CHAPTER XXIII--A STORMY SESSION

"Is there any new business to be brought before the club?" inquired Muriel Harding in her most presidential manner.

The Lookouts were in august session in the Atwells' cozy living room, which the mere members of the family, aside from Susan, had obligingly vacated while the club held sway. Seated in a semi-circle that curved the lower end of the large room, nine girls fixed attentive eyes on Muriel, who occupied a wide-armed chair a few feet in front of them. At a table on the right, Irma and Mignon were seated side by side. Her interest centered on her account book, the latter did not trouble to raise her eyes as Muriel spoke.

From the last right-hand chair in the circular row, Marjorie Dean rose. "I wish to propose the name of Veronica Browning for membership into the Lookout Club," she announced in low, clear tones.

A wavering sigh swept the semi-circle as Marjorie reseated herself. This was, indeed, new business. Muriel Harding stared at Marjorie in mild astonishment. All interest in her accounts vanished, Mignon La Salle leaned forward over the table, her black eyes snapping. For a long moment no one spoke.

"I second the motion." Harriet Delaney's firm accents shattered the silence.

"It has been regularly moved and seconded," stated Muriel, "that Veronica----"

"I rise to object." Mignon La Salle leaped rather than rose from her chair, her face dark with protest. "I object seriously to admitting a servant into membership of the Lookout Club."

"And _I_ rise to object against the word 'servant' as applied to my friend Veronica Browning." Marjorie was again on her feet, her lovely face set in stern lines. "There is no disgrace in being a servant," she gravely rebuked. "It is the way in which the word has been spoken that makes it objectionable. The club owes a great deal to Veronica. All of you know how willingly she has offered us her services. We have gladly accepted them. It now becomes us to ask her to honor us by joining our club."

"Honor!" sneered Mignon, tossing her black head in disdain. "A very queer sort of _honor_. I should term it disgrace. I will not have this presuming kitchen maid in the club. Who knows what sort of parents she has, or where she came from. She is sharp enough to make Miss Archer and a few other persons believe that she is something wonderful, but she can't fool me. No doubt she came from some third-rate, stranded theatrical company. She has been very careful not to say a word about herself to anyone. Marjorie Dean ought to be ashamed to propose that we turn our club into a servants' hall."

With every word, Mignon's voice had risen. Caution thrown to the winds she remembered nothing save her hatred against Veronica. Before she could continue a babble of angry voices assailed her from all sides. The dignified session of the Lookouts bade fair to end in an uproar of rebuke hurled in noisy entirety at Mignon.

"Order!" shrieked Muriel, wildly waving her arms. "Stop it, girls. The Atwells will think we've gone crazy."

Her energetic counsel brought the outraged belligerents into a knowledge of where they were. Gradually they subsided into threatening murmurs that ended in a much-needed but ominous quiet.

"Mignon, you are the one to be ashamed." Muriel bent severe eyes on the storm-swept girl, who now sat with elbows propped upon the table, glaring sullenly at her equally sulky opponents. "Veronica Browning is a sweet, delightful, well-bred girl. I'm sorry I can't say the same of you. If you don't care to be in the same club with her, you know what you can do. You've caused us all to disgrace ourselves for the moment by quarreling with you. I'm going to say what I started to say when you began this fuss. You will please not interrupt me again."

"I will if I choose," flung back Mignon. "You'd be only too glad to have me resign from the club. Well, I don't intend to do it until I get ready. I've been a good treasurer and you can't complain of me. If you----"

Muriel turned a deliberate back on the irate speaker. With dignified composure she again stated: "It has been regularly moved and seconded that Veronica Browning be admitted into membership of the Lookout Club. Those in favor, please rise; contrary remain seated."

Ten determined girls were on their feet before Muriel had finished.

"No, no, no!" objected Mignon at the top of her voice.

"Carried." Muriel still kept an uncompromising back toward Mignon.

"I won't stand it!" Rising, Mignon seized her book and took a step or two toward the door. Of a sudden she paused, as though clutched by an invisible hand. Backing toward her chair she sat down, a curious expression of malevolent resolve in her elfish eyes. Somewhat ashamed of their own untimely outburst, her fellow members found themselves more inclined toward pity than resentment. Though they cherished no liking for their lawless companion, they were disposed to regard her display of temper as that of an obstreperous child, allowed too long to have its own way.

With the admission of Veronica to the club the business part of the meeting closed, greatly to the relief of all concerned. Immediately afterward, Mignon stalked haughtily from the living room, without a word to anyone. Darting up the stairs to the room which Muriel had reserved for her guests' use, she fairly flung herself into her coat and jammed her fur cap down upon her black curls. Down the stairs she sped and out of the house, announcing her departure by a reverberating slam of the front door.

Divining her intention, Susan Atwell had followed her to the stairs, determined to do her duty as hostess. When halfway up the flight, Mignon had reappeared at the head of the staircase, descending with a hurricane rush that precluded remark on Susan's part. Returning to the living room she asked Muriel crossly: "What are we to do with her?"

"We'd better hold a second meeting and see," replied Muriel. "Girls," she raised her voice, "please come to order again. I've something to say to you."

Gathered together at one end of the room, the group of girls promptly obeyed. Resuming her position of authority, Muriel burst forth with, "Something must be done about Mignon. I think she has forfeited her right to membership. After what's happened to-night we can't allow her to keep on being in the club. We must ask her to resign."

Seven voices at once rose in hearty agreement. Only Marjorie, Irma, and Constance remained silent.

"With Mignon out of the club, Jerry will come back," reminded Harriet Delaney eagerly. "Irma ought to write Mignon to-night and mail the letter on the way home."

"That's my opinion," nodded Rita Talbot.

"Mine, too," sounded a faithful chorus.

"Perhaps we'd better wait until after the next meeting before taking such action," argued Marjorie soberly. "Just now I feel sure that we ought to ask for Mignon's resignation. Later I may not see it in that light. My decision will depend largely on the way Mignon treats Veronica at our next meeting. Her temper got the better of her to-night. Perhaps we had better give her another chance."

"That would be a good test. We mustn't be too hasty," cautioned generous Irma. "I believe with Marjorie that we should postpone our decision until after next Thursday night's meeting. Then if we are still of the same mind we shall feel that we have acted fairly."

"We've already been altogether too fair," sputtered Gertrude Aldine. "I don't see why we should feel any hesitation about sending Mignon that letter to-night. The sooner it's sent, the sooner we'll have Jerry with us again."

"Jerry could be with us now, if she chose." Very quietly Constance answered Gertrude's impetuous reminder. "We should not use Jerry as an excuse for expelling Mignon from the club. We should consider only whether Mignon has failed so utterly as a member that we must expel her in self-defense. If we drive her out of the Lookouts, she will take it as a direct admission that we are afraid of her; that eleven members cannot stand together against one. If we prove loyal to our obligations, what chance will she have against us? Once she realizes this, either she will submit to what she can't change, or else she will resign from the club of her own accord. Only a little more than three months is left us of our senior year. Ought we to pass the name 'Lookouts' along to our successors with the stain of an expelled member on it? That is also a point to be considered."

"You and Marjorie and Irma are right, as usual," conceded Muriel Harding vexedly. "I suppose we ought to follow your advice. Perhaps Mignon will kindly take the matter out of our hands before then. Girls, are you satisfied to abide by the counsel of the Three Wise Women of Sanford?" she questioned humorously. "Has anyone any further serious objections? If so, please rise."

Pure loyalty to Marjorie Dean alone kept every girl in her seat. Although each respected the counsel of Constance and Irma, Marjorie's wish now became her law. Her magnanimity of spirit was too great to be overlooked. Yet in her heart each hoped that pride would force Mignon into resigning from the Lookouts of her own free will before the week ended.

Could the Lookouts have looked into Mignon La Salle's own room, at the very moment in which they agreed upon a week's clemency, their fond hope would have died a sudden death. Her door carefully locked against parental intrusion, Mignon was rapidly penning a lengthy letter to Rowena Farnham. Her thin lips curved themselves into a malicious smile as her pen sped over the paper. It was late when she finished the writing of it, and stole cat-footed down the front stairs and out of the house to mail it. Having come to a standstill in her own capacity for trouble-making, she had appealed for advice to one who could be depended upon to give her fresh impetus.