Following on the heels of this dire calamity to Mignon’s peace of mind had come Marjorie’s invitation to join the Lookout Club. Mignon had hailed it as a timely aid toward restoring her father’s doubtful confidence in herself, and accepted the invitation with alacrity. That she had done wisely was soon made manifest. Mr. La Salle was delighted when she casually informed him of the fact, and immediately promised to buy her an expensive gold vanity case, for which she had previously teased him without avail. Secretly, Mignon was highly pleased with herself. Rowena had always impressed it upon her that she must not scruple to use others to gain her own ends. She felt that in thus using Marjorie’s invitation to appease her father’s wrath, she had indeed managed very diplomatically. As for the letter, her father had forced her to write Rowena, Mignon knew it would be of no more consequence to her friend than so much blank paper. Rowena was too shrewd not to guess that Mr. La Salle was the motive power behind it.
Marjorie’s views on the subject of Mignon, however, were not optimistic. At luncheon that day she was very quiet. Veronica’s warning still lurked in her brain. It was a queer situation she reflected. She had fought valiantly to make Mignon a member of the club, while all the time she was dreading the thought of it. On the contrary, she wished earnestly for Veronica to become a member, yet she had hardly protested against her refusal to join. Why was it, she pondered, that one’s duty was hardly ever pleasant? Why did it so often require one to put aside the nice things and keep the disagreeable ones?
“What makes you so quiet, Lieutenant?” was her mother’s solicitous question as Marjorie began a listless eating of a favorite dessert which she usually hailed with acclamation.
“Oh, I was thinking about the club. Veronica won’t join it on account of Mignon. She thinks if she did that Mignon would make it disagreeable for all of us. Of course, she is right, yet it seems dreadfully unfair to her for me to accept that view of it. Just because I made that promise to Mr. La Salle, I am obliged to consider Mignon’s welfare above Veronica’s. It’s too provoking!”
“If I felt that way about it, I would go to Mr. La Salle and ask him to release me from that promise,” was her mother’s tranquil advice. “If you lack the spirit of helpfulness, then you can hardly expect to be truly helpful. I don’t mean that as censure, Lieutenant. You know my personal views on the subject of Mignon. I am merely suggesting it as an open road out of your difficulty.”
“That is almost what Connie said to Jerry when we first talked of having the club, and Jerry objected to my asking Mignon to become a member. I stood up for Mignon then. Now I almost wish I hadn’t. Still I know it was right to do it, so I must stand by my colors. Veronica and I understand each other. She knows that she is welcome to join the club, no matter what Mignon may think. Still, I know that if I coaxed her every day for a week she wouldn’t change her mind about it. It’s just another of those miserable vicissitudes, and I shall have to accept it as such and try to meet it like a good soldier. I couldn’t go to Mr. La Salle and ask him to release me from my promise. I’d be a deserter from the army. That reminds me, Captain, may the club hold its first meeting here to-morrow evening after dinner? I’d like it ever so much if you have no objections. You know that means eats. Such a worthy organization can’t conduct a business session without a reward afterward.” Marjorie’s brown eyes danced mischievously.
“I shall feel highly honored,” laughed her mother, “and will take it upon myself to see that the worthy organization is lavishly rewarded. How many girls will be here?”
“Fourteen, counting your grateful lieutenant,” informed Marjorie. Finishing her dessert in a hurry, she sprang from her chair and fervently embraced her mother. “You are positively splendiferous, Captain,” she cried. “If I came and told you that I wanted to invite the whole four classes of Sanford High to this house to a party, you’d say ‘yes.’”
“I doubt it,” returned her mother with twinkling eyes. “Deliver me from any such invasion!”
“Oh, I am not going to try it,” Marjorie laughingly assured. “That was merely an extravagance of speech. Miss Flint continually warns us against using extravagant language. But there are times when it’s extravagantly necessary. Are you sure you won’t mind letting us have the living room for our meeting? I’d have it upstairs in my house, only we’d be rather crowded.”