"Tell Miss Allen not to make an announcement till the very end of the meal, so that if I get any news of the canoe, I can let her know."

But Marjorie was disappointed to find that no one came up to her with an explanation or an apology. Unfortunately, too, all the girls were present at the meal--a circ.u.mstance which left her no room for the hope that one of her school-mates had the canoe.

Just as dessert was being served, she caught Miss Allen's questioning eyes fastened upon hers, and she shook her head sadly in reply to the silent interrogation. Accordingly, the Princ.i.p.al arose and told Marjorie's story, and asked whether anyone had seen the canoe. But there was no response.

"Girls, I don't suspect anybody," she said, after a few minutes of silence, "but just for the sake of formality, I will call a meeting for eight o'clock this evening and ask every girl where she was early this afternoon, for Marjorie tells me that she saw it herself at one o'clock."

"Oh, Miss Allen!" interrupted Marjorie, much to everyone's consternation, "I really don't want to go as far as that! I am sure that none of the girls took it."

"Somebody might have taken it for a prank," remarked the Princ.i.p.al, without administering any reproof for the interruption. "And we may as well go on with the investigation."

There was not a single girl at the school who dared to absent herself from that meeting. Miss Allen herself presided, and, beginning with the senior cla.s.s, she requested each girl in turn to rise and state where she had spent the early part of the afternoon.

"And whenever another girl can confirm a statement, I wish she would do so," added Miss Allen.

The meeting proceeded rapidly; the girls, a little nervous at the recital in public of their own affairs, nevertheless spoke swiftly; and, without a single exception, their statements were all confirmed by other girls.

The whole proceeding served only to intensify Marjorie's despondency.

Now, she felt, the girls might think that she suspected them, which in reality had never been the case. When Miss Allen had suggested a joke, her mind naturally flew to Ruth; but now that the whole affair had a.s.sumed such serious proportions, she dismissed that solution from her thoughts.

The last freshman in the school was recounting her afternoon's program, when one of the housemaids threw open the door.

The faces all swung instantly around, and the speaker became silent. The newcomer announced her mission without delay:

"An important message for Miss Phillips," she said. "I took it over the telephone."

"Will you give it to me?" asked the latter, rising and advancing to take what she expected to be a written message.

"Yes, ma'am; I didn't write it down," she replied. And before Miss Phillips could warn her not to inform the whole school, she shouted out, to the surprise of everyone,

"_Mrs. Johnson sent word that Frieda Hammer has been missing since half-past one this afternoon._"

"With Marjorie Wilkinson's canoe!" exclaimed Ruth, in a tone that was audible all over the a.s.sembly room.

CHAPTER X

THE HALLOWE'EN PARTY

The meeting which Miss Allen had begun with such formality ended in a turmoil. Everyone jumped up excitedly at the news of Frieda's disappearance and at the interpretation which Ruth gave to the occurrence.

For all the girls in the school--even those who were not Scouts--knew about Frieda Hammer. They were aware, too, of the fact that the j.a.panese fete had been given to raise money to support her, and it was common knowledge that over a hundred dollars had been cleared.

But only the Scouts themselves knew the details: that, after five weeks'

board had been paid in advance, Frieda had been given fifteen dollars, which she was to use for her ticket home on Thanksgiving. This idea had been Marjorie's; she wanted by some such outward sign to testify to the girl that the Scouts trusted her. Miss Phillips, Ruth, and one or two others had opposed the plan, but Marjorie's enthusiasm had finally carried it.

So now Marjorie had this double tragedy to face: she had not only lost her canoe, but her confidence had been betrayed. And Ruth, who had prophesied something of the sort from the first, had triumphed!

Miss Phillips was too wise to call a Scout meeting immediately; she wanted to give the discussion a chance to simmer down. Besides this, she felt deeply for Marjorie. The girl had encountered a terrible disappointment; older and more experienced people than Marjorie had broken down under parallel circ.u.mstances. Miss Phillips wanted to give her a good chance to cry; after that, she depended upon Lily's good sense and tact to console her.

Accordingly, nothing was done until the next night, when Miss Phillips called the Scouts to a meeting.

The subject was hardly mentioned before Ruth Henry sprang to her feet.

"Captain," she began, talking rather fast, for she had in her own mind a number of points that she wished to make, "we all have to admit that we have failed. The idea--social service, Good Turn, whatever you want to call it--is splendid; but the person we selected, unworthy. Let's forget all about it; for we can't get back Marjorie's canoe. It's probably sold by now.

"Well, this is my suggestion: hold our bazaar just as we have planned, and use the money, first to buy Marjorie a new canoe, and then to bring a nice Christmas to some needy family, in the village, with lots of children."

"Hurray! Good for you, Ruth!" cried several of the girls impulsively when she sat down.

Amid their shouts, however, Marjorie stumbled to her feet. She looked pale, as if she had slept little the previous night; and her eyes bore the traces of tears. But outwardly she was calm.

"It is awfully good of Ruth," she said, seriously, "but I really wouldn't want the troop to replace my canoe. I won't need it much longer this fall, and perhaps father will give me one for my next birthday. And I like Ruth's suggestion about the poor family. But"--she lowered her voice and p.r.o.nounced each word slowly and very distinctly--"is the troop going to accept this defeat as final?"

"You mean, Marjorie, that you would like to give Frieda another chance?"

asked the Captain.

"Yes." The word was little more than a whisper.

Miss Phillips said nothing; she was simply astounded at the girl's generosity. Frieda Hammer had stolen Marjorie's dearest possession, and yet the latter was ready to forgive her!

But Ruth interpreted Marjorie's att.i.tude merely as the usual opposition to her own suggestions.

"Then would you like to put a detective on the case?" she asked.

"No! A thousand times, no!" protested Marjorie, emphatically.

"Then what could we do to trace her?"

"I could at least telegraph to her mother, with a prepaid reply," put in Miss Phillips.

"Oh, do--please do!" begged Marjorie; and the affair rested at that.

"Now," said Ethel, anxious to change the subject, "let's talk about our Hallowe'en party. It's only a little over a week off!"

The tone of the meeting changed from that of serious-minded discussion of a theft and its treatment, to care-free chatter about an evening of fun. Even Marjorie put aside her trouble for the time and entered heartily into the preparations.

The Hallowe'en party was to be the last event of the Scout troop as it now stood. The day following--November first--the reports would be issued, and the new Scouts would officially join the troop at the next meeting. This would necessitate new divisions into the patrols, re-elections, etc.

The fifteen girls who now belonged to Pansy troop felt especially close together. All, except Helen Stewart and Anna Cane, had lived side by side at camp, eaten at the same table, gathered around the same camp fire at night, been comrades on many hikes, and competed in the contest which Marjorie had so unexpectedly won. They wanted their troop to grow, and to take in new girls, especially if a troop was to be established at the rival seminary: but they were glad to be allowed this party for themselves.

The day after the Scout meeting, Miss Phillips sent a telegram to Frieda Hammer's mother, and received the following reply:

"No signs of Frieda. Is she kidnapped?--M. Hammer."

Marjorie's last hopes vanished as she read the telegram. There was nothing to be done; she must be content to give up her dream. Miss Phillips suggested that the girl might come back again after her money was all spent; upon this meager supposition Marjorie fastened her expectations.