Marjorie Dean, High School Senior

“Not for mine. I mean not to-night,” amended Jerry hastily. “I won’t decline to be president, because I am no quitter. If you girls are determined to have me for that high and mighty office, I’ll do my best to fill it. Still, I must say I don’t admire your taste.”

A general laugh went up at this naïve speech of acceptance. Only one girl did not smile. In her secret heart Mignon was not in favor of the stout girl for president. She had voted for her merely because she did not wish to be the only one on the contrary side.

“Since Jerry refuses to begin her duties to-night, I’ll let her off for just once,” asserted Marjorie playfully. “We will now consider the office of vice-president. Nominations are in order.”

“I move that we nominate Muriel Harding for vice-president,” volunteered Daisy Griggs.

Susan Atwell instantly seconded the nomination. The matter was then put to vote and Muriel was unanimously elected to the honor of the vice-presidency.

“Nominations for treasurer are now in order,” announced Marjorie. Her color deepened a trifle as she spoke. This particular part of the election did not appeal to her. Both she and Jerry had encountered sturdy opposition when they had privately interviewed their friends regarding their proposal to make Mignon treasurer of the club. In the end they had won a concerted though reluctant consent to the project. Marjorie now felt a trifle anxious for fear ample time for reflection might have caused one or more of them to alter their decision.

“I nominate Mignon La Salle for the office of treasurer.” Constance Stevens’ low, sweet voice cut the silence.

“I second the motion,” came reassuringly from Irma Linton.

Marjorie flashed her a quick, grateful glance. Irma Linton, too, could always be depended on to do the right thing at the right moment. Her gaze resting next on Mignon, she was inwardly amused at the expression of blank amazement that overspread the French girl’s sharp features. Mignon had, indeed, been treated to a pleasant surprise. A gleam of intense triumph shone in her large, black eyes when a moment later twelve girls loyally rose to their feet in response to Marjorie’s mechanically-stated request.

Was it really true that she, Mignon La Salle, had actually been nominated by Constance Stevens and chosen by the girls whom she privately scorned to fill an important office in the club? It looked as though at last they were beginning to come to their senses. Possessed of an overweening vanity, Mignon smilingly accepted her election to the post of treasurer as a distinct compliment to herself. Far from being grateful for it, she regarded it purely as a step toward the popularity which she had ever craved. It also gave her a thrill of malicious joy to discover in her hands an efficient means of arousing Rowena’s jealousy. How greatly she would enjoy writing Rowena the news, and how furious Rowena would be! A mocking smile touched her red lips as she gleefully anticipated Rowena’s rage.

Engaged in rapt meditation of this desirable consummation, Mignon did not realize that a pair of shrewd eyes had marked that smile and translated it with surprising accuracy. “I’ll bet you my hat she’s wondering how Rowena will take it,” was Jerry Macy’s astute conclusion. A surmise which seemed indeed to point to the truth of Jerry’s frequent assertion that she “knew everything about everybody.”

CHAPTER VIII – THE RULE OF RULES

The fourth and last officer to be elected was the secretary, and this honor fell to gentle Irma Linton. Ever modest and self-effacing, Irma was even more greatly surprised at her own election than Mignon had been when Constance Stevens had suddenly declared herself.

“Will the four distinguished officers please come forward and stand in a row and receive the congratulations of the humble members?” requested Marjorie gaily. “After that I will conduct them to their official stations and let them run the meeting.”

Several minutes of merry talk and handshaking went on before Jerry assumed the scepter of office and called the meeting to order again. Mignon and Irma had now been given seats at the big library table at one end of the room. Muriel had moved her chair to the front, placing it a little to one side of where Jerry stood.

“Ahem!” ejaculated Jerry, then giggled. “As president of this club, it now becomes my duty to discuss with you a number of rules and regulations to which this distinguished organization must pledge themselves to live up. In the first place, you will all be taxed with dues. You are lucky to be charter members and thus avoid the payment of initiation fees. Now the question is how much are you willing to pay per week or per year or any other old per for your glorious privilege of membership. Now don’t all speak at once, and don’t be stingy. Remember, we are as yet a very poor and struggling concern. We have only one consolation. We needn’t hire a hall. We can meet at one another’s houses and thus practice thrift. Now let’s have a little informal discussion about it.”

“I think the per week idea would be nice.” Harriet Delaney rose promptly to the financial situation. “We could give so much each week when we came to the meeting. Mignon could have our names on a book just as the grammar school teachers keep a register. Then when we first came into the room where the meeting is held we could give her our money and she could credit us with it on her book. It’s easier to give a little each week than to have to save it up and pay it all at one time. We wouldn’t even miss it, for we are always spending small sums for candy and ice cream and moving pictures and such things. We ought to look at our club as an amusement and be willing to pay for it accordingly. Then, too, the money will be used to do good with.”