“While we had quite a good deal of money in the treasury we didn’t think of engaging anyone from outside,” she continued. “It worked beautifully. Miss Stratton, a kindergarten teacher, needed the work on account of having an invalid sister to support. Then, Nellie Wilkins, one of the mill girls, had been sick for a long time and when she was well enough to go back to her work as a weaver there was no position for her. She is a very sweet girl and knows all the children. She was a great help to Miss Stratton and I would like her to have the position permanently at the nursery. She knows all the songs and games now that Miss Stratton taught the children and is the best person one could have there.”
“Whew!” whistled Jerry. “Things have certainly been happening at the nursery. You are simply splendid, Ronny. You are always thinking of some way to help people. Just wait until I take my presidential chair as chief boss of the Lookouts. I will publish your noble deed abroad.”
“If you don’t, I will,” emphasized Marjorie. “There isn’t much we can say to tell you how grateful we are to you, Ronny.”
“Don’t say anything.” A bright flush had risen to Ronny’s cheeks. “I knew the girls would be away. I thought you would be quite apt to worry about the nursery and spend a lot of time there for conscientious reasons. I was thinking more of you I presume than the nursery.”
“It was a great relief,” Marjorie made honest response. “Besides, it helped two splendid girls along.”
“Then let it rest at that. Never mind about publishing my, thus-called, noble deed at a club meeting. I prefer not to let my right hand know what my left happens to be doing,” declared Ronny. “What we must think of is getting the new Lookout chapter started. We ought to have it organized by the fifth of September so it will stand on its own feet. After the fifth you know what a rush there will be. We shall be going to farewell teas, luncheons and parties. At least I hope so. Last year I had very good times. This fall things have changed. Now I’d love to dance and be happy with the crowd of Sanford boys and girls who were so friendly with me when I was a senior. Marjorie said today, Jerry, that I was like a butterfly that had won free of the chrysalis. The butterfly is anxious to spread its wings for a few last delightful flights around Sanford.”
CHAPTER V.—THE BREAKING UP OF THE OLD GUARD.
“This saying good-bye business is growing harrowing,” complained Jerry one hazy September morning. She stood with her chums on the station platform, waving farewell to Florence Johnston, who was leaving for Markham College, a western university. “This is the third time for us at the station this week. Monday it was Mignon, Daisy Griggs and Gertrude Aldine, all bound for Smith. Wednesday it was Esther, Rita, Susan and Irma. I am not over the blues yet on account of losing Susan and Irma. I wish they had chosen Hamilton instead of Wellesley.”
The seven Lookouts still left in Sanford were strolling soberly across the green station yard to the drive behind the station where Jerry had parked the Macys’ ample touring car. She had elected to drive it that morning because of its capacity.
“Harriet and I are going to be the lonesome ones before long,” remarked Constance Stevens, her blue eyes roving somberly from friend to friend. The private conservatory Constance and Harriet were to enter did not open until the latter part of October. This would make them the last to leave Sanford. “It is going to seem awfully queer for us without you girls, isn’t it, Harriet?”