Taken at a complete disadvantage, Mignon could only mutter an embarrassed good night to the outwardly grave, but inwardly gleeful Laurie. Ignoring the amused group of boys and girls, she flounced into the runabout without a word to the innocent betrayer of her carefully-concocted scheme. During the drive home, however, she shed tears of heart-felt rage against her father’s untimely interference. She vowed vengefully that he should pay for it, thereby proving conclusively that, when it came to a matter of a grudge, she was no respecter of personages.
CHAPTER XII—A DISCOURAGED REFORMER
Despite the late hour at which members of the Lookout Club had retired on the previous night, nine o’clock Saturday morning saw them gathered at the day nursery, for a final survey of it before the house warming began, which was scheduled to commence at two o’clock that afternoon. As Saturday was a half-holiday for the mill folks, the girls had chosen the time of the opening with a view to giving the mothers of the children, who would partake of its hospitality, an opportunity to inspect the nursery and offer the names of their little ones for registration. A buffet luncheon, contributed by the mothers of the Lookouts was to be one of the features of the occasion, and Mrs. Macy, Mrs. Dean, Mrs. Harding and Miss Susan Allison were to act as patronesses. Mignon La Salle was the only member of the club who did not put in an appearance. Why she had chosen to absent herself no one of the Lookouts knew nor did they greatly care.
“I guess Mignon feels rather queer about facing us to-day after what happened last night,” Jerry Macy confided to Marjorie, when the close of the morning brought no sign of the French girl.
“I was truly sorry for her,” Marjorie answered with evident sincerity. “She must have been terribly embarrassed.”
“Not she,” sniffed Jerry. “She was probably mad as hops, though, to think her scheme fell flat. She must have telephoned her house while we were all upstairs dancing. It was silly in her to do a thing like that. It’s funny, though, what a crush she’s always had on Laurie. She’s cared about him ever since her grammar school days, but he has never liked her. He’s awfully fond of Connie, though.”
“I know it.” Marjorie smiled. “Somehow one never thinks of either Connie or Laurie as being foolish or sentimental.”
“That’s because Connie is so sensible and nice about Laurie,” explained Jerry. “She just treats him as a boy friend and makes him understand it. Laurie is different from Hal and the Crane. He’s a musician and has associated a good deal with older men. That makes him seem ever so much older than he really is. Naturally he is more serious and grown-up. He and Hal are almost the same age, but Hal seems younger than Laurie. Danny Seabrooke and the Crane are more Hal’s speed, but Hal thinks there’s no one quite like Laurie.”
“Nearly all the Weston High boys are splendid,” praised Marjorie. Her glance happening to stray to Lucy Warner who stood across the room, talking to Muriel Harding, she said anxiously: “Jerry, do you think anyone said anything last night to Lucy to hurt her feelings? Just before she went home I tried to talk to her and she hardly answered me. She hasn’t more than spoken to me this morning, either.”
“She was pretty icy to me when she said good night,” returned Jerry unconcernedly. “That’s just her way. She’s like February weather, always thawing and freezing. I wouldn’t worry about her moods. You certainly have been nice to her. Very likely she felt a little out of things last night because she didn’t know how to dance. We ought to teach her. Go and propose it to her, Marjorie. Muriel has just left her. Now is your chance. I’ll stay here. You can talk to her better alone.”