“Well, Lookouts, I’ve come back,” she announced sheepishly. “I’ve been hanging around outside the house for the last hour waiting to see if anything would happen. Of course I wasn’t sure, but I had an idea Mignon would send that money here to-night. I thoughtfully sent her an unsigned typewritten notice stating where the meeting was to be. I see the money’s here, all right enough.” Her shrewd gaze had singled out the bundle of banknotes on the library table. “I saw the La Salles’ chauffeur stop his car at the gate, so I guessed things were O. K.”
These remarkable statements were received by a volley of curious, exclamatory questions, all hurled at Jerry in the same moment.
“Jerry,” entreated Marjorie, when she could make herself heard, “won’t you please take your old place and explain a few things? We can never get to the bottom of this miracle unless you tell us.” Stepping forward, she stretched forth two impulsive hands. Jerry’s own hands shot out and caught them in a tight clasp. All the pain of separation and joy of reconciliation went into that meeting of hands.
Affectionately escorted by Marjorie to the president’s chair, Jerry dropped into it with a sigh. “Maybe it isn’t good to be back,” she said, a suspicious quaver in her usually matter-of-fact tones. “Now draw up your chairs, children, and I’ll tell you the whole terrible tale of the treacherous treasurer and the slippery sleuth. But before I begin it, I want to say right here that I’ve been every variety of goose that ever happened. I’m only going to hold down the presidential chair until I tell my story: Then Muriel is going to take it again and I’m going to be just a member of the club.”
So saying, Jerry launched forth with an account of her exploits as a sleuth which held her hearers’ divided between laughter at her artful methods and pity for the girl who had never learned to rule her own spirit. “That’s all,” she ended. “Now I’m going to beat it—I mean vacate this chair.”
“You mean you’re going to sit right where you are,” asserted Muriel with decision. “Lookouts,” she turned to the little company who were now on their feet to protest against Jerry’s avowed intention, “there can never be but one president for us; Jerry, Geraldine Jeremiah Macy!”
And thus in her moment of penitent renunciation, too-hasty but valiant-hearted Jerry received a never-to-be-forgotten lesson in loyalty.
CHAPTER XXVI—HER BETTER SELF
The week following Jerry’s return to the Lookouts, together with the restoration of their cachéd money, took on a distinctly festival tone. A round of jolly little merry-makings went on at the various members’ homes, on each occasion of which Jerry was the guest of honor. Her aggravating behavior of the past was completely obliterated by the Lookouts’ joy at her return to them.
Quite the contrary, Mignon La Salle was speedily beginning to realize that “the way of the transgressor is hard.” It was not remorse for her despicable conduct that had forced this knowledge upon her. The moment that the money, which she had tantalizingly withheld from the club out of spite, was out of her hands, her courage came back with a rush. She had already reached the stage of upbraiding herself for having thus been so easily frightened, when a dire calamity befell her.