“Miss Davis is having her own troubles in making up the teams,” informed Daisy Griggs. “The sophs who played on Rowena Farnham’s team last year all refused to try for the junior team. Nellie Simmons told a girl that she wouldn’t play basket ball again for a hundred dollars. I guess the scolding Miss Archer gave them last year was a little too much for them.”
“I am very sorry there is no senior team,” declared Mignon with a defiant toss of her head. “Basket ball is about the only thing worth while in Sanford High. I think it is very sweet in Miss Davis to try so hard to keep it alive after what she had to endure last year.”
“Whatever she had to stand from the players was her own fault,” flashed Susan Atwell heatedly. “If she hadn’t—— Oh, I forgot—— I’m a Lookout.” Susan subsided with a blush and a giggle.
Mignon’s black eyes gleamed. Others beside herself, it seemed, could gossip. Daisy Griggs and Susan Atwell were both guilty of back-biting. Realizing her advantage she promptly seized it. “It is because I am a Lookout that I am defending Miss Davis. It is hardly fair, I think, to gossip about her behind her back.”
“I’d just as soon say it to her face,” sputtered Susan.
“Suppose we drop the subject of basket ball,” suggested Jerry significantly. “We have other things more important to discuss.”
Mignon opened her lips as though about to make hot reply. Reconsidering, she contented herself with an inimitable shrug that spoke volumes. For once she had scored. She would treasure the knowledge against a time of need. Supremely satisfied with herself, she entered into the further discussion of the Campfire with deceitful amiability. Only one person utterly refuted it. Jerry Macy was not to be deceived for a moment. Unknown to Marjorie, she had determined to constitute herself a vigilance committee of one to keep tab on Mignon. She was entirely through with Mignon and she vengefully hoped that the figurative hanging she had prophesied would soon take place.
The next three weeks found the Lookouts engaged in a whirl of day nursery, Campfire and school. Naturally the Campfire movement predominated their interest. Had they undertaken it alone, they could never have carried it to completion in so short a period of time. The Guards, headed by Laurie, Hal and Danny Seabrooke, proved able coadjutors, and the project took definite shape with a rush.
The Campfire was scheduled to open on Thanksgiving evening, and the excited promoters of it hurried through with their Thanksgiving dinners in order to spend the afternoon in putting the final touches to its various attractions. In a small city like Sanford, advertising the affair had been a simple matter. For two weeks beforehand it had been the main topic of conversation in the two high schools. Gay posters announcing it were prominently placed in several of the largest stores. Typed notices ornamented the locker rooms in both high schools, the pupils of which straightway constituted themselves as ardent news-carriers. This in itself was an infallible method of advertising.
As for the big Armory, it hardly knew itself. A festive collection of tents opened in front to their widest extent, lined three sides of it. At the upper end, at the right of the platform, a palm-screened enclosure had been arranged to hold the Sanford orchestra. Despite the amount of room the booths took up, the space enclosed by them was large. During the early part of the evening it would be used for the military maneuvers. These over it would be turned into a dancing floor. An admission fee of thirty-five cents would be levied at the door, and the spectators would view the entertainment provided from the gallery which extended around three sides of the drill floor.