Marjorie Dean High School Senior Part 18

"_That_ for her loyalty!" Mignon snapped her fingers. "What about the Observer?"

Lucy shrank from Mignon as though the latter had dealt her a physical blow. In the November twilight the paleness of her set face stood out sharply. "Stop!" she gasped. Catching Mignon's arm in a tense hold, she planted herself squarely before her tormentor. "What-do-you-know-about the Observer?" she stammered, her green eyes gleaming like those of a cat.

Mignon laughed unpleasantly. "Not as much, perhaps, as _you_ know, but enough. You were an idiot to ask Marjorie Dean's forgiveness. She loves to make persons believe they are in the wrong, so that she can have the pleasure of forgiving them. She is really clever at that sort of thing.

She made poor Mary Raymond's life miserable during that winter Mary lived at the Deans. Mary was a silly to make up with her. Why, the very day that Marjorie and I went to Miss Archer's to see about getting you the secretarys.h.i.+p, she mentioned the trouble you and she had last year.

She was quite cautious about it then and didn't tell me much. Later I found out about the Observer, though."

Stunned by Mignon's revelations, Lucy silently fought back the burning tears that threatened to overflow her eyes. But one thought obscured her sorely troubled mind. Marjorie Dean had cruelly betrayed her to Mignon.

She had pledged her word of honor never to reveal Lucy's misdeed to anyone, and she had broken her word. Utterly crushed, poor Lucy did not stop to consider that Mignon was the least likely of all persons to whom Marjorie would confide such a secret. She knew only that the mere mention of the word "Observer" was clear proof of her false friend's perfidy. Over-suspicious by nature, she was p.r.o.ne to believe all persons villains until they had given signal manifestation of their honesty. Nor had she been long enough a.s.sociated with Marjorie and her friends to easily retreat from that unjust viewpoint.

"Don't feel downhearted about it," was Mignon's sneering consolation.

"Now that your eyes have been opened to a few things, you can show Marjorie Dean that you aren't as dense as she seems to think you. I don't mind in the least about that Observer business. I dare say if you told me your side of it I should find that it wasn't anything very dreadful. As for Marjorie Dean's version, well--" Mignon made a significant pause.

"I have nothing whatever to say on that subject," was Lucy's stiff answer. She was vowing within herself that "Once bitten twice shy"

should hereafter be her motto. "I will say this much, though. You have given me unmistakable proof that Marjorie Dean is not nor never was my friend. I will keep my promise to you."

Before Mignon had time to make reply, a rush of light feet on the pavement informed her that Lucy had left her. Through the dusk she could just distinguish a little figure fleeing madly up the quiet street. She laughed softly as it turned a corner and disappeared. She had already done much toward avenging the wrongs she had received at the hands of Marjorie Dean.

CHAPTER XVIII-NOT AT HOME?

"Marjorie, have you seen Lucy Warner?" Jerry Macy stepped inside the candy booth, her plump face alive with concern. "It's half past eight and she's not here. The girls in her booth are wondering what has happened to her."

"Why, no, I haven't." Marjorie's features mirrored Jerry's anxious look.

"I know she had some work to do for Miss Archer this afternoon. She told me so. She said, too, it was her turn at the nursery."

"That's so." Jerry looked thoughtful. "I was to go there, too, but I was so busy I asked Irma to appoint a subst.i.tute. I don't know who went in my place. I'd better see Irma and find out. Whichever Lookout took my turn may know what's keeping Lucy away." Bustling off in search of Irma, Jerry accosted her with: "Who subbed for me to-day at the nursery?"

"Mignon La Salle," returned Irma placidly.

"What!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jerry. As the revue was in progress she cautiously lowered her tone as she continued: "For goodness sake, Irma, why in the world did you send Mignon? No wonder Lucy hasn't put in an appearance!"

"What are you talking about, Jeremiah, and why should I not have sent Mignon? Lucy is too sensible a girl to allow Mignon's airs to annoy her, if that's what you are thinking of. Besides, Mignon was really nice about saying she'd go," defended Irma in a mildly injured tone.

"I don't doubt it," was Jerry's satirical retort. "Don't mind me, Irma.

I'm not blaming you for it. It's just one of those beautiful 'vicissitudes' that are always bound to jump up and hit a person in the face. Just like that!" Jerry made a comic gesture of despair and beat a hasty course toward the candy booth.

"Well, I found out," she groaned. "It was our dear Mignon. You can guess the rest. Irma certainly did things up properly, that time. She didn't know what you and I know, or she wouldn't have done it."

"Mignon!" Marjorie's brown eyes held a startled light. "Jerry, do you suppose after all the warnings I've given Lucy that--"

"It looks suspicious," interrupted Jerry. "I should think, though, that a bright girl like Lucy Warner could easily see through Mignon. I guess I'll wait until the revue is over and then interview her ladys.h.i.+p. I may find out a few things."

"I wish you would," A worried note had crept into Marjorie's voice. "I hope Mignon hasn't hurt Lucy's feelings again. Poor Lucy! She has been so happy these last three days. Perhaps nothing like that has happened.

Maybe she was too tired to come here to-night. She has had a busy day."

"Let's hope that's the reason." Jerry's reply did not convey a marked degree of hopefulness. She was more than half convinced that Mignon was responsible for Lucy's non-appearance at the Campfire.

The military maneuvers at last concluded, Jerry kept a lynx eye on the lemonade stand until she saw Mignon take up her position there. Marching boldly over to it, the stout girl addressed her with an abrupt: "Thank you for subst.i.tuting for me at the nursery this afternoon. I understand Lucy Warner was with you. Did she say anything to you about not being able to come here to-night?" She stared hard at Mignon as she made this inquiry.

"Not a word." Mignon shook her head, the picture of wide-eyed innocence.

She was well aware of Lucy's absence. In fact she had confidently expected it. True, Lucy had not _said_ that she would remain away from the Campfire. Still, Mignon had every reason to believe that she would.

She also realized the necessity for concealing that which she knew. Lucy would never betray her. She had no inclination to betray herself.

"That's queer." Jerry stared harder than ever at Mignon. "What time did she leave the nursery?"

"Six o'clock," came the ready information, "We left the nursery together. She walked part way home with me. I can't recall that she even mentioned the Campfire. She is such a peculiar girl. She does more scowling than talking. I find it very hard to talk to her. We have so little in common." Mignon looked politely regretful as she delivered these glib remarks.

"I guess that's so." Jerry's dry agreement brought an ominous flash to Mignon's black eyes. She wondered what was going on behind her inquisitor's stolid features.

"Then you don't know why Lucy isn't here tonight?" Jerry drove home her pertinent question with an energy that caused the angry red to mount to Mignon's cheeks.

"Why do you persist in asking me again what I have already answered?"

she evaded pettishly. "I am not Lucy Warner's keeper. I have enough to do to attend strictly to my own affairs without bothering myself about her."

"I am glad to hear you say so. I quite agree with you." Turning on her heel Jerry set off toward the candy booth, her heavy brows drawn together in a ferocious scowl.

Before she reached it, Hal intercepted her with: "Miss Browning's going to stay for the dance. Last night Dan and Laurie and I made her promise that she would stay this evening. She's still in the girls' dressing room. Go and get her, Jerry. I'll see that she has plenty of partners.

All the high school fellows will feel honored to dance with her. She's the biggest feature of the Campfire."

Obediently betaking herself to the dressing room, Jerry discovered Veronica in the act of changing her b.u.t.terfly costume for a demure but very smart pleated frock of dark blue Georgette crepe.

"Are you surprised to know that Cinderella is going to stay for the ball?" saluted Veronica merrily. "Sorry I haven't an evening gown on hand. This will have to do." She fingered a fold of her blue gown.

"Really, I ought to go home, but I couldn't resist accepting the invitation to stay for a few dances."

"I'm awfully glad you are going to stay." Jerry reached out and caught Veronica's hand. "I came after you to conduct you to the ball. Your gown is a perfect dear. It's very smart. It reminds me of a French gown I saw at the beach last summer."

"Poor servant girls can't afford such luxuries as imported gowns,"

laughed Veronica. Out of the corners of her gray eyes she cast a peculiar glance at Jerry.

Covert though it was, Jerry had not missed it. It was on her tongue to say boldly, "But are _you_ really a poor servant girl?" However, she held her peace. She and Marjorie had agreed never to ask Veronica any personal questions. She decided that the gown had perhaps been given Veronica by Miss Archer. The latter seemed very fond of her protege.

More than once Jerry had seen the two together, apparently on the most intimate terms.

"I'm almost ready," announced Veronica. "Wait just a minute until I bundle my dancing regalia into this suitcase. I'll have to carry my wings home. They won't go into the suitcase."

Jerry watched her fixedly as she deftly disposed of her dancing effects and triumphantly snapped the suitcase shut. The cloak of mystery which enveloped this charming girl piqued Jerry. She longed to be the one to tear it away and glimpse what it so effectually covered. There seemed little chance that she would ever do so. She did not agree with Marjorie that there was probably nothing behind it. She believed that for some personal reason Veronica was merely playing a part.

"Let's go and visit Marjorie first," she proposed as they left the dressing room. "She will be anxious to see you. By ten o'clock the last of the stuff in the booths will be gone. The Lookouts won't be sorry. It will give us all a chance to dance. We've been casting wistful glances at that nice smooth floor for three nights. Now and then we managed to steal away from the booths for a single dance."

"This _is_ joyful news," beamed Marjorie, when five minutes later the two girls presented themselves in her booth. "We'll see that you have a good time, Ronny. The candy is all gone except a few boxes. The hard-working slaves of the Campfire will soon have a chance to enjoy themselves on the dancing floor for an hour or so."

Marjorie's merry prediction was fulfilled within the next hour. One by one the girls' booths were dismantled of their few remaining wares. The proceeds counted and safely disposed, the Lookouts and their senior cla.s.smates who had served with them were indeed free to visit the amus.e.m.e.nt booths, dance or enjoy themselves as fancy dictated.

Far from being neglected, Veronica Browning's popularity grew apace. The boys of Weston High School flocked eagerly to her standard. Strangely enough she seemed familiar with the various dances of the day, and many admiring eyes followed her graceful figure as she glided over the polished floor with one or another of her willing partners. Her radiant face gave signal proof that she was enjoying herself immensely, a fact that made the s.e.xtette of girls who were closest to her, infinitely happy, too.

Mignon La Salle, however, was furiously jealous of her. Veronica's popularity was as a thorn to her flesh. Despite the knowledge that the elaborate white and gold evening frock she wore was the most expensive gown she had ever owned, Mignon was obliged to sit out several dances.