Lily toyed with her crochet needle, pulling out a long loop of the wool and holding it over her finger. The baby's sweater that she was making was almost finished.
"Guess I will run down to the office," she said, putting her work upon the table; "I'll be right back."
By the time she returned Marjorie had forgotten all about the mail; her thoughts were again with Frieda, imagining all sorts of horrors for the ignorant, unresourceful girl, in some strange place.
"Three letters!" cried Lily, triumphantly. "I didn't open mine either; I waited for you!"
Marjorie's eyes brightened; mail was always welcome.
"You have to guess the postmark, or who it's from!" teased Lily, holding her hand over the letter.
"Princeton?" asked Marjorie, bending over her crochet to hide a blush.
"Nope!"
Lily tossed the missile into the other girl's lap, for she was too eager to open her own two letters to cause any further delay. She and Marjorie had each received square, khaki-colored envelopes, with the well-known fleur-de-lis on the flap. They were from the Boy Scouts.