“Come in, Marjorie!” cried Mrs. Hadley, with a cheery smile. “Anna is just putting dinner on the table—and I’m so glad to have company. John’s away.”  
She looked at the girl keenly, hoping that she would detect a shadow of disappointment on her face, at the knowledge of her son’s absence. But it seemed as if Marjorie hardly took in what she was saying.
 
“I’ve had my supper,” she replied listlessly. “But I’m so thankful to be here. I’m—all in.”
 
“What is it, dear?” inquired the older woman, . “You’re tired and cold—not sick?”
 
“Only sick at heart.”
 
Marjorie dropped into a chair before the open fire, and, withdrawing her gloves, spread her hands gratefully toward the warmth. “My hike with the new troop was a failure.”
 
“Tell me about it!” urged Mrs. Hadley sympathetically.
 
In a few words the disheartened captain told her story, without interruption. Her hostess made no comment until they had answered the summons to dinner.
 
“Do have some hot coffee, dear,” she said. “You’ll feel better.”
 
“Thank, you, yes.”
 
She stirred it , silently. Again Mrs. Hadley did not interrupt.
 
“Now tell me what you would advise me to do,” Marjorie finally asked.
 
“Give them up, of course!” replied the other, emphatically. “They are not worth your effort, your unhappiness. The trouble lies too deep for you to reach, Marjorie. Their families, the free lawless spirit of the age in which we live, are to blame. They are young in years, but they are old in experience—much older than you. If you could take them away from their homes, their pleasures, their environments, your personality might conquer theirs. But at the most they see you only three or four hours a week; and what mark can you hope to leave in so short a time? There are too many things against you.”
 
“I guess you are right, Mrs. Hadley,” admitted the girl, wearily. “But it seems dreadful to give them up—to accept defeat so soon. I like to win if the cause is worth it, no matter what the are against me.”
 
“I know you do—and you always have. Your courage is marvellous, Marjorie. But this is something67 different from anything you have ever attempted; it is almost beyond human power.”
 
“And yet,” interposed the girl, “I am sure that Mr. Richards thinks it could be done.”
 
“Mr. Richards?”
 
“Yes—the Boy master who came to talk to the girls last week.”
 
Mrs. Hadley shut her lips tightly; she remembered that John had mentioned the young man, and had hinted that he had captivated Marjorie.
 
“He isn’t thinking of you, dear. You must not sacrifice yourself.”
 
“But that’s the whole spirit of !” flashed Marjorie. “If I thought that were all that is hindering me, I wouldn’t give it up. Mrs. Hadley, will you let me talk to him on the telephone, and—and—tell him my troubles?”
 
“Certainly,” her hostess graciously. “But wouldn’t John do? He’ll be home about nine o’clock.”
 
“I’d like to have the opinion of both,” answered Marjorie, smiling for the first time. Something of her usual spirit was returning.
 
They talked of other things, of college, of Mrs. Hadley’s interests, of John’s work, until Margaret felt that she might try her luck at the telephone.
 
“This is Marjorie Wilkinson,” she said, in answer to Mr. Richards’ cheery “Hello!” “And I want to tell you my troubles.”
 
“Of course,” returned the other. “We all have ’em, you know; even the leaders of the so-called model troops. And you couldn’t hope to escape.”
 
“You know how pleased I was with your talk the other night, as I told you over the phone, but how discouraged I was with the rest of the meeting, when I tried to teach some of the practical things.”
 
“Yes, and I reminded you that that was to be expected.”
 
“I realized that,” admitted Marjorie. “But today I had a real disappointment. My girls actually got so bored with me on our hike that they ran away!”
 
Mr. Richards burst out laughing.
 
“Then girls are as hard to manage as boys?” he demanded. “I never realized it before, but I believe it now!”
 
“Did boys ever do that to you?”
 
“Yes, and sometimes when six or eight promised to show up for some shindig, nobody came at all! It’s all in the day’s work.”
 
“But what would you do? Give them up?”
 
“No, unless they wanted you to. Leave it up to them.”
 
“I was thinking maybe I’d just write my resignation to the settlement.”
 
Mr. Richards was silent for a moment; indeed Marjorie began to wonder whether he were still on the wire.
 
“Of course you must do just as you think best,” he concluded. “And I wouldn’t let it worry me too much. After all, there are plenty of troops.”
 
“Thank you,” she replied slowly, “I’ll think it over.”
 
“And do let me hear from you soon,” he added.
 
Marjorie, however, was not satisfied; the conversation had not convinced her one way or the other. In fact, Mr. Richards’ arguments on the one side had not been so as Mrs. Hadley’s, on the other.
 
Turning around, she saw John enter the living room. Mechanically she got up to greet him.
 
“Marjorie!” he exclaimed, warmly, his eyes up with happiness. “This is a surprise!”
 
“A surprise,” repeated the girl, “but as your mother will tell you, not so for you people. I’m afraid that I’m not very good company.”
 
“You’re always good company,” he protested. “But——” his face grew sympathetic—“what is wrong?”
 
“I have failed—again!” she murmured.
 
“Not again! It must be for the first time!” John refused to take part in her depression.
 
“Marjorie was chaperoning her troop on a hike,” his mother explained, “and the girls ran away. Naturally she is discouraged.”
 
“Ran away!” repeated John, in . “Tell me about it—all of it!”
 
Marjorie settled herself to tell the story once more in detail, and while she was talking, Mrs. Hadley70 slipped out. She knew that she had failed to comfort her, and she wanted to give her son his opportunity.
 
“And so I am just about ready to give up!” she concluded . “I don’t think I can ever win those girls.”
 
“You’re right, Marjorie!” exclaimed John . “It’s so much better to your energy and time on people who will appreciate it. It’s ‘pearls before swine!’ Oh, my dear, why throw all that love and devotion on girls like that, when some of the rest of us are starving for it? Forget them—and—and—think about me for a little while. I want you so much! I—I——”
 
He stopped because he saw that his appeal had met with no answer. Marjorie only looked disturbed.
 
“Yes, John, I do want to think about other people—you and your mother, and everybody else that is good to me. But I can’t just now.”
 
“When will you?” he asked desperately.
 
“When college is over and I have this Girl Scout matter and my future definitely settled.”
 
“But I want to settle your future!” he cried, leaning forward and laying his hand over hers. “I want you to promise to marry me—and then you can take charge of all the scout troops you want to!”
 
Marjorie did not take her hand away, but looked at him tenderly. She admired him more than any man she knew, perhaps she loved him—she was not71 sure—but she was not ready to surrender her future into his keeping. She had other plans for herself.
 
“I can’t promise, John, dear, because my mind is just filled with other things—work, I mean, a career, if you want to call it that. You wouldn’t want me half-heartedly. And I’d never be satisfied if I didn’t give my ideas a try.”
 
John’s hand dropped listlessly over the arm of the chair, and he gazed into the fire in silence. There was nothing more to be said; he knew Marjorie too well to attempt to her from her purposes.
 
“Tell me what you have been doing, John,” she said, with forced cheerfulness.
 
“Oh, the same old thing. Had a raise in salary—but—oh, what’s the use!”
 
Marjorie laughed good-naturedly, and both felt that the tension had suddenly been relieved.
 
“Do you suppose your mother would chaperone me back to college?” she asked. “I really want to see Lil tonight.”
 
“Certainly!” he answered. “I’ll call her and bring the car around to the door.”
 
It was not until they reached the college that the cause of Marjorie’s visit was referred to again. Then Mrs. Hadley tried to make her promise to give up the troop.
 
“I can’t promise till I talk it over with Lily,” she said finally. “But I think I shall, now.”
 
“That’s right, dear!” returned the older woman72 waving good-bye to her as she entered the .
 
She rushed up to her room, unable to control her emotion any longer. At least it would be a relief to cry.
 
But to her dismay she found that Lily had company. Jeannette Killough was there.
 
“Marj!” cried both girls .
 
“We were hoping that you’d be back to hear about our thrilling party,” Lily explained. “We’re going to have a class dance next Saturday night.”
 
“And you simply have to come!” ordered Jeannette. “We won’t take ‘No’ for an answer.”
 
Marjorie dropped wearily into a chair, keeping back her tears with difficulty.
 
“That old scout troop can go for once——” pursued Lily. “Why, what’s the matter, Marj?”
 
“Nothing much—except that my hike didn’t come off as I had hoped.”
 
“Well, don’t think about it!” advised Jeannette. “We’ll give you something more pleasant to consider. Bee Tullige’s father has arranged to get us the Country Club—think of that, Marj! Such an expensive place, too! And everybody’s going to get a new dress and invite her very best beau!”
 
“You’ll go, won’t you, Marj?” persisted Lily.
 
“Oh, I guess,” replied Marjorie, half-heartedly. Nothing seemed worth while now.
 
“Write to Miss Winthrop now and tell her you won’t be at the settlement on Saturday,” suggested Jeannette.
 
“All right—only I’m too tired tonight. I’ll promise to do it tomorrow.”
 
“Daisy will probably take the troop for you,” added the other. “So, since you’ve promised, I think I better go, because you ought to go to bed. Good-night!”
 
But as soon as she was gone, Lily forgot the dance in her anxiety to hear all about the hike. Marjorie was very unhappy; it was her chum’s privilege to share her burden.
 
“Tell me, Marj,” she begged sympathetically.
 
To her surprise, Marjorie burst into tears.
 
“Don’t say, ‘I told you so,’ Lil! Please don’t! I couldn’t bear it now.”
 
Lily came over and sat upon the arm of her chair.
 
“Of course I won’t honey. You know I believe in you! Tell me about it!”
 
With her head in her roommate’s lap, Marjorie out her story of the dismal afternoon which had ended in her own . Lily listened carefully, making a great effort to bring an unbiased mind to the problem.
 
“I don’t think it’s as serious as you think, Marj,” she finally answered. “The girls weren’t really rude, as they were at the dance, only thoughtless. And you succeeded before, so I think you will again—for this, after all, is only a temporary slip on their part.”
 
But Marjorie was not convinced.
 
“I’m afraid the odds are too much against me,” she objected.
 
“But think of the other hopeless propositions you have attacked and conquered,” Lily reminded her. “Ruth Henry’s deceit, those ghosts at the tea house, the motor bandits——”
 
“Yes, yes, I know; but they were all different. I didn’t have to win them over to myself.”
 
“Still—this is worth trying!”
 
Marjorie regarded Lily in amazement, wondering what had caused the change in her point of view. Had she been more , she would have known that Lily’s faith in her was so great that she believed she could all obstacles.
 
“You really wouldn’t resign, then?” she ventured.
 
“No, I’d hate to see you give up now. And if you think it’s because you need some help, I’ll go in it with you. After all, Marj, it isn’t so for girls of that type to be bored with a hike. Probably all their picnics have been at pleasure parks where there are plenty of amusements. You’ve got to have something inside of you to appreciate a hike, you know you have. And there simply isn’t anything there.”
 
A bright smile spread over Marjorie’s ; somehow she felt that if her roommate were on her side, she could tackle the job with new energy.
 
“Lil, if you’ll help me, I’ll try anything!” she cried.
 
“I will—I will—I’ll go with you Saturday week, if you want me. At least,” she added, “if you go to the class dance this Saturday!”
 
“You know,” answered Marjorie solemnly, “I promised that I would.”