The change was effected quickly, and the girls walked out together and back to Miss Allen's where Marjorie changed the dress; and then to the lake. Marjorie tried to talk naturally, but, only receiving monosyllables as replies, finally gave up. Untying the canoe, and taking the paddle from the bottom, she bade Frieda get in, and pushed off.
"Ain't it locked?" asked Frieda in astonishment.
"No, everybody here is honest. And people from outside the school don't know about it."
They drifted on, Marjorie glancing now and then at her companion, who sat back lazily—in fact, almost contentedly—watching the sky and the water, and listening to the rhythmic dip of the paddle. A wave of great happiness surged over Marjorie; she felt that she had progressed farther than she would have dreamed possible, after the previous day's experience.
"Frieda, will you come to our Japanese party on Friday evening, if I give you a ticket?" asked Marjorie, as she left the girl at Mrs. Johnson's.
"Maybe. What's it going to be like?"
Marjorie explained the plans, but she saw that they conveyed little meaning to the country girl. Nevertheless, she resolved to send her a ticket.
It happened that Friday night, which was the last of September, was clear and mild; the stars twinkled brightly over the pretty scene at the edge of the lake. Japanese lanterns were strung all about the trees, and the tables, containing refreshments, were decorated with gay autumn flowers. Robed in Japanese kimonas, with long, Oriental pins in their hair, the girls flitted about from place to place, welcoming their guests and serving the dainty food. Out on the lake, where Marjorie was drifting in her canoe, a victrola was playing soft music.
"The boat reminds one of Venice," observed Miss Allen, who was one of the first to arrive. "I believe I'd enjoy a ride!"
Lily, to whom the remark was directed, whistled softly to her room-mate. Instantly, the girl turned around, and made for the shore.