"Frieda!" she cried, rushing to her, and throwing her arms about her neck.
"Marjorie!" sobbed the girl, completely breaking down, and hiding her head upon the other girl's shoulder.
In the brief glimpse that Marjorie had of Frieda, she saw how the girl had changed. Her clothes were neat, and her hair was arranged attractively. Moreover, she looked happy; the old, sullen, distrustful look was gone. She was a real Girl Scout now, and the transformation was marvelous. The miracle was accomplished, though by a far different method from any Marjorie ever dreamed of.
Little by little Frieda told Marjorie the story of her struggle; then of her work here, the Girl Scout troop which she had really started herself, the saving of the money for Marjorie's canoe, which she had had mailed in New York in order to mislead the latter, and finally of her progress at night school.
"Why, it sounds just like a fairy tale," said Marjorie. "Now when will you come back to us?"
"I want to work this summer, and then—if Pansy troop still wants to help me—to go to full-time school in the fall."
"Indeed, we do want to help," said Marjorie passionately. "But you must fulfill one condition: come to Miss Allen's before May first. After that we were to give you up as lost."
"I will!" agreed Frieda. "Could I come next Saturday afternoon?"
"Yes; it's the day of the Scouts' out-door musical comedy. Promise me?"
"I promise!"