With characteristic modesty, Marjorie put aside the congratulations of her friends, and the feeling of inward triumph that her victory had brought her, to fasten her thoughts upon the contest of the following day. For, after all, as she said again and again, the tennis championship belonged rather to Griffith Hunter than to herself.
“I suppose if he had played with Alice, or Frieda, or me,” teased Lily, as the girls were getting ready for bed, “that he would have won just the same?”
“No doubt. Oh, Lil, suppose it should rain to-morrow!”
“Oh, it wouldn’t dare do it again! My, but wasn’t it lucky that it did on Wednesday!”
“It certainly was.”
“Marj,” said Lily, “did Jack tell your parents to put a detective to work searching for that old man?”
“No,” replied Marjorie, quietly. “I told him not to tell them anything about it, for—I caught the man myself!”
“You!” cried Lily. “But how—?”
231 “Sh! I don’t want anybody to hear. But since you’re going to spend the night with me, I’ll tell you the whole story now, just as I have figured it out. But don’t tell a soul—I never even said anything about it to Frieda. I’m going to tell Jack when we get home and he promised to say nothing about it till then.”
“Why, is it a secret?”
“Yes,” answered Marjorie. “Listen!”
Curled up on the same bed, Marjorie proceeded to tell what she had correctly guessed to be the truth—that Harold Mason, in disguise, was really the old man. She described his appearance, and showed the grey hair. Then, too, she reminded Lily of his embarrassment at seeing it, and his urgent desire to make his escape.
“And that accident was all cooked up, too,” she concluded. “Of course he couldn’t make Frieda want to drive the car, and run into a tree, but he was going to get around it somehow—to make us late for the meet.”
Lily was so angry now that she could scarcely sit still.
“And do you suppose that Ruth knew all about it?”
“Positively!”
“I’m going to go accuse her, this very minute!” flashed Lily, jumping off the bed.
232 But Marjorie restrained her.
“Don’t Lil; it won’t do any good. She’ll deny that she had any part in it. But I’ve let her know that I have solved the problem, and she’s pretty uncomfortable when I’m around. The best thing we can do about it is to ignore it—and her, as far as possible, without seeming rude.”
“Well, she’s no longer a friend of mine!” exclaimed Lily.
“No, nor anybody else’s in the troop,” added Marjorie. “For I think most of the girls have found her out!”
Saturday proved to be cooler, and delightful; the girls were up early to enjoy the fine air of the morning.
“But I don’t move from this porch till time to dress for the meet,” announced Marjorie, with a significant glance at Ruth. “I’m not taking any chances.”
At eleven o’clock the Girl Scouts, all in bathing suits covered by raincoats, drove in the machines to the shore of the lake. Already crowds of people were sitting on the benches, and standing on the shore, waiting for the meet to start.
Through a megaphone Mr. Remington thanked the audience for their splendid support, and announced the relay and obstacle races which were to constitute the first part of the program. These, he233 said, were not included in the reckoning of points for the silver cup, and ribbons would be awarded to the successful teams. As lots were drawn to determine the participants of each side, the rivalry was not sharp; in fact Ruth, Frieda, and Marjorie, the three best canoeists, were all on the same side, so that they easily came in ahead. The real excitement lay in the individual contests.
The first of these was the rescue of the capsized canoe. Only five of the girls entered the event; Ethel Todd, Marjorie Wilkinson, Ruth Henry, Frieda Hammer, and Florence Evans. They all succeeded in their attempts; it would have been hard for the casual observer to decide whether to award the honors to Marjorie, Ruth, or Frieda. The judges—three men of Silvertown—put down mysterious marks in their books.
A short intermission of rest was granted the contestants before the final event&mdash............