“I should say not!” announced Marjorie, vehemently. “We’re going to stick it out till we solve this mystery!”
“But if anybody really is afraid, I think she better go home,” put in Ethel. “It’s too serious a thing to force any girl to go through with—”
“Oh, certainly!” Marjorie hastened to add.
“Anyway,” remarked Alice, “whatever we decide to do later, there’s only one thing to do now—let Ethel and Marjorie get some rest. And that reminds me, don’t forget our picnic today. We’ll go just the same, won’t we?”
“Oh, certainly!” replied Ethel, immediately.
The picnic, which had been arranged through the generosity of Agnes Taylor and a group of her friends who had offered to substitute for the girls, was to be held at an outlying pleasure park. All of the scouts who were not Philadelphians had been anxious to visit this renowned spot, but, on account of the rush of business, had been unable to find a time. Marjorie happened to express her regret one day in Agnes’s presence, and the girl cheerfully offered to serve with her friends in the scouts’ places.
Since both Marjorie and Ethel felt sure that nothing unusual would happen at the tea-house during the hours of daylight, they resolved to say nothing of their early morning adventure to the girls in charge. There seemed to be no reason to arouse their fears unnecessarily.
After several hours’ good sleep, Marjorie and Ethel appeared at the luncheon table as bright and as fresh as if they had gone through no harrowing experience. Both girls even insisted upon helping with the preparations for the picnic supper.
“The boys still want to go,” remarked Alice, as she packed the waxed-paper sandwiches into a basket. “John made one more plea as he left the house this afternoon.”
Marjorie was amused at his persistence, but she showed no signs of relenting.