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“Sure they all want to, Miss Wilkinson!” asserted Queenie, with conviction. “Besides, if they didn’t they could drop out of our crowd, and I’d soon bring somebody else in to fill their place. You can count on me to have eight skirts here every Saturday night regular, if that’s goin’ to be our time for the meeting.”

“It suits me,” approved Marjorie, smiling at the high-handed way in which Queenie managed her followers. “Then I will give you these hand-books tonight, and ask you to read them before next week. And two things more: we need to choose a flower name and a patrol leader.”

Briefly she explained the functions of the non-commissioned officer; hardly had she finished before the girls demanded Queenie.

“No use electin’—it’s unanimous!” declared Aggie.

“And the flower?” continued Marjorie.

The girls looked at Queenie.

“Sunflower!” she announced in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she had previously settled the matter. “It’s so bright and noisy-like—just like us!”

“Yea—Sunflower!” repeated the others, all at once.