Suddenly the storm broke. A babel of protesting exclamations arose, growing louder. A tall sophomore with glasses sprang to her feet crying out: “This is not fair, Miss Remson. Our club is strictly private. No one except the members and yourself was invited to be here tonight. I object, Madame President.” She whirled, appealing to Julia.

“Miss Saylor, your objection is sustained.” Julia’s expression was one of empty dignity. She looked ludicrously owl-like. “We are glad of Miss Remson’s presence here tonight. However, we prefer not to have outsiders at our business meetings.” She regarded the four “outsiders” with a cold stare. “Please take this chair, Miss Remson.” She nodded to a vacant chair near her own.

“Thank you.” Miss Remson seated herself without further remark.

The noise attending the entrance of Miss Remson and her four aides had partially subsided while Julia was speaking. It now began again. Half a dozen girls simultaneously found their feet to make displeased protest.

193Suddenly Muriel stepped in front of her companions and raised a hand for silence. Her gesture was thoroughly good-humored. Her sparkling face was full of condescending geniality. “My, but you are an inhospitable crowd!” she declared. “You don’t know what you are trying to do. You are trying to put me out of the show business. These are my three performers and this is our next stand. Have a heart!”

No one could be more irresistibly funny than Muriel when she chose. Laughter greeted her mock reproachful speech, rather half-hearted, but laughter, nevertheless. The ominous babel of displeased voices died down.

“Miss Harding!” Julia adopted a tone of deep affront. “Won’t you please consider the privacy of this club and——”

“How can you?” Muriel looked grieved, then laughter chased away her pretended grief. “Have pity on a poor showman, and his exhibits. ‘Remember the stranger within thy gates,’” she quoted affably, well aware of the sighing breath that rose from the company at the reminder of Hamilton’s first tradition. “There’s money in this business for me this evening. I always take up a collection after each performance. Why be haughty? Stay and see the show.”

“Show! Show!” The sunny side of girl nature could not but respond to Muriel’s nonsensical blandishments. Here and there among the group a 194frowning face was to be seen. The majority were longing for fun, however. And the majority ruled. Then, too, Muriel was extremely well liked.

The laughing cry of “Show” continued. Julia Peyton raised an imperious hand in an effort to fix attention upon herself. She addressed the crowd, but the crowd refused to listen to her. Muriel had won her point. She had also delivered a pertinent rebuke under cover of her gaiety.

“Assert yourself as president,” Mildred Ferguson urged Julia in low stormy tones. She was furious at the unexpected intrusion. “What does Miss Remson think she is going to do, I wonder? She’ll not honor the petition. That’s certain. To bring Miss Cairns in here! She means to fight for her and make us a whole lot of trouble—if she can.”

“Oh, those provoking girls!” Julia was ready to cry with chagrin. “They’re letting Miss Harding make perfect geese of them. And all because she is funny, or thinks she is.”

“She’s funny enough,” Mildred admitted sulkily. She turned to listen against her will to Muriel’s flow of inimitable nonsense.

Muriel had ranged Marjorie, Leslie and Doris in a row and was now engaged in busily showing them off to the roomful of girls. She treated them as she might have a collection of bisque dolls. She moved their arms and hands about at will, took them by the shoulders, one after another, spun them round then posed them in a series of ridiculously stiff attitudes. 195She finally pretended to wind up a mechanism between Marjorie’s shoulders and Marjorie came to life and sang Stevenson’s “In Winter,” in a thin childish voice. She met with a cordial reception.

Doris, when wound up, executed a graceful little dance which was heartily applauded. Leslie came last. She sang a verse of a French song with an artistry of expression and gesture that was a revelation to the audience who had gathered to condemn her. After she had finished and given a funny little exhibition of running down and becoming immobile again an odd silence reigned. It was shattered by a girl’s voice from the back of the room. “Clever, bravo!” she cried. “Encore, encore!”

Next instant the room rang with cries of “Encore!” Muriel favored her audience with a Cheshire puss smile and laboriously wound up Leslie again. She sang the second verse with more clever gestures.

When Muriel could make herself heard she went on to announce that the performance would close with one verse of “Lightly row,” sung by the “Great Little Three.” Then she promised to press speech buttons in the backs of the trio’s necks. The Great Little Three would then thank their audience for their attention.

Rather to her surprise this announcement also elicited approval. She had been afraid the girls would scent a lecture in her words and shy off from it. Instead cries of “Speech! Speech!” ascended.

196“Thank you for your appreciation,” Marjorie began in her own sweet tones as Muriel stepped back from pressing the speech button at the nape of her white neck. “We should feel so hurt if we thought you hadn’t liked ............