, who simply bubbled over with joyousness all the time, so that
it would have required real trouble to allow anyone to be sad in her
presence. And Frieda, although she had never gone so far again in
accepting Marjorie's friendship as she had on that first Sunday
afternoon, was at least civil. She treated Mrs. Johnson with a fair
degree of courtesy, but she seemed to distrust the Scouts, and avoided
them on every occasion. At one time Pansy troop had invited her to go
with them on a hike, but she had refused in a formal little note,
written in an uneven hand, and evidently dictated by her teacher.

"It must have been that insulting remark of Ruth's, the night of the
fete!" Marjorie assured herself, over and over. "Except for that, we'd
probably be good friends by now!"

Then she would remind herself that Frieda really was progressing, that
the troop was doing its part, and that there was actually no cause to
worry.

On one afternoon that was warm and beautiful, and for which there was no
hockey practice scheduled, she was debating in her mind what to do, when
Lily threw open the door.

"Marj!" she exclaimed, "inside, on a day like this!"

"Oh, I'm going out," her room-mate replied slowly. "Only I can't decide
where. What are you going to do?"

"Play tennis with Doris."

"That's nice."

She watched Lily put on her bloomers, which the girls were allowed to
wear on their own courts, and her sneakers, still undecided as to her
course of action.

"Want to play, too?" invited Lily. "Why not get Ruth, and we'll make it
doubles?"

Marjorie wrinkled her nose; in her own mind she still harbored
resentment against Ruth, and the idea of her company was rather
distasteful.

"No--thanks! I don't want to do anything very strenuous."

A knock sounded at their door, and in answer to Lily's cheery, "Come!"
Alice Endicott entered.

"If I bother you people too much, just put me out!" she announced gaily.
"I simply must have company!"

"Not homesick?" asked Marjorie.

"No, indeed! Only I want to go for a walk, or do something; and your
society's so infinitely more pleasant than my own----"

"I'll tell you what I'll do," interrupted Marjorie. "Let's go canoeing!"

Alice clapped her hands with delight. She had never been out in
Marjorie's canoe since the day when their friendship had really started,
and she longed to be invited again.

"Oh, how lovely!" she cried. "And it's such a perfect day!"

"I'll have to send it