“This is the last straw,” declared Muriel grimly. “It seems to me that our duty is plain.”
“I am of the same mind.” Marjorie Dean’s decided tones sent a little thrill over her listeners. It was evident to all that her limit of endurance had been reached. “I move,” she continued with calm finality, “that Irma write Mignon La Salle stating that we accept her note as a resignation from the Lookouts and request her to turn over the club’s books, now in her possession, to our president Muriel Harding.”
Constance Stevens instantly seconded the motion. It was voted upon and carried with an alacrity that bespoke the intense approval of those assembled.
Again Marjorie was heard. “I nominate Susan Atwell to fill the now vacant office of treasurer.”
It is needless to say that this motion was also promptly seconded, voted upon and carried. The unbelievable had come to pass. Marjorie Dean had at last renounced the difficult responsibility she had shouldered so long. As a result of this revelation the dignity of the meeting collapsed into a babble of excited opinions. Muriel made no effort to restore order but drew her chair into the circle and entered willingly into the spirited discussion that centered around Mignon La Salle.
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, Marjorie Dean,” stoutly asserted Daisy Griggs. “I must say I was surprised when you made that first motion.”
“I have just one thing to say.” Marjorie’s brown eyes were filled with purposeful light. “Then I wish to drop the subject of Mignon. She has defied the club and so forfeited her right to membership. When the books of the club have been placed in Muriel’s hands, I shall go to Mr. La Salle and insist on being released from my promise. That’s all.”
Rising, she walked to a window, half ready to cry. It had been very hard for her to contemplate the idea of seeking kindly Mr. La Salle with such unpleasant information. She felt keenly the humiliation of being obliged to admit to him her failure. Yet as Muriel had said it was, indeed, “the last straw.” As she stood looking out at the white, moonlit night she was driven to believe that Mignon La Salle’s better self would ever remain a minus quantity.
Mignon’s astounding stand having been sufficiently discussed, the Lookouts devoted the rest of the evening strictly to enjoyment. Constance sang, Veronica danced, the others also contributing various entertaining stunts. A most delectable little supper was disposed of to the accompaniment of sprightly conversation and merry laughter, thereby proving that the loss of a faithless treasurer was small loss indeed.