Part 16 (1/2)
”We surely must,” chorused Marjorie and Constance.
The Lookouts were indeed indebted to their elders. Mr. Macy, Mr. La Salle and Miss Allison had been especially liberal with monetary gifts, while the fathers of the members in less affluent circ.u.mstances had each ”done their bit.” The mothers, too, had become loyal candy and cake makers, not to mention the many other services they had rendered ungrudgingly. Anxious to encourage their children to the performance of worthy work, these broad-minded men and women believed it to be their duty to a.s.sist the young enthusiasts in every possible way.
”I'm glad we gave Mignon that lemonade job,” commented Jerry, her round eyes wandering to where the big punch bowl stood, thus far minus the French girl's presence. ”She'll be off by herself where she can't stir up trouble. She'll have to stay there, too, when the revue's over. I calculated on that when I asked her to take charge of the lemonade bowl.
She doesn't know that she's going to be off in a corner away from the rest of the girls. I didn't tell her. Maybe she'll be mad when she finds out. I can't help it. I hope she will get here on time. It's just like her to come straggling in late so everyone will see her.”
”Jerry, you are breaking the Golden Rule,” reminded Marjorie.
”Oh, I'm only bending it,” retorted Jerry good-humoredly. ”Besides, you two girls don't count. I must say whatever I think to you. To others I am a clammy clam. h.e.l.lo! There she comes now. I must say she looks like a lemon in that yellow frock. It's the exact color of one.”
”She is really stunning!” Marjorie exclaimed generously. ”That pale yellow chiffon frock is quite suited to her. It brings out her black eyes and hair.”
”Handsome is as handsome does,” Jerry made skeptical response. ”I must leave you now to break the sad news to her. If, in about three minutes, you see her looking like a thundercloud you'll know the reason.”
Jerry sauntered away to deliver the fateful information to Mignon. The eyes of the two friends meeting, Marjorie made a gesture of dissent.
”I'd rather not watch to see how she takes it. It doesn't seem quite fair. Jerry didn't stop to think or she wouldn't have said that. As I'm not in the revue I had better go to my booth.”
”I must hurry behind the scenes,” said Constance. ”It's ten minutes to eight now and my song comes third on the program.”
With this the two girls separated, Constance heading in the direction of a room at the left of the Armory, nearest to the platform. From it the girl performers made their entrance to the improvised stage. The room on the right had been given over to the boys, Marjorie walked slowly toward the candy booth. When half way to it she heard someone call her name.
Glancing in the direction of the post card booth, she saw Lucy Warner beckoning eagerly to her. A happy light radiated from the girl's usually austere features. Her bluish-green eyes sparkled with pleasure. Lucy was childishly delighted to have the opportunity to a.s.sist in so important an affair as the Campfire. She felt that she owed this happiness directly to Marjorie.
”Oh, Marjorie!” she exclaimed, as her friend reached the booth. ”It's wonderful! I can't really believe that this good time has come to me!
And I have you to thank for it all! I hope some day to be able to show you how much I appreciate your friends.h.i.+p.”
”I'm ever so glad to see you so bright and happy, Lucy,” Marjorie made earnest response. ”You must thank yourself for your good time, though.
You are a faithful Lookout. This is only the beginning. There are lots of good times ahead of you.”
Before Lucy could reply, Hal Macy appeared at Marjorie's elbow with, ”Veronica's here. She's in the girls' dressing room. She wants to see you.”
”I'll come back later, Lucy.” With a friendly nod, Marjorie turned to accompany Hal across the polished floor. A happy smile played about her lips. Whatever the Lookouts might eventually set down to their further credit, they had certainly succeeded in bringing happiness to Lucy Warner.
CHAPTER XVI-A PUZZLING YOUNG PERSON
”Veronica Browning!” Marjorie cried out admiringly. ”You magnificent person. Where, oh where, did you get that wonderful, I won't say gown, I'll say robe? Certainly you never walked through the streets of Sanford in _that_.”
”Oh, no, I ordered a--” Veronica checked herself, looking vexed. ”Miss Archer insisted that I should come in a taxicab,” she explained shortly.
”It's a marvelous robe.” Noting Veronica's abrupt chopping off of her first sentence, and the frown that accompanied it, Marjorie hastily returned to the exquisite garment Veronica was wearing. It was of soft, dead black crepe de chine, and fell away from her dazzlingly white throat and shoulders in long, graceful lines. Very full, it swept the floor ending in a border of stars and crescent moons, outlined in dull silver. The ample sleeves, edged in the same silver design, dropped away from her round white arms, giving a wing-like effect. Over her golden brown hair was banded a fillet of silver. A quaintly-wrought pendant in the form of a crescent depended from it and lay directly on the center of her forehead.
”You look like-let me see-a painting of 'Night' that I once saw!” cried Marjorie, triumphantly recalling it in time to make the comparison. ”But what are you going to do with those black and orange wings?” Marjorie was intently eyeing a small pair of black and orange wings that dangled from Veronica's arm.
”I am the Night, the silvery, shadowy Night,” declaimed Veronica gaily, one white arm raised aloft. ”I am going to give you a dance called 'Night.' Hence this somber robe. No, the wings don't belong to Night.
Underneath this black pall, I am a glorious black and orange b.u.t.terfly.
I am to do two dances; 'b.u.t.terfly' will follow 'Night.' I can rid myself of this black thing in about one minute or even less. As I come next to you on the program, Connie, I will ask you to wait after your song and fasten on my wings. Here they are.”
”Where did you learn to dance, Veronica?” queried Marjorie thoughtlessly. Instantly she regretted having asked the question.