THE TRIP TO TRENTON
When Marjorie thought of what the passing of the Pioneer test would mean
to her, she felt that nothing could bring her more happiness than to
hear her own and Lily's name read from the list by their Captain at
Scout meeting that night. But when she perceived an attractive little
envelope in her mail that evening, and when she saw upon examination
that the postmark was Princeton, she experienced an even greater thrill
of anticipation.
The envelope proved to contain an invitation from John Hadley for his
club dance at Princeton. Marjorie uttered a little squeal of joy, and
wished that Lily were there to hear of her good fortune.
She turned around quickly, for someone was entering the office. It was
Ruth Henry!
"You look as if you'd struck a gold mine, Marj!" said the other girl.
"Whatever has happened?"
"Just a dance invitation. But a very nice one!"
"I seem to have a letter, too!" exclaimed Ruth, always anxious for mail.
"I wonder who from!"
"Why, it's the same shape as mine!" cried Marjorie, in astonishment.
"Could it possibly be from Princeton?"
"Very likely!" said Ruth, proceeding to open it.
"Do you suppose Harold Mason belongs to the same club as John Hadley?"
asked Marjorie.
Laughingly, they put the invitations together. They were identical--the
only dissimilarity being the boys' visiting cards.
"What fun!" said Ruth. "It will be so much nicer to go together."
"But how can we go?" demanded Marjorie, her face suddenly sobering.
"Miss Allen would never let us."
"We won't ask Miss Allen!" declared Ruth, boldly. "We'll just go home
over the week end--it's the second Saturday in May, you know--and ask
either of our mothers to chaperone us!"
The girls discussed the plan as they went in to supper. So excited were
they that they almost forgot that the list of those who had passed the
Pioneer badge would be read at Scout meeting.
But the other girls had not forgotten, and when Miss Phillips realized
their nervousness she decided not to delay the proceeding any longer
than necessary. Accordingly, as soon as the opening ceremony and
preliminary business was over, she made the announcement.
"I am afraid there will be some disappointments," she said, "but it
could not be helped. You have all been marked fairly, and I am sure you
would not want to pass too easily.
"And for the benefit of the girls who can't go on the canoe trip, I want
to say that the next summer I intend to take the troop to a big
organized camp where there are other Scout troops. And I shall include
everyone who wants to go, provided, of course, that she is at least a
second-class Scout.
"I congratulate the following girls, and request that they come forward
to receive the Pioneer badge:
"Edith Evans, Helen Stewart, Frances Wright, Ethel Todd, Marian Guard,
Lily Andrews, Ruth Henry, Marjorie Wilkinson, Doris Sands, Florence
Evans, Alice Endicott, Mildred Cavin, Evelyn Hopkins."
Amid the shouts of their companions, the girls stepped up to receive
their badges. None of the girls whose names had not been called seemed
really disappointed; probably they had all realized that they stood no
chance of passing the test. The successful Scouts had earned their
reward faithfully; there was no jealousy or envy among the less
fortunate.
Marjorie, therefore, was perfectly satisfied with the results. She had
lost her own canoe, but she had it back again, and now she was to have a
glorious trip during the vacation, accompanied by Lily and Doris, and
her beloved Captain. She was thankful, too, that Ruth had received the
badge; for, had she been left out, she might have made things
uncomfortable for the girls who had passed.
While Marjorie was waiting for an answer to her letter from her mother,
she was surprised to receive a letter from Jennie Perkins. It was just
another friendly letter, telling little about herself, and much about
her troop and its activities. Marjorie looked immediately for the
postmark, and was disappointed to find it again Trenton, and not New
York.
"We are going to hike to Princeton next Saturday," she wrote, "and
perhaps go through the college. Some of us have uniforms," she added;
"and some of us just have to wear our plain clothes. I am in this class
for I have not saved enough money yet to buy mine. But I want to get it
by June first, as that is my birthday."
Marjorie opened her eyes wide as she read these words; Jennie Perkins
would be at Princeton the same day she would--at least if her mother let
her go! What should she do? Tell her, and try to meet her? But now that
she was almost convinced that Jennie was not Frieda Hammer, she was not
so anxious to meet her; and if she were Frieda, under the assumed name,
the latter would probably avoid such a meeting.
"I don't believe I'll say anything," she finally decided; "for, even if
I were sure I wanted to meet her, how could I tell when I'd get to
Princeton? And a misunderstanding might spoil a very pleasant
correspondence."
Much to Marjorie's joy, Mrs. Wilkinson wrote that she and Mr. Wilkinson
would drive the girls to Trenton the afternoon of the dance, and make
arrangements to stay at some hotel there over night; and that the boys
could call for them there. The plan suited Marjorie perfectly; the
arrangement of staying in Trenton meant another hope of meeting
Frieda--or, rather, Jennie.
When Saturday came, and Marjorie and Ruth left the school together, it
seemed quite like old times; for recently they had not spent much time
together. Marjorie and Lily had become inseparable, while Ruth spent her
time with many different girls.
When they reached their destination, both girls were surprised to be
met, not by members of their own families, but by Harold Mason.
"And when did you come home?" asked Ruth, nevertheless beaming a
welcome.
"This morning; and John's with me. We mean to drive you girls over!"
"Isn't it pretty far?" inquired Marjorie, doubtfully. She could hardly
take in Harold's words--that John Hadley was actually visiting him. Why
had he not driven over to the station to meet them?
Reading Marjorie's thoughts, Harold explained that John was expecting a
long-distance call from Trenton.
"His mother is staying there with a friend, and as she is one of the
patronesses of the dance she will chaperone you girls. We thought we'd
drive over this afternoon and have supper with Mrs. Hadley's friend, and
then all go to the dance. And we'll all drive back here afterward--Mrs.
Hadley and John are to stay at our house."
"Lovely!" cried Ruth; for this program stretched the party over a longer
period than they had anticipated.
Marjorie had not seen John since the previous Thanksgiving and she
realized that she was becoming rather excited. When the machine drove up
to Mason's, he was on the porch to meet them.
"By George! this is great!" he cried, running down and opening the door
of the car. "I'm so glad to see you--both!"
He shook hands with Ruth and Marjorie, and the girls got out of the car,
Ruth running in next door to find her mother.
"It was lovely of you to invite me," said Marjorie, a little at a loss
regarding what to say after so many months.
"It was wonderful of you to come," he replied, sincerely. A sudden pang
of jealousy seized him. What had Marjorie been doing all this time? Had
another fellow cut him out? They had exchanged only two or three letters
during the whole year, and all of these had been very impersonal.
"If you don't mind," said Marjorie, turning to Harold, "I'd like to go
see mother. For I'll be with you people all afternoon and evening."
"Certainly," assented Harold; and John flushed at his own egotism in
expecting Marjorie to prefer his society to that of her own family.
A little after two o'clock the Ford sedan again drove up to Wilkinsons',
and Marjorie, with her little bag in her hand, appeared. Ruth was
already in the front seat with Harold, and John got out and assisted
Marjorie into the back seat beside him.
If John Hadley hoped for a tete-a-tete with Marjorie, he was greatly
disappointed, for both girls seemed to be plotting to keep the
conversation general. They asked all about college, and the club, and
the dance; Marjorie wanted to hear something about the towns of Trenton
and Princeton; and both girls talked animatedly about the summer's canoe
trip.
"And we both passed the Pioneer test!" explained Ruth, triumphantly.
"Great!" exclaimed John; and a minute description of the hike and the
test followed.
It was not long before they reached Trenton, but before the machine
crossed the bridge, it passed a certain dingy little boat-house, and
Ruth and Harold exchanged significant glances, unobserved by the
occupants of the back seat.
As the car continued along the principal business street, slowing down
for traffic, Marjorie noticed a big building at the corner, from which
a great crowd of girls were pouring. As they approached, she realized
that some of the costumes were strangely familiar; then in a moment it
dawned upon her that they were Girl Scouts!
"Oh, wait, wait!" she demanded, greatly excited. "Please stop! They're
Girl Scouts!"
"What if they are?" asked Ruth, coolly, regarding her in disdain. Was
Marjorie crazy?
"I want to get out! Oh, please stop!" begged the frantic girl.
Harold obediently pulled up to the curb, although he, too, shared Ruth's
opinion. It seemed silly--but it was beyond him to understand a girl.
"Aren't you going to get out, Ruth? Remember our fourth law!"
"Marj, that's silly. Just because we're 'sisters to every other Girl
Scout' is no reason why we should get out and make friends with a pack
of mill girls!"
"Well, then wait for me!"
And in a flash she was out of the machine and up the steps. Venturing
the Girl Scout salute, she asked the girls politely,
"Can anyone tell me whether Jennie Perkins belongs to this troop?" Her
voice trembled so that she could hardly speak.
"Yes--she's in the office, waiting for her pay envelope," replied one of
the girls. "Turn to the left once you're inside."
Marjorie needed no second invitation; in a second she had pushed open
the half-closed door. She stood face to face with Frieda Hammer!
"Frieda!" she cried, rushing to her, and throwing her arms about her
neck.
"Marjorie!" sobbed the girl, completely breaking down, and hiding her
head upon the other girl's shoulder.
In the brief glimpse that Marjorie had of Frieda, she saw how the girl
had changed. Her clothes were neat, and her hair was arranged
attractively. Moreover, she looked happy; the old, sullen, distrustful
look was gone. She was a real Girl Scout now, and the transformation was
marvelous. The miracle was accomplished, though by a far different
method from any Marjorie ever dreamed of.
Little by little Frieda told Marjorie the story of her struggle; then of
her work here, the Girl Scout troop which she had really started
herself, the saving of the money for Marjorie's canoe, which she had had
mailed in New York in order to mislead the latter, and finally of her
progress at night school.
"Why, it sounds just like a fairy tale," said Marjorie. "Now when will
you come back to us?"
"I want to work this summer, and then--if Pansy troop still wants to
help me--to go to full-time school in the fall."
"Indeed, we do want to help," said Marjorie passionately. "But you must
fulfill one condition: come to Miss Allen's before May first. After
that we were to give you up as lost."
"I will!" agreed Frieda. "Could I come next Saturday afternoon?"
"Yes; it's the day of the Scouts' out-door musical comedy. Promise me?"
"I promise!"
"Need any money for carfare?"
"No, thanks," replied Frieda, laughing. "And I expect to have my uniform
by that time. But don't tell a soul that you've seen me, till then!" she
entreated.
"Not a soul!" answered Marjorie.
Then, kissing her good-bye, she was gone as suddenly as she had
appeared.
"Did you have a nice time, Marj?" asked Ruth, rather disagreeably, as
Marjorie climbed into the car again. "You stayed long enough!"
"The best time I ever had in my life!" replied the happy girl,
emphatically and truthfully.