“I fail to see it in that light.” For the first time since the beginning of their friendship Jerry was distinctly out of sorts with her beloved friend. “Don’t be so babyish, Marjorie. There’s a limit to all things.”
“I think what you just proposed would certainly be the limit.” Unconsciously Marjorie answered in Jerry’s own slangy vernacular. “Let me tell you something.” Rapidly she recounted the incident of the receipt of the roses and note from Mr. La Salle. “I must admit,” she continued, “that I had intended to say to you to-night that you had better call a special meeting. I didn’t realize then how humiliating it would be for Mignon. I saw those beautiful flowers and read that nice note and I felt dreadfully ashamed. It was just as though I had already failed to keep faith with Mr. La Salle. It is terrible to fail someone who believes in one. I’ve often said that to you.”
“Of course it is. That’s why I am so disgusted with Mignon. She has failed all of us,” Jerry flashed back. “We can’t have our club spoiled just to please Mignon’s father. He makes me weary. It would be a good thing if he’d take a hand at reforming his daughter, instead of leaving the job to us.” Jerry was growing momentarily angrier with Marjorie. “You ought to stand up for yourself, instead of being so foolish as to allow Mignon to make a goose of you,” she finished rudely.
“Why, Jerry Macy!” Marjorie’s brown eyes registered sorrowful amazement.
“Don’t Jerry Macy me.” The stout girl jerked her hand roughly from Marjorie’s arm. “You make me tired, Marjorie Dean. If you can’t fight for yourself then someone else will.”
“I can fight my own battles, thank you.” Marjorie’s clear retort was freighted with injured dignity. Slow to anger, she was now thoroughly nettled.
“Girls, girls, don’t quarrel,” intervened Constance, who had thus far taken no part in the altercation. The trio had now passed inside the Deans’ gate and halted on the stone walk.
“I don’t wish to quarrel with Jerry,” asserted Marjorie coldly, “but I cannot allow her to accuse me of being cowardly. You have said, Jerry,” she eyed her explosive friend unflinchingly, “that Lucy Warner is angry with me, and not with the other girls. Very well. It is therefore Lucy’s and my affair. We should be the ones to decide what shall be done with Mignon. Personally, I prefer to drop the matter. You may go to Lucy, if you choose, and ask her her views. I doubt, though, if she will give them. As it now stands I think it would be better to bear with Mignon for her father’s sake. This is our last year in high school. Let us not darken it by trying to retaliate against Mignon.”
“I think Marjorie is right, Jerry,” declared Constance.
“Very good. Have it your own way. There will be no special meeting. Good-bye.” Jerry whirled and darted through the half open gate, slamming it behind her.