Marjorie Dean High School Senior Part 13

"A Campfire? I never heard of one. What sort of show is it, Hal?"

Marjorie leaned forward in her chair, her changeful features alive with curious interest.

"It's a new one on me!" exclaimed Jerry. "I mean, I never heard of a Campfire, either," was her hasty amendment.

"A Campfire is a kind of big military show," explained Hal. "I went to one once in Buffalo. It's like a bazaar, only instead of booths, there are tents all the way around the Armory except at one end where there's a little stage. The center of the floor is left free for dancing.

Different things are sold in the tents. Confectionery and ices and postcards or anything one cares to have. That would be the part you girls would have to see to. We could have a show and a dance afterward.

If we gave it for three nights running we'd make quite a lot of money.

Half of it would go to the Lookouts and the other half to the Guards."

"You've certainly got a head on your shoulders, Harold. I forgive you for those disrespectful proverbs." Danny regarded Hal with grinning magnanimity. "I promise faithfully to be one of the special features at the Woodfire, Coalfire, Nofire-pardon me; Campfire."

"I'm not sure whether you'll be there," retorted Hal. "It will depend entirely upon your behavior."

"Oh, I'll be there; never fear" was the airy a.s.surance.

"It's the very nicest kind of idea," approved Marjorie warmly. "I am sure that we could work together and carry it out successfully. It means a lot of work, though. When could we have it?" This as an afterthought.

"Thanksgiving would be a pretty good time for us," proposed Jerry. "We have no school after Wednesday of Thanksgiving week. But there's football. You boys will be busy with that."

"Not this year." Hal shook his head. "Laurie and I are out of it. We've had three years of football and so we thought we'd give some of the other fellows our chance. Having to drill so much lately at the Armory has kept us both busy. Then, too, Laurie wanted all the extra time he could get to work on his new opera."

This last information brought a chorus of surprised exclamations from four young throats. Even Constance was not in possession of this news.

"Now who is stingy?" cried Jerry, looking playful accusation at Laurie.

"Oh, I intended to tell you folks about it tonight," defended the young composer, flus.h.i.+ng. "Hal merely got the start of me. There isn't much to tell so far. I have a vague inspiration which I'm trying to translate into music. I don't know yet whether or not it will be worth while."

"What are you going to name your opera?" inquired practical Jerry. "What is it about?"

"I-that is--" Laurie showed further signs of embarra.s.sment. "I haven't exactly decided on a name for it. I'd rather not say anything about it for a while. Later on, I'll be pleased to answer both your questions, Jerry."

"More mystery!" Jerry threw up her hands in comical disapproval. "Our senior year seems to be full of it. There's the mystery of Veronica, for instance, and--"

"She is a rather mysterious person," broke in Laurie. "Last night while she was waiting to do that shadow dance, I stood beside her so as to be ready to take her broom and that stuffed cat she carried on her shoulder after she made her bow on the screen. When she had finished the dance she slipped away from me before I had a chance to congratulate her on her dancing. I thought of course she'd stay for the party. I was surprised when you told me, Jerry, that she wouldn't hear to it. She seems like a mighty nice girl. Strange, but I could almost swear that I'd met her before last night."

"You've probably seen her going to or coming from school," remarked Constance. "She is often with us."

"Oh, I've noticed her with you girls, and I've always had that same peculiar impression about her. The moment she first spoke to me last night it deepened." Laurie knit his brows in a puzzled effort to bring back the circ.u.mstances of some possibly former meeting with Veronica.

A gleam of sudden inspiration shot into Jerry's round eyes. "Perhaps you may have met Veronica before last night, Laurie," she said eagerly.

"Think hard and see if you can't recall the meeting. It might throw a little light on some of the things that puzzle us."

"Sorry I can't oblige you," he declared ruefully after due reflection, "but I can't remember ever having met her previous to last night. It must be a case of her resembling somebody else I've met."

"Jerry will never be satisfied until she knows all the whys and wherefores of Veronica," laughed Marjorie. "Never mind, Jerry. Some day we may find out that our great mystery amounts to very little after all.

By that I don't mean that we are likely to be disappointed in Ronny.

It's quite probable that we don't understand her now as we may later on.

To go back to the Campfire, we had better decide to-night when we are to have it. I think Thanksgiving would be the best time. I imagine the other Lookouts beside ourselves will think so, too."

The subject of the Campfire again taken up, the six friends entered into an avid planning for it. The three boys were reasonably sure that the project would find favor with the Sanford Guards, to which military organization they all belonged. The three girls were equally certain that it would meet the approval of their club a.s.sociates. Their interest centered on the delightful scheme, both Marjorie and Constance entirely forgot the disagreeable news which they had previously agreed must be broken to Jerry.

It was well toward eleven o'clock when tardy recollection of it swept over Marjorie. The s.e.xtette were in the midst of a delectable collation of hot chocolate, sandwiches and French cakes, of which they had despoiled the indefatigable tea wagon, when the remembrance of Mignon's latest iniquity popped into her mind. Luckily for her, Jerry was seated in the chair nearest to her. Under cover of one of Danny Seabrooke's lively sallies, Marjorie leaned toward Jerry and said softly: "I have something to tell you, Jeremiah. I thought I might have a chance to say it to-night, but perhaps I'd better wait until to-morrow."

"'Never put off until to-morrow what you can do to-day,'" was the cheerful reminder. "Wait until we have finished the spread. You can help me trundle the tea wagon out of here and into the kitchen. Then we can talk. I'll make a loud and special clamor for the pleasure of your a.s.sistance. Does Connie know what's on your mind? I don't want to seem rude to her."

"Yes, she will understand," nodded Marjorie. "She'd rather I'd tell you.

She can entertain the boys until we come back."

Not long after this guarded conversation took place Jerry made good her promise. "Lend me a hand with this tea wagon, Marjorie," she innocently requested. "You boys needn't trouble yourselves. Sit still and look pleasant and Connie will do the honors while Marjorie and I do the work.

Besides, two's company," she added, with good-humored significance.

"Don't mention it," affably retorted Danny Seabrooke. "You have my permission to take charge of the tea wagon. Once it looked good to me.

Now that it holds nothing but empty dishes, take it away quickly."

Hal and Laurie obediently kept their seats. They were accustomed to Jerry's blunt orders and knew that their services were not desired.

Constance flashed Marjorie a quick, inquiring glance, which the latter answered with an almost imperceptible nod.

"See how they mind me," observed Jerry, chuckling, as the two girls left the room, trundling the tea wagon between them. Entering the kitchen she gave it a final impatient shove away from her. "You're out of it," she commented as it rumbled along the smooth floor with a protesting jingle of dishes. "You have the floor, Marjorie. What's the latest? As you don't look very joyful, I wonder if our dear Mignon has been busy again.

Something seems to tell me that I am not a thousand miles off in my guess. After last night, nothing she has said or done can surprise me much. She certainly got nicely fooled, didn't she? What I'd like to know is, When did she telephone her house?"

"That is precisely what I am going to tell you," stated Marjorie in deliberate tones; "But, first, I want you to promise me, Jerry, that you will try not to be too much upset by what I'm going to say."

"That's a pretty hard promise to make." Jerry eyed her friend speculatively. "I'll be as calm as I can, but no calmer."

Not greatly a.s.sured by Jerry's half promise, Marjorie plunged bravely into the task that confronted her. Before she had ended, Jerry's good-natured countenance showed signs of storm.

"Of all the mischief-makers," she sputtered, "Mignon leads the van!

She's gone just a little too far this time; The idea of her slipping around behind our backs to listen to what didn't concern her. I won't have her in the club. As president I have some say about it. I shall call a special meeting of the Lookouts, tell them what she's done, and recommend that she be dropped from the club. We can't trust her. She's broken the Golden Rule a dozen times at least since she became a member of the Lookouts. Either she must leave the club or else I shall leave it," she threatened.

"I was afraid you'd say that. Understand, I agree with you that she deserves to be asked to resign. But we mustn't ask her to, and you must not resign, either, Jerry. If you did, it might break up the club. We've too much at stake now to begin quarreling. We wouldn't be helping Mignon by asking her to resign. We'd only be responsible for making her more dishonorable than ever. Veronica won't mind her gossip."

"Maybe she won't," snapped Jerry, "but it's not fair to the Lookouts to allow Mignon to do and say things that will cause them to be criticized.

We've got to take some pretty severe action about it or be set down as in her cla.s.s."

"That's what I am coming to," continued Marjorie. "The time has come when Mignon must be made to understand that she will have to live up to the Golden Rule. As president of the club, you ought to be the one to tell her, but I am afraid--"

"I'll tell her," emphasized Jerry grimly, "and in a way that she won't relish. Maybe then she'll be glad to resign of her own accord. If she won't, then I shall."

"That's just the point," broke in Marjorie mournfully. "She won't resign of her own accord. If you undertake to tell her she will be horrid to you. Then you'll lose your temper and-we won't have any president."

"I guess that's so." Jerry frowned fiercely. Marjorie's wistful ending had its effect on her, however. "Still, who's going to tell her if I don't? You can imagine what will happen if Muriel undertakes it. It will be like touching a match to gun powder. Susan has no time for her.

Irma's altogether too gentle. Harriet's no match for Mignon.

Connie-well, Connie might be able to put it over. I doubt it, though.

Mignon is so jealous of her on account of her singing and Laurie. She wouldn't listen to Connie. Afterward she'd be sure to start a story that Connie tried to put her out of the club because of Laurie's attention to her at the Hallowe'en party. There's only--"

"Marjorie Dean left to tell her," supplemented Marjorie quietly.

"You've said it," nodded Jerry. "You are the only one of us who is likely to make an impression upon her. She doesn't like you, but she's afraid of you. She knows, even though she won't admit it, that you are miles her superior. I'd rather be the one to go to her, but you seem to think it wouldn't be wise. I guess you know what you're talking about.

One of us is it. If you feel you'd like to do the censuring act, then go ahead and do it."