“As our club becomes better known, the eyes of the other girls at Sanford High School will be turned upon us. We can’t afford to do or say anything that will cause them to criticize us. We must carry ourselves so honorably that we shall be beyond criticism. That’s why I think the Lookouts should adopt the Golden Rule for their very own and try always to keep it.”
A vigorous clapping of hands followed Marjorie’s earnest little speech, accompanied by, “Good for you, Marjorie,” “The Golden Rule for the Lookouts,” “You couldn’t have chosen a better one,” and various other bursts of girlish enthusiasm. Marjorie’s sweet face grew rosy at the tributes that were hurled at her from all sides. She had guessed that, with the exception of Mignon, the girls would heartily echo her sentiments. A swift, uncontrollable flash of curiosity to see in what spirit the French girl had received her little talk, impelled her reluctant gaze to center itself upon Mignon.
The latter’s face was a study. True her lips were curved in a smile intended to convey an amiable acceptance of the measures which Marjorie had so conscientiously advocated, but her black eyes glowed with a threatening light that belied her smiling lips. Within the guileful French girl’s breast seethed a turmoil of conflicting emotions. Had she joined this silly club and accepted an office in it only to find that she had been trapped into pledging herself to become a goody-goody like Marjorie Dean? It looked very much as though she had done precisely that very thing. She reflected angrily that she might have known better. Personally, she was not in the least interested in putting herself out to help others. If certain persons in Sanford were so poor they hadn’t enough to eat and wear it was none of her concern. The club no doubt would turn out to be as prosy an affair as all the other regulation charitable organizations in Sanford. She had a wild desire to spring from her chair, tell these stupid girls that they were all babies and rush from the house.
Yet there was her office of treasurer to be considered. At last she was in a fair way toward becoming popular. Then, too, these same babyish girls were vastly important pupils of Sanford High. Third, there was the question of her stern father to be considered. As a member of the Lookout Club, she would be in high favor with him. Perhaps, after all, it would pay her to pretend to a loyalty which formed no part of her tricky, faithless composition. Later on, if she found the club unendurable, she could easily drop out of it. As for the much-vaunted Golden Rule, let the others live up to it as much as they chose. It should not trouble her in the least. She had ever been a law unto herself and she would always remain one.
CHAPTER IX—A REAL LOOKOUT
The news that fourteen seniors of Sanford High School had formed themselves into an organization called the Lookout Club soon spread itself like wildfire throughout the big school. But even that information paled into insignificance beside the fact that Mignon La Salle was not only a member of it but an officer as well. The pupils who as sophomores, juniors and seniors had come to know the tricky French girl during her freshman year for precisely what she was, had been graduated and gone on to other fields. Many of the later lower class girls had, however, seen enough of her methods in the past two years to cherish no illusions concerning her. From her own lips they had heard the most scathing criticism of Marjorie Dean and her friends. Now it became a nine days’ wonder that they should have been so foolish as to admit faithless Mignon into their club.
“I’m positively sick and tired of being quizzed about how we happened to ask Mignon to join the Lookouts,” declared Muriel Harding to Jerry one afternoon as the two girls were leaving the study hall for the day. Two weeks had passed since the meeting at Marjorie Dean’s home and during that time Mignon had lost no opportunity to expatiate at length upon the importance of her position in the club.
“I’ve been asked that a few dozen times, too,” was Jerry’s disgruntled response. “Of course, it’s nobody’s business, but then you can’t blame the girls much. Ever since she joined the Lookouts, Mignon’s been strutting around like a peacock. I suppose she has told everybody in Sanford about it that would listen to her. There’s at least one thing to be thankful for. It’s better for her to talk about herself than about somebody else.”
“Wait until the newness of being treasurer wears off, or until something happens in the club that doesn’t suit her. Then, look out,” predicted Muriel. “I am really sorry her father insisted on sending the Lookouts that check for one hundred dollars,” she added confidentially. “It puts us under obligations to her. Everyone in school knows about that, too. Connie’s aunt gave the same amount, but Mignon has never said a word concerning it.”
“I know it. Yet we couldn’t very well accept the money that others have sent us, and refuse Mr. La Salle’s check,” was Jerry’s gloomy reminder. “None of us had any idea when we started the club that our parents and friends would insist on helping us in that way. Why, we’ve nearly five hundred dollars in our treasury already.”