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“Gracious!” laughed Marjorie, “we had lots of active scouts in our troop who were eighteen, and we older ones do scout work yet, as a senior patrol. There are plenty of things in it for older girls.”

“We like the uniform,” continued Queenie, “and we’re crazy about goin’ camping sometime. And that’s about all there is to it, isn’t it? Except of course meetin’ here once a week—and we could do as we please at our own meetin’s.”

“I’m sorry,” said Marjorie, kindly, but firmly, “but you couldn’t. Once you’re scouts, you have to follow the scout law, and do the scout work. And it is work, too, though it’s mighty interesting work. If you want to win the honors, the merit-badges and the medals, you have to go in for it hard. So it must be all or nothing.”

“Sounds too strenuous to me!” yawned Gertie. “We ain’t ladies of leisure, Mrs. Wilkinson. We all work.”

“Neither am I, for that matter,” said Marjorie.

“What do you do?” asked Stella Cox, in surprise.

“I go to college. I finish this year.”

“You still in school!” repeated Queenie in amazement. “You must ’ave started awful late!”