“There goes Flora Frisbee,” suddenly called out Muriel, as she exchanged a gay salute with a girl who had just passed in an automobile.
“Where?” inquired three or four voices. A particularly well liked senior, Flora had acquired a further high standing with the Lookouts as the president of the new chapter.
“Too late. She is out of sight. I just happened to see her as she flashed by in her brother’s roadster. I think she is going to make a dandy president. Don’t you?”
“The very best.” It was Jerry who answered. “I am certainly glad the new chapter is going so nicely. They have settled down to that nursery detail like veterans.”
“I was so proud of them that day at Muriel’s when we organized the new chapter,” praised Ronny.
“They did as well as we when we began,” commented Muriel. “If only they keep it up. We picked the best of the seniors.”
Following a meeting at Jerry’s home, at which the Lookouts had selected the candidates for the new chapter, a second meeting had been held at Muriel’s. Each charter Lookout had gallantly escorted her choice there. Fifteen gratified seniors had listened to the rules of the club and promised to live up to them. They had pledged themselves to faithfully carry on the work of their absent elder sisters at the day nursery and be always ready to help those in need of friendly aid. They had then capably taken up the pleasant task of electing their officers and performed it with business-like snap.
Soon after their organization they had accompanied the charter members to the nursery and spent a merry afternoon getting acquainted with the little ones. From then on they had begun their regular duty tours accompanied, at first, by one of the old guard on each tour. Soon accustoming themselves to the routine, their elder sisters breathed more freely and set about attending to their own manifold affairs.
“We hope we picked fifteen winners. If we didn’t we’ll soon know it with a bang. That nursery will run on wheels, minus one trouble maker. Just one will throw the whole concern up in the air. While I don’t doubt our new sisters, let time do its perfect work. So says Jeremiah. She says further, get into the car all of you. I’m going to take you straight home. I’m going to a party tonight and I have no time to waste standing talking on the corner. There will be young men at that party!” Jerry dropped her voice to a hoarse melodramatic whisper and stared wildly at Lucy, chin thrust forward.
“I can’t help that. I—I should worry. I’m no buttinski.” Lucy’s unexpected use of slang raised a gale of laughter.