The end of January brought with it mid-year examinations. It saw no change in the strained situation which Jerry had created. To all outward appearances she was as implacable as ever.Only Jerry herself knew the difficulty of remaining adamant in the face of longing for the comradeship which she had repudiated. Long ago, when Mary Raymond had done precisely what she was now doing, Jerry had pointed out to Mary the folly of such a course. More than once, since her self-exile from her companions, Jerry had thought of this. Vengefully remembering that Mignon had also been at the root of Mary’s difficulties, her bitterness against the French girl increased two-fold. She grew more determined than ever in her thus far fruitless effort to discover what Mignon had told Lucy Warner that had set the latter so strongly against Marjorie Dean. This learned, she was not quite decided upon what she would do next. That would depend entirely on the nature of Mignon’s gossip.
While recalcitrant Jerry pursued her will-o-the-wisp quest for useful information, the Lookout Club were adhering steadily to their resolve to make their little organization a success. Despite the jolt they had suffered by reason of the withdrawal of their president, they continued to hope that she would eventually return to the fold. Regarding Lucy Warner’s return they had little to say. Irma, Susan, Muriel and Constance, who were better posted than their fellow members on the inside details of Lucy’s cavalier treatment of Marjorie, secretly disapproved of the close-mouthed secretary’srefusal to meet Marjorie frankly. As for the other Lookouts, Lucy’s antagonistic behavior seemed to them quite in keeping with her past performances.
Thus matters dragged along through changeable, short-lived February and early March. During that period of time, however, the Lookouts put into effect the plan that had come to Marjorie at the time of the organization of the club. The project of the day nursery as the center of achievement she had reserved, broaching the subject of her plan until the more important enterprise should be firmly on its feet. Due to the excellent management of the Lookouts and the gratifying monetary returns from the Campfire, it was now in a flourishing condition. Their treasury boasted over eight hundred dollars, sufficient capital to defray the nursery’s expenses until well into the next winter.
Their hopes were now set on making the Lookout Club a high school sorority, and the names of several juniors seemingly suitable to assume the responsibilities their senior sisters would relinquish with graduation, were already under discussion. The considerable amount of internal discord with which they had been forced to contend had not been such as to create adverse criticism on the part of outsiders. The club ranked high in public estimation. Knowing this, its members, with one exception, were earnestly desirous of maintaining thathigh standard. On their integrity depended its establishment as a sorority.
The one exception was, of course, Mignon La Salle. She had no lofty ambitions and only one definite aim; the will to stir up mischief and thus keep her fellow members in hot water. Following her arraignment by Jerry, she had proceeded with caution. As the winter days glided by without bringing her the exposure which Jerry had threatened, she began to treat the matter lightly. So long as Jerry remained unsuccessful in ferreting out the reason for Lucy Warner’s grudge against Marjorie, she felt herself secure. Thanks to Lucy’s unassailable secrecy, she believed Jerry had small chance of learning what she did not wish known. Bent on making assurance doubly sure she had sought Lucy to remind her of her promise. The latter had received her with the utmost frigidity. She stated shortly that she had told Marjorie Dean nothing. Further, she had no intention of giving her any information. Regarding what she had said to Jerry, she was silent. That had nothing to do with her promise to Mignon. What Jerry had said to her, however, unconsciously influenced Lucy to treat the French girl with dignified disdain.
Mignon did not relish the snubbing. She accepted it because she dared not resent it. Having gained her point she could afford to dismiss it witha shrug. If she could continue to ward off possible disaster until her graduation from high school in June, the danger point would then be passed. A new set of Lookouts would replace the old, the limousine her father had promised her would be won, and her triumph over these stupid girls be complete. Another year would see her in some far-off college, well beyond their reach.
It was early in February when Marjorie made known her plan to the club. At one of their regular meetings she had risen to speak earnestly on the subject of high school fellowship. She had expressed her belief that as Lookouts it was the business of the club to do something toward creating a spirit of comradeship among the four classes of Sanford High School. She had then proposed that once in two weeks on Friday evening the Lookouts should hold a reception in the gymnasium to which the pupils of the Sanford High School should be invited. It would be a strictly informal affair, instituted with the purpose of amalgamating the four classes into one big high school family. There might be a short program composed of volunteer stunts. There were sure to be present enough girls who would gladly take turns at the piano for dancing. The club could serve light refreshments at its own expense and the reception as a whole could not fail to promote better acquaintance and understanding. She had already spoken of it to MissArcher, who had gladly granted her permission to use the gymnasium.
Such was the project which Marjorie had outlined. It had met the instant approval of her hearers and before the meeting ended the details of the plan had been settled and the date for the first reception set for the second Friday evening in February. On the eventful night the four classes attended the reception almost to a member, enjoyed themselves hugely after the fashion of carefree youth, and departed at eleven o’clock, the consciousness of a well-spent evening pervading their cordial good-nights to their schoolmate hostesses. Marjorie’s thoughtfulness for others had been the means of bringing happiness to more than one girl in Sanford High School to whom the social side of school had formerly meant little. Among such a large body of students there were many whose opportunities for social pleasures were few and far between. To these wistful lookers-on, the chance to become participants in this new and diverting phase of school life was a boon indeed.
Greatly to her surprise, Marjorie discovered in Veronica Browning a devoted advocate of the club’s new movement. Of her own free will she assured Marjorie of her willingness to take part in the program, should her services be desired. Her offer was joyfully accepted, for her fame as a dancer had traveled the rounds of Sanford. At thesecond reception she became the feature of the evening. Lost in wonder of her art, beside it her lowly position in life paled into insignificance. She came in for an avalanche of girlish admiration which she accepted with the modesty of one who attached little importance to her accomplishment.
It was perhaps a week after Veronica’s terpsichorean triumph that it suddenly occurred to Marjorie to ask her to reconsider her earlier refusal to join the Lookout Club. Since the latter’s decided negative to the proposal, made at the time of the organization of the Lookouts, Marjorie had not repeated her request. Veronica had then refused it with finality. Afterward the subject had never been reopened between them. In lieu of the fact that Veronica had done much toward making the Campfire a success, and continued to help the Lookouts in their various enterprises, Marjorie cherished the conviction that Mignon La Salle’s certain opposition to Veronica as a member could no longer be respected. Privately she announced her views to her chums, who were of the same mind. She, therefore, resolved again to lay the subject before her friend and plead with her to reconsider her refusal.
Chancing to meet Veronica in the street one March morning on the way to school she greeted her with: “I’ve a special favor to ask of you, Ronny, and don’t you dare refuse.”
“It is granted,” smiled Veronica.
“Now I’ve caught you!” Marjorie laughed mischievously. “You can’t back out. The Lookouts wish you to join the club, Ronny. I wish it most of all.”
“I guessed that to be the special favor,” remarked Veronica quietly.
“You did?” Marjorie’s brown eyes widened in surprise. “Then you must really wish to join us after all!”
“Yes! I am quite ready to become a Lookout,” was the amazing announcement. “I know you are wondering why I have changed my mind about it. Before I explain, I’ll say that I am glad you asked me again to join your club. It is another proof of your fair-mindedness.”
“I don’t quite understand.” Marjorie regarded Veronica in bewilderment. It was almost as though this astonishing girl had, in some mystifying fashion, divined the thought-process by which she had arrived at her decision.
Veronica laughed. “You mean you can’t imagine how I came to understand why you asked me again to become a Lookout.”
“Yes; that is true. But how could you possibly guess it? You amaze me, Ronny.”
“You don’t realize, Marjorie, that I have come to know you very well,” returned Veronica with sudden intensity. “You are the sort of girl that must play fairly, or not at all. You were not entirelysatisfied with our agreement of last fall. I knew it then. I knew, too, that it was wisest for me to stay out of the club. Now the situation has changed. Our delicate consideration for a certain person has been wasted. You feel that my interest in the progress of the Lookouts has been, and is, greater than hers. Frankly, I know it to be so. I wish to join your club for two reasons. First, because this lawless, headstrong girl should be shown that the good of the Lookouts must be regarded above her personal prejudices; second, because of my own pleasure in the association.”
“You’ve said the very things I have thought, Ronny.” Marjorie spoke as one who has been miraculously relieved from a cumbersome burden. “I am glad you see things as I do. I shall propose you for membership on Thursday evening at the club meeting. If—a certain person——” She paused. “Why shouldn’t we say her name? If Mignon doesn’t approve, then she’ll have to disapprove. It will be a case of eleven against one. The majority rules, you know. The eleven will surely be delighted to welcome you as a Lookout. Do you mind if I tell them the good news beforehand?”
“As you please.” Veronica slipped an affectionate arm into one of Marjorie’s. “You are true blue, Lieutenant,” she said a trifle unsteadily. “All my life I shall be glad that I have known a girl like you.Some day I shall try to prove to you how much I appreciate your friendship.”
“It’s just the other way round, Ronny.” Marjorie’s earnest assurance rang with affection.
Arrived at the school building their confidential talk ended. Marjorie took her seat in the study hall feeling singularly inspirited. Veronica’s decision to join the Lookouts embued her with fresh courage to face the storm of protest which Mignon would undoubtedly raise when Veronica’s name was proposed for membership. Thinking it over she reconsidered her idea of telling the Lookouts beforehand. It would be hardly fair to leave Mignon out of the knowledge, yet she did not wish her to know it until she herself proposed Veronica’s name at the meeting. This course of action seemed infinitely more discreet. She was positive that no one save Mignon would raise an objection. Very charitably she hoped that the latter would not create a scene and thus lay herself open to the certain displeasure of the other girls. Her indignation aroused, hot-headed Muriel Harding was quite capable of demanding Mignon’s resignation then and there. Marjorie was definitely settled on one point. If, in the heat of anger, Mignon should tender her resignation, it should also mark the end of her personal interest in the French girl’s behalf. She would go to Mr. La Salle and ask release from her promise.
“Is there any new business to be brought before the club?” inquired Muriel Harding in her most presidential manner.
The Lookouts were in august session in the Atwells’ cozy living room, which the mere members of the family, aside from Susan, had obligingly vacated while the club held sway. Seated in a semi-circle that curved the lower end of the large room, nine girls fixed attentive eyes on Muriel, who occupied a wide-armed chair a few feet in front of them. At a table on the right, Irma and Mignon were seated side by side. Her interest centered on her account book, the latter did not trouble to raise her eyes as Muriel spoke.
From the last right-hand chair in the circular row, Marjorie Dean rose. “I wish to propose the name of Veronica Browning for membership into the Lookout Club,” she announced in low, clear tones.
A wavering sigh swept the semi-circle as Marjorie reseated herself. This was, indeed, new business. Muriel Harding stared at Marjorie in mild astonishment. All interest in her accounts vanished, Mignon La Salle leaned forward over the table,her black eyes snapping. For a long moment no one spoke.
“I second the motion.” Harriet Delaney’s firm accents shattered the silence.
“It has been regularly moved and seconded,” stated Muriel, “that Veronica——”
“I rise to object.” Mignon La Salle leaped rather than rose from her chair, her face dark with protest. “I object seriously to admitting a servant into membership of the Lookout Club.”
“AndIrise to object against the word ‘servant’ as applied to my friend Veronica Browning.” Marjorie was again on her feet, her lovely face set in stern lines. “There is no disgrace in being a servant,” she gravely rebuked. “It is the way in which the word has been spoken that makes it objectionable. The club owes a great deal to Veronica. All of you know how willingly she has offered us her services. We have gladly accepted them. It now becomes us to ask her to honor us by joining our club.”
“Honor!” sneered Mignon, tossing her black head in disdain. “A very queer sort ofhonor. I should term it disgrace. I will not have this presuming kitchen maid in the club. Who knows what sort of parents she has, or where she came from. She is sharp enough to make Miss Archer and a few other persons believe that she is something wonderful, but she can’t fool me. No doubt she camefrom some third-rate, stranded theatrical company. She has been very careful not to say a word about herself to anyone. Marjorie Dean ought to be ashamed to propose that we turn our club into a servants’ hall.”
With every word, Mignon’s voice had risen. Caution thrown to the winds she remembered nothing save her hatred against Veronica. Before she could continue a babble of angry voices assailed her from all sides. The dignified session of the Lookouts bade fair to end in an uproar of rebuke hurled in noisy entirety at Mignon.
“Order!” shrieked Muriel, wildly waving her arms. “Stop it, girls. The Atwells will think we’ve gone crazy.”
Her energetic counsel brought the outraged belligerents into a knowledge of where they were. Gradually they subsided into threatening murmurs that ended in a much-needed but ominous quiet.
“Mignon, you are the one to be ashamed.” Muriel bent severe eyes on the storm-swept girl, who now sat with elbows propped upon the table, glaring sullenly at her equally sulky opponents. “Veronica Browning is a sweet, delightful, well-bred girl. I’m sorry I can’t say the same of you. If you don’t care to be in the same club with her, you know what you can do. You’ve caused us all to disgrace ourselves for the moment by quarreling with you. I’m going to say what I started to say when youbegan this fuss. You will please not interrupt me again.”
“I will if I choose,” flung back Mignon. “You’d be only too glad to have me resign from the club. Well, I don’t intend to do it until I get ready. I’ve been a good treasurer and you can’t complain of me. If you——”
Muriel turned a deliberate back on the irate speaker. With dignified composure she again stated: “It has been regularly moved and seconded that Veronica Browning be admitted into membership of the Lookout Club. Those in favor, please rise; contrary remain seated.”
Ten determined girls were on their feet before Muriel had finished.
“No, no, no!” objected Mignon at the top of her voice.
“Carried.” Muriel still kept an uncompromising back toward Mignon.
“I won’t stand it!” Rising, Mignon seized her book and took a step or two toward the door. Of a sudden she paused, as though clutched by an invisible hand. Backing toward her chair she sat down, a curious expression of malevolent resolve in her elfish eyes. Somewhat ashamed of their own untimely outburst, her fellow members found themselves more inclined toward pity than resentment. Though they cherished no liking for their lawless companion, they were disposed to regard her displayof temper as that of an obstreperous child, allowed too long to have its own way.
With the admission of Veronica to the club the business part of the meeting closed, greatly to the relief of all concerned. Immediately afterward, Mignon stalked haughtily from the living room, without a word to anyone. Darting up the stairs to the room which Muriel had reserved for her guests’ use, she fairly flung herself into her coat and jammed her fur cap down upon her black curls. Down the stairs she sped and out of the house, announcing her departure by a reverberating slam of the front door.
Divining her intention, Susan Atwell had followed her to the stairs, determined to do her duty as hostess. When halfway up the flight, Mignon had reappeared at the head of the staircase, descending with a hurricane rush that precluded remark on Susan’s part. Returning to the living room she asked Muriel crossly: “What are we to do with her?”
“We’d better hold a second meeting and see,” replied Muriel. “Girls,” she raised her voice, “please come to order again. I’ve something to say to you.”
Gathered together at one end of the room, the group of girls promptly obeyed. Resuming her position of authority, Muriel burst forth with, “Something must be done about Mignon. I think she hasforfeited her right to membership. After what’s happened to-night we can’t allow her to keep on being in the club. We must ask her to resign.”
Seven voices at once rose in hearty agreement. Only Marjorie, Irma, and Constance remained silent.
“With Mignon out of the club, Jerry will come back,” reminded Harriet Delaney eagerly. “Irma ought to write Mignon to-night and mail the letter on the way home.”
“That’s my opinion,” nodded Rita Talbot.
“Mine, too,” sounded a faithful chorus.
“Perhaps we’d better wait until after the next meeting before taking such action,” argued Marjorie soberly. “Just now I feel sure that we ought to ask for Mignon’s resignation. Later I may not see it in that light. My decision will depend largely on the way Mignon treats Veronica at our next meeting. Her temper got the better of her to-night. Perhaps we had better give her another chance.”
“That would be a good test. We mustn’t be too hasty,” cautioned generous Irma. “I believe with Marjorie that we should postpone our decision until after next Thursday night’s meeting. Then if we are still of the same mind we shall feel that we have acted fairly.”
“We’ve already been altogether too fair,” sputtered Gertrude Aldine. “I don’t see why we should feel any hesitation about sending Mignon that letterto-night. The sooner it’s sent, the sooner we’ll have Jerry with us again.”
“Jerry could be with us now, if she chose.” Very quietly Constance answered Gertrude’s impetuous reminder. “We should not use Jerry as an excuse for expelling Mignon from the club. We should consider only whether Mignon has failed so utterly as a member that we must expel her in self-defense. If we drive her out of the Lookouts, she will take it as a direct admission that we are afraid of her; that eleven members cannot stand together against one. If we prove loyal to our obligations, what chance will she have against us? Once she realizes this, either she will submit to what she can’t change, or else she will resign from the club of her own accord. Only a little more than three months is left us of our senior year. Ought we to pass the name ‘Lookouts’ along to our successors with the stain of an expelled member on it? That is also a point to be considered.”
“You and Marjorie and Irma are right, as usual,” conceded Muriel Harding vexedly. “I suppose we ought to follow your advice. Perhaps Mignon will kindly take the matter out of our hands before then. Girls, are you satisfied to abide by the counsel of the Three Wise Women of Sanford?” she questioned humorously. “Has anyone any further serious objections? If so, please rise.”
Pure loyalty to Marjorie Dean alone kept everygirl in her seat. Although each respected the counsel of Constance and Irma, Marjorie’s wish now became her law. Her magnanimity of spirit was too great to be overlooked. Yet in her heart each hoped that pride would force Mignon into resigning from the Lookouts of her own free will before the week ended.
Could the Lookouts have looked into Mignon La Salle’s own room, at the very moment in which they agreed upon a week’s clemency, their fond hope would have died a sudden death. Her door carefully locked against parental intrusion, Mignon was rapidly penning a lengthy letter to Rowena Farnham. Her thin lips curved themselves into a malicious smile as her pen sped over the paper. It was late when she finished the writing of it, and stole cat-footed down the front stairs and out of the house to mail it. Having come to a standstill in her own capacity for trouble-making, she had appealed for advice to one who could be depended upon to give her fresh impetus.
During the week that followed Mignon’s fiery outburst against Veronica at the club meeting Muriel Harding received no welcome letter from theformer announcing her resignation from the Lookouts. To all appearances such was not her intention. When the next Thursday evening rolled round, the Lookouts, including their latest addition, Veronica Browning, met at Gray Gables. To the secret disappointment of the majority Mignon was not among those present. With the exception of Irma, Marjorie and Constance, the others were impatient to see how the French girl would behave toward Veronica. The latter had been privately warned by Marjorie as to what might possibly occur and had agreed to meet Mignon’s probable discourtesy with silence.
It was not until the meeting had reached the point of “unfinished business” that the question relating to the absent rebel came up for discussion.
“Girls,” began Muriel, “you all know what comes under this head. Let me hear from you informally.”
“It looks as though we’d have to wait another week and see what happens,” observed Susan Atwell. With a faint giggle she added: “When is a test not a test?”
A ripple of ready laughter followed this suggestive question.
“Perhaps it is all for the best,” remarked Irma philosophically. “We may find after all that——”
A reverberating peal of the door bell cut short her discourse. Every pair of bright eyes becamequestioningly directed toward the sound. Was it their graceless treasurer who now demanded admittance? Followed a moment of expectant waiting, then a maid appeared in the curtained doorway of the library in which the Lookouts were gathered.
“Here’s a note for you, Miss Muriel,” she announced as she stepped into the room. Delivering it into Muriel’s hand she promptly disappeared.
“Humph!” ejaculated Muriel as she stared at the tiny, pale gray envelope. “By your leave, Lookouts,” she added with a nod to her friends. Tearing open an end of the envelope she drew forth its contents. A frown of displeasure knitted her brows as she scanned the unexpected message. Raising her eyes from it she said: “This note is from Mignon La Salle. I will read it to you. She writes:
“‘Miss Harding:
“‘I have decided not to attend the further meetings of the club. I shall still hold my office as treasurer. If you wish to consult me on business matters or desire to draw upon the treasury for checks with which to meet the various current expenses, kindly write me at my home. From time to time, I shall send you my official report.
“‘Yours truly,
“‘Mignon La Salle.’”
“This is the last straw,” declared Muriel grimly. “It seems to me that our duty is plain.”
“I am of the same mind.” Marjorie Dean’s decided tones sent a little thrill over her listeners. It was evident to all that her limit of endurance had been reached. “I move,” she continued with calm finality, “that Irma write Mignon La Salle stating that we accept her note as a resignation from the Lookouts and request her to turn over the club’s books, now in her possession, to our president Muriel Harding.”
Constance Stevens instantly seconded the motion. It was voted upon and carried with an alacrity that bespoke the intense approval of those assembled.
Again Marjorie was heard. “I nominate Susan Atwell to fill the now vacant office of treasurer.”
It is needless to say that this motion was also promptly seconded, voted upon and carried. The unbelievable had come to pass. Marjorie Dean had at last renounced the difficult responsibility she had shouldered so long. As a result of this revelation the dignity of the meeting collapsed into a babble of excited opinions. Muriel made no effort to restore order but drew her chair into the circle and entered willingly into the spirited discussion that centered around Mignon La Salle.
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, Marjorie Dean,” stoutly asserted Daisy Griggs. “I must sayI was surprised when you made that first motion.”
“I have just one thing to say.” Marjorie’s brown eyes were filled with purposeful light. “Then I wish to drop the subject of Mignon. She has defied the club and so forfeited her right to membership. When the books of the club have been placed in Muriel’s hands, I shall go to Mr. La Salle and insist on being released from my promise. That’s all.”
Rising, she walked to a window, half ready to cry. It had been very hard for her to contemplate the idea of seeking kindly Mr. La Salle with such unpleasant information. She felt keenly the humiliation of being obliged to admit to him her failure. Yet as Muriel had said it was, indeed, “the last straw.” As she stood looking out at the white, moonlit night she was driven to believe that Mignon La Salle’s better self would ever remain a minus quantity.
Mignon’s astounding stand having been sufficiently discussed, the Lookouts devoted the rest of the evening strictly to enjoyment. Constance sang, Veronica danced, the others also contributing various entertaining stunts. A most delectable little supper was disposed of to the accompaniment of sprightly conversation and merry laughter, thereby proving that the loss of a faithless treasurer was small loss indeed.
It had been a simple matter to accept Mignon’s note as a resignation and elect a new treasurer. Ithad been equally easy to inform Mignon to that effect by letter. When, at the end of the week, however, Muriel received neither the books of the club, nor any response whatever from Mignon, it was decided that Muriel and Irma should introduce Susan to the Vice-President of the First National Bank of Sanford and request that the Lookouts’ account be transferred to her guardianship. She would then receive a check and bankbook and thus be fitly equipped to perform her new duties.
Irma Linton had made a habit of incorporating into the minutes of the meetings the treasury reports which Mignon had read out to the club from time to time. This data would now prove invaluable to Susan in opening a new book, should Mignon obstinately delay the return of the one in her possession. Believing that she might do this, Muriel and Susan quietly agreed to take steps to attain complete independence of her.
Not desiring to act too hastily, they waited with commendable patience until it lacked but a day until the next meeting of the Lookouts. Although they daily saw Mignon at school, it was as though they had never known her. She haughtily ignored the Lookouts and they made no effort to change the state of marked hostility she had willed. Having notified her of their wishes through the proper channels of the club, they now maintained a dignified silence, refusing to act other than impersonally.
At the close of the Wednesday morning session, Susan and Irma set out for the First National Bank to put their mutual agreement into effect. Ushered into the vice-president’s office, they were coldly received by that august person. His very manner was such as to indicate personal injury to him on their part. Rather timidly Muriel introduced Susan and stated her request.
His air of distant courtesy relaxing he said in a mollified tone: “Ah, yes, I understand. It is your intention to re-deposit the funds of your club in this bank. We supposed them to have been permanently removed. It was unnecessary in your retiring treasurer, Miss La Salle, to draw them out. I shall be pleased to adjust matters.” Privately he was thinking the whole affair quite characteristic of a bevy of heedless school girls.
A united gasp of astonishment welled up from two throats.
“Draw themout?” Muriel’s voice rose on the last word. “But we didn’t——!”
“Why—what——” stammered Susan.
Muriel drew a long breath. “When did Miss La Salle draw out this money, Mr. Wendell?” she asked, striving to speak casually.
“On Tuesday, I believe. Just a moment. I will ascertain positively if I am correct in my statement.” Rising, he bowed courteously to his young visitors and left the office.
“Mignon hastakenthe Lookouts’ money,” burst forth Susan, the instant the two were left to themselves. “What are we to do about it? We’d better explain everything to Mr. Wendell and ask his advice.”
Muriel stared at Susan, but made no reply. The enormity of Mignon’s latest misdeed fairly stunned her. Despite the shock, there now rose within her a curious impulse to protect rather than expose this lawless girl.
“I think we had better not explain things to him now,” she said slowly. “It’s like this. Mignon has drawn our money from the bank on purpose to spite us. She doesn’t want it for herself. What she intends to do is to hold it until her term is up as treasurer. She knows that we shall need a part of it to meet the monthly expenses of the day nursery, but she wants to make us send to her for it. She intended to do this money stunt when she wrote that letter. We can’t decide what we ought to do about her until we talk to the others.”
Mr. Wendell’s entrance into the office prevented further confidential talk between the two.
“I find my statement correct,” he announced. “The entire account, amounting to seven hundred and forty-six dollars, sixty-seven cents, was turned over to Miss La Salle on Monday. Since you wish to redeposit this sum of money in Miss Atwell’s name, I would advise that she and Miss La Sallecome here together with it at their convenience. Then we can handle the matter satisfactorily, I assure you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wendell.” Muriel rose, with as much dignity as she could master. “As there has evidently been a mistake made about our account we will be obliged first to take it up with the club before redepositing the money. You will hear from me in regard to it within two or three days. We have no wish to place our funds in another bank.”
With a brief farewell to the nonplussed bank official, Muriel and Susan made their escape into the street, where they could unburden themselves undisturbed. Before school closed that afternoon Marjorie, Constance and Irma had been put in possession of the full news. That evening at the Deans’, five girls met in solemn conclave. Long and earnestly they discussed the unpleasant situation. The fruit of that discussion took shape in a letter to Mignon requesting the immediate turning over of the Lookouts’ bank account to Susan Atwell. Under the circumstances it was an exceedingly mild letter. It was mailed special delivery in the hope that the wrongdoer would receive it in time to repair her error before the club met on the following evening.
Mignon, however, had no intention of thus yielding so easily. Her letter to Rowena Farnham had brought her an immediate reply from the latterwhich pleased her immensely. Acting upon Rowena’s unscrupulous advice she had boldly marched to the bank, and withdrawn in actual cash the club’s entire capital. Furthermore, she had locked it away in a secret drawer of her writing desk and vowed to leave it there until the expiration of her term as treasurer.
Indignation ran rife among the Lookouts when on Thursday evening they came into the dismaying knowledge that thanks to Mignon, Susan Atwell had become a treasureless treasurer. Irma was instructed to write the culprit a letter, considerably sharper than had been the one of the previous day. As a last touch every member of the club affixed her name to it. It failed completely in its purpose. Neither by word nor sign did Mignon show any indication that she had received it.
Next a committee, composed of Muriel, Susan, Irma and Marjorie, waylaid her on the road home from school. She met their reproaches with scorn, expressed uncomplimentary opinion of them and snapped derisive fingers in their faces. Frequentmischievous letters from Rowena Farnham had greatly influenced her to continue in her bold stand. The fact that her father had left Sanford on a protracted business trip had also much to do with it. Though far from the scene of action, Rowena was enjoying hugely the triumphant progress of the affair as reported faithfully to her by Mignon.
The one way open to the Lookouts, they magnanimously refused to take. Though they were in sore need of money to meet their expenses it had been agreed after much rueful discussion that they would not call upon outsiders to adjust their difficulties. Though she did not deserve consideration, nevertheless Mignon received it at their hands. Very loyally they guarded their secret cross lest the misdeed of their faithless schoolmate should become known and she herself branded as a thief. As Marjorie had argued, Mignon was after all just a schoolgirl and her reputation for honesty must be protected. Even Marjorie’s beloved Captain and General did not share the secret. She had long since vowed within herself, however, some day to tell them everything.
March roared and blustered out the remainder of his days. April smiled and wept her changeable course toward May, yet the secret drawer in Mignon’s writing desk still hoarded its unlawful contents. By dint of great personal sacrifice on the part of the Lookouts, the expenses of the day nursery had been thus far met. They were greatlytroubled, however, regarding how they might continue to meet them until such time as Mignon should see fit to deliver unto the club its own.
Meanwhile Jerry Macy still pursued her lonely way. Immediately after Mignon’s note to the club had been accepted as a resignation, Muriel Harding boldly accosted Jerry to inform her of it. “Now stop being a goose, Jerry, and come back to the club,” had been her somewhat tactless invitation.
Although long since convinced of her goose-like qualities, Jerry was not ready to hear of them from others. She gruffly declined Muriel’s invitation with, “I’ll wait until I’m good and ready before I come back, if ever I do.” A note from Marjorie would undoubtedly have met with a more amiable response. Marjorie longed to write it, yet a certain stubborn pride of her own stayed her hand. She wished Jerry to return to the Lookouts of her own volition. Due also to the fact that Mr. La Salle was still out of town, Marjorie had had no opportunity to seek release from her promise.
On seeking Jerry, Muriel had briefly acquainted her with the details of the occurrence that had led to an acceptance of Mignon’s note as a resignation by the Lookouts. Jerry knew nothing, however, of what had transpired later until, by a curious freak of chance, she came into possession of the news. It came about through Muriel Harding’s rash promise to Mr. Wendell that the funds of the Lookoutswould be redeposited in his bank within two or three days. Unable to keep her word, she had gained the united consent of the club to offer him a full explanation of the matter. Privately disapproving of Mignon’s part in the affair he had unburdened himself of his views to Mr. Macy, an important stockholder in the bank. Knowing the latter’s daughter to be president of the club he had briefly suggested to her father a course of action that might prove efficacious. Ignorant of the fact that Jerry had quarreled with the Lookouts, Mr. Macy mentioned to her Mr. Wendell’s practical suggestion.
Betraying no outward sign of the astonishment which her father’s revelation afforded her, Jerry accepted the advice with the solemnity of an owl, asked a few astute questions and calmly betook herself one fine afternoon in early May to the office of a rising Sanford lawyer, who happened to be a first cousin of hers. When, after an earnest consultation with the young man, she took her leave, her broadly-smiling features registered the signal success of her call.
On the evening of the same day, an alert, self-possessed young man rang the La Salles’ doorbell and politely inquired for Mr. La Salle. Informed of his absence he expressed a further wish to see “Miss La Salle,” presented a calling card and was ushered into the drawing room. A single glance at thesinister bit of pasteboard and Mignon began to quake inwardly. Knowing the professional reputation of her caller she could draw but one ominous conclusion. To defy the Lookouts was one thing; to defy the Law another. Undoubtedly he had been engaged by the club to force her to deliver up the cachéd money. Perhaps she would be arrested and tried in court for her crime!
Her sharp face very pale, knees trembling, she entered the drawing room, feeling like a criminal on the way to punishment. Greatly to her surprise her caller greeted her with courteous impersonality. She did not share, however, his suave expression of regret at her father’s absence. To her it was an undisguised blessing.
Her fears diminished a trifle as he proceeded to engage her in pleasant conversation which had no bearing on the, to her, dangerous subject. Deciding that he had merely dropped in to pay her father a social call, Mignon recovered her courage and promptly set out to make herself agreeable. Very tactfully he directed the discourse toward himself and his profession. He related several incidents of peculiar cases, carefully avoiding all mention of names, that had come under his jurisdiction. He ended his law reminiscences with the tale of a young man who, having quarreled with his mother, rifled a safe in his mother’s room and hid the contents out of pure spite, thus hoping to bring her to his ownterms. Contrary to all expectations his mother promptly had him arrested for burglary, despite his frantic assurances that he had cherished no thought of not returning the money, but had hidden it merely for revenge.
“And—was—he—sent to prison?” Mignon’s tones were decidedly shaky.
“No. His mother did not carry it further. She decided that he had learned a lesson and withdrew the charge. It was a very severe lesson, however. He did not relish the idea of being regarded by the public as a thief. His mother felt the publicity to be necessary, I suppose. He had been a sore trial to her. It must have hurt her pride. Still, you know, desperate diseases require desperate remedies.”
Shortly after delivering this Parthian shot, the disturbing advocate of the law smilingly took his departure, leaving a thoroughly miserable and frightened girl to digest his remarks at her leisure. It may be said that the tragic tale of the too-vengeful young man was absolutely true. It had been carefully culled from among records in the young lawyer’s possession as bearing directly upon Mignon’s case.
At the next regular meeting of the Lookouts, held at Harriet’s home, the members of that worthy organization received the surprise of their young lives. Deep in anxious conference regarding the ways andmeans of raising money to meet their steadily-mounting expenses, they were startled by a loud ringing of the doorbell that caused each mind to revert to another occasion when precisely the same thing had happened.
It was Muriel herself who answered the door. When she reappeared among her companions her pretty face wore a somewhat dazed expression. In one hand she bore an oblong package, the outlines of which suggested a book.
“Girls,” she said in an awed voice, “the unbelievable has come to pass. Someone please take this package and open it. I’m simply flabbergasted.” Marjorie, springing from her chair to relieve Muriel of it, the latter dropped down on the davenport with a half-hysterical chuckle.
“Oh!” Marjorie uttered a faint cry, as the concealing wrapping torn away, the contents of the package burst upon her amazed eyes. Her exclamation was echoed in concert by the eager on-lookers. Clutched firmly in Marjorie’s hands, they beheld a familiar black-covered book that had long been missing. On top of it was a neat pile of bank notes held together by an elastic band. Crowning the notes was a small, gray envelope.
“What—why—it’s our money!” almost shouted Daisy Griggs.
A confused outcry followed her loud exclamation as each girl attempted an individual remark.
“Open the envelope! Hurry, Marjorie! I wonder what made her send it back! It’s a miracle!”
All this was directed to Marjorie, as she obediently ripped open the envelope. Exploring it for a note, a shower of small change fell from it to the floor. Stooping, she hastily gathered it together. “There is nothing else in the envelope,” she said, her lips curving in a whimsical smile. “Susan, you are no longer a treasureless treasurer. Please assume the duties of your office and count this money. As for me, I can’t really make it seem true.” Turning the money over to Susan, Marjorie dropped into a nearby chair, a prey to mingled emotions.
“What do you suppose happened to Mignon to make her send——” began Muriel wonderingly. A second peal of the doorbell sent her speeding again to the door, her question half-asked. A moment and the alert listeners heard her voice raised in a little ecstatic cry of “Jerry!”
Hearing it, the Lookouts made for the wide doorway of the living room in a body. On the threshold their rush was checked. Her arm about Muriel’s waist, Jerry Macy stood surveying them, her round face wreathed in smiles.
“Well, Lookouts, I’ve come back,” she announced sheepishly. “I’ve been hanging around outside the house for the last hour waiting to see if anything would happen. Of course I wasn’t sure,but I had an idea Mignon would send that money here to-night. I thoughtfully sent her an unsigned typewritten notice stating where the meeting was to be. I see the money’s here, all right enough.” Her shrewd gaze had singled out the bundle of banknotes on the library table. “I saw the La Salles’ chauffeur stop his car at the gate, so I guessed things were O. K.”
These remarkable statements were received by a volley of curious, exclamatory questions, all hurled at Jerry in the same moment.
“Jerry,” entreated Marjorie, when she could make herself heard, “won’t you please take your old place and explain a few things? We can never get to the bottom of this miracle unless you tell us.” Stepping forward, she stretched forth two impulsive hands. Jerry’s own hands shot out and caught them in a tight clasp. All the pain of separation and joy of reconciliation went into that meeting of hands.
Affectionately escorted by Marjorie to the president’s chair, Jerry dropped into it with a sigh. “Maybe it isn’t good to be back,” she said, a suspicious quaver in her usually matter-of-fact tones. “Now draw up your chairs, children, and I’ll tell you the whole terrible tale of the treacherous treasurer and the slippery sleuth. But before I begin it, I want to say right here that I’ve been every variety of goose that ever happened. I’m only going to hold down the presidential chair until I tell my story:Then Muriel is going to take it again and I’m going to be just a member of the club.”
So saying, Jerry launched forth with an account of her exploits as a sleuth which held her hearers’ divided between laughter at her artful methods and pity for the girl who had never learned to rule her own spirit. “That’s all,” she ended. “Now I’m going to beat it—I mean vacate this chair.”
“You mean you’re going to sit right where you are,” asserted Muriel with decision. “Lookouts,” she turned to the little company who were now on their feet to protest against Jerry’s avowed intention, “there can never be but one president for us; Jerry, Geraldine Jeremiah Macy!”
And thus in her moment of penitent renunciation, too-hasty but valiant-hearted Jerry received a never-to-be-forgotten lesson in loyalty.
The week following Jerry’s return to the Lookouts, together with the restoration of their cachéd money, took on a distinctly festival tone. A round of jolly little merry-makings went on at the various members’ homes, on each occasion of which Jerrywas the guest of honor. Her aggravating behavior of the past was completely obliterated by the Lookouts’ joy at her return to them.
Quite the contrary, Mignon La Salle was speedily beginning to realize that “the way of the transgressor is hard.” It was not remorse for her despicable conduct that had forced this knowledge upon her. The moment that the money, which she had tantalizingly withheld from the club out of spite, was out of her hands, her courage came back with a rush. She had already reached the stage of upbraiding herself for having thus been so easily frightened, when a dire calamity befell her.
Three days after she had dispatched William to Harriet’s home with the fateful package, her father returned. Having occasion to enter the First National Bank of Sanford on business, he heard there a tale from its vice-president that sent him hurrying from the bank in wrathful quest of his unmanageable daughter. In taking this step, Mr. Wendell had been actuated by what he believed to be the best of motives. As a close friend of Mr. La Salle, the vice-president had deemed it his duty to inform the Frenchman of the affair. A rigid advocate of the belief that the younger generation was allowed entirely too much liberty, he had not been in sympathy with the delicate consideration the Lookouts had exhibited toward Mignon. He was of the opinion that she should be severely punished, and accordinglyconstituted himself as a committee of one to act in the matter.
Completely out of patience with his lawless daughter, Mr. La Salle had left the bank, enraged determination in his eye. He had proceeded directly to Sanford High School, insisting there that Mignon be released from study for the day. With no word of greeting other than a stern, “Wicked, ungrateful girl, I have found you out,” he marched her home with him. Once safely in the confines of his own residence, he let loose on her a torrent of recrimination, half English, half French, that reduced her to the lowest depths of terrified humility. At the end of it, he pronounced doom. “You shall go to a convent school at once. You shall not have the honor to graduate in the same class with the excellent young women you have so shamefully treated. In a convent school, all the time you will be watched. Then, perhaps, you will learn that it pays not to do wrong.”
In vain Mignon wept, pleaded, promised. This time her father was adamant. He sternly forbade her return to Sanford High School and would hardly allow her to leave the house. He visited Miss Archer, stating gloomily to the surprised principal that due to Mignon’s own failings he had decided to remove her from high school and place her in the more strict environment of a convent school. To her kindly proposal that he give his erring daughteranother chance, he made emphatic refusal. “She has defied me one time too often,” he declared. “Now she must of a truth be severely punished.”
He wrote a note to the Lookout Club, apologizing for his daughter’s shortcomings, and he also wrote another, much in the same strain, to Marjorie Dean, thanking her for past kindnesses and releasing her from her promise. In the note to Marjorie he stated his unrelenting resolve regarding Mignon. Though she had small reason to feel sympathy for Mignon, nevertheless Marjorie pitied her whole-heartedly. As she solemnly remarked to her captain, it was very hard on Mignon to be snatched from school almost on the very eve of her graduation.
Meanwhile, Mignon was racking her troubled brain for some means of evading the fate her father had thrust upon her. Thus far she had not dared write Rowena and confess that she had been frightened into returning the Lookouts’ money. She had known only too well the weight of her friend’s displeasure even in small matters. Rowena would never forgive her for thus having so easily given in. Urged on by the conviction that no one save Rowena could suggest a way out of her present difficulty, Mignon finally sat down and wrote her a most garbled account of her defeat. She represented herself to be the victim of a deep-laid plot and a much-abused person all around. She ended with a vigorous tirade against her father and appealeddesperately to Rowena for help out of her difficulties. Her father was already in communication with the head of the school to which he had decreed she should go, she informed Rowena. “If you are truly my friend,” she wrote, “try to think of some way to help me out of this trouble.”
By keeping an alert watch on the mail, Mignon managed to lay hands on Rowena’s answer to her plea, which arrived three days after the sending of her letter to her boon companion. It arrived at her home during her father’s absence and she lost no time in locking herself in her room, there to read it undisturbed. The first two pages consisted entirely of Rowena’s brutally frank opinion of her for being so cowardly. The third and fourth, however, held a suggestion that fairly took Mignon’s breath. At first she mentally flung it aside as impossible. Considering it further, she became better pleased with it. After a half hour of somber reflection, she decided to adopt it.
Mignon was not the only one, however, who had a problem to consider. Marjorie Dean was also wrestling with a difficulty of her own. Since the receipt of Mr. La Salle’s note, she had thought frequently and sorrowfully of wayward Mignon. Several times she had attempted to answer the Frenchman’s note, but could think of nothing to say. She did not approve of his plan to cut his daughter off from the graduation she had so nearly won. Still,she could hardly set down her opinion in a letter to him. After several days of troubled reflection, she decided to go to him and ask him to reconsider his determination.
To her friends she said nothing of this; to her captain she said a great deal. Mrs. Dean made no attempt to dissuade her. “You must fight it out by yourself, Lieutenant,” she counseled. “If you feel that Mignon is really worth your good offices, then by all means go to her father. Remember, she has never played fairly with you. You are still in the dark as to what means she employed to estrange poor little Lucy Warner from you.”
“I know it,” sighed Marjorie. “Still, I feel so sorry for her that I can’t bear to stand by and not try to help her. I think I’ll go to Mr. La Salle’s office after school is over for the day.”
In order not to arouse her friends’ curiosity, she strolled home from school with them as usual. Stopping merely to salute her captain, she faced about and hurried toward the main street of the little city on which his office was situated. To her deep disappointment she found his office locked. It meant a trip to his residence after dinner that evening. She must lose no further time in obtaining an interview with him, else it might be too late. He had written that Mignon was to be sent away immediately.
When she started out for the office the sky hadlooked threatening. Before she reached home it had begun to rain, and by dinner time a heavy downpour had set in that bade fair to keep up steadily all evening. Not to be thus easily disheartened, Marjorie waited until almost eight o’clock, then announced her determination to go at any rate.
“Then I shall go with you,” decided her mother. “You shall not go alone to Mignon’s house. We will drive in the automobile. There is a poor woman who lives near the La Salles on whom I ought to call. I will stop at her home and wait for you there while you make your plea to Mr. La Salle.”
This was highly satisfactory to Marjorie. A few minutes later, prepared to face the storm, Marjorie and her captain had repaired to the Deans’ small garage at the back of the house for the automobile, and were soon driving through the rain on their double errand of mercy.
“You needn’t bother to take me the rest of the way, Captain,” assured Marjorie, as they neared the shabby little house where Mrs. Dean was to make her call. “It’s only a block. I’ll run fast and hardly get wet. My hat and raincoat will stand the bad weather.”
“Suit yourself,” smiled her mother as Marjorie skipped lightly out of the car. “Don’t be too long, dear. I will wait for you, but try to come back within the half hour.”
“Always obey your superior officer.” Her handto her soft felt hat, Marjorie made jaunty salute. Then she flitted on up the street and was soon lost in the blackness of the night.
Her mind on her errand, she hurried along, paying small attention to the discomfort of the falling rain. The La Salle estate, which occupied half a block, lay just around a corner from the place where she had alighted. Her head bent, she made the turn just in time to collide sharply with a pedestrian who was approaching on a run from the opposite direction. The force of the collision sent a suitcase that the latter was carrying to the sidewalk.
“I beg your pardon,” began Marjorie. “Did I——”
“Why don’t you look where you’re going?” demanded an angry voice, as the owner of the suitcase stooped to recover it.
At sound of the familiar tones, Marjorie cried out: “Mignon La Salle! Why, Mignon, you are the last person I expected to see on such a night.” Pausing, she regarded the still stooping girl in pure astonishment. To meet Mignon hurrying along on foot through the rain, minus an umbrella and burdened with a suitcase struck her as being decidedly peculiar.
Mignon straightened up with an angry jerk. “You’ve made me lose my handbag,” she accused furiously. “I let go of it with my suitcase whenyoucame blundering along and crashed against me.You’ve always brought me bad luck, Marjorie Dean. I wish you’d never came to Sanford to live. I’ll miss my train and it will beyourfault. Don’t stand there like a dummy. Help me hunt for my bag. I’ve got to make my train. Do you hear me?”
Already Marjorie was bending low, her anxious hands groping about on the sidewalk in search of the lost bag. Mignon, too, was hunting frantically for it, keeping up a continuous fire of half-sarcastic, half-lamenting remark.
“Here it is,” cried Marjorie, as her searching fingers came in contact with the leather of the bag. “I’m glad I found it and I’m sorry I made you drop it.” Privately she was wondering at Mignon’s apparent agitation. It was far more intense than her anger.
Both girls straightening up simultaneously, Marjorie caught full sight of Mignon’s face under the flickering gleam of a neighboring arc light. It was white and set and her black eyes held a hunted, desperate look. Without a word of thanks she snatched the bag from Marjorie’s hand, picked up her suitcase and started on.
Yet in that revealing instant under the arc light a sudden, terrifying apprehension laid hold on Marjorie. Mignon’s pale, tense features, her evident haste, the suitcase, her frenzied determination to make the train, the fact that she was rushingthrough the rain on foot to the station—all seemed to tally with the dreadful suspicion that gripped Marjorie. Could it be that Mignon was running away from home?
To think was to act with Marjorie. In a flash she was speeding to overtake the fleeing girl, now a few yards ahead of her. Catching up with Mignon, she cried out on impulse, “You mustn’t run away from home, Mignon! Please,pleasego back with me! When I met you I was on my way to your house to ask your father if you couldn’t stay in Sanford High and graduate with our class.”
“Who toldyouI was going to run away from home?” flashed Mignon, whirling fiercely upon Marjorie.
“No one told me,” was the steady admission. “It just came to me all of a sudden. If I’m wrong, forgive me. If I’m right, then please don’t do it.” Marjorie’s voice rose beseechingly. “You have everything in the world to make you happy. Your father loves you, even if heisangry with you now. No one else will ever take care of you as he has.”
“My fatherhatesme,” contradicted Mignon savagely. “If he really cared for me he could never send me away to be a prisoner in a convent school. Yes, I am going to leave home, and you nor anyone else shall stop me. Everybody hates me and I hate everybody!” The last word ended in a passionatesob of mingled rage and humiliation. Mignon was now tasting the bitterness of one against whom the world has turned.
“Poor Mignon.” Moved by sincere pity, Marjorie laid a comforting hand on the would-be refugee’s arm.
That gentle expression of sympathy, accompanied by the tender little caress, stirred into life an emotion hitherto unknown to Mignon’s rebellious soul. Assailing her as a climax to the strain of the past few days, it completely unnerved her. Her self-control vanishing she dropped her suitcase and burst into wild weeping. Winding her arms about the sobbing girl, Marjorie tried to soothe her as best she might. Fortunately for them, no passer-by intruded upon the little scene. Only the complaining rain lent its monotonous accompaniment to Mignon’s sobs.
“Let us go back to your house, Mignon,” proposed Marjorie practically with a view toward bracing up the weeper. “Someone is likely to come along and see us. You will go, won’t you?”
“Yes,” came the husky reply.
“All right.” Making an effort to speak with the utmost cheerfulness, Marjorie loosed her hold on Mignon and picked up the suitcase. “I’ll carry it,” she said. “It’s only a little way to your home. But first, I must stop at that little house over there and tell Captain to wait for me longer. I’d like to havea talk with you and you know I am to see your father. Is he at home?”
“Yes. In the library. I left the house by the back entrance so that he wouldn’t see me. I hid my suitcase outside,” confessed Mignon in a low, shamed voice. “I was going to New York to see Rowena. She promised to help me get on the stage. Her uncle is a theatrical manager.”
“I’m glad you have changed your mind,” was the hearty assertion. Marjorie was thinking that she was not in the least surprised to learn that Rowena Farnham was at the root of Mignon’s flight.
“I would never have hidden the money if it hadn’t been for her,” Mignon continued bitterly. “Still, it’s my fault, after all. I shouldn’t have listened to her. But this is the end. I’m going to be different, even if my father sends me away to school. I guess I started wrong and somehow could never do right. I deserve to be punished, though. It just breaks my heart when I think of not graduating from Sanford High.”
Marjorie listened in wonder. Was it really lawless Mignon who had just spoken so penitently? Could it be that her better self had at last found the light? “Youaregoing to graduate from Sanford High,” she declared staunchly. “We must go to your father and tell him everything. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Mignon sighed at the prospect ahead of her, yetshe made no dissent to Marjorie’s plan. She had small faith in her father’s clemency, but she had at last taken a step in the right direction and she was resolved to go on. “We might as well go to the front door and ring the bell,” she said dejectedly. “I know he’ll be terribly angry, but I’ll have to stand it.”
Mignon’s prediction of her father’s anger was not an idle one. Of the excitable Latin temperament, his indignation flamed high when the two girls entered the library where he sat quietly reading and Mignon haltingly confessed to him the details of her interrupted flight. His scathing words of rebuke brought on a second flood of tears. Mignon crumpled up in a big chair, a figure of abject misery. It was then that Marjorie took the floor and in her sweet, gracious fashion earnestly pleaded clemency for the weeper.
It was the most difficult task she had ever undertaken to perform. Exasperated beyond measure, Mr. La Salle at first utterly refused to consider her plea. He could not find it within his heart to forgive his daughter. He was bent on punishing her with the utmost severity and her latest defiance of him served to strengthen his determination. Marjorie’s repeated assertion that by her confession Mignon had already proved her sincerity of purpose appeared to carry small weight.
“You do not know this ungrateful one as I, herfather, know her,” was his incensed retort. “Often she has promised the good behavior, but only promised. Never has she fulfilled the word. How then can she expect that I shall forgive and believe her?”
“But this time Mignonwillkeep her word,” returned Marjorie with gentle insistence. “I am sure that if her mother were living she would forgive and believe. No matter what I had done,mymother would forgive me. If I were truly sorry she would believe in me, too. You are nearest of all in the world to Mignon. Won’t you try to overlook the past and let her come back to the senior class? Whatever else displeases you in her, she has at least been successful in her studies. She stands high in all her classes. She is Professor Fontaine’s most brilliant pupil in French. It does seem hard that she should have to give up now what she has so nearly won.”
Without realizing it, Marjorie had advanced a particularly effective argument. Mignon’s high standing in her various classes during her high school career had always afforded her father signal pleasure. Thus reminded, paternal pride awoke and struggled against anger. Marjorie’s reference to Mignon’s mother had also touched him deeply.
Following her earnest little speech, a brief interval of silence ensued, during which Mr. La Salle stared gloomily at his weeping daughter. Moved by a sudden rush of pity for his motherless girl, hewalked over to her and rested a forgiving hand on her diminished head. Very gently he addressed her in his native tongue. Marjorie felt a rush of unbidden tears rise to her own eyes, when the next instant she became witness to a tender reconciliation which she never forgot.
It was nearer two hours than one before she prepared to say good night to the two for whom she had done so much. Brought at last to a state of sympathetic understanding such as they had never before known, father and daughter were loath to part from this sincere, lovely young girl. To Mr. La Salle’s proposal to see her safely to the house where her mother awaited her, Marjorie made gracious refusal. She was anxious to get away by herself. The whole affair had been extremely nerve-racking and she longed for the bracing atmosphere of the outdoors as an antidote to the strain she had undergone.
She was visited by a feeling of intense impatience when, stepping into the hall, accompanied by Mignon and her father, the former humbly asked her to delay her departure for a moment. Leaving her, Mignon sped up the front stairs, returning almost instantly. Announcing to her father her wish to go with Marjorie as far as the gate, the now smiling man saw his guest as far as the veranda and retired into the house.
“I have something to give you,” began Mignon, asthey started down the walk. “It’s—that——” she faltered briefly “——that letter Lucy Warner wrote you. I found it in the locker room. I saw it fall out of your blouse—and—I—took it—and—read it. I know it was wrong. Then I kept it. I was angry—because you wouldn’t tell me about you and Lucy that day at Miss Archer’s. I—made—Lucy think youhadtold me about it. She wouldn’t believe it, so I said, ‘What about the Observer?’ She thought I knew something I didn’t know at all. I had no idea what ‘the Observer’ meant. To-morrow I shall go to her and tell her so,” she continued bravely. “I’m sorry for all the hateful things I’ve done to you and said about you. You are the finest, truest girl in the whole world, Marjorie Dean. You’ve done something for me to-night that I’ll remember and be grateful to you for as long as I live. There’s not much left of my senior year but I am going to try to make my last days in Sanford High count. Some day I hope I can prove to you that I am worthy of your friendship. But not yet.” With this she shoved the troublesome letter into Marjorie’s limp hand.
Bereft for the moment of speech, Marjorie clutched the letter, wondering again whether she were actually awake, or living in a queer dream. Mignon’s revelation had laid the last ghost. She had untied the final knot in the tangle of her own making. More, she had given the best possibleproof of sincere repentance. “Mignon,” it was now Marjorie’s voice that trembled, “you’ve already proved yourself my friend. I’m glad for your sake and Lucy’s and mine that you were so brave as to tell me about the letter and return it to me. All I can say is: Let us forget and be friends.”