“And suppose we get in such a tight place we simply can’t get out,” suggested Ethel. “What are we to do?”
“Walk miles to a garage, or trust to some women tourists to give us a lift,” answered Marjorie, firmly.
“Trust us! Girl Scouts don’t give up easily.”
“But remember,” put in Daisy, who was still a little dubious as to the success of the undertaking, “that we always had our own Boy Scouts to help us before. And now we’ll be miles away!” she sighed regretfully.
“We wouldn’t call on them if they were right behind us!” asserted Marjorie. “Oh, it’s going to be great fun—so much more than if we were all wealthy, and could just take the trip as we pleased, without any terms being dictated! It means that we’ve got one more chance to show what Girl Scouts can do!”
“Well, your aunt certainly must be a queer one to think up all these conditions,” observed Doris.
“Oh, she hasn’t much to do,” said Alice, “except to think about those two nephews who are her heirs. I guess we’ve given her a new interest.”
“What does she look like?” asked Florence.
“I don’t know; the only picture we have is one of those old-fashioned things in a family album. She was eighteen then, and looked thirty-eight. You know the kind that I mean. But I have always imagined that she resembled that fake lieutenant those boys we met on the train fixed up for our benefit the summer we went on the ranch.”
“Speaking of boys,” interrupted Doris, “they will soon be here. And you girls won’t even have your hats off—let alone be dressed. Don’t you think we had better adjourn to our rooms, especially the girls who have to go over to Marie Louise’s?”