“She pretends to be the sweet, innocent babe, that does just what the teacher tells her, but she’s as hard-boiled as the rest of us. If you knew what I do about her and this here Sam she picked up at the park, you wouldn’t be treatin’ her so fine.”
Marjorie’s brow clouded; above everything else she hated gossip. Was this the reason that Gertie had come to see her, just to tell tales on Queenie, and not to apologize for her own conduct the previous evening? How differently Queenie had acted, when she was in the wrong!
“She’s a goin’ it pretty strong—every night in the week, ’cept Saturday,” Gertie continued. “And—” she lowered her tone to a whisper—“her family ain’t on to it, neither!”
“But Gertie,” Marjorie interrupted, irritably, “I didn’t think you came out here to talk about Queenie. I want to talk about you—and Mame.” She nodded toward the other girl, who up to this time had taken no part in the conversation.
“What’s there to say about us?” demanded the latter, in surprise.
Marjorie came directly to her point.
“Why—lots! Do you intend to go on with the scouts, or don’t you?”
Mame only coughed, and Gertie attempted to hedge at the question.
“How could we belong to the scouts when Queenie put us out? She’s the boss, ain’t she?”
“No,” replied Marjorie, firmly; “I am the captain, and I intend to control the affairs of my troop as long as I hold that office. I repeat now what I said last night: If you and Mame show that you are in earnest, and pass the tenderfoot test, I’ll be only too delighted to register you, regardless of Queenie’s opinion!”