Five spick-and-span roadsters, of the same model, of the same year, were parked in a line to the side of the main entrance to Turner College, awaiting their owners’ wishes. It was almost dark, and their lights had not been turned on, but the illumination from the college windows made them clearly visible. The days were growing so short that soon the girls would be obliged to put the cars away before supper.  
Out of the wide open five figures suddenly appeared, and with arms linked together slowly the steps. They wore light summer dresses and gay sweaters; their heads were still bobbed; only one of them displayed a “shingle.” It was the one time of the day that these girls still saved for each other, “in memory,” as Alice Endicott put it, “of the senior patrol of Pansy Troop of Girl .”
 
“Without any prejudice,” remarked Florence Evans, a junior at the college, “wouldn’t you pick out my car for the one in the best condition?”
 
“Not at all!” returned Lily Andrews, the senior who rejoiced in the “shingle bob”; “mine’s had the best care of any of them—and it looks it!”
 
“Don’t forget I spent all last Saturday with mine!” put in Florence proudly.
 
“Then you must have been running it pretty hard, if it needed so much attention!” returned Lily.
 
“Really, I think they’re all splendid!” cried Daisy Gravers, as she for her key, and inserted it in the lock. “And there’s never a day goes past, Alice, that I don’t feel grateful to your Aunt Emeline for such marvellous presents.”
 
“Well, we earned ’em!” remarked Florence, who was never inclined to be .
 
“Do you ever hear from Aunt Emeline?” inquired Daisy. “Or,” she added laughingly, “the nephews?”
 
“Yes, Aunt Emeline’s disappointed that we’re not doing something to continue our troop. She says she never saw such a set of girls.”
 
“Well, we certainly had fun!” observed Marjorie Wilkinson reminiscently. “I consider my Girl experience the best part of my life!”
 
“You mean, so far,” her roommate corrected her. “The poet says, ‘The best is yet to be , and I believe it. Well, girls, everybody ready to hit the trail?”
 
They fell into line in the road, passed through the college gate, and descended the hill to the garage. It was not until after they had left their cars that conversation was resumed.
 
“You all going to the dance in the gym tonight?” asked Daisy.
 
“I am,” replied Florence, without any ; “and so is Alice. How about you two reverend seniors?”
 
Marjorie shook her head.
 
“No, I’m too tired; I’m going to stay home. And I’m hoping that maybe Lil is going to keep me company.”
 
Lily, however, looked doubtful.
 
“I really don’t approve, Marj; I think you ought to be with the girls as much as possible now—they expect it and they want to see you. Don’t forget that you’re a candidate for senior .”
 
“Bosh!” exclaimed Marjorie, lightly. “You know I won’t play politics, Lil!”
 
“That isn’t playing politics, my dear. But naturally the girls want a leader who is . And really, you’re just the one for the office.”
 
6“It’s nice of you to say that, Lil, but I guess you’re prejudiced. And I honestly don’t care a lot about having it, so I’m not going to work for it.” Her tone grew pleading, “Lil, be nice and stay home with me!”
 
“She will, Marj, don’t worry!” remarked Alice. “She always does what you want.”
 
“Yes, and Marj does what I want, too,” added Lily, squeezing her arm affectionately. “So I’m not going to urge her if she’s tired.” Then, with a sly glance at the others, “She’ll be elected, anyhow!”
 
When they were alone, they dropped comfortably into their favorite seats, smiling across at each other in content. Both had been hiking all afternoon, through the lovely autumn woods, and both appreciated the chance to rest. There were so few such chances in a busy senior’s life!
 
“Lil,” began Marjorie, dreamily, as she let her gaze wander about the familiar sitting room which had been so dear to them both for three years, “Lil, I would like to do something this year.”
 
“Do something!” repeated the other, in , “why you have so much to do now that you don’t know which way to turn! And then if you are elected, as you probably will be——”
 
“No, no!” interrupted Marjorie. “I don’t mean that, Lil. Of course it’s all very well to be class7 president, but after all I’m not the only girl for that job. Anybody else could do that as well. What I mean is to do something that is really worth while—something that nobody else has time to do!”
 
“But why, Marjorie? You mustn’t try to do too much!”
 
Marjorie paused in search of words, to express the sense of responsibility that had taken possession of her. “It must be because I’m twenty-one years old,” she said, slowly, “for somehow I feel different—as if my time for were over—as if I really ought to do something to my existence now.”
 
“But you always have, Marj!”
 
“Yes, in a way, but more of a child’s way. Something different now—and bigger!”
 
“For instance?”
 
Marjorie’s eyes lighted up with a brilliant smile; she was back to her favorite subject.
 
“The Girl Scouts!” she announced, , for the mention of the subject reminded her of so many past pleasures. “Something for the Girl Scouts—to make other girls as happy as I’ve always been!”
 
“Marj, you’re wonderful!” cried her roommate, with genuine regard in her tone, regard which had never ceased to increase with the friendship of so many years. “But please don’t try to do anything8 till you see whether you’re elected president,” she cautioned. “That’s an honor you could remember all your life!”
 
The other girl was silent, thoughtful for a few moments as if she were weighing both possibilities.
 
“I don’t believe an honor means so much to me as a responsibility,” she answered slowly. “Honors are things it is better for one to forget. Don’t you honestly think so, Lil?”
 
Again Lily looked at her chum in ; she was invariably to flattery.
 
“But what do you mean to do, Marj?” she inquired. “Go on with our little troop in the village?”
 
Marjorie shook her head again.
 
“No, that isn’t enough. One of the juniors—Daisy, or Florence, or Alice—can take charge of that without any trouble. I want to give something more of myself to the Girl Scouts.”
 
“But how? Do you mean re-organize our old patrol, as Aunt Emeline suggested? It would be awfully hard to get the girls together, with Ethel teaching, and Doris and Mae both married——”
 
“No, no, Lil, not that! I agree with you that it would be out of the question, no matter how much fun it would be. Everybody’s too busy—we’ll have to wait till we’re all grandmothers, and then we can have regular reunions. But what I am thinking of is a troop with an new set of girls—girls that have nothing in their lives. Perhaps I might find such a group in the city.”
 
“You’d wear yourself out going back and .”
 
“Don’t forget I have my little car! Now, Lil, don’t jump on me, but I have another idea: I want you to help me!”
 
But Lily did not continue to object as Marjorie had expected. Instead, she began to show interest in the plan and they fell to discussing its possibilities until a knock at the door interrupted them. The visitor was Jeannette Killough, a rival candidate for the class presidency.
 
“Do sit down, Jennie,” invited Marjorie, cordially for she was always glad to see the other girl, of whom she was a sincere admirer. “It’s so nice to see you.”
 
“Thank you,” replied Jeannette, accepting the invitation. Then, “I am lucky to find you both at home, though you really ought not to be, Marj!”
 
Marjorie her shoulders.
 
“Why, Jeannette?”
 
“Because you ought to be over at the dance, courting popularity. The election comes off tomorrow night!”
 
Marjorie dismissed the remark with a smile.
 
“I’m trying to get all my friends to vote for you, Jennie,” she informed her.
 
“Don’t do that, Marj!” cried the other girl, in concern. “In fact—I’ve to withdraw my name from the list.”
 
“What?” Lily, in amazement. Such a stupendous honor as senior presidency was hardly to be turned down lightly.
 
“Yes, because I want Marj to get it, and I don’t want our vote to be divided. We have about the same friends, while Delia has an entirely different following. And you know that I don’t think Delia would make a good president.”
 
Marjorie considered the matter thoughtfully from this angle; it was certainly a fact that Delia Humphreys, , over-bearing, almost bold in her manner, would not lead the class to its highest advantage. Yet she had certain supporters—perhaps enough to elect her if the vote were divided.
 
“I agree with you, Jeannette,” she decided, finally; “but your solution doesn’t meet with my approval. Let me withdraw, for I honestly want to. I mean to devote myself to the Girl Scouts this year.”
 
“What Girl Scouts?”
 
“I don’t know,” replied Marjorie, blushingly.
 
“That’s only an excuse!” cried Jeannette, jumping up . “I thought of it first—and I’m going to be the one to do it!”
 
“No, no! I am!”
 
“If you do, I will too!” announced Jeanette, .
 
11“And then if you do, I will too!” repeated Marjorie, with a challenge.
 
“Stop fighting, children!” put in Lily, laughingly. “Don’t both withdraw—you’d only ruin your own object.”
 
“Then what shall we do?” asked Marjorie, .
 
“It was my idea——,” began Jeannette.
 
“Wait!” interposed Lily. “Don’t begin all over again. I’ll settle it—by simply tossing a penny!”
 
Both girls agreed to Lily’s terms, and promised to by the result.
 
“If it’s heads,” she said, “Marj withdraws; tails—Jeannette.”
 
“Play fair!” cautioned the latter suspiciously.
 
“As if I didn’t always!” returned Lily. “A Girl Scout’s honor——”
 
She selected a penny from her purse, and heightened the by looking it over carefully, noting its date. Then she tossed it high up in the air; so high that it hit the ceiling and bounded off to the side. An instant later it fell like a shot to the window-sill.
 
“Oh, catch it, quick!” cried Marjorie, rushing across the room towards the open window. “Suppose it goes out——”
 
But she was too late. Already the penny had rolled over the edge, down into the soft grass beneath.
 
The girls regarded each other in .
 
“Shall we toss another?” asked Jeannette.
 
“Or go hunt for that one?” suggested Marjorie.
 
“In the dark?” demanded Lily, scornfully. “We’d hardly find it—and tomorrow would be too late for either of you to resign. And as for tossing another, that wouldn’t be playing fair, and I won’t do it! This is as good as any other sign that neither one of you is to withdraw!”
 
“Besides,” remarked Marjorie, thoughtfully, “they’d probably only put another candidate in our place. Doesn’t the constitution say there must be three?”
 
“I never thought of that,” admitted Jeannette.
 
“Well, I guess Lil’s right; we better be good sports and both run, Jennie.”
 
“All right, I will. But I hope you’re elected. And if I thought that I had spoiled your chances——”
 
“You won’t spoil each other’s chances!” declared Lily. “One of you is bound to be elected. Delia isn’t popular, and she hasn’t any executive ability. Everybody knows it, even her own little crowd. And either one of you will be good. And, as you said before, you didn’t want to use any politics——”
 
“Of course you’re right, Lil—you always are,” Marjorie conceded loyally. “And I’m game, unless a real opportunity for scout work comes up and makes the office out of the question for me. I’m a Girl Scout first, and a college senior second.”
 
“But is that loyal?” asked Jeannette.
 
“Yes!” cried Lily. “Girl Scouts came first to Marjorie; it’s only right that they should remain first.”
 
“And I had to fight to get in—and keep on,” murmured the girl reminiscently.
 
Jeannette rose to go; there was nothing left to be said. She opened the door and saw the girls returning to their rooms from the gym dance. In the thickest of the crowd, , talkative, elated, walked the rival candidate, Delia Humpheys!