The walk, just as Marjorie anticipated, was not particularly interesting to her. Ruth monopolized the conversation, succeeding in keeping both boys entertained by giving it a decidedly personal flavor. As Marjorie was almost entirely left out, she became bored, and grew impatient to get back. At last, when they were home, she told her mother she was going to lock herself in her room that evening to avoid disturbance.
It was only after a great many attempts that she produced a letter which met with her own satisfaction. She wanted it to be long enough, yet not too long; appropriate for any Girl Scout, and also, if Jennie Perkins should turn out to be Frieda, applicable and friendly towards the runaway.
"I'm just going to send this," she thought; "there's no use writing it over."
She held it up, however, and read it through for the third time.
"Dear Jennie,
"I hope you will excuse my using your first name right at the beginning, but since we are both Girl Scouts—really sisters, you know—I think it would be nice to get well acquainted right away!
"What kind of a troop do you belong to? What is your flower name? And how many girls are there in it? It just seems as if I want to ask a million questions at once, but I will try to wait patiently till you answer.
"Our Captain, Miss Phillips,—she is simply wonderful—took eight of us first-class Scouts to Washington for three days. We had a perfect time, lived in a big hotel, and saw all the sights and Saturday morning we went to the Scout office and it was there that I got your name so we could correspond.
"And that reminds me, did you ever live in New York? I knew a girl—or rather I knew of her—and her name was the same as yours, who lived there once.