Yet she was still dubious in her own heart as to the wisdom of the venture. She could not picture those girls as ever becoming interested in a subject so serious as scouting. Nevertheless, it would not be her fault if she failed, for she resolved to present it in all its dramatic highlights, to try to get the thrill of the open life into their blood.
She selected her costume with great care for her first meeting with the girls. Good clothing appealed to them; style was an essential in their life. She decided upon her new brown suit, tailored in the latest fashion, emphasizing its beauty by a fawn-colored overblouse, with stockings of the same hue. Her hat, a chic little velvet toque, carried out the same motif and completed the charming effect she desired.
It would be interesting, she thought, as she drove into the city, to meet these girls under such circumstances; to go to them at their invitation; to talk to them without interference from members of the opposite sex, whose opinions were so worthless, and yet so weighty with the girls; to observe them under the more normal condition of every-day affairs. Perhaps she had been harsh, after all, in her judgment of them; it really was not fair to watch them at a single social function and to pass upon their characters with so little knowledge of the conditions under which they lived and worked. She had known several college girls whose heads had been turned by popularity and flattery, yet, in comparison with them, these girls were mere children. It was, therefore, with a very forgiving spirit that she drew up to the settlement at eight o’clock and parked her car before its entrance.
Queenie Brazier threw open the door and rushed down the steps as Marjorie drew her key from the lock.
“Hello, Miss Wilkinson!” she cried. “Right on the dot of eight!”
Marjorie smilingly extended her hand, realizing now that Miss Winthrop had not exaggerated her story.
“Your car’s awful cute,” commented the girl, slipping her arm through Marjorie’s and conducting her up the steps. “Wouldn’t mind if I was rich myself!”
“Oh, but I didn’t buy that!” Marjorie hastened to inform her. “I earned it—as a reward which was offered to our Girl Scout troop.”
“Gee, do they give things like that in the Scouts!” exclaimed Queenie. “Me for the scouts, every time!”
“There are all sorts of honors and rewards for the girl who works,” Marjorie replied cautiously. “But they do not always take such material form as this one happened to.” She was anxious to dispel Queenie’s false hope that scouting was an easy path to quick riches.