But when, an hour later, he was alone in his room, he made a new resolution. Marjorie had treated him shamefully by not writing to him of her plans, by allowing his hopes to be dashed so rudely to the ground by a third person. It was evident that she did not care for him--that she had never cared, and it was foolish of him to pursue her. In the future, therefore, he meant to treat her with the same polite indifference with which he accorded the other members of her sex; if he was nothing to her, he would show her that she was nothing to him! That evening and the following day, he shared his attentions equally with both girls, and although nothing was said, when Marjorie drove away in the car, she felt that something was wrong. She feared she had lost the friendship of a young man for whom she had the utmost regard and respect. And she was sorry--but not sorry enough to make an effort to re-establish it on the old footing. Resolutely, she thought of the ranch and the Girl Scouts, and talked volubly to Lily on both subjects. She was rewarded, it seemed; for when she reached her home, she found her lieutenant’s commission waiting in the mail-box! CHAPTER IV. DAISY’S SISTER. The eight Girl Scouts who were going to the ranch met at the Grand Central Station of New York. Although there were to be only eight travellers, there seemed to be about thirty or forty people in the party, so many friends and relatives had come to see them off. Luckily, the girls’ luggage was all cared for by someone else, for there was not a scout in the party who was not laden down with baskets of fruit or boxes of candy. Doris Sands and Marjorie Wilkinson each wore bunches of roses--those of the latter however were a gift, not from John Hadley, but from Griffith Hunter. The girls themselves seemed almost too excited to give much thought to their presents. They tried to listen to innumerable admonitions and messages at the last minute, and finally got into the train with only a hazy idea of what everyone had said. But they all looked supremely happy. As soon as they were comfortably settled, and the excitement had died down so that normal conversation was in order again, Marjorie began to wish she might tell the others about her commission. It was only with the greatest effort that she restrained herself. Neither had Lily forgotten the all important subject; so as soon as she found a chance, she blurted out her announcement. “Girls!” she said. “I have the most exciting news to tell you! Guess what it is!” “What? What?” demanded two or three at once. “Marj is engaged?” suggested Alice, always anxious for romance. “Don’t be silly!” said Marjorie, frigidly. “Well, you’ll never guess, so I might as well tell you,” said Lily, amused at Marjorie’s indignation. “We are to have a scout lieutenant to chaperone us this summer.” “Who?” demanded Florence Evans, excitedly. “Not my sister Edith?”