Chase Josephine - Marjorie Dean, High School Senior

“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.

Marjorie was just putting on her hat preparatory to setting out for school, when Jerry Macy walked in at the open front door. “Thought I’d stroll over for you,” she announced. “I might better say fly than stroll. I ran nearly all the way here so as to be sure to catch you at home.” Jerry’s very manner betokened the fact that she had something on her mind.

“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.”