“We surely must,” chorused Marjorie and Constance.
The Lookouts were indeed indebted to their elders. Mr. Macy, Mr. La Salle and Miss Allison had been especially liberal with monetary gifts, while the fathers of the members in less affluent circumstances had each “done their bit.” The mothers, too, had become loyal candy and cake makers, not to mention the many other services they had rendered ungrudgingly. Anxious to encourage their children to the performance of worthy work, these broad-minded men and women believed it to be their duty to assist the young enthusiasts in every possible way.
“I’m glad we gave Mignon that lemonade job,” commented Jerry, her round eyes wandering to where the big punch bowl stood, thus far minus the French girl’s presence. “She’ll be off by herself where she can’t stir up trouble. She’ll have to stay there, too, when the revue’s over. I calculated on that when I asked her to take charge of the lemonade bowl. She doesn’t know that she’s going to be off in a corner away from the rest of the girls. I didn’t tell her. Maybe she’ll be mad when she finds out. I can’t help it. I hope she will get here on time. It’s just like her to come straggling in late so everyone will see her.”
“Jerry, you are breaking the Golden Rule,” reminded Marjorie.
“Oh, I’m only bending it,” retorted Jerry good-humoredly. “Besides, you two girls don’t count. I must say whatever I think to you. To others I am a clammy clam. Hello! There she comes now. I must say she looks like a lemon in that yellow frock. It’s the exact color of one.”
“She is really stunning!” Marjorie exclaimed generously. “That pale yellow chiffon frock is quite suited to her. It brings out her black eyes and hair.”
“Handsome is as handsome does,” Jerry made skeptical response. “I must leave you now to break the sad news to her. If, in about three minutes, you see her looking like a thundercloud you’ll know the reason.”
Jerry sauntered away to deliver the fateful information to Mignon. The eyes of the two friends meeting, Marjorie made a gesture of dissent. “I’d rather not watch to see how she takes it. It doesn’t seem quite fair. Jerry didn’t stop to think or she wouldn’t have said that. As I’m not in the revue I had better go to my booth.”
“I must hurry behind the scenes,” said Constance. “It’s ten minutes to eight now and my song comes third on the program.”
With this the two girls separated, Constance heading in the direction of a room at the left of the Armory, nearest to the platform. From it the girl performers made their entrance to the improvised stage. The room on the right had been given over to the boys, Marjorie walked slowly toward the candy booth. When half way to it she heard someone call her name. Glancing in the direction of the post card booth, she saw Lucy Warner beckoning eagerly to her. A happy light radiated from the girl’s usually austere features. Her bluish-green eyes sparkled with pleasure. Lucy was childishly delighted to have the opportunity to assist in so important an affair as the Campfire. She felt that she owed this happiness directly to Marjorie.