“You might better say, ‘Who knows how our little plot may turn out?’” grumbled Jerry. “It reminds me of a problem in algebra. Let X equal the unknown quantity, or rather let Mignon equal the unknown quantity. But let us once more be reformers or die in the attempt. We’ve started the ball rolling, so we’ll have to run along behind it and see that it keeps on rolling in the right direction.”
Their entrance into the school building cut the earnest conversation short. Marjorie left Jerry in the corridor and went on alone to Miss Archer’s office to apprise Lucy Warner of the new project and that the first meeting of the club was to take place at her home on the following evening. There was a distinct tinge of reserve in the green-eyed girl’s greeting, which informed Marjorie that Lucy was still slightly peeved over the incident of the lost letter. Diligent inquiry had failed to bring forth any news of it. It was now over a week since Marjorie had lost it, and there seemed small chance that it would materialize at this late date.
“I have an invitation to deliver to you, Lucy,” was Marjorie’s frank address. “Can you come to my house to-morrow evening after dinner? A number of other girls will be there, too. We are going to organize a club, and we should like to have you belong to it.”
For a moment Lucy regarded the winsome face before her with scowling indecision. She was very fond of Marjorie, yet she still cherished a slight resentment toward her. The friendly light in the other girl’s brown eyes, however, filled her with an overwhelming sense of shame for her own stubbornness. Her wrinkled forehead suddenly cleared and she said contritely: “I hope you’ll forgive me, Marjorie, for being so hateful to you about that old letter. I am sorry. Please forget that it ever happened. It is sweet of you to ask me to belong to your club. I’d love to come to your house to-morrow night, and I surely will. Thank you for asking me.”
Marjorie’s lovely face broke into smiles. “Thank you for saying you’ll come,” she nodded brightly. “The meeting is to begin at eight o’clock. Come over earlier if you can. I must hurry along now. It’s almost half-past one.”
“I’ll be there before eight,” assured Lucy. Her uncompromising manner had vanished, and her stolid features shone with renewed good will.
As Marjorie hurried toward the senior locker room to dispose of her hat before entering the study hall, she felt as though a sudden weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It was not only her own remorse at losing the letter which had troubled her. Lucy’s frosty attitude had belonged strictly to the embittered Observer. Having successfully dragged her out of that rut, Marjorie had deplored that she should be the one to shove poor Lucy back into it again. It was vastly comforting to her to find that the Observer had not risen again to dominate Lucy Warner.
CHAPTER VII—A STEP TOWARD POPULARITY
The next evening found the Deans’ living room in the possession of an ardent band of organizers, all bent on organization. A double row of chairs had been placed at one end of the pretty room, giving it a most business-like appearance. The long library table had been moved to the extreme opposite end, thus allowing sufficient free standing space before the rows of chairs for whomever should be chosen to conduct the meeting.
“It’s eight o’clock, girls,” announced Jerry Macy from the midst of a group comprising Muriel, Harriet, Susan and Esther Lind. As though in direct corroboration of her speech, the tall clock in the hall began a majestic intoning of the hour. “Much obliged for agreeing with me,” commented Jerry with a waggish nod toward the kindly-disposed timepiece. “It’s evident that I’m some little important person. Even the furniture in this house likes me.”