"Frieda!" she cried, rushing to her, and throwing her arms about her neck.

"Marjorie!" sobbed the girl, completely breaking down, and hiding her head upon the other girl's shoulder.

In the brief glimpse that Marjorie had of Frieda, she saw how the girl had changed. Her clothes were neat, and her hair was arranged attractively. Moreover, she looked happy; the old, sullen, distrustful look was gone. She was a real Girl Scout now, and the transformation was marvelous. The miracle was accomplished, though by a far different method from any Marjorie ever dreamed of.

Little by little Frieda told Marjorie the story of her struggle; then of her work here, the Girl Scout troop which she had really started herself, the saving of the money for Marjorie's canoe, which she had had mailed in New York in order to mislead the latter, and finally of her progress at night school.

"Why, it sounds just like a fairy tale," said Marjorie. "Now when will you come back to us?"

"I want to work this summer, and then--if Pansy troop still wants to help me--to go to full-time school in the fall."

"Indeed, we do want to help," said Marjorie pa.s.sionately. "But you must fulfill one condition: come to Miss Allen's before May first. After that we were to give you up as lost."

"I will!" agreed Frieda. "Could I come next Sat.u.r.day afternoon?"

"Yes; it's the day of the Scouts' out-door musical comedy. Promise me?"

"I promise!"

"Need any money for carfare?"

"No, thanks," replied Frieda, laughing. "And I expect to have my uniform by that time. But don't tell a soul that you've seen me, till then!" she entreated.

"Not a soul!" answered Marjorie.

Then, kissing her good-bye, she was gone as suddenly as she had appeared.

"Did you have a nice time, Marj?" asked Ruth, rather disagreeably, as Marjorie climbed into the car again. "You stayed long enough!"

"The best time I ever had in my life!" replied the happy girl, emphatically and truthfully.

CHAPTER XXIV

MARJORIE'S TRIUMPH

When Mrs. Hadley afterwards spoke of Marjorie Wilkinson, she called her "the girl with the shining eyes." For when the machine stopped in front of the house in Trenton where she was visiting, and the young people ran up the steps to greet her, Marjorie was still radiant from her great discovery. For a time John's mother, who immediately took a tremendous liking to the girl, attributed her joy to antic.i.p.ation of the pleasure that awaited her. But later she realized that the cause for it was something deeper, something within Marjorie's heart.

John, too, admitted reluctantly to himself that he was not a part of her happiness. It had, he realized, something to do with the Girl Scouts, and especially with her brief visit at that factory. But what it could possibly be, he had not the slightest idea.

The girls soon became entirely at home in their hostess's house, singing and playing the piano until it was time to dress for dinner.

When Marjorie came downstairs again, dressed in the pale blue georgette which she had worn at the soph.o.m.ore reception, John Hadley thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful. Suddenly he realized, although he was only nineteen years of age, how tremendously he cared for this girl.

Working hard all year, partially earning his way through college, he had little time to write to her; again he wondered what she had been doing, and whether any of the other Boy Scouts had claimed her attention. With a pang of jealousy, he became aware of the fact that she did not care for him as he did for her--to the exclusion of all others of the opposite s.e.x. But John Hadley forgot that Marjorie was only sixteen--three years younger than himself.

Neither of the girls had ever attended a college function of any kind before, and they were thrilled with the experience. In spite of the fact that many of the other girls wore bobbed hair, and all had short skirts, they felt exceptionally youthful. Marjorie felt shy, too, and at the end of almost every dance she brought her partner over to Mrs. Hadley's corner, as if seeking her protection. The woman was subtly flattered; if Marjorie had tried to win her affection, she could not have chosen a more direct method. But she was all unconscious of the impression she was making.

Although the affair was not to be over until twelve, the boys had not filled out the girls' programs for the last dances. So, in accordance with Mrs. Wilkinson's wishes, they started for home in the machine by half eleven. To her surprise, Marjorie found that she was sleepy; and making no attempt at conversation, she leaned back against the cushions.

In a few minutes she was fast asleep, her head resting against Mrs.

Hadley's shoulder.

Sunday pa.s.sed quickly for the girls, for they were both tired out, and their parents let them sleep late. At three o'clock they took the train for school.

"Nothing but rehearsals!" yawned Ruth. "Don't you wish the operetta were over?"

"Yes--and no," replied Marjorie, thinking of Frieda's promise. "I don't mind rehearsing much. But, then, I haven't a big part."

"No; neither you nor I can sing wonderfully, can we? But didn't it make you feel the least bit badly, Marj, after being heroine last year, to have to take a back seat this time?"

Marjorie regarded Ruth with curiosity. This, in a nutsh.e.l.l, summed up Ruth's character. She could never bear to "take a back seat."

"Not a bit! With basket-ball and everything, I was glad not to have to work so hard. And then I've got my canoe again, you know!"

"Thanks to me!" said Ruth, proudly.

"Thanks to father!" returned Marjorie, a little sharply. It was tiresome the way Ruth was always fishing for compliments.

"I say, though," observed Ruth, "I wish I could earn that medal for locating Frieda Hammer. It would be the first medal of merit in the troop!"

"Medal!" exclaimed Marjorie. "Goodness, I had forgotten all about it!"

"And had you forgotten all about her, too?"

"No, indeed," replied Marjorie, warmly. "She'll turn up some day. And if she does, Ruth, you've got to forget that she ever stole anything. For she's made it up, you know!"

Marjorie looked straight into Ruth's eyes, and seemed to pierce into the hidden motives of her life. Ruth lowered her lids under the penetrating gaze, and answered, somewhat doggedly,

"All right! Whatever you say!"

"Thanks, Ruth!"

The train arrived just on time and the girls went directly to their rooms. Marjorie proceeded to tell Lily all about the dance.

"Is that what makes you look so happy, Marj?"

"Partly; but there's something else, too."

"Don't you want to tell me about it?" This softly, without curiosity.

"I'm dying to, Lil; but I'm so afraid it won't come true, I just don't dare. It's too wonderful!"

"It's about Frieda."

"Lily Andrews!" cried Marjorie, aghast. "How did you ever guess it?"

"From your expression. I know you pretty well now, Marj!"