Miss Phillips had feared that more than eight girls would qualify as first-class Scouts, and that, therefore, some would be disappointed at not being included in the Washington trip; but she found that, as the weeks went by, fewer girls than she had anticipated became eligible. Under the rigid standards of the new handbook it was no easy matter to become a first-class Scout. It was true that four girls had successfully passed the signalling, but of these four, only Ruth had made an acceptable map. For this reason it came about, just as she desired, that she was the first Scout of Pansy troop to receive that honor.

When she was presented with the badge at the following Scout meeting, she made no pretense at modesty. With a self-satisfied air, she strutted forward in answer to her Captain's summons. "The first-class Scout of Pansy troop!" her manner announced, as plainly as if she had uttered the very words.

"And I'll be the first Golden Eaglet!" she resolved, as she returned after the presentation. For it was characteristic of Ruth Henry that she always kept a goal in view.

Early in February, Marjorie, Edith, and Ethel fulfilled the requirements and received their badges, outwardly more humbly, though secretly they were as proud as Ruth. Their finer sensibilities, however, kept them from openly gloating.

Two more weeks went by, and all the while Miss Phillips grew increasingly anxious. The money was provided for eight; the opportunity was precious! Would she be obliged to take only four girls because all the other twenty Scouts, members of her own troop, were too lazy or too stupid to pass the test? The idea was distasteful; at every meeting she urged them on to increased activity.

A week later, she was partially rewarded, for Frances Wright and Lily Andrews became first-class Scouts. Now Marjorie was happy; she could not imagine a trip of this sort without her beloved room-mate. Lily, however, was a plodder, and while she was never among the foremost ranks, it was seldom that she was left out altogether.

"And now if we could only get Doris!" remarked Marjorie, when she and Lily were privately celebrating the latter's victory. "The party wouldn't be complete without her."

"She made a marvelous map at camp," commented Lily. "I wonder what is keeping her back?"

"Signaling, I think. I say, Lil, couldn't we just make her practice till she passes? We have two weeks yet!"

"Great idea, Marj!" agreed her room-mate; and the two girls hurried off that very minute to put the plan into action.

Doris accepted the help gratefully, and practiced the letters steadily until her ability had so materially improved that she felt qualified to take the test. To the infinite satisfaction of all concerned, she passed—two days before the girls were scheduled to leave. And, at the same time, Helen Stewart fulfilled the requirements and brought the party to the desired number of nine.

The girls preferred not to wear their Scout uniforms on the train, but carried them along in case they might need them for some official occasion. Miss Phillips said that she rather hoped there might be a Scout rally while they were there, thus affording them a chance to meet other Girl Scouts.

"How do you want to room?" she asked, as they were waiting in the station. "A letter from the hotel says that there are three bedrooms and a bath together on one side of the hall, and two—one is a single room for me—on the other. Now who is rooming with whom?"

"Marj and I are together!" cried Lily, proudly.

"Frances and I," announced Ethel Todd.

"Doris and I," said Ruth.

"So Edith and Helen must be," laughed Miss Phillips. "Well, that works out very well. Now she wants to come across the hall with me, and who wants to stay on the other side?"

"Oh, let Lil and me be with you!" exclaimed Marjorie, eagerly; and as she was the first to speak for the honor, none of the others protested.

With the exception of Edith and Miss Phillips, none of the party had ever visited Washington before, and the trip from the start was filled with interest. The girls watched everything out of the window, and laughed and chatted all the way. Since it was vacation, and a party, Miss Phillips permitted candy, and before they had gone very far Lily produced a beautiful box which her father had sent to her that very day.

They reached the hotel in time for dinner Thursday evening. The rooms, with their soft carpets, their luxurious chairs, pretty electric lights and comfortable beds were a novelty to most of the Scouts.

Sitting at the hotel table, listening to the music while they ate, and ordering from the menu cards, proved a delightful experience. The girls could scarcely eat, so interested were they in looking around the big dining-room, watching the people, and now and then catching sight of themselves in the many mirrors about the walls; and all the while conscious of the delicate odor of roses and the swinging rhythm of the music.

"I think it would be fun enough to stay in a hotel for three days," remarked Ethel, sipping her consommÉ, "without doing another single thing!"

"But our friend and benefactor wouldn't be satisfied with that," remarked Miss Phillips. "We are to see and learn things as well."

"Oh, please tell us who it is!" cried Ruth, almost swallowing her olive in her haste to satisfy her curiosity.

"I dare not! I promised!"

"My, how you do love mysteries, Captain!" observed Ethel.

"Is it a man?" pursued Ruth.

Miss Phillips hesitated. "Yes, it is. I'll tell you that much. And I'll tell you something more. He has promised to equip the girls for a canoe trip this summer, if they win the Pioneer badge!"

"A canoe trip!" repeated Marjorie. "Oh, how wonderful!"

"It will be a nice change from regular camping," said Miss Phillips. "But the pioneer test is a difficult one."

The girls discussed it for a while, and, after supper was over, went up to their rooms. They were too tired even to go to the movies, but Miss Phillips had brought cards, and they played a rubber of bridge before seeking their beds.

They were up early the next morning to find the dining-room almost empty. Again they had the fun of ordering "the things we don't get at Miss Allen's," as they themselves put it, and the meal passed pleasantly.

Most of the day was spent in sight-seeing. They visited the White House, and the Capitol; stopped at the Smithsonian Institute and laughed over the dresses the Presidents' wives had worn; took the elevator to the top of Washington Monument; and, after luncheon, rode to Mt. Vernon. It meant a great deal to them to see all the places they had read so much about.

They came back to the hotel tired; but a bath, fifteen minutes' rest, and fresh clothing, revived them; and at dinner they were as gay as usual. In the evening they went to the theater.

On Saturday they took a sight-seeing bus about the city and ended up at the Girl Scout Headquarters.

All of the girls were tremendously excited as they walked into the office; it was the first time they had ever met other officers, or visited any Scout office. Fortunately, Miss Phillips had insisted this time that they all wear their Scout uniforms, and in these they felt more at ease.

Instead of finding only one or two officials, the place was crowded with them. The girls stepped back shyly, while Miss Phillips made the advances.

"We are Girl Scouts from Miss Allen's Boarding School—in Pennsylvania," she explained; "we're seeing Washington, and, of course, we couldn't miss the Girl Scout Headquarters."

The hostesses were most cordial, showing the girls everything, and then inviting them to a big rally that afternoon.

"That reminds me," remarked one of the officers, who was evidently a representative from National Headquarters in New York City, "I have a list of Girl Scouts here, from all parts of the country, who want to correspond with other Girl Scouts. Would you girls, any of you, like to take some names?"

Marjorie was the first to accept the suggestion. "Oh, I would!" she cried. "That would be lots of fun!"

The officer handed the list to her, and the girls all crowded about to read the names, hoping that perhaps they might come across one that they knew. But, recognizing none, they selected at random, while Marjorie placed checks here and there in the list.

While she was still thus occupied, her eye fell suddenly upon a name which seemed familiar. It aroused a vague sort of expectation within her, as of some old association. Where had she heard it before: "Jennie Perkins," Trenton, N. J.?

She wrinkled her brows for a moment, lost in thought. But her uncertainty lasted only a second; in a flash, the significance of it dawned upon her. That was the assumed name under which Frieda Hammer must have worked at that Fifth Avenue tea-room! Could this girl—evidently a Scout, and living in Trenton—possibly be Frieda? Marjorie's heart leaped for joy, but she resolutely put down her hopes. The whole thing was most improbable. The girl might easily return to Trenton in quest of work, but Marjorie knew that her former dislike of their troop, particularly of Ruth Henry, would prejudice her against ever becoming a Girl Scout. And Frieda Hammer had never showed any signs of sociability; she was the last girl in the world to desire to make new friends by writing to unknown correspondents.

Still, Marjorie decided, she might as well select this name as any, for all were unknown to her. She had nothing whatever to lose, and there was one chance in a thousand that "Jennie Perkins" might be Frieda. Hastily making a check beside the name, she returned the list to the officer.

Although Miss Phillips had intended to take the girls home after luncheon, she changed her mind at their entreaties, and allowed them to remain for the rally.

It was a magnificent sight to behold hundreds of Girl Scouts, all dressed in uniform, gather together in the great hall, and to hear them join, as in one voice, in the pledge to the flag and the oath of the organization. More than one of the members of Pansy troop felt a tightening sensation at their throats when the great throng of girls sang the "Star Spangled Banner." The meeting brought to them an impression that they would never forget, and prepared them in one way to realize what it would mean to be part of a great organized camp.

They left the hall as soon as the address was over, in order that they might make an early train home; for, instead of returning to Miss Allen's school, each girl was to go to her own home, and Miss Phillips was anxious that they all reach their destinations before dark.

The rally had been the most fitting conclusion that Miss Phillips could have conceived. She realized this when she saw how deeply it had impressed the girls.

"A glorious end of a glorious trip!" said Ethel enthusiastically, as they got into the train.

And the shining eyes of the others confirmed their approval of her opinion.