“Well, I found out,” she groaned. “It was our dear Mignon. You can guess the rest. Irma certainly did things up properly, that time. She didn’t know what you and I know, or she wouldn’t have done it.”
“Mignon!” Marjorie’s brown eyes held a startled light. “Jerry, do you suppose after all the warnings I’ve given Lucy that——”
“It looks suspicious,” interrupted Jerry. “I should think, though, that a bright girl like Lucy Warner could easily see through Mignon. I guess I’ll wait until the revue is over and then interview her ladyship. I may find out a few things.”
“I wish you would,” A worried note had crept into Marjorie’s voice. “I hope Mignon hasn’t hurt Lucy’s feelings again. Poor Lucy! She has been so happy these last three days. Perhaps nothing like that has happened. Maybe she was too tired to come here to-night. She has had a busy day.”
“Let’s hope that’s the reason.” Jerry’s reply did not convey a marked degree of hopefulness. She was more than half convinced that Mignon was responsible for Lucy’s non-appearance at the Campfire.
The military maneuvers at last concluded, Jerry kept a lynx eye on the lemonade stand until she saw Mignon take up her position there. Marching boldly over to it, the stout girl addressed her with an abrupt: “Thank you for substituting for me at the nursery this afternoon. I understand Lucy Warner was with you. Did she say anything to you about not being able to come here to-night?” She stared hard at Mignon as she made this inquiry.
“Not a word.” Mignon shook her head, the picture of wide-eyed innocence. She was well aware of Lucy’s absence. In fact she had confidently expected it. True, Lucy had not said that she would remain away from the Campfire. Still, Mignon had every reason to believe that she would. She also realized the necessity for concealing that which she knew. Lucy would never betray her. She had no inclination to betray herself.
“That’s queer.” Jerry stared harder than ever at Mignon. “What time did she leave the nursery?”
“Six o’clock,” came the ready information, “We left the nursery together. She walked part way home with me. I can’t recall that she even mentioned the Campfire. She is such a peculiar girl. She does more scowling than talking. I find it very hard to talk to her. We have so little in common.” Mignon looked politely regretful as she delivered these glib remarks.
“I guess that’s so.” Jerry’s dry agreement brought an ominous flash to Mignon’s black eyes. She wondered what was going on behind her inquisitor’s stolid features.