It was after three o’clock when the meeting broke up, and Marjorie and Lily decided to go straight to their room. Lily’s parents had gone home immediately after the exercises were over, and Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson had invited the girls to supper at the inn with them that evening, so they had not planned to be with Marjorie in the afternoon. Both girls, therefore, felt that they were free for the remainder of the time. Marjorie opened the door rather listlessly, picturing to herself the confusion of the room, and wishing to keep away from it as long as possible. But the packing had to be done, and there would be no opportunity so good as this one. “Lil!” she exclaimed, as soon as they were both inside the door, “What are those suit-boxes on our beds?” “I don’t know,” replied the other girl, going over to examine them. “They don’t belong to me--” she paused, and looked at one of them closely--“yes, this one does, too! It has my name on it!” “And the other has my name on it!” cried Marjorie. “They must be Commencement presents!” With trembling fingers the girls pulled at the string and succeeded in loosening it. In a moment each had made her discovery. A brand new riding-habit of the most fashionable cut lay folded in each box. “How wonderful!” cried Marjorie. “Yes, here’s a card--from mother. But when are we supposed to wear them? I haven’t any horse--” “It must have something to do with our vacation this summer,” surmised Lily. “Or maybe our parents are going to let us go riding every day.” “Let’s put them on!” suggested Marjorie, holding hers up for a closer examination. “No, we better not, Marj. Let’s pack first, and get our work all done. I simply can’t rest in all this mess.” “Righto!” agreed her room-mate. The girls substituted middy blouses and bloomers for the Commencement dresses, and then fell to work with a will. Order began to come from chaos, and the room took on that bare appearance of the deserted dormitory in summer time. As they surveyed the results of their labor, both Marjorie and Lily grew increasingly cheerful; they began to forget that this day was their last at Miss Allen’s, among so many dear friends, and their thoughts instead were of the future. “Don’t you wish we knew what we were going to do this summer?” asked Marjorie, for perhaps the tenth time that week. “Yes, but I do love a mystery. Remember last summer--how we didn’t know whether we were going to the training camp or not--and then later when we hardly dared dream that Pansy Girl Scouts would be the ones to go to Canada.” “Yes,” said Marjorie; “and everything always seems more thrilling in reality than we ever hoped it would be. So perhaps, this summer will be, too.” “Your father said something about Girl Scouts--oh, don’t you wish the whole senior patrol could be together?” “It is my dearest wish,” replied Marjorie, earnestly.