Suddenly the storm broke. A babel of protesting exclamations arose, growing louder. A tall sophomore with glasses sprang to her feet crying out: “This is not fair, Miss Remson. Our club is strictly private. No one except the members and yourself was invited to be here tonight. I object, Madame President.” She whirled, appealing to Julia.
“Miss Saylor, your objection is sustained.” Julia’s expression was one of empty dignity. She looked ludicrously owl-like. “We are glad of Miss Remson’s presence here tonight. However, we prefer not to have outsiders at our business meetings.” She regarded the four “outsiders” with a cold stare. “Please take this chair, Miss Remson.” She nodded to a vacant chair near her own.
“Thank you.” Miss Remson seated herself without further remark.
The noise attending the entrance of Miss Remson and her four aides had partially subsided while Julia was speaking. It now began again. Half a dozen girls simultaneously found their feet to make displeased protest.
Suddenly Muriel stepped in front of her companions and raised a hand for silence. Her gesture was thoroughly good-humored. Her sparkling face was full of condescending geniality. “My, but you are an inhospitable crowd!” she declared. “You don’t know what you are trying to do. You are trying to put me out of the show business. These are my three performers and this is our next stand. Have a heart!”
No one could be more irresistibly funny than Muriel when she chose. Laughter greeted her mock reproachful speech, rather half-hearted, but laughter, nevertheless. The ominous babel of displeased voices died down.
“Miss Harding!” Julia adopted a tone of deep affront. “Won’t you please consider the privacy of this club and——”
“How can you?” Muriel looked grieved, then laughter chased away her pretended grief. “Have pity on a poor showman, and his exhibits. ‘Remember the stranger within thy gates,’” she quoted affably, well aware of the sighing breath that rose from the company at the reminder of Hamilton’s first tradition. “There’s money in this business for me this evening. I always take up a collection after each performance. Why be haughty? Stay and see the show.”
“Show! Show!” The sunny side of girl nature could not but respond to Muriel’s nonsensical blandishments. Here and there among the group a frowning face was to be seen. The majority were longing for fun, however. And the majority ruled. Then, too, Muriel was extremely well liked.
The laughing cry of “Show” continued. Julia Peyton raised an imperious hand in an effort to fix attention upon herself. She addressed the crowd, but the crowd refused to listen to her. Muriel had won her point. She had also delivered a pertinent rebuke under cover of her gaiety.