THE PROMISE.
Early after breakfast on Sunday morning Marjorie sat down to write her
letter to Miss Winthrop. She intended to tell her all about the hike,
and the girls’ desertion, and to conclude by saying that she would not
be present at the next meeting, but would wait until she heard from the
girls.
Yet somehow, as she tried to write, she found her desire diminishing.
It seemed like a mean trick to run to Miss Winthrop with tales;
after all, would it not be better to write to Queenie herself? Yet
she was thoroughly disgusted with the latter; she held a position of
responsibility in the troop, and she had failed at the crucial moment.
After fifteen minutes of fruitless effort, she put down her pen in
disgust.
“I’m simply at sea, Lil!” she announced. “I don’t know what I want to
do, or how I ought to go about it.”
Her roommate laid her book aside to give the matter her consideration.
“Do you know what I think would be best—if Daisy will do it, I mean?
Not write either to Miss Winthrop or Queenie, but just send Daisy next
week, with the instructions that she teach scouting if the girls want
it, but that she disband the troop if they are not going into it for
all they’re worth. That ought to wake ’em up, if anything will!”
“Pretty hard on Daisy!” commented Marjorie.
“But after all, Daisy’s at the bottom of the whole thing—it was she
who sent you in the first place.”
“Very true—I guess you’re right, Lil. I’ll go ask Daisy to go walking
with me this afternoon, and tell her the story then, and put it up to
her.”
“That would be a good idea, if you didn’t have an engagement with John
Hadley. You remember he and Dick are coming out on that two o’clock
train.”
A look of annoyance passed over Marjorie’s face; she had no desire to
see John at the present time.
“Maybe I’ll call him up——” she murmured, half to herself.
“Maybe you won’t! No, Marj, that isn’t fair. Poor John always has to
play second fiddle to the Girl Scouts. And he isn’t going to do it
today.”
Marjorie smiled at Lily’s sisterly interest in the young man.
“Then what shall I do?”
“Go for a walk now and invite Daisy to the tea room for lunch. That
would give you a dandy chance to talk.”
“I’ll do it!” agreed Marjorie, rising to carry out her plan. But at
the door she encountered one of the maids. There was a lady in the
reception room to see her, the woman told her.
“She didn’t give her name,” the latter added.
“How tiresome!” exclaimed Marjorie, in annoyance. “I hope it isn’t
somebody who has come to spend the day. If this scout business isn’t
settled one way or the other before evening, I know I won’t be able to
close my eyes tonight.”
“Just tell her that you have an important engagement for luncheon,”
suggested her roommate.
“But suppose that it is an aunt, or a fond cousin——”
“Do it just the same!”
“I’ll try,” Marjorie promised. “Though I’d hate to be rude.”
“You won’t be,” returned Lily, smiling.
It was somewhat reluctantly therefore that the girl turned about and
descended the stairway, trying to imagine who could be calling at such
an early hour. Surely, she surmised, it must be a relative; no one else
would dare to be so informal.
She was all the more startled, then, upon entering the big pleasant
room, to see Queenie Brazier rush towards her. In fact, Marjorie was so
taken aback that she actually forgot to speak.
“Miss Wilkinson, dear Miss Wilkinson!” cried the girl, anxiously. “Are
you too mad to speak to me?”
“No, of course not, Queenie,” replied Marjorie, amused by the frankness
of her greeting. “But—but—I was so surprised. I never thought of
you!”
“Finished with the bunch of us, huh? Well, I don’t blame you one bit.
After the way we stood you up——”
“Oh, no,” Marjorie hastened to reassure her. “Quite the other way
about. I was sure that you had finished with me.”
“I know we treated you dirt,” she admitted. “And I’m here to tell
you——”
“Won’t you sit down, Queenie,” Marjorie interrupted, politely. “Let’s
talk it all over.”
The girls walked over toward the window, and sat down on a wide divan
that was turned towards it. This afforded them a view of the lovely
campus, and at the same time assured them of a sort of privacy that
would admit of confidences. Queenie immediately assumed the lead.
“It was an awful thing to do,” she began, “and I knew it—in fact, it’s
all my fault because the rest of the bunch play follow the leader to
whatever I tell ’em. You know yourself that the hike wasn’t what we all
hoped—it was deader than a cemetery in winter—and we were all pretty
down and out. I’d have given my next three dates to pull off some sort
of a ringer.
“So after we got to the drive we stood there, drinkin’ our water and
kiddin’ the cop along, when the swellest car drew up and stopped to
fill up. None of our bunch ever miss nuthin’; in a minute we all sized
up the good lookers on the front seat.
“‘How about tappin’ ’em for a ride?’ Stella says to me, sidewise.
“‘Nuthin’ doin’!’ I orders, military like. ‘Miss Wilkinson never wants
us to pick up fellers!’
“But I wasn’t figurin’ on them askin’ us first. Somehow that seemed
different. And first thing you know, they was both chewin’ the rag with
Stella, and she was kiddin’ ’em back. And maybe she wasn’t rollin’ her
flash-lights around!”
Marjorie smiled at this graphic portrayal of little Stella Cox. If ever
there was a born flirt, she certainly was one.
“‘Which way you babies headed?’ asks the one at the wheel.
“‘Your way!’ smirks Stella.
“I was still tryin’ to get up courage to give ’em the razz, when out
jumps the other feller and holds open the door in the back for the
girls, and in piles Stella and Annie. Dottie puts one foot on the step
and gives me the once-over, but by that time I had argued to myself
that my feet was too tired for more ploddin’, and I creeps into the
front seat. In a minute we was off.”
“What kind of men were they, Queenie?” inquired Marjorie, eyeing the
girl narrowly, and wondering whether, in spite of her youth, she were a
judge of character.
“College fellers,” returned the other. “Said they were Penn
boys—football players, of course. We couldn’t be dead certain of
that—every feller wants to be a hero, and he makes it up if he ain’t.”
“Did you get their names?”
“Sure—and we give ’em ours. Sam MacDonald and Charlie Ingersoll.
Pretty nifty handles, huh?”
“Oh, you can’t tell by names,” Marjorie replied, mentally making
note of them, and resolving to have John look them up in the college
catalogue.
“And what did you do?” she pursued.
“Why, just went for a little spin and then they brought us all back to
our house. There wasn’t nuthin’ rough about the party—not even any
pettin’, for there wasn’t enough fellers to go round, and one of them
was drivin’. They didn’t even brag about their hip-pockets, so I guess
they’re about as straight as they come. They wouldn’t come inside, and
I was just as glad, because my friends usually get in like burglars
when Ma’s home, and she don’t know just who their parents are, and what
church they go to. But they treated us to a sundae apiece, and let it
go at that. Really, there was nuthin’ to it!”
“Do you expect to see them again?” asked Marjorie directly.
“That’s up to you, Miss Wilkinson. If you’ll keep on with our troop,
we’ll do just what you tell us. If you say to can ’em, we’ll put the
lid on tight and stand ’em up for a date we made for tonight.”
Marjorie was silent, totally at a loss as to her correct course of
action. If she advised the girls not to see the young men, they might
do it in secret; on the other hand if she did not protest, would not
that be approving their conduct? If only she were experienced; if only
she had some one to advise her!
“Do you really want to go on with the troop?” she asked, waiving the
question for the moment. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, why not?”
“But the hike bored you, you think that the tests are silly——”
“But _you_ don’t bore us, Miss Wilkinson! We want you, and so long as
you’re for the scouts, we’re for scouts. Get me?”
Marjorie could not but be pleased at such frank, such sincere
admiration. She never doubted the girl for a moment.
“I’d have to have a solemn pledge from you all,” she finally replied
firmly.
“A pledge for what? That we wouldn’t see those fellows again?”
“Oh, no, that doesn’t matter so much, if they are all right. But I
mean a promise that you won’t do that sort of thing again; that if you
decide for scouting, you will go in for it for all it is worth. I will
not have a half-hearted troop.”
“I don’t blame you a bit, Miss Wilkinson.”
“Do you want me under those conditions?”
“Absolutely!” cried Queenie, suddenly flinging her arms around
Marjorie’s neck. “You’ve got the goods—we’ll all do what you tell us!”
“All right!” agreed Marjorie, returning the embrace. “Then that’s
settled. But I have some news for you, Queenie.”
“Goin’ a be married?” demanded the other, dropping her arms into her
lap.
“No,” laughed Marjorie. “Nothing so serious. Only that I’ve promised to
go to a class dance next Saturday evening, and so I can’t come to the
scout meeting.”
“That’s all right—we’ll work just the same.”
“You really mean it?”
“Certainly. Just watch us!”
“Would you like me to send somebody in my place—one of the girls of my
own old troop?”
Queenie considered the suggestion thoughtfully.
“No, I think we better not risk it. The girls like you, but it might be
pretty hard to break anybody else in. I’ll learn ’em myself about that
flag stuff, and threaten ’em that if they don’t get it, you won’t come
back.”
“You’re sure that they’d care?”
“Positive.”
“All right, then, that’s settled. Now—will you stay to dinner with me,
Queenie?”
“To dinner—me—here at college?” she repeated, incredulously. “I’d
disgrace you, Miss Wilkinson. They’d all laugh at me!”
“No, they wouldn’t, Queenie. Well-bred people don’t laugh at
others—besides there would be no occasion to. You know how to be a
lady.”
“Do you honest to goodness mean that?” she cried, rapturously.
“I do,” affirmed Marjorie.
“I’m glad you think so—I’m awful glad. But I won’t risk it, Miss
Wilkinson. I’d rather go now. Maybe, if I get more like you——”
Marjorie laughed good-naturedly; she felt suddenly at peace with all
the world. She had not dreamed of such an easy victory.
“All right, Queenie; as you wish. But I want to ask you something
before you go. Would you like to have my room-mate, Miss Andrews, act
as lieutenant of your troop?”
“You bet!” cried the girl. “If she’s a friend of yours, she’s the cat’s
pajamas!”
Then, with another resounding kiss upon Marjorie’s cheek, she skipped
out of the room, leaving the young captain dazed by the whole
interview.