"Father and I came down to mail a letter on the train," she explained. A smile lighted her face so glowingly that Bunny wondered why he had never before realized what a pretty girl Mary Jennie Chester really was. "Oh, Bunny, I'm so glad!"
"About our winning that baseball game?"
"No-o. Oh, yes, I am glad about that, too. But I meant about what's happened to you Boy Scouts. I think—"
"Mary!" called Mr. Chester from the light runabout drawn up by the platform.
With an embarrassed, "Good-by, Bunny," the girl hurried away to join her father, leaving him standing there with open mouth, looking, if the truth must be confessed, very confused and very foolish. What on earth had Mary Chester meant? What was the mystery about the Boy Scouts?
Across the road from the station, on the sidewalk, Bunny met Molly Sefton.
"Look here," he demanded shortly, "what's all this talk about something happening to the Boy Scouts?"
Molly eyed him a little coldly. She must have witnessed his meeting with Mary Chester. He wondered uncertainly if that could account for her lack of cordial greeting; and all at once, without exactly understanding why, he blushed like a silly schoolgirl. He was sixteen years old now; almost a man.
"Oh, how are you, Bunny?" said Molly, in a listless, aloof tone that sounded like the snobbish Marion Genevieve Chester in her snobbishest days. "The Boy Scouts? Oh, they're doing wonderfully well, I hear."