Marjorie could hardly wait until she reached home, so excited was she about writing to the unknown Girl Scout. It would be a difficult matter, too, for she wanted to write a general letter, and yet one which, if Jennie Perkins should by any chance turn out to be Frieda Hammer, would be appropriate.

The family were all so glad to see her and so anxious to hear about the trip, that she at once gave up the idea of writing that night. Of course, her mother would expect her to go to church the following day; but after Sunday School she would undoubtedly be free.

But again her hopes were frustrated. Ruth sought her immediately after class and walked home with her.

“Let’s go for a walk, Marj,” she said. “Harold’s coming over for me at your house, and I thought maybe Jack would go, too.”

Marjorie frowned slightly; she did not particularly enjoy Harold Mason’s society, and she did so long to write that letter. But she did not care to disclose any of her plans to Ruth; she had no desire to encounter her ridicule.

“All right; if we don’t stay out late. I asked mother to have an early supper, for I want to write letters to-night!”

“John Hadley?” teased Ruth. “By the way, Harold knows him. He goes to Princeton, too, now.”

“He does! You never told me

“I never thought you were particularly interested in Harold Mason, Marj!”

“Only as your friend, Ruth,” laughed Marjorie.

The walk, just as Marjorie anticipated, was not particularly interesting to her. Ruth monopolized the conversation, succeeding in keeping both boys entertained by giving it a decidedly personal flavor. As Marjorie was almost entirely left out, she became bored, and grew impatient to get back. At last, when they were home, she told her mother she was going to lock herself in her room that evening to avoid disturbance.

It was only after a great many attempts that she produced a letter which met with her own satisfaction. She wanted it to be long enough, yet not too long; appropriate for any Girl Scout, and also, if Jennie Perkins should turn out to be Frieda, applicable and friendly towards the runaway.

“I’m just going to send this,” she thought; “there’s no use writing it over.”

She held it up, however, and read it through for the third time.

“DEAR JENNIE,

“I hope you will excuse my using your first name right at the
beginning, but since we are both Girl Scouts really sisters, you
know I think it would be nice to get well acquainted right away!

“What kind of a troop do you belong to? What is your flower name? And how many girls are there in it? It just seems as if I want to ask a million questions at once, but I will try to wait patiently till you answer.

“Our Captain, Miss Phillips, she is simply wonderful took eight of us first-class Scouts to Washington for three days. We had a perfect time, lived in a big hotel, and saw all the sights and Saturday morning we went to the Scout office and it was there that I got your name so we could correspond.

“And that reminds me, did you ever live in New York? I knew a
girl or rather I knew of her and her name was the same as yours,
who lived there once.

“We went camping last year and had the loveliest time! If I ever meet you, I will tell you all about it but it would take too long in a letter. Next year our Captain says maybe we will take a canoe trip! Wouldn’t that be fun?

“I am crazy to hear about where you go to school and what class
you’re in! I’m a sophomore and I go to Miss Allen’s boarding
school.

“We have another week of vacation here at home so I wish you would
write to this address before I go back to school. Then I’ll try to
answer promptly, too.

“Your Sister Scout,
MARJORIE WILKINSON.”

After the letter was posted, Marjorie waited breathlessly for an answer. She watched for the postman faithfully, refusing to go away from the house when he was due. But three days passed by without her hearing a word.

On the fourth day, she became so restless and nervous that her mother noticed that something was wrong, and asked what the trouble was.

“Nothing, only I’m corresponding with a Girl Scout in Trenton, and I hoped I’d get a letter before I go back. And to-morrow’s Friday there are only two days left.”

Mrs. Wilkinson gazed searchingly at her daughter. Marjorie had always been truthful, but this explanation did not sound plausible. Girls did not usually get so worked up over letters from other girls whom they had never seen. That part of the explanation was true, she knew; for Marjorie could not conceal her eagerness for the postman, and her depression when she received nothing. But Mrs. Wilkinson feared that her interest had something to do with John Hadley, and she sighed. Marjorie was too young to care seriously for anyone yet.

But Friday morning’s mail brought the coveted letter. Marjorie seized it eagerly and ran off with it to her own room. Assuredly, it would tell her something about Frieda!

The handwriting was a trifle cruder than that of most girls of her own age, but she hardly noticed that. Feverishly, she tore open the envelope, and read,

“DEAR MARJORIE,

“I was very glad to receive your letter so soon, hardly hoping anyone would want to correspond right now. I guess when you hear that I am a mill girl you will not want to correspond. I have worked in Trenton going on four months now and I like it very much. I go to night school and there I met my girl friend and we started the Scouts here. I am only a tenderfoot now, hoping to be a second-class Scout before summer. Our troop never went camping yet. We are too poor.

“Hoping that you will still want to write to me even though I do
work, I am yours truly,

“JENNIE PERKINS.”

“But she doesn’t say whether she ever lived in New York, or where she comes from!” cried Marjorie, in despair. “I’m just as much in the dark as ever!

“I’ll just have to get it out of her, bit by bit. And maybe, even if she isn’t Frieda Hammer, Pansy troop could help her a whole lot.”

So Marjorie decided to write to her again immediately, telling her more about the troop, their hikes, and their good times. She posted the letter Saturday morning. She knew, of course, that she and Ruth were taking the Sunday train to Miss Allen’s.

As they entered the main hall, Ruth remarked that they might as well stop in the post-office.

“We probably won’t get anything,” she said; “but somebody might have written here.”

Marjorie’s heart bounded with sudden joy when she beheld a letter in her own mail-box. It was registered, too; evidently the post-mistress had signed for it. Seizing it hastily, she looked expectantly at the postmark. Her hopes fell; it was stamped “New York.” She was disappointed at this fact, but nevertheless she opened the letter eagerly; for school girls do not receive registered letters every day.

The first thing that caught her eye was a well-known greenback.

“Money!” she cried. “Look, Ruth twenty thirty thirty-five dollars!”

“Who from?” asked Ruth, with surprise.

Marjorie turned the paper over in which the bills were enclosed, and discovered some writing, which she proceeded to read aloud, while Ruth listened with increasing amazement:

“From Frieda Hammer for canoe and carfare belonging to M. Wilkinson
and Pansy troop Girl Scouts.”

“And postmarked New York!” repeated Marjorie, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry at its receipt. For she rejoiced that Frieda had paid back the Scouts’ money, but all her hopes of her unknown correspondent being Frieda were dashed to the ground. For, undoubtedly, she concluded, the girl was still in New York!