"Sh!" cautioned Marjorie. "Oh, girls, don't let's give up! Please! Let's try our song. Maybe that—and the ice-cream——"
But to her dismay, she received no word of encouragement from Miss Phillips. Their Captain seemed to have reached the lowest depths of despair.
Ethel, however, struck the chord, and the girls chimed in weakly. Then, the music, strengthening their hopes as it progressed, made them more cheerful. Loudly, they brought out the words of the chorus:
"Frieda dear, Frieda dear, we're so glad you're here!
Frieda dear, Frieda dear, your Scout friends are near——"
and they fairly shouted the name in hope of evoking some response.
But none came; in five minutes Mrs. Johnson reappeared with wet eyes. She felt so sorry for the Scouts.
"It's no use, girls," she said, sadly; "she wouldn't come down. And when I stepped out into the hall to show her the big closet for her wraps, she locked the door in my face!"
Marjorie burst into tears and hid her face on her room-mate's shoulder. She felt as if she had never been more disappointed, even when she failed to make the Scout troop.
"Don't cry, dear," said Mrs. Johnson, "she'll come around in time. Now let's have the party, anyway. Suppose you change it, and have it in honor of me instead! Day after to-morrow is my birthday!"