Marjorie Dean, High School Senior

“Haven’t you the least idea why Lucy is down on you, Marjorie?” was Constance’s thoughtful question.

“No.” Marjorie shook a despondent head. “I’ve never said or done anything to hurt her feelings.”

“The club meets on Thursday night at my house,” announced Jerry briskly. “What I propose to do is to call an informal meeting there to-morrow night, minus Mignon. We can state our grievances and have Irma set them down on paper. Then she can read them out. If everyone approves of them, we’ll have Irma copy them and write a letter to Mignon asking for her resignation. We’ll sign the letter, enclose the list of grievances and mail it to her. That’s really the best way to do. It will save a lot of fuss.”

“I think that would be most cruel and unkind, Jerry,” Marjorie burst forth in shocked criticism.

“I fail to see it in that light.” For the first time since the beginning of their friendship Jerry was distinctly out of sorts with her beloved friend. “Don’t be so babyish, Marjorie. There’s a limit to all things.”

“I think what you just proposed would certainly be the limit.” Unconsciously Marjorie answered in Jerry’s own slangy vernacular. “Let me tell you something.” Rapidly she recounted the incident of the receipt of the roses and note from Mr. La Salle. “I must admit,” she continued, “that I had intended to say to you to-night that you had better call a special meeting. I didn’t realize then how humiliating it would be for Mignon. I saw those beautiful flowers and read that nice note and I felt dreadfully ashamed. It was just as though I had already failed to keep faith with Mr. La Salle. It is terrible to fail someone who believes in one. I’ve often said that to you.”

“Of course it is. That’s why I am so disgusted with Mignon. She has failed all of us,” Jerry flashed back. “We can’t have our club spoiled just to please Mignon’s father. He makes me weary. It would be a good thing if he’d take a hand at reforming his daughter, instead of leaving the job to us.” Jerry was growing momentarily angrier with Marjorie. “You ought to stand up for yourself, instead of being so foolish as to allow Mignon to make a goose of you,” she finished rudely.

“Why, Jerry Macy!” Marjorie’s brown eyes registered sorrowful amazement.

“Don’t Jerry Macy me.” The stout girl jerked her hand roughly from Marjorie’s arm. “You make me tired, Marjorie Dean. If you can’t fight for yourself then someone else will.”

“I can fight my own battles, thank you.” Marjorie’s clear retort was freighted with injured dignity. Slow to anger, she was now thoroughly nettled.

“Girls, girls, don’t quarrel,” intervened Constance, who had thus far taken no part in the altercation. The trio had now passed inside the Deans’ gate and halted on the stone walk.

“I don’t wish to quarrel with Jerry,” asserted Marjorie coldly, “but I cannot allow her to accuse me of being cowardly. You have said, Jerry,” she eyed her explosive friend unflinchingly, “that Lucy Warner is angry with me, and not with the other girls. Very well. It is therefore Lucy’s and my affair. We should be the ones to decide what shall be done with Mignon. Personally, I prefer to drop the matter. You may go to Lucy, if you choose, and ask her her views. I doubt, though, if she will give them. As it now stands I think it would be better to bear with Mignon for her father’s sake. This is our last year in high school. Let us not darken it by trying to retaliate against Mignon.”

“I think Marjorie is right, Jerry,” declared Constance.

“Very good. Have it your own way. There will be no special meeting. Good-bye.” Jerry whirled and darted through the half open gate, slamming it behind her.

Her lips quivering ominously, Marjorie watched Jerry’s plump figure down the street. Slow tears began to roll down her rosy cheeks. Groping blindly for her handkerchief, she buried her face in it with a grieved little sob.

“Don’t cry, dear,” soothed Constance, slipping a gentle arm about the sorrowful lieutenant. “By to-morrow Jerry will be all over being mad. She is too fond of you to stay cross. Inside of half an hour she will probably be telephoning you to say she is sorry. Let’s go into the house and wait for her message. She’ll be ready to make up by the time she reaches home.”

“It’s – as – much – my – fault as hers,” quavered Marjorie. “I was cross, too. If she doesn’t ’phone me by six o’clock, I’ll call her up. It is babyish in me to cry, but I couldn’t help it. Jerry and I have always been such dear friends. I’m not going to cry any more, though. Captain will wonder what the trouble is. I’m going to tell her everything, but not until to-night after dinner. You’d better stay and help me, Connie. Perhaps Jerry will telephone before then.”

“All right, I will, thank you. I’ll telephone Aunt Susan and let her know where I am.”

On entering the house Delia met them with the information that Mrs. Dean had gone shopping but would be home by half-past six o’clock. When Constance had telephoned, they established themselves in the living room, keeping up a soft murmur of conversation. Two pairs of ears were sharply trained on the hall, however, to catch the jingling ring of the telephone.

When six o’clock rolled around without the longed-for message from Jerry, Marjorie could no longer endure the suspense. Springing from her chair, she sought the ‘phone and gave the operator the Macys’ number. “Hello,” she called in the transmitter.

“Hello,” sounded a familiar voice. It was Jerry herself who answered.

“Is that you, Jerry? This is Mar – ”

The forbidding click of the receiver cut the last word in two. Constance had not proved a successful prophet. Jerry Macy was still “cross.”

CHAPTER XX – WHEN FRIENDS FALL OUT

“For goodness sake, Marjorie, will you kindly tell me what has happened?” Muriel Harding overtook Marjorie in the corridor on the way to her second morning recitation, fairly hissing her question into her friend’s ear.

Marjorie turned a concerned face to her. She wondered what new difficulty was about to besiege her. “What do you mean, Muriel?”

“I haven’t time to explain now. Here. Take these and read them. They were on my desk this morning. You’ll understand later what I mean. I’ll run over to your house on the way back to school this noon. Then we can talk. I’m so surprised I can’t see straight.” Thrusting two envelopes into Marjorie’s hand, Muriel left her and hurried on.

Placing the envelopes in the back of her text book, Marjorie proceeded slowly down the corridor to her own recitation in French. Resisting the temptation to examine their contents, she devoted herself strictly to the lesson. The next hour, which would be spent in the study hall, would give her ample time to look at them.

Returned to the study hall and free at last to learn the cause of Muriel’s agitation, she forced back the sharp exclamation of dismay that rose to her lips. Both envelopes were addressed; one to Muriel Harding, the other to Jerry Macy. Through the address on the latter a pencil had been drawn. Below the cancelled line it had been readdressed to Muriel. The writing on the one was Jerry’s. The cancelled script on the other was Lucy Warner’s. The re-addressing had been done by Jerry.

Marjorie’s heart sank. She was almost sure of the nature of the notes within. Bracing herself in the seat, she drew Jerry’s note from its envelope. It turned out to be exactly what she feared. Jerry had tendered her formal resignation to the club. Lucy Warner’s note contained the same information. It differed little from Jerry’s, save for one sentence in the latter’s note: “Kindly arrange to hold the club meeting at some place other than my home.”

An intensity of bitterness toward Mignon filled Marjorie’s heart as she fingered Jerry’s note. She resentfully laid the blame for the whole affair at the French girl’s door. Jerry, Lucy and herself had all been caught in the meshes of the net which Mignon had set for their unwary feet. Marjorie wrathfully vowed that she would expose Mignon’s malicious mischief-making at the meeting of the club on Thursday evening. She hoped the members would demand Mignon’s resignation. She deserved to be thus publicly humiliated. Yet the more she considered this revenge, the less it appealed to her. It savored too greatly of Mignon’s own tactics. She finally decided to ask Connie to go home to luncheon with her. They could then talk matters over and agree on some plan of action by the time Muriel appeared.

Although Marjorie had prudently eschewed note-writing since that fateful afternoon during her junior year when she and Muriel had come to grief over the latter’s note, she resolved for once to yield to temptation. Scribbling a few hasty lines to Constance, whose desk was not far from her own, she managed successfully to send the missive. Glancing over it, Constance’s eyes quickly sought Marjorie’s. A smiling nod of her golden head informed the writer of the note that Connie would not fail her.

That point definitely settled, Marjorie speculated gloomily regarding whether Jerry’s spleen would remain directed only against herself or whether she intended to desert from the sextette of girls to which she belonged. Would Muriel at once apprise Susan, Irma and Constance of Jerry’s resignation from the club, or would she not? Hardly knowing what to expect, it was a relief to Marjorie when, on entering the locker room at noon, she saw no sign of either the stout girl or the other members of the sextette. The latter she guessed were waiting outside school. One look at four solemn-faced girls collected together on the opposite side of the street revealed to her that Muriel had put her three friends in possession of the news.

“Oh, Marjorie,” she hailed. “Come here. After I spoke to you I decided to tell the girls about Jerry. It’s a good thing I did. She hardly spoke to Susan and Irma this morning. They didn’t understand, of course, and were dreadfully hurt.”

A tiny pucker of vexation wrinkled Marjorie’s forehead. Muriel’s unexpected act had quite upset her plan of asking Connie’s advice beforehand regarding Mignon. She would have to choose her own course of action at once. Should she arouse her friends’ anger against Mignon and thus set in motion the wheel of vengeance, or should she offer an explanation of Jerry’s wrath? She knew the latter well enough to believe that no one would hear any complaint against herself from the stout girl’s lips. When especially roiled, Jerry was always uncommunicative. Slight irritations alone were productive of voluble protest on her part.

“What ails Jerry, Marjorie?” asked Irma anxiously. “None of us know. I hope you do.”

“I know,” cut in Constance quickly. “I only waited until Marjorie came before saying so. I’d rather she would tell you.” Constance had hitherto prudently volunteered no information.

“There isn’t much to tell.” Marjorie’s moment of doubt was past. Even as Irma spoke it was borne upon her that she had accepted Mr. La Salle’s note as a sign. It but remained to her to do her duty. “Yesterday afternoon Jerry and I had a disagreement about Mignon. Connie was with us when it happened. The disagreement arose over something which Mignon had done that is personal to me. Yesterday noon I received a note of thanks and a box of American Beauty roses from Mr. La Salle. You can understand why he sent them. Jerry was very angry at Mignon and proposed that we should expel her from the club. As our disagreement related to my affairs, I objected. Jerry said, ‘All right. Have it your own way,’ and left us. Later I called her on the telephone and she wouldn’t talk to me. You already know of her resignation.”

“You might know that Mignon was mixed in it in some way,” cried Muriel. “I suppose this must have been the last straw or Jerry wouldn’t have resigned. What are we to do without her? And Lucy Warner, too.”

“She is angry with me, too.” Marjorie’s voice sounded rather weary. “I don’t know why. I might as well tell you a little more. Jerry believes that Mignon made mischief between us. That’s the reason she is down on Mignon. Though I may suspect Mignon of it, I can’t prove it because Lucy will tell me nothing. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Mignon to resign simply because she is suspected of turning Lucy against me. I told Jerry so, but she wouldn’t see it in that light.”

“We’d better all go to Mignon and make her own up to it,” suggested Susan. “If she does, we’ll ask her to resign from the Lookouts.”

“I don’t think it would be wise.” It was peace-loving Irma Linton who spoke. “I don’t believe Mignon could be made to own up to any wrong thing she has done. Besides, it would be a blot on the club escutcheon to ask her to resign. Almost every girl in school has a pretty fair idea of why we asked Mignon to join the Lookouts. It is generally known that Marjorie took her home from Riverview in the Deans’ automobile that night that Rowena ran away from her. It is also known that Marjorie has tried hard to help her in spite of all the mean things Mignon has done to her and said of her. Everyone respects Marjorie for it. Miss Archer has been heard to say that Marjorie is the highest-principled girl she has ever had in Sanford High. She and Jerry were the founders of the club. They asked Mignon to join it. Do you think it would reflect to Marjorie’s credit, or Jerry’s either, to force Mignon out of the club now? I don’t. Jerry is in the wrong. Some day she’ll see it. What we ought to do is not accept either hers or Lucy’s resignation. Let them stay away until they choose to come back. They will both come back. I feel sure of it.”

This long, forceful speech from gentle Irma had a potent effect upon her listeners. Susan, Muriel and Constance were deeply impressed. Marjorie, however, was red with embarrassment. Miss Archer’s opinion of her, as quoted by Irma, amazed the blushing lieutenant. As for Irma’s views on Mignon, they coincided with her own.

“Just see Marjorie blush,” teased Muriel. “She wasn’t expecting to hear Irma say so many nice things about her.”

“I – you – it makes me feel foolish,” Marjorie stammered. “Please don’t ever do it again, Irma. I agree with you about Mignon, though, and about not accepting the two resignations. Will you three girls stand by Irma and me in this at the meeting?” She was sure of Constance, but not so sure of Susan and Muriel.

“We will,” came simultaneously from the two.

“Thank you,” smiled Marjorie. “There’s just one thing more and then we must hurry along. We’ve been standing here for almost half an hour. Mignon will probably be at the meeting. We five have agreed that she is to stay in the club. Between now and Thursday night we must see all the other members except Mignon and explain things. If they are agreeable to our plan, then at the meeting Muriel will act as president and read the resignations. I will move that they be not accepted and one of you must second the motion. Then we’ll put it to a standing vote. Everyone must vote not to accept them and that will close the matter.”

This plan was also approved and agreed upon. After deciding upon Muriel’s home as a place of meeting on Thursday, the participants in the sidewalk conference set off briskly toward their homes to partake of sadly-neglected luncheons.

At the Thursday evening meeting of the Lookouts, eleven kindly conspirators followed to the letter the program laid out for them by Marjorie and Irma. There was only one rebel, and she dared not assert herself openly. As the news of the two resignations had been carefully kept from her, Mignon La Salle was thunderstruck to learn that Jerry had left the club. Lucy’s resignation she had confidently expected. She had also feared that she might be taken to task for it, and had come to the Hardings’ home prepared to give battle royal.

Greatly against her will she rose with the others when the standing vote was taken regarding the non-acceptance of the two resignations. At heart a coward, she invariably evaded making a bold stand against opposition. She preferred underhanded warfare and would not show real fight unless cornered. When the fateful motion made by Marjorie and seconded by Irma had been passed, and Muriel had directed Irma to write Jerry and Lucy to that effect, Mignon longed to make strenuous objection. Craft conquering the impulse she made an inward vow that she would see to it that Jerry Macy, at least, never returned to the club. With Jerry gone from the Lookouts she would have greater leeway to do as she pleased.

“There’s something else I wish to mention.” Muriel’s clear voice broke in on Mignon’s dark meditations. “We wish no outsider to know that either Lucy or Jerry has tendered a resignation. I don’t need to ask you to promise to keep it quiet. As Lookouts you know your duty in the matter. I think it would be wise, Irma,” she turned to the secretary, “to mention this in your letters to Lucy and Jerry. They will understand then, perhaps, just how kindly we feel toward them. I know that neither of them will give out the least information to anyone.”

A decided scowl darkened Mignon’s brow as she heard this plea for secrecy. She had already contemplated the enticing prospect for gossip which the resignations promised. She made mental reservation that she, at least, would not bind herself to silence. She would whisper it about, if she chose, at her own discretion. If it finally leaked out and she should be accused of spreading it, she could easily shift the blame upon either Lucy or Jerry; Lucy preferably. She would be a more satisfactory scapegoat.

Thus while eleven girls consulted earnestly together in an endeavor toward fair play toward all, the twelfth member of the club smiled ironically and busied her brain with endless treacherous schemes for holding her own position in the club without living up to its irksome obligations. Could the innocent, whole-hearted eleven, who had overlooked in her so much that was detestable, have read Mignon’s mind, her connection with the Lookouts would have been summarily cut short. As it was, though they did not trust her, they patiently endured her and hoped for the best.

Highly elated over having thus escaped even a word of reproach, Mignon drove home from the meeting in her runabout, amused rather than displeased at the somewhat restrained manner which her companions had exhibited toward her. The very next morning, under promise of secrecy, she retailed the forbidden story of the resignations to three different girls. They received it with ohs and ahs, and in due season imparted it to their most intimate friends. Within three days it had traveled far, and presently someone referred it to Jerry for confirmation.

Having received but sulkily refused to answer Irma’s note, at heart Jerry fully appreciated the delicacy and good will of her friends. Her wrath now rose to a high pitch over being thus approached on the tabooed subject. Nor did she fail to attribute it to its true source. Her first move was to seek Lucy Warner.

Marching resolutely into Miss Archer’s outer office on the morning of the fourth day after the receipt of Irma’s note, she accosted stony-faced Lucy with, “See here, Lucy, I’ve a word to say to you. Did you get Irma Linton’s note?”

“Yes.” Lucy had the grace to blush. She was already feeling ashamed of her cruel treatment of Marjorie. The latter’s sorrowful brown eyes haunted her and she was frequently tortured with the fear that she had been too hasty.

“Now listen to me.” Jerry’s voice was very gruff. She blamed Lucy considerably for what had happened. “If any girl asks you if you’ve resigned from the club, just tell her to mind her own affairs. Don’t give her a word of information. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” repeated Lucy, almost humbly. She keenly sensed Jerry’s disapproval of herself. “I will not give anyone an answer to that question. I had not intended to.”

Jerry’s tense features softened a trifle. “You’ve made a mistake, Lucy. No finer girl ever lived than Marjorie Dean. I don’t know what Mignon La Salle has told you, but take my word for it, it’s not true. I resigned from the club because I can’t stand Mignon. That’s why Marjorie and I fell out. Just the same, I like her better than any other girl I ever knew. But until she and the girls give up bothering with that deceitful, untruthful gossip, I shall have nothing more to do with her or them. I hope Mignon will overreach herself and get put out of the club. When that comes off, then back to the Lookouts for Jerry.”

“I wish I could agree with you,” stated Lucy primly, “but it is impossible. My reason for turning against Marjorie Dean is sound. I wish it were not.”

“Answer me just one question. Was it Mignon who told you something against Marjorie?” Jerry fixed unblinking eyes on the other girl.

For a moment Lucy did not reply. She appeared to be turning something over in her mind. “I will answer you,” she said finally. “I made a promise not to go to Marjorie with what was told me. I made no promise regarding anyone else. Yes, it was Mignon.”

“And you believed Mignon?” Jerry’s question came almost explosively.

“Yes. What she told me no one besides Marjorie and myself knew. No one except Marjorie could have possibly told her. I shall never speak to Marjorie again.”

“I give it up. You certainly seem to know something that I don’t.” Jerry turned on her heel and walked to the door. Once outside she muttered: “Whatever you know that I don’t, I’ll make it my business to find out or my name’s not Jerry Geraldine Jeremiah Macy.”

CHAPTER XXI – A MESSAGE FROM JERRY

Jerry had a second mission to perform, however, which she hailed with anticipation. Cut off by her own obstinacy from former intimacy with her chums and from the work of the day nursery, she was an extremely lonely young person with a great deal of idle time on her hands. Energetic Jerry loathed inaction. She therefore chose Mignon La Salle as her second subject for activity and lay in wait for her.

Two days passed, following her interview with Lucy Warner, before she found the desired opportunity to waylay the French girl. Setting off after school for a lonely session at Sargent’s, at the curbstone before the shop she spied Mignon’s runabout. Forging gleefully into her favorite haunt, she steered straight for Mignon, who sat in solitary grandeur at a rear table. Catching sight of Jerry, the arch plotter half rose from her chair as though about to make a prudent exit from the place.

“Sit down.” Before her quarry could leave the table, Jerry had reached it. “Don’t try to dodge me. I’ve been on the watch for you ever since you made trouble for Marjorie Dean. I’m not a Lookout now so I can tell you a few things.”

“I won’t listen to you.” Mignon was now on her feet.

“Oh, yes, you will. If you don’t, I’ll go to your house and say my say to your father.” Jerry looked grimly capable of executing the threat.

Fearful of such a calamity, Mignon reluctantly resumed her seat. “I’m not afraid of you,” she sneered. “Say quickly what you have to say. I am in a hurry to go home.”

“I’m not. Still I don’t care to be seen talking with you any longer than I can help.” Jerry was brutally rude and she knew it. The time for keeping up appearances was past. “Now this is what I have to say. You are the most disloyal, mischief-making person I’ve ever known. You have no more right to be a Lookout than that soda-fountain has; my apologies to the soda-fountain. You can’t fool me. You never have. I know you like a book. It was on account of you that I left the club. I’ll never go back to it until you’re out of it.”

“You’ll wait a long time then.” Mignon gave a sarcastic laugh. “I shall stay in the club as long as I please and you can’t prevent me.”

“I’ll do my best,” challenged Jerry. “Remember that’s a warning. I’m going to make it my business to find out what you told Lucy Warner about Marjorie. When I do you’ll hear of it in a way you won’t like.”

“You’ll never find out,” taunted Mignon scornfully. “Lucy won’t tell you and I certainly shan’t. No one else knows.” Taken off her guard she had rashly admitted the very thing Jerry was endeavoring to make her say.

“I’m going to know,” assured Jerry tersely. “I’ve already made you say that you did tell Lucy something hateful about Marjorie. Now you can beat it. I’ve warned you! Oh, yes. If you circulate any more reports in school about Lucy’s and my resignations, I’ll put a notice on the bulletin board warning the girls to pay no attention to your tales. I’ll see that it stays there, too, long enough to do some good.” With this parting shot Jerry turned abruptly away and walked out of the shop, her primary desire for ice cream quite forgotten.