to go away from the
house when he was due. But three days passed by without her hearing a
word.

On the fourth day, she became so restless and nervous that her mother
noticed that something was wrong, and asked what the trouble was.

"Nothing, only I'm corresponding with a Girl Scout in Trenton, and I
hoped I'd get a letter before I go back. And to-morrow's Friday--there
are only two days left."

Mrs. Wilkinson gazed searchingly at her daughter. Marjorie had always
been truthful, but this explanation did not sound plausible. Girls did
not usually get so worked up over letters from other girls whom they
had never seen. That part of the explanation was true, she knew; for
Marjorie could not conceal her eagerness for the postman, and her
depression when she received nothing. But Mrs. Wilkinson feared that her
interest had something to do with John Hadley, and she sighed. Marjorie
was too young to care seriously for anyone yet.

But Friday morning's mail brought the coveted letter. Marjorie seized it
eagerly and ran off with it to her own room. Assuredly, it would tell
her something about Frieda!

The handwriting was a trifle cruder than that of most girls of her own
age, but she hardly noticed that. Feverishly, she tore open the
envelope, and read,

"DEAR MARJORIE,

"I was very glad to receive your letter so soon, hardly hoping
anyone would want to correspond right now. I guess when you hear
that I am a mill girl you will not want to correspond. I have
worked in Trenton going on four months now and I like it very much.
I go to night school and there I met my girl friend and we started
the Scouts here. I am only a tenderfoot now, hoping to be a
second-class Scout before summer. Our troop never went camping yet.
We are too poor.

"Hoping that you will still want to write to me even though I do
work, I am yours truly,

"JENNIE PERKINS."

"But she doesn't say whether she ever lived in New York, or where she
comes from!" cried Marjorie, in despair. "I'm just as much in the dark
as ever!

"I'll just have to get it out of her, bit by bit. And maybe, even if she
isn't Frieda Hammer, Pansy troop could help her a whole lot."

So Marjorie decided to write to her again immediately, telling her more
about the troop, their hikes, and their good times. She posted the
letter Saturday morning. She knew, of course, that she and Ruth were
taking the Sunday train