Chase Josephine - Marjorie Dean, High School Senior

“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.

“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.