Chase Josephine - Marjorie Dean, High School Senior

“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.