“Why can’t those girls take responsibility?” exclaimed Daisy, irritably. “You never seem able to count on them! What happened to her—who was it?”
“Queenie Brazier,” Marjorie admitted, reluctantly. “I don’t know what happened to her. We haven’t heard yet.”
“Well, I’m sorry that I ever got you into it, Marj, especially since you’re so tired out. Please don’t go and get sick.”
“I don’t feel very well, but it isn’t your fault, Dais, or the Girl Scouts, either. It’s just everything, all at once. But spring vacation will be here a day after tomorrow!”
“Drop the old troop!” urged the other.
“The troop may drop me—for Queenie’s the leader, you know. And I’m not sure just how secure my hold on the others would be without her.”
Against the advice of both girls, she insisted upon making the attempt to dress. She had not progressed very far, when she was summoned to the telephone in the hall.
“Let me answer for you, Marj!” begged Daisy.
“No—it might be about Queenie—I better go,” she said, slipping on her kimona. “But you can come with me.”
She was correct in her surmise. “Sis, this is Jack,” came the welcome voice over the wire. “John and Richards have succeeded in waylaying Queenie. John is bringing her to college this afternoon. Can you look after her?”