Marjorie Dean College Freshman Part 4

"I have been down there twice a week from four to six," Marjorie replied. "Sometimes Captain went with me. Thanks to _that_ generous person," she indicated Ronny, "we could afford to engage some one to amuse the children. Ronny put five hundred dollars in bank for a vacation fund and never said a single word about it. When she was half way to California I received a note from Mr. Wendell asking me to call at the bank. You can imagine what a surprise it was to me. It was fine in you to think of it, Ronny. The girls were worried, for we found out that all of the Lookouts except me, were going to be away from Sanford at about the same time.

"While we had quite a good deal of money in the treasury we didn't think of engaging anyone from outside," she continued. "It worked beautifully.

Miss Stratton, a kindergarten teacher, needed the work on account of having an invalid sister to support. Then, Nellie Wilkins, one of the mill girls, had been sick for a long time and when she was well enough to go back to her work as a weaver there was no position for her. She is a very sweet girl and knows all the children. She was a great help to Miss Stratton and I would like her to have the position permanently at the nursery. She knows all the songs and games now that Miss Stratton taught the children and is the best person one could have there."

"Whew!" whistled Jerry. "Things have certainly been happening at the nursery. You are simply splendid, Ronny. You are always thinking of some way to help people. Just wait until I take my presidential chair as chief boss of the Lookouts. I will publish your n.o.ble deed abroad."

"If you _don't_, I _will_," emphasized Marjorie. "There isn't much we can say to tell you how grateful we are to you, Ronny."

"Don't say anything." A bright flush had risen to Ronny's cheeks. "I knew the girls would be away. I thought you would be quite apt to worry about the nursery and spend a lot of time there for conscientious reasons. I was thinking more of you I presume than the nursery."

"It was a great relief," Marjorie made honest response. "Besides, it helped two splendid girls along."

"Then let it rest at that. Never mind about publishing my, thus-called, n.o.ble deed at a club meeting. I prefer not to let my right hand know what my left happens to be doing," declared Ronny. "What we must think of is getting the new Lookout chapter started. We ought to have it organized by the fifth of September so it will stand on its own feet.

After the fifth you know what a rush there will be. We shall be going to farewell teas, luncheons and parties. At least I hope so. Last year I had very good times. This fall things have changed. Now I'd love to dance and be happy with the crowd of Sanford boys and girls who were so friendly with me when I was a senior. Marjorie said today, Jerry, that I was like a b.u.t.terfly that had won free of the chrysalis. The b.u.t.terfly is anxious to spread its wings for a few last delightful flights around Sanford."

CHAPTER V.-THE BREAKING UP OF THE OLD GUARD.

"This saying good-bye business is growing harrowing," complained Jerry one hazy September morning. She stood with her chums on the station platform, waving farewell to Florence Johnston, who was leaving for Markham College, a western university. "This is the third time for us at the station this week. Monday it was Mignon, Daisy Griggs and Gertrude Aldine, all bound for Smith. Wednesday it was Esther, Rita, Susan and Irma. I am not over the blues yet on account of losing Susan and Irma. I wish they had chosen Hamilton instead of Wellesley."

The seven Lookouts still left in Sanford were strolling soberly across the green station yard to the drive behind the station where Jerry had parked the Macys' ample touring car. She had elected to drive it that morning because of its capacity.

"Harriet and I are going to be the lonesome ones before long," remarked Constance Stevens, her blue eyes roving somberly from friend to friend.

The private conservatory Constance and Harriet were to enter did not open until the latter part of October. This would make them the last to leave Sanford. "It is going to seem awfully queer for us without you girls, isn't it, Harriet?"

"Yes." Harriet was looking unduly solemn. "Still we knew long ago that it would have to come sometime; this breaking up of the old crowd."

"We must try to be together a lot during vacations. Most of us will be home for Thanksgiving, and all of us for Christmas and Easter," was Marjorie's philosophical consolation.

"Well, we're going to have one last good old frolic at Connie's tonight, anyway," was Jerry's cheering reminder.

"I can't come tonight, Constance," Lucy Warner announced in her brusque fashion. "I must give these last few evenings to Mother. Besides, I don't feel at home in your crowd when the boys are there. I don't care much about young men. I never know what to say to them," she added, coloring slightly.

"I understand the way you feel about it," Constance returned with a smile. She had once been visited by the same discomfiture in the first days of her friendship with Marjorie. The others were laughing at Lucy's blunt avowal. "I'll forgive you for turning down my party. You know we would love to have you with us, but if you were not at ease it would be hard for you."

"Yes, it would. Much obliged." Lucy's terse agreement provoked fresh laughter.

Ronny had promised Marjorie to take Lucy in hand and try to overcome her objections to entering Hamilton College that fall. Three times she besieged Lucy before success came. On the third interview, Ronny learned the real difficulty. Very solemnly Lucy told her the story of the Observer and her subsequent ingrat.i.tude toward Marjorie. Ronny had felt righteous anger flame within her as she had listened. She had almost wished she had never offered a scholarship in behalf of such an ingrate.

Her brain clearing of its hasty resentment, she had been visited by the same divine pity for poor, embittered Lucy that had swayed Marjorie on the occasion of the Observer confession.

Very cleverly Ronny had seized upon the confession to move Lucy from her torturing resolve. She argued that, as it was Marjorie's wish to see Lucy enter college with herself and friends, she therefore owed it to Marjorie as an amend honorable. Her point gained, Ronny managed also to persuade Lucy to accept financial help from her if necessary. This she reluctantly promised to do, provided she were allowed to repay her young benefactor when in position to do so. Thus Lucy became the fifth Lookout, Hamilton-bound, greatly to Marjorie's delight.

"What you ought to do is practice hanging around with our gang until you are not the least bit scared at Hal or Laurie or the rest of our boys,"

Jerry advised. "They aren't ogres and hob-goblins. There is really nothing very awe-inspiring about a young man. If you had lived in the same house with Hal as long as I have, you would know how to talk to him all right enough."

"I haven't; therefore I don't," Lucy returned concisely, but with an open good nature which showed how greatly she had emerged from her sh.e.l.l since becoming a Lookout.

"There goes Flora Frisbee," suddenly called out Muriel, as she exchanged a gay salute with a girl who had just pa.s.sed in an automobile.

"Where?" inquired three or four voices. A particularly well liked senior, Flora had acquired a further high standing with the Lookouts as the president of the new chapter.

"Too late. She is out of sight. I just happened to see her as she flashed by in her brother's roadster. I think she is going to make a dandy president. Don't you?"

"The very best." It was Jerry who answered. "I am certainly glad the new chapter is going so nicely. They have settled down to that nursery detail like veterans."

"I was so proud of them that day at Muriel's when we organized the new chapter," praised Ronny.

"They did as well as we when we began," commented Muriel. "If only they keep it up. We picked the best of the seniors."

Following a meeting at Jerry's home, at which the Lookouts had selected the candidates for the new chapter, a second meeting had been held at Muriel's. Each charter Lookout had gallantly escorted her choice there.

Fifteen gratified seniors had listened to the rules of the club and promised to live up to them. They had pledged themselves to faithfully carry on the work of their absent elder sisters at the day nursery and be always ready to help those in need of friendly aid. They had then capably taken up the pleasant task of electing their officers and performed it with business-like snap.

Soon after their organization they had accompanied the charter members to the nursery and spent a merry afternoon getting acquainted with the little ones. From then on they had begun their regular duty tours accompanied, at first, by one of the old guard on each tour. Soon accustoming themselves to the routine, their elder sisters breathed more freely and set about attending to their own manifold affairs.

"We hope we picked fifteen winners. If we didn't we'll soon know it with a bang. That nursery will run on wheels, minus one trouble maker. Just one will throw the whole concern up in the air. While I don't doubt our new sisters, let time do its perfect work. So says Jeremiah. She says further, get into the car all of you. I'm going to take you straight home. I'm going to a party tonight and I have no time to waste standing talking on the corner. There will be young men at that party!" Jerry dropped her voice to a hoa.r.s.e melodramatic whisper and stared wildly at Lucy, chin thrust forward.

"I can't help that. I-I should worry. I'm no b.u.t.tinski." Lucy's unexpected use of slang raised a gale of laughter.

"I am afraid you learned that from me. You are growing up precautious.

You need a guardian." With this Jerry bundled Lucy into the tonneau of the machine and turned her over to Marjorie and Muriel who had already climbed into the car.

In her usual energetic fashion she proceeded to drive her chums to their various homes, where she dropped them with scant ceremony. "I know you are all in a hurry to get home," she sweetly a.s.sured them. "If you aren't, I am. It's all one. Good-bye. Shall I see you this evening? You had better believe it."

The informal gathering at Gray Gables would comprise the remaining Lookouts of the charter and six or seven of the Sanford boys whom Constance knew best and who were intimate friends of Laurie Armitage's.

Marjorie, in particular, was happy in the invitation. She thought it so beautiful that Connie, who had known the bitterest want, should be the hostess at their last frolic, commemorative of their high school days.

As she dressed for the party that evening, her thoughts traveled back to the eventful night of the freshman dance when Constance had worn the blue gown and made her entrance into the social side of high school under difficulties. At that time she had been a very humble person. Now she was perhaps the most admired young woman in Sanford on account of her beautiful voice. Things had changed a good deal in four years for Connie, Marjorie reflected. She took a special pride in her appearance that night, not only in honor of Constance, but because she owed it to herself to look her best on that last happy evening with her friends.

When Veronica entered Marjorie's house, attired in her white lace Commencement Day frock, a pale blue evening cape composed of many ruffles of chiffon hanging over one arm, she found a pensive little figure in white occupying the pink and white window seat. Marjorie was also wearing her graduation gown and looking utterly lovely in it.

"I'm mooning," she announced, turning her curly head as Ronny entered, her eyes very bright. "It's a perfect night, Ronny. Almost warm enough to go without a wrap. Hal will be here for us. I forgot to tell you. He called me on the 'phone yesterday to ask me if he might take us over in his car."

Veronica smiled slightly at this frank announcement. It contained not a trace of self-consciousness. Long ago Ronny had glimpsed Hal Macy's mind regarding Marjorie. She knew the latter to be the likable young man's ideal and had seen boyish worship of Marjorie more than once in his clear blue eyes. She also understood that Marjorie was wholly fancy free. While she valued Hal as a near friend, any awakening to a deeper sentiment on her part belonged to a far distant day.

CHAPTER VI.-THE BOWKNOT OF AFFECTION.

That evening as Hal a.s.sisted the two girls into the tonneau of the limousine, he was of the romantic opinion that he had merely persuaded a couple of stray moonbeams to ride with him. The light of the fair, increasing moon endowed the duo with a peculiar ethereal beauty which gave him a feeling of reverence. Girls were mostly like flowers was his boyish comparison. The most beautiful flower of them all was Marjorie.

Someday he would dare tell her so, but not for a long time.

Arrived at Gray Gables Hal had no further opportunity to "moon." The rest of the company had arrived and were impatiently awaiting them. The limousine had hardly come to a stop on the drive when out of the house they trooped, shouting the Sanford and Weston High School yells by way of welcome. Danny Seabrooke and the Crane then broke into the "Stars and Stripes" on mouth organs. Miles Burton rattled out a lively accompaniment on little Charlie Stevens' toy drum.

"I had no idea I was so popular." Hal bowed his thanks to the noisy musicians.