"Frankness is the soul of virtue," jeered Muriel.
"Oh, now, you know what I mean," protested Jerry, looking somewhat sheepish. "You girls do like to tease me. All right, I'll do the forgiving act and order the refreshments. I'll pay for them, too. I've a whole dollar. I am supposed to buy some stationery with it, but I'll just let my correspondence languish and treat instead. Name your eat and you can have it. Fifteen cents apiece is your limit. I need the other ten to buy stamps."
"What is the use in buying stamps if you don't intend to correspond?" put in Irma mischievously.
"I might need them some day," was Jerry's calm retort. "Besides, if I don't spend the ten cents I may lose it. Now the bureau of information is closed. Order your fifteen cents' worth!"
After changing their minds several times in rapid succession to the infinite disgust of the waitress, the sextette finally made unanimous decision for a new concoction in the way of a fruit lemonade, known as Sargent Nectar.
"Now," announced Jerry, as the long-suffering waitress deposited the tall glasses on the table and retired to the back of the room to grumble uncomplimentary comments to a fellow-worker on the ways of high school girls who didn't know their own minds, "let us all drink a toast to Miss Connie Stevens, the celebrated star of 'The Rebellious Princess.' But remember, we can't drink it until the star says she will shine.
"'Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
Shall we see you from afar?
On the Sanford stage so shy,
For the fame of Sanford High.'
"Connie, you can't resist that poetic appeal," giggled Susan.
Constance's blue eyes shone misty affection upon the circle of fresh, young faces, alight with the honest desire for her success. Her voice trembled a little as she said: "I'll take it all back, girls. Now that I know just how you feel about the try-out, I'd be an ungrateful girl to say I wouldn't do my best. I'll sing to-morrow, but if I'm not chosen, please don't be disappointed."