The Girl Scouts' Good Turn Part 14

"Refreshments are ready!" announced the Captain. "Look for your place-cards."

The bas.e.m.e.nt was so cleverly camouflaged and the table so charmingly decorated that the effect could not have been better in the most elaborate dining hall. Corn-stalks, crepe-paper, candles, and favors worked wonders with the usually ugly room.

It seemed, too as if there were everything imaginable to eat--sandwiches, doughnuts, cider, apples, nuts, and candy--indeed, Marjorie regretted that she must eat carefully, for she was still in training.

Seated with David Conner next to her on one side and d.i.c.k Roberts on the other, she had not a single dull moment in which to regret the absence of John Hadley. All too soon the party came to an end.

"If only our good turns were as successful as our good times," remarked Marjorie, as she and Lily made their way to their room, "Pansy troop would be wonderful!"

"You're worrying about Frieda Hammer again," remonstrated Lily. "Do try to forget her!"

"I almost wish I could!" replied the other, with a sigh.

CHAPTER XI

THE HAUNTED HOUSE

It was the first of November, the day when the reports were to be given out!

Marjorie had no fears for her own marks now, she knew that she would pa.s.s creditably. But she glanced sympathetically towards Alice Endicott, and Daisy Gravers, those freshmen who were so anxiously waiting for the deciding factor.

She recalled the parallel situation, early last spring, when she had awaited her own report with such trepidation. And then to have been disappointed--through Ruth's cruel dishonesty! She hoped with all her heart that there was no such disappointment in store for Alice.

Miss Allen's secretary read the list, and the girls came forward to receive their reports, stumbling back to their seats in their haste to examine them. Marjorie found herself calm when her own name was called, but actually trembling when Alice answered the summons.

Miss Phillips had promised to hike to a certain so-called "haunted house" in the vicinity, taking a picnic supper,--in celebration of the new Scouts. The troop had agreed to meet for a moment at the rear of the a.s.sembly room to learn who these girls would be.

But Marjorie did not need to wait for the meeting to know the news from Alice. The girl's expression of bitter mortification told the story only too plainly! Marjorie dropped her eyes; she could not bear to see her cry.

And then an overwhelming feeling of remorse took possession of her.

Perhaps it was her fault! Perhaps, if instead of wasting time and thoughts upon good-for-nothing Frieda Hammer, she had helped Alice in her studies, she might now be a Scout! And yet Marjorie was sincere enough with herself to know that she did not, even now, care so much about Alice or her success, as she did about Frieda. She realized, too, that although a week had gone by, she was still hoping that the runaway would return. Every day she went to the library to read the advertis.e.m.e.nts and personals in the newspapers in search of a clue. And every day, too, she read about the crimes, fearful lest she might discover Frieda's name, or a description of her, among the accounts.

Bringing her thoughts back with an effort to Alice Endicott and the Scouts she hurried over, at the dismissal of the a.s.sembly, to the place where the freshman was standing.

"What branch did you fail in, Alice?" she asked, in the most matter-of-fact tone she could a.s.sume. She knew that here in public was no place for sympathy.

"Chemistry!" answered Alice, with a brave effort to suppress a sob.

"Chemistry?" repeated Marjorie. "But I don't understand--I thought you made ninety-five in that test!"

"I did; but I cut three afternoon lab periods for hockey!"

Marjorie laughed in relief. "Why, child, you can easily make that up! In less than a week you'll be a Scout! Is everything else all right?"

"Apparently."

Immensely cheered by Marjorie's words and manner, Alice proclaimed herself ready to join the Girl Scouts at the other end of the room. Here they encountered wild hilarity. Everybody was congratulating the new girls. Mae VanHorn, Florence Evans, Daisy Gravers, and Barbara Hill had all made the required mark.

Alice, now quite calm and self-controlled, told her story, to which Marjorie added her own interpretation.

"But you'll miss the hike!" exclaimed Florence.

"Oh, are you going right away?" asked Alice, dolefully.

"This very afternoon!" replied Miss Phillips. "I'm sorry, Alice, but the arrangements are all made. Anyhow, we'll soon have another!"

The leaves were falling, and the air was quite sharp; the Scouts wore heavy sweaters and woolen caps to protect them from the cold.

"We'll look for nuts," said Miss Phillips. "Remember our lesson on edible plants?"

"Yes, indeed!" they all cried. "But you didn't tell us anything about nuts."

"We'll make it a game," answered the Captain. "Each girl who finds a new variety will get a point. Whoever has the greatest number of points by the time we reach the haunted house, wins!"

"How are we to know the haunted house, Captain?" asked Doris. "I've never seen it. Is there a story about it?"

"There is really no way of telling that the house is haunted, Doris; it looks like any other house, except that it is larger, and was once upon a time much finer than any of the other houses for miles around. I have seen it on a number of occasions, and I have heard the legend that is still told about it; but I've never been inside, so I'm rather curious to see what it's like. That's why I suggested that we have our suppers there."

"But does anyone live there?" asked Lily.

"No," replied Miss Phillips; "it has not been occupied for years and years--not since anybody around this locality can remember. Some of the uneducated people hereabouts still believe it is haunted, I understand; but it is rather unreasonable to suppose that any of the more cultured ones take any stock in the old story. While the fact that it was supposed to be haunted may have kept people from living in it a good many years ago, I think the real reason it is vacant nowadays is because it is so large that it would require a fortune to fix it up--it never seems to have had any care taken of it--and another fortune to keep it going after it had been made habitable. I believe it is still owned by the heirs of the original owner, who live in England, and that the estate is looked after by a firm in Philadelphia, which rents the ground to the farmers. Why, a few years ago, I pa.s.sed by the house often, and after I had heard the legend, I determined to go inside, but I could never get up enough courage."

"Did you use to live around here, Captain?" asked Marjorie.

"That was when I was a student at Miss Allen's," answered Miss Phillips.

"A student at Miss Allen's?" echoed the girls, in surprise.

"I never knew that," said Marjorie. "You never told us before, Captain,"

she added reproachfully.

"Didn't I?" laughed their leader. "Well, I did go to Miss Allen's; and I liked it so well that I did not want to leave; so when I finished college, I went back as teacher."

"No wonder you seem so much like one of us," remarked Marjorie.

"Do I?" said the other, rather flattered by the suggestion, in the girl's remark, of the place she held in their affections. "Perhaps that is because I feel like one of you."

"Captain, won't you tell us the story of the haunted house?" begged Doris, who, while she was the most timid girl among them, was always the most eager to hear about ghosts, as if she really enjoyed the creepy feeling that it gave her.

"Oh, it's too long to tell now, Doris. But I may tell you some other time; perhaps if I told you now, some of you would not want to visit the place."

"Captain! I've got a chestnut!" cried Ruth, holding up a small, familiar nut.

"Sure enough--there's the tree! Let's stop here a minute, and all get some."