Marjorie Dean High School Senior Part 12

"Saved!" Jerry clasped her fat hands in exaggerated thankfulness. "I see I stand some chance of having my curiosity satisfied."

"Can't you telephone your aunt and stay to dinner with me, Connie?"

begged Marjorie.

"Of course she can. That's a good idea. If your aunt says 'yes' then so will Mrs. Dean," calculated crafty Jerry. "As Professor Fontaine beautifully puts it, 'We weel conseedaire the mattaire as settled.'"

Mention of the little professor reminded Constance and Marjorie of an unusually long translation for Monday recitation, at which neither of them had looked. The talk immediately drifted into school channels to continue in that strain until Jerry left them.

After saying good-bye to her, Marjorie and Constance strolled silently along for a little.

"Marjorie," Constance's clear enunciation startled her chum from brief reverie. "I am afraid we can never be of much help to Mignon."

Marjorie flashed a half-startled glance toward Constance. She wondered what new quirk in Mignon's behavior had occasioned this observation.

"Why?" was all she said.

"I've been waiting for a chance to tell you something I heard this afternoon. It was Gertrude Aldine who mentioned it. She said that Mignon told her last night that Jerry had hired Veronica to come to the party and do that shadow dance."

"_Hired_ Veronica?" Marjorie cried out in nettled amazement. "That is perfectly ridiculous and not true. But how did Mignon happen to know that it was Veronica who danced? Only Jerry, Hal, Laurie, you and I knew it. Even I didn't recognize her on the screen. I don't see how Mignon could have."

"She must have, or else--" Constance paused significantly.

"Or else what?"

"I hate to say it, but Mignon must somehow have overheard you and Jerry when you were talking to Veronica in the back parlor. I saw her leave the ball room soon after you girls did. I saw her come back again after you had returned. I didn't pay any particular heed to it then. You see I didn't know about Veronica until you told me last night after the dance.

Even then I didn't connect her with you girls, although I guessed from what the La Salles' chauffeur said to Mignon that she must have gone downstairs and telephoned her home." A tiny smile played about Constance's lips as she recalled Mignon's defeat. "When Gertrude mentioned what Mignon had said about Veronica, the whole thing flashed across me in a twinkling. Gertrude promised not to tell anyone else. I know _she_ won't. But Mignon will circulate it throughout the school. Of course she won't mention, though, how she came by the information."

"It was contemptible in her if she really did spy upon us," was Marjorie's indignant outburst. "I don't see how she could have managed to, though. I didn't see a soul downstairs while we were there. If she does gossip it in school, Veronica won't care. She will only laugh."

"But Jerry will care," reminded Constance gravely. "As soon as she hears it she will go to Mignon and make a fuss about it. You know what she said that day at Sargent's. She meant it, too. We can't allow our president to resign from the club."

"We will tell Jerry about it tonight," decreed Marjorie. "It is better for her to hear it from us than from someone else. She will be cross, of course, but she won't resign. Something will have to be done about Mignon, though. She's not keeping her word of honor to the club. This is not the first offense. I can't explain what I mean by that because I promised a certain person I wouldn't tell what she told me. Someone will have to go to her and remind her of her duty to the club. If she keeps on saying such hateful things about others, outsiders will form a bad opinion of us all."

"As president, it's Jerry's duty to tell her," a.s.serted Constance. "No doubt she will wish to do it. That's just where the trouble lies. She will be apt to tell Mignon very bluntly that she must either stop gossiping or resign from the club. Mignon will simply snap her fingers at Jerry and Jerry herself will resign rather than be in the same club with Mignon."

"Very likely," nodded Marjorie. Constance's theory entirely coincided with her own. "If we talk things over with Jerry beforehand it may make a good deal of difference. Although I wouldn't say it to anyone but you or Captain, I've lately come to the conclusion that trying to help Mignon is a waste of time, energy and peace of mind. It's like building a sand castle on the beach. Before one has time to finish it the sea washes over it and sweeps it away. If it hadn't been for that affair at Riverview last year, I would never have troubled myself about her again.

Do you realize, Connie, that this is the fourth year that we have had to contend with that girl's mischief-making?" Marjorie's question quivered with righteous resentment.

"Yes, but she has never been really successful in a single piece of mischief she has planned," reminded Constance. "She's caused us a good deal of unhappiness, but in the end she has been the one to suffer defeat. It generally happens that way with persons like her. They may seem to succeed for a while, but always there comes a day when they have to pay for the trouble they make others. As I have said to you before, I am sorry for Mignon. Honestly, I don't think we can ever help her much, but she might better be in the club than out of it."

"Then you think that no matter what she may do we ought still to be patient with her and make allowances?" Marjorie's query indicated profound respect for Constance's broad-minded opinion. It made her feel as though her brief flash of resentment of Mignon had been unworthy of herself.

"Yes;" came the unhesitating reply. "What else is there to do? You and I, in particular, made ourselves responsible when we insisted that Mignon should be asked to join the Lookouts. As good soldiers we have no right to s.h.i.+rk that responsibility."

"I am not going to s.h.i.+rk it." Marjorie squared her shoulders with an energy that bespoke fresh purpose. "After all I said to the girls about Mignon joining the club, it was cowardly in me to complain so bitterly about her. You've made me realize all over again that we ought to look out for Mignon, because it's the right thing to do, not because of our promise to her father."

"I'll stand by you." Stopping in the middle of the walk, Constance offered her hand to Marjorie in pledge of her offer to stand by.

Both girls laughed as they went through with the little ceremony of shaking hands, little realizing that their compact would, later, turn out to be no laughing matter.

CHAPTER XIII-JERRY DECLARES HERSELF

"Well, here we are again!" jubilantly announced Danny Seabrooke, executing a few fantastic steps about the Macys' living room by way of expressing his approval of the s.e.xtette of young people gathered there.

"Yes, here we are," echoed Laurie Armitage with a fervor that indicated his deep satisfaction. Seated on the davenport beside Constance Stevens, his blue eyes rested on her with infinite content. This second gathering at the Macys' was quite to his liking.

"This amiable crowd reminds me of a verse in the third reader that I used to admire," remarked Jerry humorously. "It went something like this:

"'Let joy be ours, we're all at home, To-night let no cold stranger come.

May gentle peace a.s.sert her power And kind affection rule the hour.'"

Jerry recited this gem in a high, affected voice, ending with a giggle.

"Very touching," commented Danny, "and very true. We are, indeed, a happy, hilarious, harmonious, harmless, hopeful, hospitable band."

"After all," declared Marjorie, "there's nothing quite like the Invincible Six, is there? I had a gorgeous time at the Hallowe'en party last night, but these little sessions of ours are so jolly."

"Hurrah! Marjorie's given us a name!" cheered Hal Macy. "Hereafter we'll call ourselves the Invincible Six. It's a good name, and has a lot of snap to it. It means we are a combination that can't be downed."

"Of course we can't," agreed Danny Seabrooke glibly. "No combination of which I am a part can be downed. Hence the term 'invincible.' It's lucky for all of you that you have me to lean on. Understand, I speak merely in figurative language. I have no intention of becoming an actual prop for two big fellows like Hal Macy and Laurie Armitage."

"Don't worry," jeered Hal, "we wouldn't take a chance on you. An unstable prop-you know the rest."

"I know nothing whatever about it," returned Danny with dignity.

"Furthermore, I don't wish to know."

"'Where ignorance is bliss--'" quoted Hal tantalizingly.

"'Tis folly to waste time spouting proverbs," finished Danny, his wide grin in evidence.

"Stop squabbling, both of you," commanded Jerry. "One would think to hear you that the March Hare and the Mad Hatter had both come to life.

What about that wonderful idea of yours, Hal? It's time you quit being so stingy."

"Keep Dan quiet and I promise to be generous," was the teasing stipulation.

"Come and sit beside me, Danny," invited Marjorie with a roguish glance toward the talkative Daniel.

The latter immediately moved his chair with a wild flourish. Planting it beside Marjorie's he settled himself in it with a triumphant flop.

"There's nothing like proper appreciation," he declared, beaming owlishly at Hal, who merely smiled tolerantly at this fling.

"Go ahead, Hal," directed Laurie. "Marjorie's beneficent influence on Dan will keep him quiet for at least five minutes."

"All right." Hitching his chair about until he faced the interested group, Hal began. "You know, of course, that most of the Weston High fellows belong to the Sanford Guards. You know, too, that it is just a high school company and has always furnished its own equipment. Just now the company needs a lot of stuff that it can't afford to buy. A few of us could club together and buy it, but that wouldn't suit some of the boys. We ought to try and raise the money in some more democratic way.

Now you girls have a club and would like to do something to raise money for it. So I thought between the Guards and the club we could get up some sort of entertainment together that the Sanfordites would turn out to and spend their money. That's the first half of the idea. The second half is the show itself. Why couldn't we give a big Campfire in the Armory, and make a lot of money?"