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.