She tried to avoid Marjorie, but as so often happens, she met both Lily and Marjorie in the pool. Miss Phillips was sitting on the bench, superintending the hour.
“In about a month,” said Miss Phillips to the girls at the deep end, “after spring vacation, basket-ball season starts. And then we play Miss Martin’s school; and if you girls don’t beat them this time—I believe I’ll resign!”
Ruth was sitting on the edge of the diving-board, dangling her feet; and Lily and Marjorie were making attempts to tread water, but every few minutes they reached for the side-rail. All the while they were listening to Miss Phillips.
Marjorie looked frightened. “Oh, don’t do that, Miss Phillips—why, we’d do anything to prevent that! I do believe the whole school’d turn out every day to practice, if they thought that would prevent you from leaving!”
“Thanks for the compliment,” said Miss Phillips. “But I really do think the girls have a different spirit now from last fall—not about me, but athletics and lessons; and it’s all because we have substituted a splendid, democratic, American organization for that sickly, snobbish, thing that used to exist—I mean ΦΑΒ—to take the girls’ hearts, and their time and their money, and give them nothing in return!”
“In other words,” said Ruth, proudly, “thanks to me!”
“Yes, thanks to you, Ruth, and to Miss Allen, and to Mrs. Juliette Lowe—the founder of the Girl Scouts!”
Noticing that Marjorie had seemed somewhat embarrassed at her arraignment of the sorority, and was swimming off in the opposite direction, Miss Phillips added hastily:
“And we’re all hoping, Marjorie dear, that by this time to-morrow night you’ll be among the candidates. I’m only waiting for the list now.”
Marjorie flushed with pleasure. It was something to be called “dear” by Miss Phillips even if she never made the troop.