Marjorie turned about, and hurried to where the boys were still standing. Drawing Clayton aside, she begged him to fall in with her plans.
“But I don’t understand!” insisted the boy. “Girls always admire Kirk Smith!”
“Well, I don’t!” said Marjorie, with conviction. “I can’t stand him, and I’d love to get out of going with him. And Irene doesn’t mind.”
“But I bet Kirk will!” muttered the boy. “All right, I’m flattered. I’ll be ready before ten.”
And so Marjorie found the excursion more delightful than she had anticipated, with this pleasant companion. Clayton was a Boy Scout, and he had spent several of his summers camping. It was surprising the amount of knowledge he had of nature and her ways. They talked of many things, delighted to discover that they had so much in common.
For the first mile of their trip, Marjorie kept turning around every few minutes and looking back, fearful lest the party would catch her and punish her—perhaps by a dipping—for running away from Kirk. But none of the canoes appeared, and she hoped that they had forgotten what partner she had drawn. And Kirk would never tell; he was probably too indifferent to notice the change of canoe-mates.
But Marjorie was mistaken in this supposition. No sooner had the Girl Scouts put in an appearance than Kirk began to ask everyone for Marjorie. Irene watched his disturbance with annoyance, but she said nothing. Instead, she began to look for Clayton.
“You’re sure Marjorie isn’t in her cabin?” Kirk asked Lily.
“No, she left quite early—it must have been nearly half an hour ago.”
“Oh, I saw her!” cried Bob, suddenly. “I saw a canoe go off about twenty minutes ago, with a boy and a girl in it. Now that I think of it, it must have been Marjorie and Clayton!”