style="font-size:15px;"> “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 hoarse melodramatic whisper and stared wildly at Lucy, chin thrust forward.
“I can’t help that. I – I should worry. I’m no buttinski.” 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 assured 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 assisted 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.
“You are not,” the Crane hastened to inform him. “That choice selection we just rendered was in honor of the girls. Don’t credit yourself with everything. It’s horribly conceited.”
“I’m glad you named it as a ‘selection,’” Hal made scathing retort.
“What, may I ask, would you name it?” queried Danny with a dangerous affability.
“Making night hideous, or, a disgraceful racket, or, the last convulsions of a would-be jazz band. Any little appellation like that would be strictly appropriate.” Hal beamed ironically on the three. “Nice little drummer boy you have there.”
Supposedly offended, Danny could not repress a loud snicker at this fling. Miles Burton stood six feet, minus shoes. With Charlie’s toy drum strung round his neck on a narrow blue ribbon, he was distinctly mirth-inspiring.
“Throw any more remarks like that about me and you’ll find out my real disposition,” warned Miles in a deep bass growl.
“Come ladies; let us hasten on before trouble overtakes us – me, I mean. Back, varlets. Grab your instruments of torture and begone.” Hal grandly motioned the objectionable varlets out of the way.
“That’s what I say,” called Jerry from the top step. “For once I agree with Hal. Let the girls come up on the porch, can’t you? You four sillies can stay outside and rave. Notice how well Laurie and Harry are behaving. Try to be a little like them, if you can.”
“You can’t know them as I do,” rumbled Miles.
“No; I guess not,” emphasized Hal. “Well, I’d rather be called a silly than a varlet.”
“That will do from all of you.” Jerry ran down the steps and with a few energetic waves of the arms drove the masculine half of the guests up onto the brightly-lighted veranda. There the entire company lingered to talk, presently strolling into the long old-fashioned drawing room which Constance used for dancing purposes when entertaining her friends.
“Be happy and make yourselves at home,” she said in her pretty, graceful fashion. “Father and Uncle John will soon be here to play for us. They are helping Mr. Beaver, the leader of the Sanford orchestra, organize some of the Sanford working boys into an orchestra.
