Marjorie was not nearly so nervous as she had been the day before. Everything had turned out so well that she felt that she must succeed now; the weather, the gayety of the occasion, and her own calmness reassured her.
“So you’re a Girl Scout at last!” said Mrs. Henry to Marjorie, as they walked from the train. Her tone was a trifle condescending, as if to call attention to the fact that she had just attained a distinction which her own daughter had long since gained. Ruth noticed it and hastened to dispel her feeling.
“You might say Marj is the Girl Scout!” she exclaimed. “She’s leading lady in the play this afternoon!”
“Really! Your father and mother didn’t tell me.”
“They don’t know it yet,” said Marjorie. “It’s to be a surprise!”
“They have a surprise for you, too, if I’m not mistaken,” said Mrs. Henry mysteriously.
Marjorie’s curiosity was aroused, but she did not have long to wait. In less than an hour, the Wilkinsons’ machine drove up to the school. Marjorie rushed down the stairs to meet it. And she had not one, but two surprises. John Hadley sat on the front seat beside Jack; in his arms he held a huge box which he handed shyly to Marjorie.
“I may not be on hand when you graduate,” he said, “so I brought you some roses to wear to-day.”
Blushingly, she thanked him, and opened the box. “I will wear one this afternoon,” she thought, but said nothing about the play; she wanted to reserve her surprise till later. She hunted Ruth, and Mr. and Mrs. Henry, and the party went in to luncheon together.
Both girls excused themselves soon afterwards to see whether they could help Miss Phillips. Jack and John hunted seats for the older people, and they watched the crowd gather.