"Oh, I will go!" she cried impulsively. "There must be some good in her."
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Johnson, "or else she would not have consented to come here."
Marjorie lowered her eyelids. She was thinking of that remark of Ruth's: that Frieda had only seized the opportunity as another chance to steal something. But she resolutely suppressed the idea; she did not want to antagonize Mrs. Johnson to any greater extent against the girl.
Up the steps she ran, two at a time, so that she might not have time to lose courage and change her mind. She knocked at the door of the room.
"Who is it?" This, gruffly.
"It's Marjorie—Marjorie Wilkinson! The girl with the canoe. I want to take you for a ride in my boat!" This last proposal was made on the inspiration of the moment.
To her surprise, she heard Frieda step forward and unlock the door.
"Whew!" she whistled, gazing at Marjorie's costume in open-mouthed amazement. "Some dress!"
Marjorie smiled, all the while noting with pleasure the changed appearance of the other. For Frieda wore the pleated skirt and middy that Miss Phillips had bought for her the day before, and her hair was arranged quite simply in the style Frances Wright adopted, without, of course, the artificial ear-puffs.
"How nice you look, Frieda!" she observed, admiringly.