“Papa! No!” came a pleading voice from the carriage, but her father stepped in and slammed the door, and they drove away.
Twenty minutes later, three dejected-looking girls presented themselves in the library at Blanche Gross’s house, and told their story.
In spite of the impromptu character of the initiation planned for Winifred, the girls had taken advantage of their unusual freedom in Blanche’s beautiful, empty home, to make the ceremonies even more elaborate than usual. A dozen of them had been flying around merrily, some making chocolate and arranging the table in the dining-room, while others, in the basement, prepared for certain mysterious business which was to take place there.
Now, they all sat, limp and speechless, except for broken exclamations of dismay, until at last, Mamie Coolidge broke the spell by saying,
“As far as I’m concerned, I think Winifred Pierce’s father owes us an apology! Everybody knows, nowadays, that you have a right to do anything you please at initiations!”
This was too much for Jacquette. Without stopping to consider whether she was a freshman or a senior, she began to speak her mind. She declared that, in her opinion, it was the Sigma Pi girls who owed the whole Pierce family an apology, whether it turned out that Winifred was seriously hurt or not, and, as she spoke the last word, Louise Markham applauded.
But Louise was alone, and no one followed. All around the room were resentful faces, and, little by little, the truth came out. Jacquette had made herself too much of a leader from the start. She wanted to manage everybody, and she had an idea that the whole sorority ought to bow down to her ideas. They weren’t going to stand it any longer!
That was the substance of the complaint, and that was how it happened that, long before she was expected, Jacquette astonished Aunt Sula by walking into the house, and announcing dramatically,
“Tia, I’m done with Sigma Pi forever!”