Although Marjorie knew that her project was a success as far as it had gone, she was nevertheless deeply worried about the future. How would she ever be able to keep such girls amused? They would certainly be bored by such activities as knot-tying and first-aid, yet they were not equipped to enter the more exciting contests or prepared to engage in camping trips. One dull meeting, she felt, would kill what ambition they had.  
Accordingly, she spent a great deal of time upon her preparations for the second meeting, and hit upon a program that she was sure would appeal to the girls. Her brother had a friend who had for many years been interested in , first as a member himself, then as a scout-master, and now as District Manager. Not only was Walter Richards an authority on the subject, but he a splendid personality, was a forceful speaker—and, what would appeal most to the girls—he was unmarried. She resolved to write to ask him to give the troop a fifteen minute talk on the meaning and the ideals of the twin organizations.
 
As she had anticipated, she found that with the exception of Queenie and one or two others, the girls had scarcely looked into their handbooks. If, however, they expected to be scolded, they received a surprise.
 
“I hoped you would,” she said, as she removed her hat, “but I didn’t count on it. So I have invited a young man, who is a Boy Scout leader, to come and tell you about it.”
 
The question followed. It was who voiced it.
 
“Is he married?”
 
“No.”
 
“Engaged?”
 
“I think not.”
 
“Keep steady company?”
 
“I think that scouting is his ‘steady company.’ If you want to make a hit with him, show yourselves in earnest about passing your tests.”
 
At this moment the door was opened, and Miss Winthrop preceded a tall, splendid looking man in a khaki uniform into the room. A sense of triumph came over Marjorie as she realized that here was the very human embodiment of the great scout ideal; the sound mind and the sound body. Although over six feet tall, he was as straight as an arrow; his clothing showed all the neatness of an army officer’s; his blue eyes looked fearlessly into the girls’, proclaiming his honesty, his good-will, his .57 Marjorie felt indeed that she had made a wise choice.
 
Nor was she the least disappointed; for the first time perhaps in their lives the girls listened to a serious talk with rapt attention. Mr. Richards seemed to know just when to joke and when to get back to his theme, when to generalize, and when to go into detail; when to dip into slang, and when to return to the purest English. He was wise enough, too, to stop while they still wanted more.
 
“I am sorry that I must go, Miss Wilkinson,” he concluded. “But first let me congratulate you all on your fine enthusiasm and interest. It has been more than a pleasure to meet you.”
 
Queenie could not restrain a deep sigh; it pained her to see him go.
 
“When will you come again?” she demanded eagerly.
 
“When Miss Wilkinson tells me that you are all ready for your tenderfoot test. Then, if it is agreeable to her, I will be glad to come and give it.”
 
“I’d be delighted!” exclaimed Marjorie, only too grateful for the assistance.
 
“Next week, then!” urged Queenie.
 
Mr. Richards shook his head smilingly.
 
“You won’t be ready by next week,” he said. “But suppose we make it a month from today. I’ll put it down on my calendar.”
 
As he departed, Marjorie saw from the interested expressions on the girls’ faces that they were58 in earnest, for the time being, at least. She had scored one point towards ultimate success.
 
Yet when they actually got down to work, she found that the time was dragging. The girls thought the questions about the flag silly, and believed they were too old to bother with tying pieces of string together. Finally Marjorie suggested that they hold their meeting in the afternoon the following week, and have a hike.
 
“Sure!” they all cried enthusiastically, and Aggie Smithers added, “Can we bring our fellers?”
 
“Not this time, Aggie,” returned Marjorie. “Maybe next, if this hike is a success.”
 
“Let’s talk over what we’ll bring,” suggested Queenie.
 
“All right,” agreed their captain, “but let’s make it something we can cook. We might as well learn outdoor cooking while we’re about it.”
 
“Cooking makes me sick!” yawned Clara. “Ma’s always after me to help her with it, and I just hate it. What’s the use, when you can get such good stuff at the delicatessen?”
 
“But that sort of thing isn’t good for you to eat often,” objected Marjorie; “and besides, when we go camping, we won’t have any stores handy, and then we’ll have to depend upon ourselves.”
 
“We should worry!” laughed Gertie Reed.
 
“Then let’s make it dogs, if we have to cook,” said Queenie.
 
“All right,” approved Marjorie. “Hot dogs——”
 
“Hot dog!” snickered Clara, laughing at what she chose to consider Marjorie’s slang. The latter, however, paid no attention to the interruption.
 
“Cocoa and rolls, too—and apples or bananas for dessert?”
 
“Apples!” repeated Queenie, in disgust. “That sounds more like a fast than a feast!”
 
“Well, then, what?”
 
“Pie—or chocolate layer-cake!” ventured Aggie.
 
“Or cream puffs——” said another.
 
“Fudge and lady-locks,” offered a third.
 
“How about everybody bringing what they want?” asked Queenie.
 
“All right,” answered Marjorie. “Bring your own dessert, and I’ll supply the substantials.”
 
The selection of a place for the hike was another subject for . Most of the girls wanted to turn the hike into a boat-ride and go up the river on a steamer, and dance during the ride. Some of them desired to to one of the nearby amusement parks. It was only after the greatest that they were finally won over to the Wissahickon.
 
“But what can we do there?” demanded Aggie, in a grieved tone.
 
“Hike!” exclaimed Marjorie. “The scenery’s beautiful.”
 
Gertie and Clara .
 
“All right, we’ll do just as you want this time,”60 concluded Queenie. And whatever Queenie was always adopted.
 
But Marjorie left the settlement house that night with anything but pleasurable for the event of the coming week. In the eyes of these experienced girls a hike into the woods was . They knew nothing of birds or flowers; beautiful scenery had no attraction for them if the opposite sex were not present, and cooking of any sort was a bore. They were missing so much of the best of life, Marjorie thought, yet she had no idea how she was to open their eyes. However, she decided not to worry; perhaps the affair would turn out far better than she dared hope.
 
The weather itself proved in her favor; the sun shone brightly, the sky was a clear, deep blue, and the colors of the autumn leaves the most brilliant imaginable. The air was , but not cold. How the members of Pansy troop had in such weather, and such excursions; Marjorie experienced a little of homesickness as she left the girls of her own class at college on their way to a picnic, and hastened off to meet her new troop.
 
She was disappointed at the outset to find only four of the girls at the appointed place. Aggie and Clara had to “dates”; Gertie had pronounced the too ; and Mame had gone to the movies. So only the four remained—the languid Annie Marshall, bright-eyed Stella Cox, attractive little Dottie Williams, and Queenie. Marjorie felt her spirits suddenly sink; numbers were almost always indicative of success on these outdoor excursions, and it would be hard to arouse the lively spirit of adventure she so desired.
 
She had brought enough food for nine, so her basket was heavy; yet no one offered to relieve her. Indeed, the girls about the weight of their own packages and hand-bags, the latter of which they had deemed indispensable.
 
“Where do we go from here, girls?” asked Queenie, as the small party alighted from the car.
 
“Through this big arch, up the drive till we come to a path,” replied Marjorie shifting her load.
 
“Look at all them cars!” exclaimed Stella . “What do you say we git a lift?”
 
“Wait till some fellows come along,” advised Annie.
 
“Nothin’ doin’!” Queenie, noting the look of in Marjorie’s . “We’re hikin’, kids—don’t you fergit it!”
 
“My feet ain’t likely to, anyway,” sighed Annie, glancing down at her high-heeled .
 
Marjorie shot a grateful look at the patrol leader, and Queenie, appreciating it, started up a song, to make the way seem shorter.
 
But in spite of both their efforts, interest flagged, the girls grumbled, jealously watching the motorists that passed, and wishing aloud that they had been as sensible as Mame, and were comfortably62 watching the pictures. In vain Marjorie tried to interest them in conversation—about themselves, their work, their families, and their friends, but the girls only and answered her questions in a perfunctory manner. By the time they arrived at the path, where the hiking was really to begin, they one and all flung themselves upon a bench and announced that they were .
 
“Let’s eat!” suggested Queenie.
 
Marjorie would have been only too glad to comply with the request, even though it was only a little after four, but they were within the park limits, and fires were forbidden.
 
“We’ll have to cross over above the hills,” she explained, “and find a spot where we are allowed to make a fire. It’s against the law here.”
 
“What do we want a fire for?” demanded Stella.
 
“To cook our supper,” responded Marjorie wearily.
 
“I’ve got half a dozen doughnuts and a chocolate éclair,” remarked Annie. “That ought to see me through.”
 
“But we must have something substantial,” protested Marjorie. “And sausages aren’t good cold.”
 
“Sure, we can eat ’em, anyhow!” put in Queenie more cheerfully.
 
“But I wanted to teach you something about making a fire in the open,” sighed Marjorie.
 
“Oh, that’ll keep. Let’s eat and get home!”
 
A sense of the of her effort seized Marjorie,63 and she resolved that she would give it all up. Lily was right; she was wasting her time, when she might be doing something worth while. Far better to turn in and help her classmates in their round of social and class duties, than to strive for something she could never . For she felt now absolutely certain that she could never reach these girls to influence them in any way.
 
“All right,” she agreed listlessly. “Let’s eat—and go.”
 
“Hike too much for you, too, Miss Wilkinson?” inquired Queenie.
 
“I guess so,” murmured Marjorie, beginning to her basket.
 
The supper was a affair, in no way resembling the happy campfire meals of her old troop. The girls ate little of Marjorie’s food and talked not at all. But they all consumed their bag of sweets.
 
“Oh, for a drink!” exclaimed Queenie, a few minutes later.
 
“Let’s go and get one,” suggested Marjorie. “There’s a spring back there on the drive.”
 
“You stay here, Miss Wilkinson, and we’ll bring you one. Tell us which way.”
 
Marjorie indicated the direction and began to pack the of the food into a basket, to leave for some wanderer less fortunately supplied. Then she gave her attention to picking up the papers which the girls had carelessly , for she was too discouraged to insist upon their doing it. Finally she sat down to wait for their return.
 
Half an hour passed and they did not come; finally an hour. She began to be very cold. Could they be lost? A feeling of uneasiness took possession of her and she resolved to go in search of them. She hurried along the road which led back to the main driveway and found her way to the spring. But they were nowhere in sight.
 
“I’ll go ask the park guard,” she decided. “They’re always so noisy, one couldn’t miss them.”
 
When he was not occupied with the traffic, she ventured her .
 
“Yes, I do recall them,” he replied, “for they stopped and joked with me. And then they went over and got a drink, and stood around, watching the cars for awhile. First thing I knew they were making friends with a couple of fellows in a big Packard and evidently picked up a ride. They haven’t passed back yet.”
 
“Oh, thank you!” murmured Marjorie, her eyes swimming with tears.
 
Tired and , she home to Mrs. Hadley.