“I’d be glad to let her have it,” Virg said, but Miss Torrence shook her head. “Character as well as literary ability are taken into consideration when we appoint a girl at Vine Haven to a post of honor, and Kathryn’s influence is not of the best. Well, we have a week to try to unearth a worthwhile story.” Virginia soon left, wondering where a story was to be found. Virg thought often that snowy Saturday about what both Miss Torrence and Betsy Clossen had told her. It was hard to believe that she had a real enemy, she who had befriended everything that lived and who felt kindly toward all.
“Virg, I believe that you actually would give up the post of honor that you have won,” Margaret declared that evening as she prepared for a second meeting of The Adventure Club.
“Why not?” the girl addressed glanced up brightly. “It was an honor thrust upon me, not one that I coveted. It isn’t bringing me any great happiness and it has brought me an enemy. Who will, may have it, or, I mean, could-if it were within my power to dispose of it, but Miss Torrence has expressed her desire that I retain the position whether or not we receive contributions considered worthy of acceptance.”
“Betsy declares that she is going to submit a poem.” This from Sally who was less timid than she had been at a previous meeting. Then she tittered in a way which made her seem even more foolish than she really was. “That’s why she’s late. She’s sitting curled up in our room writing it now.”
“The Fates deliver us from any poetry that Betsy might write,” Margaret had just said when there came a pounding on the door, and, clad in her cherry-red bath robe, the object of their conversation burst into the room waving a sheet of foolscap paper. “It’s done! The day is saved. Never before will there have been an edition of The Manuscript Magazine to contain a literary gem like this.”
The other members of the study club looked at each other in mock despair. “Must we endure the torture?” Babs moaned.
“Get it over with as soon as you possibly can, if it must be done,” Margaret pleaded.
Virginia interposed. “Girls, how dreadful of you! It might be good.”
Betsy solemnly bowed, her hand on her heart. “Lady, I thank you for them kind words,” she said. Then looking about the room, she inquired, “Where’ll be the most effective place to stand?”
“I’d keep real close to the door if I were you,” Barbara suggested.