The big porch was indeed a cheery looking place: even Daisy could hardly be homesick amid such a homelike, friendly crowd of people. Here and there groups were playing games; others were reading or writing; and some were just chatting and joking together. Marjorie went inside to the book-shelves, and looked mechanically at the books; but in reality she was trying to decide whether or not to write to John Hadley. Suddenly she had missed him; she found herself wishing that he were one of the young men among that pleasant gathering. She was sorry for the careless way she had dismissed the whole matter of their vacation as a mutual affair, and for the indifferent manner in which she had said goodbye. She would indeed regret the loss of his friendship; there were no other young men among her acquaintanceship whom she so thoroughly admired. “I’ll let him wait a couple of weeks anyhow,” she thought. “It will do him good to wait a while. I might as well read tonight.” So she selected a book and returned to the porch. But she found she could not read long; in a few minutes Bob was at her side. “All ready for tomorrow’s ride, Lieutenant?” he asked, giving her a mock salute. Marjorie looked up laughingly. “How did you know?” she asked. “Doris told me.” “Well, I certainly am ready--I can hardly wait! When do you go?” “I don’t go at all; I have to work at home. I get up early and bring in the horses--” “Oh, that must be heaps of fun! I love to ride early in the morning!” “All right, you can come along and help. The more the merrier!” “Good! What time?” “Six sharp!” “I’ll be there!” returned Marjorie. CHAPTER VII. MARJORIE’S RIVAL. Although John Hadley had resolutely put his own feelings aside, and outwardly was as light-hearted as the rest on the week-end party, he felt far from cheerful. It was not that he was foolish enough to resent Marjorie’s change of plans, for after all that had been accidental on her part. He and she had planned nothing definite, and it was only natural that her father should have the final decision. The latter had not even known of their little vacation project; probably if he had, he would hardly have considered it of sufficient consequence to change his larger plans for his daughter’s entire summer. But John felt wretched because Marjorie had not displayed the slightest regret at giving up their vacation. The prospect, which had filled all his dreams for the past month, meant nothing to her; she could relinquish it as easily as she might cancel one theatre engagement for another. John came suddenly face to face with the fact that Marjorie did not care in the least for him in the way in which he cared for her.