“Then you think that no matter what she may do we ought still to be patient with her and make allowances?” Marjorie’s query indicated profound respect for Constance’s broad-minded opinion. It made her feel as though her brief flash of resentment of Mignon had been unworthy of herself.
“Yes;” came the unhesitating reply. “What else is there to do? You and I, in particular, made ourselves responsible when we insisted that Mignon should be asked to join the Lookouts. As good soldiers we have no right to shirk that responsibility.”
“I am not going to shirk it.” Marjorie squared her shoulders with an energy that bespoke fresh purpose. “After all I said to the girls about Mignon joining the club, it was cowardly in me to complain so bitterly about her. You’ve made me realize all over again that we ought to look out for Mignon, because it’s the right thing to do, not because of our promise to her father.”
“I’ll stand by you.” Stopping in the middle of the walk, Constance offered her hand to Marjorie in pledge of her offer to stand by.
Both girls laughed as they went through with the little ceremony of shaking hands, little realizing that their compact would, later, turn out to be no laughing matter.
CHAPTER XIII—JERRY DECLARES HERSELF
“Well, here we are again!” jubilantly announced Danny Seabrooke, executing a few fantastic steps about the Macys’ living room by way of expressing his approval of the sextette of young people gathered there.
“Yes, here we are,” echoed Laurie Armitage with a fervor that indicated his deep satisfaction. Seated on the davenport beside Constance Stevens, his blue eyes rested on her with infinite content. This second gathering at the Macys’ was quite to his liking.
“This amiable crowd reminds me of a verse in the third reader that I used to admire,” remarked Jerry humorously. “It went something like this:
“‘Let joy be ours, we’re all at home,
To-night let no cold stranger come.
May gentle peace assert her power
And kind affection rule the hour.’”