Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had conferred long and thoughtfully with Mr. Remington and Miss Phillips over the selection of the nine boys to receive invitations to the house-party. They had no difficulty in deciding upon Dick Roberts, David Conner, Roger Harris, and Jack Wilkinson as not only the best all-round scouts, but the most popular with the girls; and Miss Phillips had begged valiantly for John Hadley, for Marjorie’s sake. But the selection of the other four was a more difficult matter. Mr. Remington finally decided upon Stanley Winters and Raymond Hancock as the two most promising of the new, younger boys of the troop, in the interest of Florence Evans and Alice Endicott; and he recommended Max Stanton because he was a country boy, and hoped Frieda Hammer might find him congenial. Lawrence Field, a junior at Episcopal Academy, was the last one to be chosen; although he was not so well known to the girls, he was universally liked for his manliness, courtesy, and sincerity. No party was complete without Lawrence.

As soon as the girls had been introduced all around, and the topic of the missing scouts discussed from all angles, Mrs. Andrews suggested that the girls might like to go to their rooms.

“But mama, we must go hunt Marjorie!” protested Lily.

“Yes, of course,” replied Mrs. Andrews; “but not until you get some supper. I don’t think that we would accomplish much by starting tonight.”

“No!” said Mr. Andrews; “I’m in favor of an early party tomorrow morning. Who wants to go?”

He looked around at the tense, interested faces, and was not surprised to receive offers from all directions. It was evident that everyone wanted to assist. Ruth pouted a little. Was Marjorie again to occupy the center of the stage? She stepped back to hide the expression of annoyance which she knew her face must be betraying.

“But I think that it will be better not to send so many. In fact, I think that two trustworthy boys will be the best,” said the host. “And perhaps Mr. Remington and I will take the other machine and go in a different direction. Remington, which two would you suggest?”

Before he could reply, John Hadley stepped forward and looked earnestly into his eyes.

“Please, sir,” he said, forgetful of the appearance he was making, “please let me go!”

If he had not been so sincere and the affair so serious, the rest of the young people would have broken into uproarious laughter at his frankness. But, as it was, an intense silence fell upon the group.

“Yes, John, you may go.” The scoutmaster turned to Mr. Andrews. “Hadley drives a car well,” he said, “and he is one of the oldest boys here. And now—” he looked from one to the other among the excited group—“I think I shall choose Jack Wilkinson for the other lad!”

“Hooray!” cried Jack, hilariously. But Ruth Henry looked displeased. Although she had no especial admirer among the Boy Scouts, her name was usually coupled with that of Jack Wilkinson whenever partners were chosen, and she felt dismayed to have him so anxious to leave her. Then she thought of Harold Mason, and of all he was doing for her sake, and she smiled contentedly. Her pride was satisfied to have one devoted attendant.

The girls followed Mrs. Andrews through the wide doorway and up the beautiful curved mahogany and white stair-case to the second floor. A maid in trim uniform opened the doors of their apartments. Dainty pink-and-white bedrooms, attractively colored rugs met their gaze. The white paint gleamed as if it had just been finished and the soft pink silk shades of the lamps gave a restful appearance to the room. Three or four rooms seemed to be built in a circle; the doors were communicating, and through them several spotless bathrooms were visible. A pile of suitcases in the centre of the floor occupied the first and largest room which they entered.

“You will have to sort out your own suit-cases,” laughed Mrs. Andrews. “We couldn’t tell one from the other. And there are four bedrooms here, each with twin beds; in fact one,” she added jokingly, “has triplet beds, so that all nine of you girls could be together.”

“But there aren’t nine of us!” wailed Lily, dolefully, beginning to sob again.

“Don’t, dear!” begged Mrs. Andrews. “You just wait until those boys get on the job. I have great confidence in that big fellow—what’s his name?—oh, yes, John Hadley! I believe he can do almost anything.

“Now girls, suppose you select your rooms and dress for dinner—just simple dresses such as you might wear in the evenings at school, for there will be no celebration tonight, just a quiet time at home. We had thought of a dinner party; but no one feels like it with Marjorie and Frieda missing.”

Mrs. Andrews and the maid went out, leaving the girls to themselves.

“Isn’t this a wonderful place!” exclaimed Ethel, admiringly. She felt that somehow they were not expressing their appreciation as they should. But Lily Andrews, absorbed as she was in her own trouble, was the last person to notice such an omission. “Your father and mother are simply Angels—with a capital A!” cried Ruth, patronizingly putting her arm about Lily. “Oh, Lil, won’t you please cheer up? I’m so positive nothing’s happened—except some trifling accident—that I’d be willing to bet my last dollar on it. I don’t know how I know it, but I do! Something just tells me! Marj’ll come back just in time to win the race, just as she did the canoe—by finding the cave. I haven’t known Marjie Wilkinson all her life for nothing.”

“Oh, Ruth, you do make me feel better. But I wish I could really, truly, believe you.”

Alice Endicott, who had just made a tour of inspection of the four bedrooms, interrupted the conversation by remarking:

“Girls, guess what! The rooms are all in different colors; green, rose, lavender and blue. Let’s each choose our favorite color, regardless of whom we room with. Don’t you think that would be fun?”

“Great!” assented several.

The results were indeed interesting. Lily, Frances Wright, and Florence Evans selected the rose room in which they were now seated, and which contained, as Mrs. Andrews termed them, triplet beds; Ruth Henry and Ethel Todd had the green room; Doris was alone in the lavender one, and Alice Endicott in the blue one. This left two vacancies for Marjorie and Frieda. “But let’s sleep together tonight, Doris,” suggested Alice. “I do so hate to be alone.”

“So do I,” agreed the other; “I don’t mind changing to blue for once.”

The girls unpacked the dainty wardrobes which their mothers had sent. Only two suit-cases still stood untouched in the center of the rose room.

“Why, that’s funny,” remarked Ruth, suddenly; “I wonder who would send Frieda’s!”

“I don’t think anyone sent it,” returned Ethel, quietly. “I think Mrs. Andrews purchased the whole thing herself. Won’t it just be a crime if she doesn’t get here to enjoy it?”

“It certainly will,” said Ruth, though she felt that if Ethel knew the real facts she would add, “your crime, I mean.”

The girls made a very pretty effect as they descended the beautiful stairway that evening, and were joined at the foot by the boys. They all went into the dining room together and found six small tables in different parts of the room, each with a silk shaded lamp arranged amid a centerpiece of flowers.

“It is a class party tonight,” announced the hostess; “that is, as nearly as I could arrange it. Ethel and Frances, that is your table by the window, and John Hadley and Dick Roberts are to be with you. Ruth, you and Doris are to sit at this one beside us with Jack Wilkinson and Roger Harris; and Lily, you and David will come with us. Stanley and Raymond are to take Florence and Alice to that one beside Miss Phillips; and Lawrence, you and Max may chaperone Miss Phillips and Mr. Remington. Now, I think we’re ready.”

The idea, which was Mrs. Andrews’s, was a good one, for it did away with the embarrassment of a large crowd. Conversation buzzed merrily; the dinner was not only delicious, but beautifully served. Ruth, surveying the dining room and the girls in a quick glance, decided that even an unprejudiced observer would think their table the most attractive in the room; for she knew that she and Doris made a striking contrast together, each setting off the beauty of the other to advantage. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed; she was conscious of the fact that Jack and Roger were being well entertained.

“I hear there’s a bathing party and a marshmallow roast for tomorrow,” observed Jack. “And here I’ve got to miss it—all because my sister——”

“Yes, and who am I to go with?” pouted Ruth. “I suppose I’ve got to find somebody else.”

“Ruth, if you go back on me, after all these years! Only she has already,” he added, turning to the others and pretending to be sorely grieved. “In the language of the poet, Ruth has a steady!”

“Ruth!” exclaimed Doris, dropping her macaroon. “What are you keeping from us?” “Not a thing!” she protested. “It’s only that I see a lot of a boy that lives next door to me—quite naturally!”

“Morning—noon—and night!” hummed Jack, composing his own tune as he went along.

“Oh, Jack, that isn’t true,” she denied. “But I warn you, if you go off and leave me, I’ll jilt you for good. So there!”

“By Jupiter, I’ve a good notion not to go!” exclaimed the boy. “And I’ll bet David Conner is just dying to stand in my shoes.”

“Oh, that would never do,” objected Doris. “David and John Hadley are deadly rivals for Marjorie’s hand, and one would probably murder the other as they went along.”

“How blood-thirsty you are, Doris,” laughed Ruth, “and for such a gentle girl, too.”

In the end, however, Jack decided to stick to his duty and go. If something serious should have happened to his sister, he wanted to be there. Accordingly, early the next morning, he set off with John, while the others proceeded to their bathing party.