Marjorie wrinkled her nose; in her own mind she still harbored resentment against Ruth, and the idea of her company was rather distasteful.

"No--thanks! I don't want to do anything very strenuous."

A knock sounded at their door, and in answer to Lily's cheery, "Come!"

Alice Endicott entered.

"If I bother you people too much, just put me out!" she announced gaily.

"I simply must have company!"

"Not homesick?" asked Marjorie.

"No, indeed! Only I want to go for a walk, or do something; and your society's so infinitely more pleasant than my own----"

"I'll tell you what I'll do," interrupted Marjorie. "Let's go canoeing!"

Alice clapped her hands with delight. She had never been out in Marjorie's canoe since the day when their friendship had really started, and she longed to be invited again.

"Oh, how lovely!" she cried. "And it's such a perfect day!"

"I'll have to send it home at Thanksgiving," remarked Marjorie, as she and Alice crossed the campus on their way to the lake. "And I don't know how I'll ever do without it."

"Oh, well, there will be skating," Alice reminded her. "And then, it will soon be spring again."

They came in sight of the tree to which Marjorie always kept the canoe tied, and she looked anxiously, as usual, for the first sight of it.

Suddenly, her heart stopped beating: she could not see it!

"Alice!" she shrieked, in terror. "It's gone!"

Alice followed Marjorie's gaze, but she, too, saw no canoe. However, she attributed no particular significance to that fact.

"It's probably around the other side," she said optimistically: "or maybe you tied it to another tree."

But as the girls came nearer to the spot, Marjorie knew that she had been right. They looked all around the small lake; but the canoe was nowhere to be found!

"Somebody's borrowed it!" suggested Alice, "and probably couldn't find you to ask permission!"

"But then they'd be on the lake!"

"No--if you should carry the canoe about a hundred yards, you'd find the stream gets deep enough to paddle. And it goes a long way, too, even joins a river. I know because once Daisy and I hiked and hiked, meaning to follow it to the end. There were several swift places where you might have to carry the canoe a few yards, but it could easily be done."

Marjorie's face brightened at the hope the words offered.

"Let's walk up that way ourselves," she suggested.

Climbing the school fence at the edge of the lake, they followed a little creek, which, though shallow in many places, could still be navigated by a canoe.

"Why didn't any of us ever think of this?" remarked Marjorie. "I've never had the canoe off the lake."

"Couldn't we try it to-morrow?" asked Alice, wondering whether it were quite the thing for her to suggest.

"Yes, I'd love to!" replied Marjorie. But her expression grew sad again, as she recalled the circ.u.mstances which led them on this walk of exploration.

The woods were wonderful now, dressed in their gorgeously colored foliage. Brown, orange, scarlet, with just enough somber evergreen to set off the brilliancy of the other trees by contrast, the scene was at the height of its splendor. But so intent were the girls upon watching the water, they hardly noticed the spectacle.

"Look! Look!" cried Alice suddenly. "There--around that bend! Isn't that the end of a canoe?"

Marjorie held her hand to her forehead, and shaded her eyes in an effort to distinguish the object in the distance. But, although she saw what Alice meant, it was too far off for identification. In their eagerness, the girls started to run.

Marjorie was the first to stop, realizing her mistake.

"It's a dead tree trunk!" she gasped, out of breath from the exertion.

She stopped and leaned against a tree, tired out and disappointed. But she resolutely conquered her desire to cry: whatever happened, she must not break down before a freshman!

"Let's go back," she said. "I'm awfully tired."

"We might as well," said Alice. "For whoever has borrowed it will be sure to bring it back by supper time."

"Perhaps; but somehow I feel as if it were gone forever! I can't tell you why----"

"Oh, please don't worry, Marj!" begged the younger girl. "n.o.body would take it!"

They went to Marjorie's room, and discussed the occurrence over and over. Alice stayed until half-past five, when Lily came back from tennis.

"Too dark to play!" cried Lily as she threw open the door. "Heavens, why sit in darkness?"

Marjorie and Alice had hardly noticed the gradually deepening twilight, so wrapped up were they in the event of the afternoon. They blinked as Lily flashed on the lights.

"Who won?" asked Marjorie, half-heartedly.

"Doris, of course!" This carelessly. Then, looking closely at her room-mate, she realized that something was wrong.

"What's happened, Marj? No bad news from home?"

"Oh, no--it isn't that." Marjorie swallowed hard, in the effort to keep her voice calm. Then, blurting it out, "I've lost my canoe!"

Lily stood perfectly still in open-mouthed amazement, while Alice, a.s.sisted here and there by Marjorie, told of the afternoon's adventure.

But Lily smiled rea.s.suringly.

"You're worrying yourself needlessly, Marj. Somebody's borrowed it, of course! It couldn't have drifted away--there's no place for it to drift--and surely n.o.body would steal it!"

"Somebody must have!" declared Marjorie, feeling now that any moment she would break down. To her relief, Alice arose to go.

As soon as the door closed upon the retreating freshman, Marjorie began to sob violently. Lily went over and sat beside her.

"Don't, Marj, please don't!" she begged. "Wait till after supper, at least. I'll go over and tell Miss Allen all about it the minute I'm dressed, and we'll see what she can do."

Marjorie dried her eyes, and the girls got ready for supper. In fifteen minutes, Lily was ready to go.