the secretaryship. Then Mignon said she was surprised to think I had taken all the credit for it, especially as she had gone with me to Miss Archer to see about the position.”

“Well, of all things!” exploded Jerry Macy. “That’s what I call pure, unadulterated nerve! I hope you stood up for yourself, Marjorie Dean. It would be just like you to let Mignon take the credit for something she had nothing to do with. This how to be helpful stunt has gone to her brain, I guess. Next thing we know, she’ll be marching around Sanford High saying that she put the u in universe.” Jerry sniffed her contempt of the too-efficient Mignon.

“I think that’s simply ridiculous!” exclaimed Muriel hotly. “What did you say to Lucy, Marjorie?”

“I had to tell her the truth.” Marjorie’s lips tightened. “Even then Lucy didn’t quite like it because Mignon happened to be with me that day I called on Miss Archer. She’s such a queer girl, and so easily—— I won’t say offended. I’ll just say hurt. I managed to straighten things with her, though, but she’s terribly peeved with Mignon. She said she wouldn’t say anything to her about it, unless Mignon starts the subject again. If she does—— Well, they will surely quarrel.”

“It’s easy enough to see through Mignon,” was Muriel’s displeased comment. “She has picked Lucy as the only one in the club she can patronize. If I were you, Marjorie, I’d tell Lucy to pay no attention to her whatever beyond being merely civil.”

“I told her that,” nodded Marjorie. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have done so, but I knew she would have to be warned. It came to me in a flash that if Mignon tried to start trouble in the club she’d start it through Lucy.”

“I guess we’ll have to put a label on Mignon,” decided Jerry. “‘Dynamite, handle gently,’ or something like that.”

The three girls giggled in unison at the mental vision Jerry’s proposal conjured. The bare idea of haughty Mignon parading about with such an ominous legend attached to her person was a joy to contemplate.

“We’ll all have to pretend it’s there and treat her accordingly,” chuckled Muriel. “Really and truly, girls, about all we’ve done since the club started is to worry about Mignon’s failings. It’s time we let her take care of herself and turn our minds to something important. So far the Lookouts haven’t looked out for a single chance to spend their money.”

“We’ve all been looking-out, but we haven’t located anyone or anything yet that seems to need it,” stated Jerry with some energy. “That man who was hurt is in a hospital now, and my mother and Mrs. Dean and some others are taking care of his family.”

“I saw something the other day that made me wonder—— Oh, here’s Connie!” The arrival of Constance Stevens cut Marjorie’s sentence short. “Now we had better vacate this sacred spot. We aren’t supposed to linger in the locker room after dismissal.”

“There’s a new confectioner’s shop just opened down on Bellevedere Street,” suggested Jerry hopefully. “‘Dexter’s,’ I think the sign says.”

“Let’s try it for variety’s sake,” laughed Marjorie. “When we get there, I’ll tell you about my new idea for the Lookouts.”

“I’ve thought of one, too,” remarked Constance, “but I’ll save it until later.”

“Come on, then.” Jerry took Muriel by the arm and headed the procession of four down the street. It was only a short walk to Jerry’s find, and four voices lifted themselves in approval of the pretty little shop, done in pale blue and white, with its long marble soda fountain at one side of the spacious room, and its dainty white tables and chairs. Having gleefully ordered several delectable new concoctions of which Sargent’s could not boast, the quartette settled themselves to talk.

“You first, Connie,” decreed Marjorie. “We know you’ve something nice to tell us.”

“I don’t know what you may think of my idea, but here it is. You remember the little gray house that I used to live in. Well, it’s not gray any more. It’s been newly painted a pretty dark green with lighter green trimmings. It has never been rented since we lived there. I suppose the owner thought it never would be unless he had it repainted. You know it is quite near to that large silk mill where so many women work. The majority of them are married women and have to help support their families. They live mostly in tumbledown shacks not far from the mill.

“They have to go to work very early in the morning and don’t get home until after six o’clock in the evening. That means that their poor little children who are too young to go to school have to take care of themselves the best way they can. I’ve often walked through that district and seen those poor tiny tots trying to play by themselves and looking utterly neglected. When I think of how much Charlie now has it makes me feel dreadfully for them. I’ve taken them fruit and toys sometimes, but that doesn’t help much. What they need is good care. For the sake of my own little brother, I wish every child might be happy.” A wealth of pity shone in Constance’s blue eyes as she said this.

“Go on, Connie,” urged Jerry. “I begin to see now what you’re driving at.”

Constance smiled, then continued: “What I thought we might do would be to rent the little gray house and make a day nursery of it. Then these poor women could leave their children at it when they go to work in the morning and come after them at night. You remember how large the sitting room is, Marjorie. It takes up almost all of the downstairs part, and there’s a small kitchen in the rear. We could rent the house for ten dollars a month, and pay some good woman and a young girl to come and look after these children until evening.

“From four until six o’clock each day we could take turns, two of us at a time, going there to play with the children and tell them stories. I have talked it over with my aunt and she agrees to pay for the hired help if the Lookouts would like to do the rest. It wouldn’t cost much to give the children a nice luncheon every day. Of course they would have their breakfasts and suppers at home. We couldn’t afford to serve them with the three meals. But the nursery itself and the luncheon would be free. We wouldn’t care to charge them a cent. As for the furniture, we ought to buy two long tables and some kindergarten chairs. Then we ought to furnish one upstairs room with about four little beds and the rest of the things that go in a bed room. Then we would have a place for any of the children that weren’t feeling very well. There is a nice large yard behind the house where they could play in summer or even in winter when the weather wasn’t too cold. I don’t know how many children would come; about twenty or perhaps twenty-five.” Constance paused and eyed her friends wistfully. Their silence made her wonder if they disapproved of her plan.

“Connie Stevens, you are a perfect dear!” exclaimed Muriel. “That’s the nicest plan I ever heard. I love children, and I’ve often noticed those poor little things that live near the silk mill. I’d be only too glad to give one afternoon a week to them.”

“So would I.” Marjorie’s face shone radiant good will. “You are a real Lookout, Connie. It would make us very happy just to know that we were making those poor children happy. At Christmas we could give them a tree, too. I know Captain will want to help with them, too.”

“You are O. K., Connie, and so is your aunt!” exclaimed Jerry. “Tell her for me that she is a peach; I mean a glittering angel. It’s a good thing the club meets to-morrow night. I’d hate to have to go around all week keeping this glorious stunt to myself.”

Brimming with enthusiasm of this worthy project, the quartette fell into an eager discussion of what they would need to put the house in readiness for its juvenile guests, and the probable cost of their little investment in human happiness. It was a protracted session which they held at the round table and when it broke up shortly before six o’clock they had finished a third supply of sundaes and were of the firm opinion that dinner that evening was quite unnecessary to their welfare.

It was not until she had reached her own gate that Marjorie remembered that she, too, had conceived of an idea which the club might see fit to incorporate into their campaign of usefulness. It seemed rather unimportant beside the greater project for the day nursery, yet she believed it was not valueless. However, it would keep, she reflected. She would reserve it until the other scheme was well on the way toward fulfillment.

How wonderful it would be to bring sunshine into the lives of those poor neglected children! She was sure that the other members of the club would hail the plan with acclamation. What a dear, unselfish girl Connie was! How unutterably sweet she had looked when she had said that she wished every child might be happy for the sake of little Charlie. Marjorie’s rapt reflections ended in a sharp gasp of dismay. Recollection of Charlie Stevens brought to her the vision of a black-haired, elfish-eyed girl who had once cravenly left a small runaway to shift for himself on a dark night. There was one member of the club on whom the woes of these children would make no impression, and that member was Mignon La Salle.