“I know you do—and you always have. Your courage is marvellous, Marjorie. But this is something different from anything you have ever attempted; it is almost beyond human power.”
“And yet,” interposed the girl, “I am sure that Mr. Richards thinks it could be done.”
“Mr. Richards?”
“Yes—the Boy Scout master who came to talk to the girls last week.”
Mrs. Hadley shut her lips tightly; she remembered that John had mentioned the young man, and had hinted that he had captivated Marjorie.
“He isn’t thinking of you, dear. You must not sacrifice yourself.”
“But that’s the whole spirit of scouting!” flashed Marjorie. “If I thought that were all that is hindering me, I wouldn’t give it up. Mrs. Hadley, will you let me talk to him on the telephone, and—and—tell him my troubles?”
“Certainly,” acceded her hostess graciously. “But wouldn’t John do? He’ll be home about nine o’clock.”
“I’d like to have the opinion of both,” answered Marjorie, smiling for the first time. Something of her usual spirit was returning.
They talked of other things, of college, of Mrs. Hadley’s varied interests, of John’s work, until Margaret felt that she might try her luck at the telephone.