Two weeks had passed by, and the swimming team had been chosen during that time. Four more girls, in addition to Alice Endicott, who was now a Scout, were eligible for Pansy troop and were to be admitted that evening. Three of them were freshmen: Dorothy Whitcomb, Gladys Staley, and Mildred Cavin. And the fourth girl was Evelyn Hopkins.

Miss Phillips called the meeting to order, and then hastened through the opening ceremony and necessary routine.

"There is much to do and to talk about," she said, after the preliminary matters had been settled, "that I feel as if I can't talk fast enough. But I think we shall consider the regular Scout business first.

"First of all, I wish to welcome the new girls with the sincere hope that they will soon pass their Tenderfoot test and be registered as regular members of Pansy Troop. If they all do, we shall then have twenty-four girls, or three patrols.

"Accordingly, after the first of the year we shall re-divide into three patrols, and the three Scouts with the highest standing—counting the number of merit-badges, etc.—will be the three patrol leaders, and may choose, in turn, the members of their respective patrols.

"Next, after the New Year, the second-class girls will study for their first-class test; for during spring vacation I am going to take the first eight girls who pass this test successfully, to Washington. The expenses are to be provided by a wealthy friend of the troop!"

"Who?" they all shouted, curious. "Oh, it is too wonderful!"

But Miss Phillips refused to reveal the name of their unknown benefactor.

"Now, about our Good Turn. Of course, to-morrow is the day of the bazaar, about which we shall go into detail later; but now I want to discuss what we shall do with the money. I have a report from Miss Smith, the private detective."

At these words, Marjorie leaped to her feet. Forgetful of the formality of the occasion, she asked, excitedly,

"Did she find Frieda?"

"Yes; but she lost her again. A girl answering to her description was working, under an assumed name, as a waitress in a Fifth Avenue tea-room in New York. But as soon as Miss Smith had collected her facts, and was reasonably certain that the girl was Frieda Hammer, she disappeared."

"Oh, Lil!" gasped Marjorie, sinking into her seat. She could not even explain what she meant to the others; only her room-mate realized her tremendous disappointment.

"Now I have not paid my friend anything so far," continued Miss Phillips; "but I do not feel like allowing her to go on using so much time without remuneration, for she has to work to earn her own living. So I want to know what you wish to do—drop the case?"

Marjorie was on her feet again, instantly.

"No, no, Captain! Please, not that! Can't we use the rest of the fÊte money—and add some from the bazaar?"

But Ruth, as usual, opposed the idea.

"I move that we pay Miss Smith for her services, and then dismiss the matter for once and all. If Frieda Hammer can get work, she certainly isn't suffering, and there are a good many more worthy channels to which we can apply our money. In my opinion, she never was any good!"

"Is there a second to Ruth's motion?" asked Captain Phillips.

"I second it!" said Barbara Hill.

"Any discussion?"

Then Lily, aroused to the support of Marjorie rather than of Frieda, made an appealing speech, telling of the vastness of New York City, and its great temptations. She mentioned the troop's responsibility toward Frieda, at least until they could get her back home. She spoke earnestly, and the girls were greatly impressed. Marjorie cast a grateful look in her direction as Lily sat down.

The votes were taken, and the "nos" carried the day, probably rather because Marjorie and Lily were more popular than Ruth and Barbara, than because of any particular love on the part of the troop for Frieda. Indeed, most of the girls disliked her heartily, and were angry at her for stealing Marjorie's canoe; but that was Marjorie's affair, and if she wanted to search for Frieda, they intended to stand back of her.

The rest of the evening was spent in discussing the Bazaar, and all the while the girls worked busily with their needles, finishing odds and ends that had been left till the last minute.

Miss Phillips had begun with the senior Scouts and had given first them, and then the juniors, charge of the booths. The sophomores, with the single exception of Marjorie Wilkinson and Lily Andrews, and all of the freshmen, were to act merely as aids. The former two girls had been assigned the "Baby Table" for the simple reason that there were not enough upperclassmen to take charge, and they, of all the younger girls, appeared most interested.

So anxious were they to have their booth look attractive, Marjorie and Lily arose at six o'clock the morning of the bazaar, in order to decorate it before breakfast. They secured white tissue paper, and with this completely covered up all the dark boards. Here and there articles were suspended by narrow pink and blue baby ribbon; and a great bowl of pink roses stood on one side of the counter, while on the other side was displayed a life-size doll, dressed in the most exquisite hand-made layette. The effect as a whole was dainty and charming.

Soon after breakfast the other booths—for candy, sandwiches and ice-cream, household goods, embroidery, basketry, toys, and what not,—were all arranged, and Miss Phillips threw open the doors. Dressed in their neat khaki uniforms, with spotless white aprons over their skirts, the Girl Scouts presented an attractive appearance; and Captain Phillips, gazing about her critically, felt that she had reason to be proud of her girls and their accomplishments.

The morning was not a particularly busy one; only twenty or thirty people from the village, besides a few of the pupils and teachers, dropped in. Miss Phillips' expression began to grow more anxious as the noon hour approached, and all the Scouts felt a trifle worried.

When the clock struck twelve, Marjorie picked up her almost empty candy box for the tenth time to count the few coins that jingled forlornly when she shook it. She knew what the result would be—she had sold only two articles-but she repeated the process hopefully, as if by some magic, the total might have increased. There were exactly two dollars.

"Do you suppose it is because our things aren't pretty?" she asked Lily, although she really could not conceive of anything more exquisite than the diminutive garments on the table.

But Lily reassured her. "You just wait!" she answered; "the big crowd'll come this afternoon! Don't forget those wonderful posters Frances and Edith made—they ought to bring the buyers!"

"I hope they do!" said Marjorie, somewhat cheered by the other girl's words. "Especially after all the trouble we had putting them up!"

Both girls laughed at the recollection of climbing posts, entering stores, and respectfully requesting shop-keepers to display their home-made posters. A slight snowfall had added spice to the adventure, and helped to make the experience one to be remembered.

During the lull that followed, the Scouts seized the opportunity to leave their posts and rush over to the sandwich booth to purchase a hasty luncheon. Through their patronage, the number of sales there was increased, and the cash box returned an agreeably "full" sound when shaken. Ruth Henry, who was serving as an aide at this table, looked well satisfied.

Business at all the other booths, however, continued to be dull until shortly after two o'clock, when the gymnasium door burst open, and what appeared to be an endless succession of noisy, laughing girls crowded in. It proved to be Miss Martin's entire seminary, turned out in a body to support their sister school in its good work.

"Hurrah for the Girl Scouts!" they shouted, and proceeded to spend a great deal of money in the purchase of both refreshments and Christmas presents.

Unfortunately for Marjorie and Lily, however, very few of the girls were interested in their booth, and therefore did not come over to buy. Three or four girls, who boasted of baby-brothers or sisters, purchased caps and fancy rattles; but the total value of their sales had hardly reached ten dollars, when the visitors left the bazaar. Both Marjorie and Lily were glad to see the other Scouts more successful than they had been during the morning, but they despaired of making their own booth worth while.

Toward half-past three, Ruth, who had been busy steadily until that time at the sandwich table, sauntered over to visit the girls at the baby booth.

"We're almost sold out," she remarked, carelessly. "How are you getting along, Marj?"

"Not so good!" sighed Marjorie. "But I surely congratulate you!"

"We have over twenty-five dollars," continued the other. "But you ought to have more because we have to sell sandwiches so cheap."

"I have only ten," admitted Marjorie, sadly.

"Only ten!" repeated Ruth. "Well, if that's all you're going to make, I don't see why you should have so much say about what we do with the money!" This last remark was added spitefully, it seemed to Marjorie.

The latter made no reply, however, and Ruth turned away.

"She certainly can be nasty, when she wants to be!" remarked Lily. "But don't you care, Marj! Anybody could sell sandwiches—especially when our own girls buy them!"

Marjorie shrugged her shoulders, and began to hum, in the attempt to regain her cheerful spirits. But no one came near her table for almost half an hour; then, about four o'clock, a dozen or more young married women hurried over in her direction.

"Baby things!" exclaimed one. "You never can get them at Jones'!"

"I wonder why they don't keep them," remarked another. "Well, here's our chance!"

The women, who were evidently coming from a tea or some such social function, simply surrounded Marjorie's table and purchased lavishly. They exclaimed admiringly over everything, and bought so fast that the girls had to summon extra aides to help them. Finally, when they had gone, Marjorie had a minute to count the contents of her cash box. She had fifty-six dollars and twenty-five cents!

But her triumph was not yet over, for scarcely had she put the money away when a slender little woman, who had all the while been watching proceedings, approached, and called her to the side.

"I buy for Jones' store, in the village," she said quietly, "and I should like to offer you fifty dollars for the remainder of your stock."

Marjorie listened incredulously, making no attempt to hide her joy at the idea of the transaction. Glancing hastily at the clock, she saw that it was half-past four, within half an hour of closing. She accepted the woman's offer immediately.

"Thank you so much," she said. "You know it's for a good cause!"

"They are lovely things," remarked the buyer, sincerely. "Really, they are just what I have been looking for."

With trembling fingers, Marjorie and Lily folded the snowy articles gently and tied them into a bundle. It was simply wonderful to have nothing left over.

"Half an hour, and nothing to do!" said Marjorie, squeezing Lily around the waist. "Wasn't it the best luck, though!"

"Sh! Don't say anything! Let's pretend to be busy, and surprise Miss Phillips when she calls for a report!"

"And Ruth Henry, too!" added Marjorie, wickedly.

At quarter past five the last purchaser left the gymnasium, and Miss Phillips ordered the door to be closed.

"We'll leave things as they are," she said, "and come over to clear up to-night. In the meantime, you are to go back to the dormitory and prepare for supper. But there is one thing I want to know before you all leave," she concluded; "and that is—how much cash you each have. Did anyone, by any chance, sell out?"

"Yes, we did!" announced Ruth Henry, although the sandwich table had really been in charge of Elsie Lorimer.

"Fine! How much?"

"Thirty-two dollars—and some change!" Ruth glanced triumphantly at Marjorie.

"Anyone else?" inquired Miss Phillips.

"Yes," replied Marjorie. "Lily and I did. We have one hundred and six dollars, and twenty-five cents."

But amidst all the congratulations that followed, Marjorie thought only of one thing: that she had been able to answer Ruth's challenge! She had made the most of any booth—and she felt privileged to have a say in the direction to which the money should be applied! She would not be afraid to urge again the cause of Frieda Hammer, and the Scouts' Good Turn!