They seated themselves in their accustomed corner of the reception room.
“You—you—really wouldn’t rather see somebody else—a scoutmaster—or somebody like that?” he stammered.
“No, no, John,” laughed Marjorie. “And I’m not going to bore you with scouts tonight, either!”
“But I want to talk about scouts,” he insisted. “You mustn’t think I’m not interested, though I admit I do get jealous once in a while. And I’ll be jealous of Jack if you let him help, and don’t find something I can do!”
Marjorie was immensely pleased; as Ethel had surmised no other method of reconciliation could have been half so effective.
“Our immediate problem is basket-ball,” she stated. “I want to get our team started.”
“What do you need? You have a floor and a coach—how about a ball?”
“The settlement house is lending us theirs.”
“Bad guess! You suggest something else.”
“You really mean that you want to give us something?” Her tone grew eager.