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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:11:48 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23987-8.txt b/23987-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..494244e --- /dev/null +++ b/23987-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8526 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Torch Bearer, by I. T. Thurston + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Torch Bearer + A Camp Fire Girls' Story + + +Author: I. T. Thurston + + + +Release Date: December 23, 2007 [eBook #23987] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORCH BEARER*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 23987-h.htm or 23987-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/9/8/23987/23987-h/23987-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/9/8/23987/23987-h.zip) + + + + + +THE TORCH BEARER + + * * * * * * + +BY I. T. THURSTON + +The Torch Bearer + A Camp Fire Girls' Story. Illustrated, 12mo, net $1.00. + +The author of "The Bishop's Shadow" and "The Scout Master of Troop 5" +has scored another conspicuous success in this new story of girl life. +She shows conclusively that she knows how to reach the heart of a girl +as well as that of a boy. + +The Scout Master of Troop 5 + By author of "The Bishop's Shadow." Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, + net $1.00. + +"The daily life of the city boys from whom the scouts are recruited +is related, and the succession of experiences afterward coming +delightfully to them--country hikes, camp life, exploring +expeditions, and the finding of real hidden treasure. The depiction +of boy nature is unusually true to life, and there are many +realistic scenes and complications to try out traits of +character."--_N. Y. Sun_. + +The Big Brother of Sabin Street + Containing the story of Theodore Bryan (The Bishop's Shadow). + Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00. + +"This volume is the sequel to the Story of Theodore Bryan, 'The +Bishop's Shadow,' which came into prominence as a classic among +boys' books and was written to supply the urgent demand for a story +continuing the account of Theodore's work among the +boys."--_Western Recorder_. + +The Bishop's Shadow + Illustrated, cloth, net $1.00. + +"A captivating story of dear Phillips Brooks and a little street +gamin of Boston. The book sets forth the almost matchless character +of the Christlike bishop in most loving and lovely lines."--_The +Interior_. + + + * * * * * * + + +THE TORCH BEARER + +A Camp Fire Girls' Story + +by + +I. T. THURSTON + +Author of "The Bishop's Shadow," "The Scout Master of Troop 5," +Etc., Etc. + +Illustrated + + + + + + + +[Illustration: The Torch Bearer] + + + +New York--Chicago--Toronto +Fleming H. Revell Company +London and Edinburgh + +Copyright, 1913, by +Fleming H. Revell Company +New York: 158 Fifth Avenue +Chicago: 125 N. Wabash Ave. +Toronto: 25 Richmond St., W. +London: 21 Paternoster Square +Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street + + + + +To +M. N. T. + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +The Torch Bearer Frontispiece + +"At last a tiny puff of smoke arose" 14 + +"Soon the flames began to blaze and crackle, + filling the air with a spicy fragrance" 20 + +A group of girls busy over beadwork 34 + +"We pull long, we pull strong" 78 + +"Wood had been gathered earlier in the day" 90 + +A favourite rendezvous at the camp 212 + +"Just think of the Lookout at this very minute!" 220 + + + +CONTENTS + + I. The Camp in the Forest 11 + II. Introducing the Problem 24 + III. The Camp Coward Dares 31 + IV. The Poor Thing 44 + V. Wind and Weather 65 + VI. A Water Cure 77 + VII. Honours Won 88 + VIII. Elizabeth at Home 98 + IX. Jim 119 + X. Sadie Page 137 + XI. Boys and Old Ladies 147 + XII. Nancy Rextrew 155 + XIII. A Camp Fire Christmas 168 + XIV. Lizette 181 + XV. An Open Door for Elizabeth 200 + XVI. Camp Fire Girls and the Flag 212 + XVII. Sonia 220 + XVIII. The Torch Uplifted 233 + XIX. Clear Shining After Darkness 243 + + + + +I + +THE CAMP IN THE FOREST + + +"Wohelo--wohelo--wo-_he_-lo!" + +The clear, musical call, rising from the green tangle of the forest that +fringed the bay, seemed to float lingeringly above the treetops and out +over the wide stretch of gleaming water, to a girl in a green canoe, who +listened intently until the last faint echo died away, then began +paddling rapidly towards the wooded slope. The sun, just dropping below +the horizon, flooded the western sky with a blaze of colour that turned +the wide waters into a sea of gold, through which the little craft +glided swiftly, scattering from its slender prow showers of shining +drops. + +"I'm going to find out what that means," the girl said under her breath. +"It sounds like an Indian call, but I'm sure those were not Indian +voices." + +On and on, steadily, swiftly, swept the green canoe, until, rounding a +wooded point, it slipped suddenly into a beautiful little cove where +there was a floating dock with a small fleet of canoes and rowboats +surrounding it, and steps leading up the slope. The girl smiled as she +stepped lightly out on the dock, and fastened her canoe to one of the +rings. + +"A girls' camp it surely is," she said to herself. "I'm going to get a +glimpse of it anyhow." + +Running up the steps, she followed a well-trodden path through a pine +grove, and in a few minutes, through the trees, she caught the gleam of +white tents and stopped to reconnoitre. A dozen or more tents were set +irregularly around an open space; also there was a large frame building +with canvas instead of boarding on two sides, and adjoining this a small +frame shack, evidently a kitchen--and girls were everywhere. + +"O, I'm hungry for girls!" breathed the one peering through the green +branches. "I wonder if I dare venture----" She broke off abruptly, +staring in surprise at a group approaching her. Then she ran forward +crying out, "Why, Anne Wentworth--to think of finding you here!" + +"To think of finding _you_ here, Laura Haven! Where did you drop from?" +cried the other. The two were holding each other's hands and looking +into each other's faces with eyes full of glad surprise. + +"I? I didn't drop--I climbed--up the steps from the landing," Laura +laughed. "I was out on the bay in my canoe--we came up yesterday in the +yacht--and I heard that beautiful Indian call, and I just _had_ to find +out where it came from, and what it meant. I suspected a girls' camp, +but of course I never dreamed of finding you here. Do tell me all about +it. It is a camp, isn't it?" + +"Yes, we are Camp Fire Girls," Anne Wentworth replied. She glanced +behind her, but the others had disappeared. "They vanished for fear they +might be in the way," she said. "O Laura, I'm so glad you're here, for +this is the night for our Council Fire. You can stay to it, can't +you--I'm sure you would be interested." + +"Stay--how long? It's after sunset now." + +"O, stay all night with me, and all day to-morrow. You must stay to the +Council Fire to-night, anyhow." + +"I'd love to dearly, but father won't know where I am." Laura's voice +was full of regret. + +"Why can't you go back and tell him? I'll go with you," Anne suggested. + +"Will there be time before your Council Fire?" + +"Yes, if we hurry--wait one minute." Anne called to the nearest girl, +gave her a brief message, and turned again to her friend. "Come on, +we've no time to lose, but I know how you can make a canoe fly," she +said, and hand-in-hand the two went scurrying through the grove and down +to the landing. Then while the canoe swept swiftly over the water, Anne +Wentworth answered the eager questions of her friend. + +"It's a new organisation--the Camp Fire Girls," she explained. "It is +something like the Boy Scouts only, I think, planned on broader lines +and with higher and finer ideals--at any rate it is better suited for +girls. It aims to help them to be healthy, useful, trustworthy, and +happy. Health--work--love--as shown in service--these are the ideals on +which we try to build. We have three grades. First a girl becomes a Wood +Gatherer; then after passing certain tests, a Fire Maker, then a Torch +Bearer." + +"And which are you?" Laura asked. + +"I'm a Guardian--that is, I am the head of one of our city Camp Fires. +Mrs. Royall is our Chief Guardian." She went on to explain about the +work and play, the tests and rewards, ending with, "But you'll +understand it all so much better after our Council Fire to-night." + +Laura nodded. "What kind of girls is it for--poor girls--working +girls?" she asked. + +"It is for any kind of girls--just girls, you know. Of course we can't +admit any bad ones, nothing else matters. Dorothy Groves is one of my +twelve, and I've two dear little High School girls; all the rest are +working girls. They can stay here at the camp only two weeks--some of +them only ten days--the working girls, I mean, and it would make your +heart ache to see how much those ten days mean to them, and how +intensely they enjoy even the commonest pleasures of camping out." + +"Who pays for them?" Laura demanded. + +"They pay for themselves. It's no charity, and the charges are very low. +They wouldn't come if it were charity." + +Laura shook her head half impatiently. "It's so hard to get a chance +really to help the ones who need help most," she said. + +"Yes, it surely is," Anne agreed; and then they were alongside the big +white yacht with its shining brass, and Judge Haven was helping them up +the steps. + +Fifteen minutes later they were on their way back to the camp, but this +time in a boat rowed by two of the crew. The last golden gleam of the +afterglow was fading slowly in the West as the two girls came again +through the pines into the open space between the tents. Mrs. Royall met +them and made Laura cordially welcome. + +"She's just the right one--a real camp mother," Anne said, as she led +her friend over to a group gathered on the grass before one of the +tents. "And these are my own girls," she added, introducing each by +name. + +[Illustration: "At last a tiny puff of smoke arose"] + +"You've got to take me right in," Laura told them. "I can't help it if +I am an odd number--I'm going to belong to this particular Camp Fire +to-night." + +"Of course we'll take you in, and love to. Aren't you Miss Anne's +friend?" said one, as she snuggled down on the grass beside Laura. "It's +so nice you came on our Council Fire night!" + +Laura's eyes swept the group. "It must be nice--you all look so happy," +she answered. + +Anne Wentworth excused herself for a few minutes, and Laura settled back +against a tree with a little sigh of content. "I've been abroad for a +year," she said, "and it seems so good to be with girls again--American +girls! Please, won't you forget that I am here and talk just as if I +were not? I want to sit still and enjoy the place and you +and--everything, for a bit, before your Council begins." + +With ready courtesy they took her at her word, and chatted of camp plans +and happenings until the talk was interrupted by a clear musical call +that floated softly out of the gathering dusk. + +"How beautiful! What is it?" Laura asked as all the girls started up. + +"It's the bugle call to the Council," one explained, "and here comes +Miss Anne." + +Laura glanced curiously at her friend's dress. It was a long loose +garment of dark brown, fringed at the bottom and the sleeves. A band of +beadwork was fastened over her forehead, and she wore a long necklace of +bright-coloured beads. + +"What is it--a robe of state?" Laura inquired. + +"Yes, the ceremonial dress," Anne told her, "but you can't see in this +light how pretty it is. Come on, we must join the procession." + +"What has become of your girls?" Laura asked. "They were here a moment +ago." + +"They have gone to get their necklaces," Anne returned. "My girls are +all Wood Gatherers as yet--we've not been organised long, you know; but +they've been working hard for honours, and for every honour they are +entitled to add a bead to their necklaces." + +"Yours then must represent a great many honours." + +"Yes," Anne replied. "You see it incites the girls to work for honours +when they see that their Guardians have worked and won them. The red +beads show that the wearer has won health honours by keeping free from +colds, headaches, etc., for a number of months, or by sleeping out of +doors, or doing some sort of athletics--walking, swimming, rowing, and +the like. The blue ones are for nature study, the black and gold for +business, and so on. Each bead has a meaning for the girl--it tells a +story--and the more she wins, the finer her record, of course." + +"What a splendid idea! And how the girls will prize their necklaces +by-and-by, and enjoy recalling the stories connected with them!" + +"Yes," Anne agreed, "they will hand them down to their daughters as a +new kind of heirloom, but----" with a laugh she added, "that's looking a +long way ahead, isn't it?" + +By this time the two were in the midst of a merry procession of girls +from twelve to twenty, perhaps a third of them wearing the ceremonial +dress. + +"What a gay company they are!" Laura commented, as the procession +followed a winding path through the woods, a few carrying lanterns. "Is +there anything in the world, Anne, lovelier than a crowd of happy +girls?" + +"Nothing," her friend assented in a low tone. "And, Laura, if you could +only see the difference a few days here make in some of the girls who +have had all work and no play--like some of mine! It is so delightful to +see them grow merry and glad day by day. But here we are. This is our +Council Chamber." + +"I want as many eyes as a spider so that I can look every way at once," +Laura cried as the girls arranged themselves in a large circle. "What +are those girls over there doing?" + +"They are the Fire Makers. They were Wood Gatherers for over three +months, and have met the requirements for the second class. Some of the +others are to be made Fire Makers to-night. Watch Mary Walsh--the one +rubbing two sticks. She will make fire without matches--or at least she +will try to." + +The girl, with one knee on the ground, was rubbing one stick briskly +back and forth in the groove of another. A little group beside her +watched her with eager interest, two of them holding lanterns, and Mrs. +Royall stood near her, watch in hand. The talk and laughter had ceased +as the circle formed, and now in silence, all eyes were centred on the +girl. Faster and faster her hands moved to the accompaniment of a +whining, scraping sound that rose at intervals to a shrill squeak. At +last a tiny puff of smoke arose, and the girl blew carefully until she +had a glowing spark, which she fed with tiny shreds of wood, until +suddenly it blazed up brightly. Then, springing lightly to her feet, +she stood erect, the flaming wood in her outstretched hand distinctly +revealing her happy, triumphant face against the dark background of the +pines. + +There was a quick clamour of applause as Mrs. Royall announced, "Thirty +seconds within the time limit, Mary. Well done! Now light the Council +Fire." + +The girl stepped forward and touched her flaming brand to the wood that +had been made ready by the other Fire Makers, and soon the flames began +to blaze and crackle, filling the air with a spicy fragrance, and +sending a vivid glow across the circle of intent young faces. Laura +caught her breath as she looked around the circle. + +"What a picture!" she whispered. "It is lovely--lovely!" + +At a signal from Mrs. Royall the girls now gathered closer about the +fire and began to chant all together, + + "'Wohelo--wohelo--wohelo. + Wohelo means love. + We love love, for love is the heart of life. + It is light and joy and sweetness, + Comradeship and all dear kinship. + Love is the joy of service so deep + That self is forgotten. + Wohelo means love.'" + +Then louder swelled the chorus, + + "'Wohelo for aye, + Wohelo for aye, + Wohelo, wohelo, wohelo for aye.'" + +The last note was followed by a moment of utter silence; then one side +of the circle chanted, + + "'Wohelo for work!'" + +and the opposite side flung back, + + "'Wohelo for health!'" + +and all together they chorused exultantly, + + "'Wohelo, wohelo, wohelo for love!'" + +Then in unison, led by Anne Wentworth, the beautiful Fire Ode was +repeated, + + "'O Fire! + Long years ago when our fathers fought with great + animals you were their great protection. + When they fought the cold of the cruel winter you + saved them. + When they needed food you changed the flesh of beasts + into savoury meat for them. + During all the ages your mysterious flame has been + a symbol to them for Spirit. + So, to-night, we light our fire in grateful remembrance + of the Great Spirit who gave you to us.'" + +In a few clear-cut sentences Mrs. Royall spoke of the Camp Fire +symbolism--of fire as the living, renewing, all-pervading element--"Our +brother the fire, bright and pleasant, and very mighty and strong," as +being the underlying spirit--the heart of this new order of the girls of +America, as the hearth-fire is the heart of the home. She spoke of the +brown chevron with the crossed sticks, the symbol of the Wood Gatherer, +the blue and orange symbol of the Fire Maker, and the complete insignia +combining both of these with the touch of white representing smoke from +the flame, worn by the Torch Bearer, trying to make clear and vivid the +beautiful meaning of it all. + +When the roll-call was read, each girl, as she answered to her name, +gave also the number of honours she had earned since the last meeting. +It was then that Laura, watching the absorbed faces, shook her head with +a sigh as her eyes met Anne's; and Anne nodded with quick understanding. + +"Yes," she whispered, "there is some rivalry. It isn't all love and +harmony--yet. But we are working that way all the time." + +There was a report of the last Council, written in rather limping rhyme, +and then each girl told of some kind or gentle deed she had seen or +heard of since the last meeting--things ranging all the way from hunting +for a lost glove to going for the doctor at midnight when a girl was +taken suddenly ill in camp. Only one had no kindness to tell. And when +she reported "Nothing" it was as if a shadow fell for a moment over all +the young faces turned towards her. + +"Who is that? Her voice sounds so unhappy!" Laura said, and her friend +answered, "I'll tell you about her afterwards. Her name is Olga Priest. +There's a new member to be received to-night. Here she comes." + +Laura watched the new member as she stepped out of the circle, and +crossed over to the Chief Guardian. + +[Illustration: "Soon the flames began to blaze and crackle, filling the +air with a spicy fragrance"] + +"What is your desire?" Mrs. Royall asked, and the girl answered, + +"I desire to become a Camp Fire Girl and to obey the law of the Camp +Fire, which is to + + "Seek beauty, + Give service, + Pursue knowledge, + Hold on to health, + Glorify work, + Be happy.' + +This law of the Camp Fire I will strive to follow." + +Slowly and impressively, Mrs. Royall explained to her the law, phrase by +phrase, and as she ceased speaking, the candidate repeated her promise +to keep it, and instantly every girl in the circle, placing her right +hand over her heart, chanted slowly, + + "'This law of the fire I will strive to follow + With all the strength and endurance of my body, + The power of my will, + The keenness of my mind, + The warmth of my heart, + And the sincerity of my spirit.'" + +And again after the last words--like a full stop in music--came the few +seconds of utter silence. + +It was broken by the Chief Guardian. "With this sign you become a Wood +Gatherer," and she laid the fingers of her right hand across those of +her left. The candidate made the same sign; then she held out her hand, +and Mrs. Royall slipped on her finger the silver ring, which all Camp +Fire Girls are entitled to wear, and as she did so she said, + + "'As fagots are brought from the forest + Firmly held by the sinews which bind them, + So cleave to these others, your sisters, + Whenever, wherever you find them. + + Be strong as the fagots are sturdy; + Be pure in your deepest desire; + Be true to the truth that is in you; + And--follow the law of the fire.'" + +The girl returned to her place in the circle, and at a sign from Anne +Wentworth, four of her girls followed her as she moved forward and stood +before Mrs. Royall. From a paper in her hand she read the names of the +four girls, and declared that they had all met the tests for the second +grade. + +The Chief Guardian turned to the four. + +"What is your desire?" she asked, and together they repeated, + + "'As fuel is brought to the fire + So I purpose to bring + My strength, + My ambition, + My heart's desire, + My joy, + And my sorrow + To the fire + Of humankind. + For I will tend + As my fathers have tended, + And my father's fathers + Since time began, + The fire that is called + The love of man for man, + The love of man for God.'" + +As the young earnest voices repeated the beautiful words, Laura Haven's +heart thrilled again with the solemn beauty of it all, and tears crowded +to her eyes in the silence that followed--a silence broken only by the +whispering of the night wind high in the treetops. + +Then Mrs. Royall lifted her hand and soft and low the young voices +chanted, + + "'Lay me to sleep in sheltering flame, + O Master of the Hidden Fire; + Wash pure my heart, and cleanse for me + My soul's desire. + + In flame of service bathe my mind, + O Master of the Hidden Fire, + That when I wake clear-eyed may be + My soul's desire.'" + +It was over, and the circle broke again into laughing, chattering +groups. Lanterns were lighted, every spark of the Council Fire carefully +extinguished, and then back through the woods the procession wound, +laughing, talking, sometimes breaking into snatches of song, the +lanterns throwing strange wavering patches of light into the dense +darkness of the woods on either side. + + + + +II + +INTRODUCING THE PROBLEM + + +"You did enjoy it, didn't you?" Anne said as the two walked back through +the woods-path to camp. + +"I loved every bit of it," was the enthusiastic response. "It's so +different from anything else--so fresh and picturesque and full of +interest! I should think girls would be wild to belong." + +"They are. Camp Fires are being organised all over the country. The +trouble is that there are not yet enough older girls trained for +Guardians." + +"Where can they get the training?" + +"In New York there is a regular training class, and there will soon be +others in other cities," Anne returned, and then, with a laugh, "I +believe you've caught the fever already, Laura." + +"I have--hard. You know, Anne, all the time we were abroad I was trying +to decide what kind of work I could take up, among girls, and this +appeals to me as nothing else has done. It seems to me there are great +possibilities in it. I'd like to be a Guardian. Do you think I'm fit?" + +"Of course you're fit, dear. O Laura, I'm so glad. We can work together +when we go home." + +"But, Anne, I want to stay right here in this camp now. Do you suppose +Mrs. Royall will be willing? Of course I'll pay anything she says----" + +"She'll be delighted. She needs more helpers, and I can teach you all I +learned before I took charge of my girls. But will your father be +willing?" + +"I'm sure he will. He knows you, and everybody in Washington knows and +honours Mrs. Royall. Father is going to Alaska on a business trip and +I've been trying to decide where I would stay while he is gone. This +will solve my problem beautifully." + +"Come then--we'll see Mrs. Royall right now and arrange it," Anne +returned, turning back. + +Mrs. Royall was more than willing to accede to Laura's proposal. "Stay +at the camp as long as you like," she said, "and if you really want to +be a Guardian, I will send your name to the Board which has the +appointing power." + +"She is lovely, isn't she?" Laura said as they left the Chief Guardian. +"I don't wonder you call her the Camp Mother." + +Something in the tone reminded Anne that her friend had long been +motherless, and she slipped her arm affectionately around Laura's waist +as she answered, "She is the most motherly woman I ever met. She seems +to have room in her big, warm heart for every girl that wants mothering, +no matter who or what she is." They were back at the camp now, and she +added, "But we must get to bed quickly--there's the curfew," as a bugle +sounded a few clear notes. + +"O dear, I've a hundred and one questions to ask you," sighed Laura. + +"They'll keep till morning," replied the other. "It's so hard for the +girls to stop chattering after the curfew sounds! We Guardians have to +set them a good example." + +The cots in the sleeping tents were placed on wooden platforms raised +three or four inches from the ground, and on clear nights the sides of +the tents were rolled up. Laura, too interested and excited to sleep at +once, lay in her cot looking out across the open space now flooded with +light from the late-risen moon, and thought of the girls sleeping around +her. Herself an only child, she had a great desire--almost a +passion--for girls; girls who were lonely like herself--girls who had to +struggle with ill-health, poverty, and hard work as she did not. + +Suddenly she started up in bed, her eyes wide with half-startled +surprise. Reaching over to the adjoining cot, she touched her friend, +whispering, "Anne, Anne, look!" and as Anne opened drowsy eyes, Laura +pointed to the moonlit space. + +Anne stared for a moment, then she laughed softly and whispered back, +"It's a ghost dance, Laura. Some of those irrepressible girls couldn't +resist this moonlight. They're doing an Indian folk dance." + +"Isn't it weird--in the moonlight and in utter silence!" Laura said +under her breath. "I should think somebody would giggle and spoil the +effect." + +"That would be a signal for Mrs. Royall to 'discover' them and send them +back to bed," Anne returned. "So long as they do it in utter silence so +as to disturb no one else, the Guardians wink at it. It is pretty, isn't +it?" + +"Lovely!" + +Anne turned over and went to sleep again, but Laura watched the slender +graceful figures in their loose white garments till suddenly they melted +into the shadows and were gone. Then she too slept till a shaft of +sunlight, touching her eyelids, awakened her to a new day. She looked +across at her friend, who smiled back at her. "I feel so well and so +happy!" she exclaimed. + +"It is sleeping in the open air," Anne replied. "Almost everybody wakes +happy here--except the Problem." + +"The Problem?" Laura echoed. + +"I mean Olga Priest, the girl you asked about last night. We Guardians +call her the Problem because no one has yet been able to do anything for +her." + +"Tell me about her," Laura begged, as, dropping the sides of the tent, +Anne began to dress. + +"Wait till we are outside--there are too many sharp young ears about us +here," Anne cautioned. "There'll be time for a walk or a row before +breakfast and we can talk then." + +"Good--let's have a walk," Laura said, and made quick work of her +dressing. + +"Now tell me about the Problem," she urged, when they were seated on a +rocky point overlooking the blue waters of the bay. + +"Poor Olga," Anne said. "I wonder sometimes if she has ever had a really +happy day in the eighteen years of her life. Her mother was a Russian of +good family and well educated. She married an American who made life +bitter for her until he drank himself to death. There were three +children older than Olga--two sons who went to the bad, following their +father's example. The older girl married a worthless fellow and +disappeared, and there was no one left but Olga to support the sick +mother and herself, and Olga was only thirteen then! She supported them, +somehow, but of course she had to leave her mother alone all day, and +one night when she went home she found her gone. She had died all +alone." + +"_O!_" cried Laura. + +"Yes, it was pitiful. I suppose the child was as nearly heartbroken as +any one could be, for her mother was everything to her. Of course there +were many who would have been glad to help had they known, but Olga's +pride is something terrible, and it seems as if she hates everybody +because her father and her brothers and sister neglected her mother, and +she was left to die alone. I don't believe there is a single person in +the world whom she likes even a little." + +"O, the poor thing!" sighed Laura. "Not even Mrs. Royall?" + +"No, not even Mrs. Royall, who has been heavenly kind to her." + +"Is she in your Camp Fire?" + +"No, Ellen Grandis is her Guardian, but Ellen is to be married next +month and will live in New York, so that Camp Fire will have to have a +new Guardian." + +"What about the other girls in it?" + +"All but three are working girls--salesgirls in stores, I think, most of +them." + +"How did Olga happen to join the Camp Fire?" + +"I don't know. I've wondered about that myself. She doesn't make friends +with any of the girls, nor join in any of the games; but work--she has a +perfect passion for work, and it seems as if she can do anything. She +has won twice as many honours as any other girl since she came, but she +cares nothing for them--except to win them." + +"She must be a strange character, but she interests me," Laura said +thoughtfully. "Anne, maybe I can take Miss Grandis' place when she +leaves." + +Anne gave her friend a searching look. "Are you sure you would like it? +Wouldn't you rather have a different class of girls?" she asked. + +Laura answered gravely, "I want the girls I can help most--those that +need me most--and from what you say, I should think Olga needed--some +one--as much as any girl could." + +"As much perhaps, but hardly more than some of the others. There's that +little Annie Pearson who thinks of nothing but her pretty face and 'good +times,' and Myra Karr who is afraid of her own shadow and always +clinging to the person she happens to be with. The Camp Fire is a +splendid organisation, Laura, and it will do a deal for the girls, but +still almost every one of them is some sort of 'problem' that we have to +study and watch and labour over with heart and head and hands if we hope +really to accomplish any permanent good. But come, we must go back or we +shall be late for breakfast." + +"Then let's hurry, for this air has given me a famous appetite," Laura +replied. But she did not find it easy to keep up with her friend's +steady stride. + +"You'll have to get in training for tramps if you are going to be a Camp +Fire Girl," Anne taunted gaily. + +Laura's eyes brightened as she entered the big dining-room with its +canvas sides rolled high. + +"Just in time," Anne said, as she pulled out a chair for Laura and +slipped into the next one herself. + +The meal was cheerful, almost hilarious. "Mrs. Royall believes in +laughter. She never checks the girls unless it's really necessary," +Anne explained under cover of the merry chatter. "She----" + +But Laura interrupted her. "O Anne, that must be Olga--the dark still +girl, at the end of the next table, isn't it?" + +"Yes, and Myra Karr is next to her. All at that table belong to the Busy +Corner Camp Fire." + +After breakfast Laura again paddled off to the yacht with Anne. It did +not require much coaxing to secure her father's permission for her to +spend a month at the camp with Anne Wentworth and Mrs. Royall. He kept +the girls on the yacht for luncheon, and after that they went back to +camp, a couple of sailors following in another boat with Laura's +luggage. + +"How still it is--I don't hear a sound," Laura said wonderingly, as she +and her friend approached the camp through the pines. + +Anne listened, looking a little perplexed, as they came out into the +camp and found it quite deserted--not a girl anywhere in sight. + +"I'll go and find out where everybody is," she said. "I see some one +moving in the kitchen. The cook must be there." + +She came back laughing. "They've all gone berrying. That's one of the +charms of this camp--the spontaneous fashion in which things are done. +Probably some one said, 'There are blueberries over yonder--loads of +them,' and somebody else exclaimed, 'Let's go get some,' and +behold"--she waved her hand--"a deserted camp." + + + + +III + +THE CAMP COWARD DARES + + +Each girl at the camp was expected to make her own bed and keep her +belongings in order. Each one also served her turn in setting tables, +washing dishes, etc. Beyond this there were no obligatory tasks, but all +the girls were working for honours, and most of them were trying to meet +the requirements for higher rank. Some were making their official +dresses. Girls who were skilful with the needle could secure beautiful +and effective results with silks and beads, and of course every girl +wanted a headband of beadwork and a necklace--all except Olga Priest. +Olga was working on a basket of raffia, making it from a design of her +own, when Ellen Grandis, her Guardian, came to her just after Anne +Wentworth and Laura had left the camp. + +"I've come to ask your help, Olga," Miss Grandis began. + +The girl dropped the basket in her lap, and waited. + +Miss Grandis went on, "It is something that will require much patience +and kindness----" + +"Then you'd better ask some one else, Miss Grandis. You know that I do +not pretend to be kind," Olga interrupted, not rudely but with finality. + +"But you are very patient and persevering, and--I don't know why, but I +have a feeling that you could do more for this one girl than any one +else here could. She is coming to take the only vacant place in our +Camp Fire. Shall I tell you about her, Olga?" + +"If you like." The girl's tone was politely indifferent. + +With a little sigh Miss Grandis went on, "Her name is Elizabeth Page. +She is about a year younger than you, and she has had a very hard life." + +Olga's lips tightened and a shadow swept across her dark eyes. + +Miss Grandis continued, "You have superb health--this girl has perhaps +never been really well for a single day. You have a brain and hands that +enable you to accomplish almost what you will. Poor Elizabeth can do so +few things well that she has no confidence in herself: yet I believe she +might do many things if only she could be made to believe in herself a +little. She needs--O, everything that the Camp Fire can do for a girl. +Olga, won't you help us to help her?" + +"How can I?" There was no trace of sympathy in the cold voice, and +suddenly the eager hopefulness faded out of Miss Grandis' face. + +"How can you indeed, if you do not care. I am afraid I made a mistake in +coming to you, after all," she said sadly. "I'm sorry, Olga--sorry even +more on your account than on Elizabeth's." + +With that she rose and went away, and Olga looked after her thoughtfully +for a moment before she took up her work again. + +A little later Myra Karr stood looking down at her with a curious +expression in her wide blue eyes. + +"I'm--I'm going to walk to Kent's Corners," she announced, with a little +nervous catch in her voice. + +"Well, what of it? You've been there before, haven't you?" Olga +retorted. + +"Yes, but this time I'm going all _alone_!" + +Olga's only reply was a swift mocking smile. + +"I _am_--Olga Priest!" repeated Myra, stamping her foot angrily. "You +all think me a coward--I'll just show you!" and with that she whirled +around and marched off, her chin up and her cheeks flushed. + +As she passed a group of girls busy over beadwork, one of them called +out, "What's the matter, Bunny?" + +Myra paused and faced them. "I'm going to walk to Kent's Corners +_alone_!" she cried defiantly. + +A shout of incredulous laughter greeted that. + +"Better give it up before you start, Bunny," said one. + +Another, with a mischievous laugh, whisked out her handkerchief and in a +flash had twisted it into a rabbit with flopping ears. "Bunny, bunny, +bunny!" she called, making the rabbit hop across her lap. + +Myra's blue eyes filled with angry tears. "You're horrid, Louise +Johnson!" she cried out. "You're _all_ horrid. But I'll show you!" and +with a glance that swept the whole laughing group, she threw back her +head and marched on. + +The girls looked after her and then at each other. + +"Believe she'll really do it?" one questioned doubtfully. + +"Not she. Maybe she'll get as far as the village," replied another. + +"She'd never dare pass Slabtown alone--never in the world," a third +declared with decision. + +"Poor Myra, I'm sorry for her. It must be awful to be scared at +everything as she is!" This from Mary Hastings, a big blonde who did not +know what fear was. + +"Bunny certainly is the scariest girl in this camp," laughed Louise +Johnson carelessly. "She's afraid of her own shadow." + +"Then she ought to have more credit than the rest of us when she does do +a brave thing," put in little Bess Carroll in her gentle way. + +"We'll give her credit all right _if_ she goes to Kent's Corners," +retorted Louise. + +Just then another girl ran up to the group and announced that a +blueberry picnic had been arranged. Somebody had discovered a pasture +where the bushes were loaded with luscious fruit. They would carry +lunch, and bring back enough for a regular blueberry festival. + +"All who want to go, get baskets or pails and come on," the girl ended. + +In an instant the others were on their feet, work thrown aside, and five +minutes later there was no one but the cook left in the camp. + +[Illustration: A group of girls busy over beadwork] + +By that time Myra Karr was tramping steadily on towards Kent's Corners. +Scarcely another girl in the camp would have minded that walk, but never +before had she dared to take it alone; now in spite of her nervous +fears, she felt a little thrill of incredulous pride in herself. So many +times she had planned to do this thing, but always before her courage +had failed. Now, now she was really doing it! And if she went all the +way perhaps--O, perhaps the girls would stop calling her Bunny. How she +hated that name! She hurried on, her heart beating hard, her hands +tight-clenched, her eyes fearfully searching the long sunny road before +her and the woods or fields that bordered it. It was not so bad the +first part of the way--the mile and a half to the little village of East +Bassett. To be sure, she had never before been even that far alone, but +she had been many times with other girls. She passed slowly and +lingeringly through the village. Should she turn back now? Before her +flashed the face of Olga with that little cold mocking smile, and she +saw again Louise Johnson hopping her handkerchief rabbit across her lap. +The incredulous laughter with which the others had greeted her +announcement rang still in her ears. She was walking very very slowly, +but--but no, she wouldn't--she _couldn't_ turn back. She forced her +unwilling feet to go on--to go faster, faster until she was almost +running. She was beyond the village now and another mile and a half +would bring her to Slabtown. _Slabtown!_ She had forgotten Slabtown. The +colour died swiftly out of her face as she remembered it now. Even with +a crowd of girls she had never passed the place without a fearful +shrinking, and now alone--_could_ she pass those ugly cabins swarming +with rough, dirty men and slovenly women and rude, staring children? Her +knees trembled under her even at the thought, and her newborn courage +melted like wax. It was no use. She could not do it. She wavered, +stopped, and turned slowly around. As she did so a grey rabbit with a +white tail scurried across the road before her, his ears flattened +against his head and his eyes bulging with terror. The sight of him +suddenly steadied the girl. She stood still looking after the tiny grey +streak flying across a wide green pasture, and a queer crooked smile +was on her trembling lips. + +"A bunny--_another_ bunny," she said under her breath, "and just as +scared as I am--at nothing. I won't be a bunny any longer! I won't be +the camp coward--I won't, won't, _won't_!" she cried aloud, and turning, +went on again swiftly with her head lifted. A bit of colour drifted back +to her white cheeks, and her heart stopped its heavy thumping as she +drew a long deep breath. She would not let herself think of Slabtown. +She counted the trees she passed, named the birds that wheeled and +circled about her, even repeated the multiplication table--anything to +keep Slabtown out of her thoughts; but all the while the black dread of +it was there in the back of her mind. When she caught sight of the +sawmill where the Slabtown men earned their bread, her feet began to +drag again. + +"I can't--O, I can't!" she sobbed out, two big tears rolling down her +cheeks. Then across her mind flashed a vision of the little cottontail +streaking madly across the road before her, and again some strange new +power within urged her on. She went on slowly, reluctantly, with +dragging feet, but still she went on. There were no men about the place +at this hour--they were at work--but untidy women sat on their doorsteps +or rocked at the windows, and a horde of ragged barefooted children +catching sight of the girl swarmed out into the road to stare at her. +Some begged for pennies, and getting none, yelled after her and threw +stones till she took to her heels and ran "just like the other bunny!" +she told herself in miserable scorn, when once she was safely past the +settlement. Well, there was no other such place to pass, but--she +shivered as she remembered that she must pass this one again on the way +back. + +She went on swiftly now with only occasionally a fearful glance on +either side when the road cut through the woods. Once a farmer going by +offered her a ride; but she shook her head and plodded on. It was +half-past eleven when, with a great throb of relief and joy, she came in +sight of the Corners. A few minutes more and she was in the village +street with its homey-looking white houses and flower gardens. She +longed to stop and rest on one of the vine-shaded porches, but she was +too shy to ask permission. At the store she did stop, and rested a few +minutes in one of the battered wooden chairs on the little porch, but it +was sunny and hot there. Now for the first time she thought of lunch, +but she had not a penny with her; she must go hungry until she got back +to camp. A boy came up the steps munching a red apple, his pockets +bulging with others. The storekeeper's little girl ran out on the porch +with a big molasses cooky just out of the oven, and the warm spicy odour +of it made Myra realise how hungry she was. She looked so longingly at +the cooky that the child, seeming to read her thoughts, crowded it all +hastily into her own mouth. Myra laughed a bit at that, and after a +little rest, set off on her return. She was tired and hungry, but a +strange new joy was throbbing at her heart. She had come all the way to +Kent's Corners alone--they _could not call her a coward now_! That +thought more than balanced her weariness and hunger. She had to walk all +the way back--she had to pass Slabtown again. Yes, but now she was not +afraid--_not afraid_! She drew herself up to her slender height, threw +back her head, and laughed aloud in the joy of her deliverance from the +fear that had held her in bondage all her life. She didn't understand in +the least how it had happened, but she knew that at last she was +free--_free_--like the other girls whom she had envied; and dimly she +began to realise that this was a big thing--something that would make +all her life different. She walked as if she were treading on air. The +loneliness of the woods, of the long stretch of empty road, no longer +filled her with trembling terror. + +As for the second time she approached Slabtown, her heart began to beat +a little faster, but the newborn courage did not fail her now. She found +herself whistling a gay tune and laughed. Whistling to keep her courage +up? Was that what she was doing? Never mind--the courage _was_ up. The +women still sat on their doorsteps or stared from their windows, but +this time the children did not swarm around her. They stood by the +roadside and stared, but none called after her or followed her. She did +not realise how great was the difference between the girl who now walked +by with shining eyes and lifted head, and the white-faced trembling +little creature with terror writ large in every line of her face and +figure that had scurried by earlier in the day. But the children +realised it. Instinctively now they knew her unafraid, and they did not +venture to badger her. She even smiled and waved her hand to them as she +went by, and at that a youngster of a dozen years suddenly broke out, +"Three cheers fer the girl--now, fellers!" And with the echo of the +shrill response ringing in her ears, Myra passed on, proud and happy as +never before in her life. + +All the rest of the way she went with the new happy consciousness making +music in her heart--the consciousness of victory won. The last mile or +two her feet dragged, but it was from weariness and lack of food. As she +drew near the camp her steps quickened, her head went up again, and her +eyes began to shine; but when she came to the white tents, she stood +looking about in blank amazement. There was not a girl anywhere in +sight; even the cook was missing. + +Myra stood for a moment wondering where they had all gone; then she +walked slowly across the camp to a hammock swung behind a clump of +low-growing pines. Dropping into the hammock, she tucked a cushion under +her head and, with a long sigh of delicious content and restfulness her +eyes closed and in two minutes she was sound asleep--so sound asleep +that when, an hour later, the girls came straggling back with pails and +baskets full of big luscious berries, the gay cries and laughter and +chatter of many voices did not arouse her. + +The girls trooped over to the kitchen and delivered up their spoil to +the cook. + +"Now, Katie," cried one, "you must make us some blueberry flapjacks for +supper--lots and lots of 'em, too!" + +"And blueberry gingerbread," added another. + +"And pies--fat juicy pies," called a third. + +"_And_ rolypoly--blueberry rolypoly!" shouted yet another. + +The cook, her arms on her hips, stood laughing into the sun-browned +young faces before her. + +"Sure ye're not askin' me to make all them things fer ye _to-night_!" +she protested gaily. + +"We-ell, not all maybe. We can wait till to-morrow for some of them. But +heaps and heaps of flapjacks, Katie dear, if you love us, and you know +you do," coaxed Louise Johnson. + +"Love ye? _Love_ ye, did ye say?" laughed the cook. "Be off wid ye now +an' lave me in pace or ye'll not get a smirch of a flapjack to yer +supper. Shoo!" and she waved them off with her apron. + +As the laughing girls turned away from the kitchen, Mary Hastings came +towards them from the other side of the camp. + +"What's the matter, Molly? You look as sober as an owl!" cried Louise +who never looked sober. + +"It's Myra--she isn't here. Miss Grandis and I have hunted all over the +camp for her," Mary answered. "You know she started for Kent's Corners +before we went berrying." + +"So she did," cried another girl, the merriment dying out of her eyes. +"You don't suppose she really went there?" + +"Myra Karr--alone--to Kent's Corners? Never in the world," Louise flung +out carelessly. "She's somewhere about. Let's call her." She lifted her +voice and called aloud, "Myra, Myra, My-raa!" + +At the call Mrs. Royall came hastily towards them. "Where is Myra? +Didn't she go berrying with us?" she inquired. + +"No," Louise explained lightly. "Bunny got her back up this morning and +said she was going alone to Kent's Corners, but of course she didn't. +She's started that stunt half a dozen times and always backed out. +She's just around somewhere." + +But Mrs. Royall still looked troubled. "She must be found," she said +with quick decision. "Get the megaphone, Louise, and call her with +that." + +Still laughing, Louise obeyed. Her clear voice carried well, and many +keen young ears were strained for the response that did not come. In the +silence that followed a second call, Mrs. Royall spoke to another girl. + +"Edith, get your bugle and sound the recall. If that does not bring her, +two of you must hurry over to the farm and harness Billy into the buggy; +and I will drive to Kent's Corners at once." + +The girls were no longer laughing. "You don't think anything could have +happened to Myra, Mrs. Royall?" one of them questioned anxiously. +"Almost all of us have walked over there. I went alone and so did Mary." + +"I know, but Myra is such a timid little thing. She cannot do what most +of you can." + +Edith Rue came running back with her bugle, and in a moment the notes of +the recall floated out on the still summer air. It was a rigid rule of +the camp that the recall should be promptly answered by any girl within +hearing, so when, in the silence that followed, no response was heard, +Mrs. Royall sent the two girls for the horse and buggy. + +"Have them here as quickly as possible," she called after them. + +Before the messengers were out of sight, however, there was an outcry +behind them. + +"Why, there she is! There's Myra now!" and every face turned towards +the small figure coming from the clump of evergreens, her eyes still +half-dazed with sleep. + +With an exclamation of relief, Mrs. Royall hurried to meet her. + +"Where were you, child? Didn't you hear us calling you?" she asked. + +"I--I--no. I heard the recall, and I came--I guess I was asleep," +stammered Myra bewildered by something tense in the atmosphere, and the +eyes all centred on her. + +"Asleep!" echoed Louise Johnson with a chuckle. "What did I tell you, +girls?" + +But Mrs. Royall saw that Myra looked pale and tired, and she noticed the +change that came over her face as Louise spoke. A quick wave of colour +swept the pale cheeks and the small head was lifted with an air that was +new and strange--in Myra Karr. Mrs. Royall spoke again, laying her hand +gently on the girl's shoulder. + +"Myra, how long have you been asleep? How long have you been back in +camp?" + +And Myra answered quietly, but with that new pride in her voice, "It was +quarter of four by the kitchen clock when I came. There was nobody +here--not even Katie----" + +"I'd just run out a bit to see if anny of ye was comin'," put in the +cook from the kitchen door where she stood, as much interested as any +one else in what was going on. + +"And did you go to Kent's Corners, my dear?" Mrs. Royall questioned +gently. + +It was Myra's hour of triumph. She forgot Louise Johnson's mocking +laugh--forgot everything but her beautiful new freedom. + +"O, I did--I did, Mrs. Royall!" she cried out. "I was awfully frightened +at first, but coming home I wasn't _one bit afraid_, and, please, you +won't let them call me Bunny any more, will you?" + +"No, my child, no. You've won a new name and you shall have it at the +next Council Fire. I'm so glad, Myra!" Mrs. Royall's face was almost as +radiant as the girl's. + +It was Louise Johnson who called out, "Three cheers for Myra Karr! She's +a _trump_!" + +The cheers were given with a will. Tears filled Myra's eyes, but they +were happy tears, as the girls crowded around her with questions and +exclamations, and Miss Grandis stood with a hand on her shoulder. + +"That's what Camp Fire has done for one girl," Mrs. Royall said in a low +tone to Laura Haven. "That child was afraid of the dark, afraid of the +water, afraid to be alone a minute, when she came. It is a great triumph +for her--a great victory." + +"Yes," returned Laura thoughtfully, and Anne added, + +"You've no idea how lonesome the camp looked when Laura and I came back +and found you all gone. It was so still it seemed almost uncanny. Myra +never would have dared to stay alone here before." + + + + +IV + +THE POOR THING + + +A week later Miss Grandis was called home by illness in her family, and +she asked Laura to drive to the station with her. + +"I wanted the chance to talk with you," she explained, as they drove +along the quiet country road. "You know I should not have been able to +stay here much longer anyhow, and now I shall not come back, and I want +you to take charge of my girls. Will you?" + +"O, I can't yet--I haven't had half enough training," Laura protested. + +"I know, but you've put so much into the time you have had in camp, and +I know that Mrs. Royall will be glad to have you in my place. You can +keep on with your training just the same. I want to tell you about the +girls." She told something of the environment of each one--enough to +help Laura to understand their needs. "And there's Elizabeth Page, who +is coming to-morrow," she went on. "I always think of her as the Poor +Thing. O, I do so hope the Camp Fire will do a great deal for her--she's +had so pitifully little in her life thus far. Her mother died when she +was a baby, and she has been just a drudge for her stepmother and the +younger children, and she's not strong enough for such hard work. She's +never had anything for herself. The camp will seem like paradise to her +if she can only get in touch with things--I'm sure it will." + +"I'll do my best for her," Laura promised. + +"I know you will. And you'll meet her when she comes, to-morrow?" + +"Of course," Laura returned. + +There was no time to spare when they reached the station, but Miss +Grandis' last word was of Elizabeth and her great need. + +Laura was at the station early the next day, and would have recognised +the Poor Thing even if she had not been the only girl leaving the train +at that place. Elizabeth was seventeen, but she might have been taken +for fourteen until one looked into her eyes--they seemed to mirror the +pain and privation of half a century. Laura's heart went out to her in a +wave of pitying tenderness, but the girl drew back as if frightened by +the warm friendliness of her greeting. + +All the way back to camp she sat silent, answering a direct question +with a nod or shake of the head, but never speaking; and when, at the +camp, a crowd of girls came to meet the newcomer, she looked wildly +around as if for refuge from all these strangers. Seeing this, Laura, +with a whispered word, sent the girls away, and introduced Elizabeth +only to Mrs. Royall and Anne Wentworth. + +"Another scared rabbit?" giggled Louise Johnson. + +"Don't call her that, Louise," said Bessie Carroll. "I'm awfully sorry +for the poor thing." + +Laura, overhearing the low-spoken words, said to herself, "There it +is--Poor Thing. That name is bound to cling to her, it fits so exactly." + +It did fit exactly, and within two days Elizabeth was the Poor Thing to +every girl in the camp. Laura kept the child with her most of the first +day; she was quiet and still as a ghost, did as she was told, and +watched all that went on, but she spoke to no one and never asked a +question. At night she was given a cot next to Olga's. When Laura showed +her her place at bedtime, she pointed to the adjoining tent. + +"I sleep right there, Elizabeth," she said, "and if you want anything in +the night, just speak, and I shall hear you. But I hope you will sleep +so soundly that you won't know anything till morning. It's lovely +sleeping out of doors like this!" + +Elizabeth said nothing, but she shivered as she cast a fearful glance +into the shadowy spaces beyond the tents, and Laura hastened to add, +"You needn't be a bit afraid. Nothing but birds and squirrels ever come +around here." + +Elizabeth went early to bed, and was apparently sound asleep when the +other girls went to their cots. But after all was still and the camp +lights out, she lay trembling, and staring wide-eyed into the darkness. +A thousand strange small sounds beat on her strained ears, and when +suddenly the hoot of an owl rang out from a nearby treetop, Elizabeth +sprang up with a frightened cry and clutched wildly at the girl in the +nearest cot. + +Olga's cold voice answered her cry. "It's nothing but an owl, you goose! +Go back to your bed!" + +But Elizabeth was on her knees, clinging desperately to Olga's hand. + +"O, I'm afraid, I'm afraid!" she moaned. "Please _please_ let me stay +here with you. I never was in a p-place like this before." + +Olga jerked her hand away from the clinging fingers. "Get back to your +bed!" she ordered under her breath. "Anybody'd think you were a _baby_." + +"I don't care _what_ anybody'd think if you'll only let me stay. I--I +must touch s-somebody," wailed the Poor Thing in a choked voice. + +"Well, it won't be me you'll touch," retorted Olga. "And if you don't +keep still I'll report you in the morning. You'll have every girl in the +camp awake presently." + +"O, I don't care," sobbed Elizabeth under her breath. "I--I want to go +home. I'd rather die than stay here!" + +"Well, die if you like, but leave the rest of us to sleep in peace," +muttered Olga, and turning her face away from the wretched little +creature crouching at her side, she went calmly to sleep. + +When she awoke she gave a casual glance at the next cot. It was empty, +but on the floor was a small huddled figure, one hand still clutching +Olga's blanket. Olga started to yank the blanket away, but the look of +suffering in the white face stayed her impatient hand. She touched the +thin shoulder of Elizabeth, and for once her touch was almost gentle. +Elizabeth opened her eyes with a start as Olga whispered, "Get back to +your bed. There's an hour before rising time." + +Elizabeth crawled slowly back to her own cot, but she did not sleep +again. Neither did Olga, and she was uncomfortably aware that a pair of +timid blue eyes were on her face until she turned her back on them. + +At ten o'clock that morning the girls all trooped down to the water. +Some in full knickerbockers and middy blouses were going to row or +paddle, but most wore bathing suits. With some difficulty Laura +persuaded Elizabeth to put on a bathing suit that Miss Grandis had left +for her, but no urging or coaxing could induce her to go into the water +even to wade, though other girls were swimming and splashing and +frolicking like mermaids. Elizabeth sat on the sand, her eyes following +Olga's dark head as the girl swept through the water like a +fish--swimming, floating, diving--she seemed as much at home in the +water as on land. + +"You can do all those things too, Elizabeth, if you will," Laura told +her. "Look at Myra, there--she has always been afraid to try to swim, +but she's learning to-day, and see how she is enjoying it." + +Elizabeth drew further into her shell of silence. She cast a fleeting +glance at Myra Karr, nervously trying to obey Mary Hastings' directions +and "act like a frog"--then her eyes searched again for Olga, now far +out in the bay. + +When she could not distinguish the dark head, anxiety at last conquered +her timidity, and she turned to Laura: + +"O, is she drowned?" she cried under her breath. "Olga--is she?" + +Anne Wentworth laughed out at the question. "Why, Elizabeth," she said, +leaning towards her, "Olga's a perfect fish in the water. She's the best +swimmer in camp. Look--there she comes now." + +She came swimming on her side, one strong brown arm cutting swiftly and +steadily through the water. When presently she walked up on the beach, a +pale smile glimmered over Elizabeth's face, but it vanished at Olga's +glance as she passed with the scornful fling--"Haven't even wet your +feet--_baby_!" + +Elizabeth's face flushed and she drew her bare feet under her. + +"Never mind, you'll wet them to-morrow, won't you, Elizabeth?" Laura +said; but the Poor Thing made no reply; she only gulped down a sob as +she looked after the straight young figure in the dripping bathing suit +marching down the beach. + +"She notices no one but Olga," Laura said as she walked back to camp +with her friend. "If Olga would only take an interest in _her_!" + +"If only she would!" Anne agreed. "But she seems to have no more feeling +than a fish!" + +Many of the girls did their best to draw the Poor Thing out of her shell +of scared silence, but they all failed. And Olga would do nothing. Yet +Elizabeth followed Olga like her shadow day after day. Olga's impatient +rebuffs--even her angry commands--only made the Poor Thing hang back a +little. + +When things had gone on so for a week, Laura asked Olga to go with her +to the village. She went, but they were no sooner on the road than she +began abruptly, "I know what you want of me, Miss Haven, but it's no +use. I can't be bothered with that Poor Thing--she makes me sick--always +hanging around and wanting to get her hands on me. I can't stand that +sort of thing, and I won't--that's all there is about it. I'll go home +first." + +When Laura answered nothing, Olga glanced at her grave face and went on +sulkily, "Nobody ought to expect me to put up with an everlasting +trailer like that girl." + +Still Laura was silent until Olga flung out, "You might as well say it. +I know what you are thinking of me." + +"I wasn't thinking of you, Olga. I was thinking of Elizabeth. If you saw +her drowning you'd plunge in and save her without a moment's +hesitation." + +"Of course I would--but I wouldn't have her hanging on to me like a +leech after I'd saved her." + +"I suppose you have not realised that in 'hanging on' to you--as you +express it--she is simply fighting for her life." + +"What do you mean, Miss Haven?" + +"I mean that Elizabeth is--starving. Not food starvation, but a worse +kind. Olga, this is the first time in her life that she has ever spent a +day away from home--she told me that--or ever had any one try to make +her happy. Is it any wonder that she doesn't know how to _be_ happy or +make friends? It seems strange that, from among so many who would gladly +be her friends here, she should have chosen you who are not willing to +be a friend to any one--strange, and a great pity, it seems. It throws +an immense responsibility upon you." + +"I don't want any such responsibility. I don't think any of you ought to +put it on me," Olga flung out sulkily. + +"We are not putting it on you," returned Laura gently. + +Olga twitched her shoulder with an impatient gesture, and the two walked +some distance before she spoke again. Then it was to say, "What are you +asking me to do, anyhow?" + +"_I_ am not asking you to do anything," Laura answered. "It is for you +to ask yourself what you are going to do. I believe it is in your power +to make over that poor girl mind and body--I might almost say, soul too. +She thinks she can do nothing but household drudgery. She is afraid of +everything. When I think of what you could do for her in the next +month--Olga, I wonder that you can let such a wonderful opportunity pass +you by." + +They went the rest of the way mostly in silence. When they returned to +the camp, Elizabeth was watching for them, but the glance Olga gave her +was so repellent that she shrank away, and went off alone to the +Lookout. Later Laura tried to interest Elizabeth in the making of a +headband of beadwork, but though she evidently liked to handle the +bright-coloured beads, she would not try to do the work herself. + +"I can't. I can't do things like that," she said with gentle +indifference, her eyes wandering off in search of Olga. + +The next day, however, Laura came to Anne Wentworth, her eyes shining. +"O Anne, what _do_ you think?" she cried. "Olga had Elizabeth in wading +this morning. Isn't that fine?" + +"Fine indeed--for a beginning. It shows what Olga might do with her if +she would." + +"Yes, for she was so cross with her! I wondered that Elizabeth did not +go away and leave her. No other girl in camp would let Olga speak to her +as she speaks to that Poor Thing." + +"No, the others are not Poor Things, you see--that makes all the +difference. But that Olga should take the trouble to make Elizabeth do +anything is a big step in advance--for Olga." + +"There is splendid material in Olga, Anne--I am sure of it," Laura +returned. + +There was splendid persistence in her, anyhow. She had undertaken to +overcome Elizabeth's fear of the water, but it was a harder task than +she had imagined. She did make the Poor Thing wade--clinging tightly to +Olga's fingers all the time--but further than that she could not lead +her. Day after day Elizabeth would stand shivering and trembling in +water up to her knees, her cheeks so white and her lips so blue that +Olga dared not compel her to go further. Yet day after day Olga made her +wade in that far at least; not once would she allow her to omit it. + +One day she sat for a long time looking gravely at the Poor Thing, who +flushed and paled nervously under that steady silent scrutiny. At last +Olga said abruptly, "What do you like best, Elizabeth?" + +"Like--best----" Elizabeth faltered uncertainly. + +Olga frowned and repeated her question. + +Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "I--I like Molly. And the other +children--a little." + +"You mean your brothers and sisters?" + +Elizabeth nodded. + +"Which is Molly?" + +"The littlest one. She's four, and she's real pretty," Elizabeth +declared proudly. "She's prettier than Annie Pearson." + +"Yes, but what do you yourself like?" Olga persisted. "What would you +like to have--pretty dresses, ribbons--what?" + +"I--I never thought," was the vague reply. + +Again Olga's brows met in a frown that made the Poor Thing shrink and +tremble. She brought out her necklace and tossed it into the other +girl's lap. + +"Think that's pretty?" she asked. + +"O _yes_!" Elizabeth breathed softly. She did not touch the necklace, +but gazed admiringly at the bright-coloured beads as they lay in her +lap. + +"You can have one like it if you want," Olga told her. + +"O no! Who'd give me one?" + +"Nobody. But you can get it for yourself. See here--I got all those blue +beads by learning about the wild flowers that grow right around here, +the weeds and stones and animals and birds. You can get as many in a few +days. I got that green one for making a little bit of a basket, +that--for making my washstand there out of a soap box--that, for +trimming my hat. Every bead on that necklace is there because of some +little thing I did or made--all things that you can do too." + +The Poor Thing shook her head. "O _no_," she stammered in her weak +gentle voice, "I can't do anything. I--I ain't like other girls." + +"You can be if you want to," Olga flung out at her impatiently. +"Say--what _can_ you do? You can do something." + +"No--nothing." The Poor Thing's blue eyes filled slowly with big tears, +and she looked through them beseechingly at the other. Olga drew a long +exasperated breath. She wanted to take hold of the girl's thin shoulders +and shake the limpness out of her once for all. + +"What did you do at home?" she demanded with harsh abruptness. + +"N--nothing," Elizabeth answered with a miserable gulp. + +"You did too! Of course you did something," Olga flamed. "You didn't sit +and stare at Molly and the others all day the way you stare at me, did +you? _What_ did you do, I say?" + +Elizabeth gave her a swift scared glance as she stammered, "I didn't do +anything but cook and sweep and wash and iron and take care of the +children--truly I didn't." + +Olga's face brightened. "Good heavens--if you aren't the limit!" she +shrugged. Then she sprang up and got pencil and paper. "What can you +cook?" she demanded, and proceeded to put Elizabeth through a rapid-fire +examination on marketing, plain cooking, washing, ironing, sweeping, +bed-making, and care of babies. At last she had found some things that +even the Poor Thing could do. With flying fingers she scribbled down the +girl's answers. Finally she cried excitingly, "_There!_ See what a goose +you were to say you couldn't do anything! Why, there are lots of girls +here who couldn't do half these things. Elizabeth Page, listen. You've +got twelve orange beads like those," she pointed to the +necklace--"already, for a beginning. That's more than I have of that +colour. I don't know anything about taking care of babies, nor half what +you do about cooking and marketing." + +Elizabeth stared, her mouth half open, her eyes widened in incredulous +wonder. "But--but," she faltered, "I guess there's some mistake. Just +housework and things like that ain't anything to get beads for--are +they?" + +"They are _that_! I tell you Mrs. Royall will give you twelve honours +and twelve yellow beads at the next Council Fire, and if you half try +you can win some blue and brown and red ones too before that, and you've +just _got to do it_. Do you understand?" + +The other nodded, her eyes full of dumb misery. Then she began to +whimper, "I--I--can't ever do things like you and the rest do," she +moaned. + +"Why not? You can walk, can't you?" + +"W--walk?" + +"Yes--_walk_! Didn't hurt you to walk to the village yesterday, did it?" + +"No--but I couldn't go--alone." + +"Who said anything about going alone? You'll walk to Slabtown and back +with me to-morrow." + +"O, I'd like that--with you," said the Poor Thing, brightening. + +Olga gave an impatient sniff. Sometimes she almost hated +Elizabeth--almost but not quite. + +"You'll go with me to-morrow," she declared, "but next day you'll go +with some other girl." + +Elizabeth shrank into herself, shaking her head. + +Olga eyed her sternly. "Very well--if you won't go with some other girl, +you can't go with me to-morrow," she declared. + +But the next day after breakfast the two set off for Slabtown. Halfway +there, Elizabeth suddenly crumpled up and dropped in a limp heap by the +roadside. + +"What's the matter?" Olga demanded, standing over her. + +Elizabeth lifted tired eyes. "I don't know. You walked so--fast," she +panted. + +"Fast!" echoed Olga scornfully; but she sat on a stone wall and waited +until a little colour had crept back into the other girl's thin cheeks, +and went at a slower pace afterwards. + +"There! Do that every day for a week and you'll have one of your red +beads," was her comment when they were back at camp. "And now go lie in +that hammock." + +When from the kitchen she brought a glass of milk and some crackers, she +found Elizabeth sitting on the ground. + +"Why didn't you get into the hammock as I told you?" she demanded, and +the Poor Thing answered vaguely that she "thought maybe they wouldn't +want" her to. + +Olga poked the milk at her. "Drink it!" she ordered, "and eat those +crackers," and when Elizabeth had obeyed, added, "Now get into that +hammock and lie there till dinner-time," and meekly Elizabeth did so. + +When, later in the day, some of the younger girls started a game of +blindman's buff, Olga seized Elizabeth's hand. "Come," she said, "we're +going to play too." + +"O, I can't! I--I never did," cried the Poor Thing, hanging back. + +"I never did either, but I'm going to now and so are you. Come!" and +Elizabeth yielded to the imperative command. + +The other girls stared in amazement as the two joined them. It was +little Bess Carroll who smiled a welcome as Louise Johnson cried out, + +"Wonders will never cease-_-Olga Priest playing a game!_" + +She spoke to Mary Hastings, who answered hastily, "Bless her +heart--she's doing it just to get that Poor Thing to play. Let's take +them right in, girls." + +The girls were quick to respond. Olga was the next one caught, and when +she was blinded she couldn't help catching Elizabeth, who stood still, +never thinking of getting out of the way. Elizabeth didn't want the +handkerchief tied over her eyes, but she submitted meekly, at a look +from Olga. Half a dozen girls flung themselves in her way, and the one +on whom her limp grasp fell ignored the fact that Elizabeth could not +name her, and gaily held up the handkerchief to be tied over her own +eyes in turn. Nobody caught Olga again. She was as quick as a flash and +as slippery as an eel. Elizabeth's eyes followed her constantly, and a +little glimmer of a smile touched her lips as Olga slipped safely out of +reach of one catcher after another. + +When she pulled Elizabeth out of the noisy merry circle, Olga glanced at +the clock in the dining-room and made a swift calculation. +"Three-quarters of an hour--blindman's buff." + +"We've got to play at some game every day, Elizabeth," she announced, +with grim determination. She hated games, but Elizabeth must win her red +beads and the red blood for which they stood. She had undertaken to make +something out of this jellyfish of a girl and she did not mean to fail. +That was all there was about it. So every day she led forth the +reluctant Elizabeth and patiently stood over her while she blundered +through a game of basket-ball, hockey, prisoner's base, or whatever the +girls were playing. But Elizabeth made small progress. Always she barely +stumbled through her part, helped in every way by Olga and often by +other girls who helped her for Olga's sake. + +It was Mary Hastings who broke out earnestly one day, looking after the +two going down the road, "I say, girls, we're just a lot of selfish pigs +to leave that Poor Thing on Olga's hands all the time. It must be misery +to her to have Elizabeth hanging on to her as she does--a dead weight." + +"Right you are! I should think she'd hate the Poor Thing--I should. I +should take her down to the dock some night and drown her," said Louise +Johnson with her inevitable giggle. + +"I think Olga deserves all the honours there are for the way she endures +that--jellyfish," said Edith Rue. + +"I never saw any one thaw out the way Olga has lately though. She really +deigns to speak amiably now--sometimes," Annie Pearson put in with a +sniff. + +"She 'deigns' to do anything under the sun that will help that Poor +Thing to be a bit like other girls," cried Mary. "Olga is splendid, +girls! She makes me ashamed of myself twenty times a day. Do you realise +what it means? She is trying to make that Poor Thing _live_. She just +exists now. O, we must help her--we must--every single one of us!" + +"But how, Molly? We're willing enough to help, but we don't know how. +Elizabeth turns her back on every one of us except Olga--you know she +does." + +"I know," Mary admitted, "but if we really try we can find ways to +help." + +When, compelled by Olga's unyielding determination, the Poor Thing had +taken a three-mile tramp every day for a week, she began to enjoy it, +and did not object when another mile was added. She was always happy +when she was with Olga, but at other times--when they were not +walking--her content was marred by the consciousness that Olga was not +really pleased with her because she could not do so many things that the +others wanted her to do--like beadwork and basketwork, and above all, +swimming. But Olga was pleased with her when she went willingly on these +daily tramps. + +The Poor Thing seemed to find something particularly attractive about +the Slabtown settlement, and liked better to go in that direction than +any other. She would often stop and watch the dirty half-naked babies +playing in the bare yards; and as she watched them there would come into +her face a look that Olga could not understand--Olga, who had never had +a baby sister to love and cuddle. + +One day when the two approached the little settlement, they saw half a +dozen boys and girls walking along the top of a stone-wall that bordered +the road. A baby girl--not yet three--was begging the others to help her +up, but they refused. + +"You can't get up here, Polly John--you're too little!" the boys shouted +at her. But evidently Polly John had a will of her own, for she made +such an outcry that at last her sister exclaimed, "We've got to take her +up--she'll yell till we do," and to the baby she cried, "Now you hush +up, Polly, an' ketch hold o' my hand." + +The baby held up her hand and with a jerk she was pulled to the top of +the wall, but by no means did she "hush up." She writhed and twisted and +screamed, but there was a difference now--a note of pain and terror in +the shrill cries. + +"What ails her? What's she yellin' for now?" one boy demanded, and +another shouted, "Take her down, Peggy. You get down with her." + +"I won't, either!" Peggy retorted angrily, but she was sitting on the +wall now, holding the baby half impatiently, half anxiously. + +"Look at her arm. What makes her stick it out like that?" one boy +questioned. + +The big sister took hold of the small arm, but at her touch the baby's +cries redoubled, and a woman put her head out of a window and sharply +demanded what they were doing to that child anyhow. + +It was then that the Poor Thing suddenly darted across the road and +caught the wailing child from the arms of her astonished sister. + +"O, don't touch her arm!" Elizabeth cried. "Don't you see? It's hurting +her dreadfully. You slipped it out of joint when you pulled her up +there." + +"I didn't, either! Much you know about it!" the older girl flashed back, +sticking out her tongue. But the fear in her eyes belied her impudence. + +"Where's her mother?" Elizabeth demanded. + +"She ain't got none," chorused all the children. + +Several women now came hurrying out to see what was the matter. One of +them held out her arms to the child, but she hid her face on Elizabeth's +shoulder, and still kept up her frightened wailing. + +"How d'ye know her arm's out o' joint?" one of the women demanded when +Peggy had repeated what Elizabeth had said. + +"I do know because I pulled my little sister's arm out just that way +once, lifting her over a crossing. O, I _wish_ I knew how to slip it in +again! It wouldn't take a minute if we only knew how. Now we must get +her to a doctor--quick. It is hurting her dreadfully, you know--that's +why she keeps crying so!" + +"A doctor! Ain't no doctor nearer'n East Bassett," one woman said. + +"East Bassett! Then we must take her there," Elizabeth said to Olga, who +for once stood by silent and helpless. + +"We can get her there in twenty minutes--maybe fifteen if we walk fast," +she said. + +"Then"--Elizabeth questioned the women--"can any of you take her there?" + +The women exchanged glances. "It's 'most dinner time--my man will be +home," said one. The others all had excuses; no one offered to take the +child to East Bassett. No one really believed in the necessity. What did +this white-faced slip of a girl know about children, anyhow? + +"Then I'll take her myself," the Poor Thing declared. "I guess I can +carry her that far." + +"An' who'll bring her back?" demanded the child's sister gloomily. + +"You must come with me and bring her back," Elizabeth answered with +decision. "Come quick! I tell you it's hurting her awfully. Don't you +see how white she is?" + +Peggy looked at the little face all white and drawn with pain, and +surrendered. + +"I'll go," she said meekly, and without more words, Elizabeth set off +with the child in her arms. Olga followed in silence, and Peggy trailed +along in the rear, but as she went she turned and shouted back to one +of the boys, "Jimmy, you come along too with the wagon to bring her home +in," and presently a freckled-faced boy, with straw-coloured hair, had +joined the procession. The wagon he drew was a soapbox fitted with a +pair of wheels from a go-cart. + +"Let me carry her, Elizabeth--she's too heavy for you," Olga said after +a few minutes; but the child clung to Elizabeth, refusing to be +transferred, and at the pressure of the little yellow head against her +shoulder, Elizabeth smiled. + +"I can carry her," she said. "She's not so very heavy. She makes me +think of little Molly." + +So Elizabeth carried the child all the way, and held her still when they +reached East Bassett and by rare good luck found the doctor at home. He +was an old man, and over his glasses he looked up with a twinkle of +amusement as the party of five trailed into his office. But the next +instant he demanded abruptly, + +"What ails that child?" + +"It's her arm--see?" Elizabeth said. "It's out of joint." + +"Yes!" The doctor snapped out the word. Then his hands were on the +baby's shoulder, there was a quick skilful twist, a shriek of pain and +terror from the baby, and the bone slipped into place. + +"There, that's all right. She's crying now only because she's +frightened," the doctor said, snapping his fingers at the child. "How +did it happen?" + +Elizabeth explained. + +"Well, I guess you'll know better than to lift a baby by the arm another +time," the doctor said, with a kindly smile into Elizabeth's tired face. +"Is it your sister?" + +"No--hers." Elizabeth indicated Peggy, who twisted her bare feet +nervously one over the other as the doctor looked her over. "They live +at Slabtown," Elizabeth added. + +"O--at Slabtown. And where do you live?" + +"I'm--we," Elizabeth's gesture included Olga, "we are at the camp." + +"And how came you mixed up in this business?" The doctor meant to know +all about the affair now. When Elizabeth had told him, he looked at her +curiously. "And so you lugged that heavy child all the way down here?" +he said. + +"Olga wanted to carry her, but the baby wouldn't let her--and she was +crying, so----" Elizabeth's voice trailed off into silence. + +The doctor smiled at her again. Then suddenly he inquired in a gruff +voice, "Well now, who's going to pay me for this job--you?" + +"_O!_" cried Elizabeth, her eyes suddenly very anxious. "I--I never +thought of that. It was hurting her so--and she's so little--I just +thought--thought----" Again she left her sentence unfinished. + +"What's her name? Who's her father?" the doctor demanded. + +Peggy answered, "Father's Jim Johnson. I guess mebbe he'll pay +you--sometime." + +The doctor's face changed. He remembered when Jim Johnson's wife died a +year before--he remembered the three children now. + +"There's nothing to pay," he said kindly, "only be careful how you pull +your little sister around by the arms after this. Some children can +stand that sort of handling, but she can't." + +"O, thank you!" Elizabeth's eyes full of gratitude were lifted to the +old doctor's face as she spoke. He rose, and looking down at her, laid a +kindly hand on her shoulder. + +"That camp's a good place for you. Stay there as long as you can," he +said. "But don't lug a three-year-old a mile and a half again. You are +hardly strong enough yet for that kind of athletics." + +They all filed out then, and Elizabeth put little Polly John into the +soapbox wagon, kissed the small face, dirty and tear-stained as it was, +and stood for a moment looking after the three children as they set off +towards Slabtown. + +As they went on to the camp, Olga kept glancing at Elizabeth in silent +wonder. Was this really the Poor Thing who could not do anything--who +would barely answer "yes" or "no" when any one spoke to her? Olga +watched her in puzzled silence. + + + + +V + +WIND AND WEATHER + + +Olga, sitting under a big oak, was embroidering her ceremonial dress, +and, as usual, Elizabeth sat near, watching her as she worked. Olga did +it as she did most things, with taste and skill, but she listened +indifferently when Laura Haven, stopping beside her, spoke admiringly of +the work. + +"I wouldn't waste time over it if I hadn't promised Miss Grandis to +embroider it. She gave us all the stuff, you know," Olga explained. + +"It isn't wasting time to make things beautiful," Laura replied. "That +is part of our law, you know, to seek beauty, and wherever possible, +create it." She looked at Elizabeth and added, "You'll be learning +by-and-by to do such work." + +There was no response from the Poor Thing, only the usual shrinking +gesture and eyes down-dropped. Acting on a sudden impulse, Laura spoke +again. "Elizabeth, the cook is short of helpers this morning, and I've +volunteered to shell peas. There's a big lot of them to do. I wonder if +you would be willing to help me." + +To her surprise Elizabeth rose at once with a nod. "Olga will be glad to +have her away for a little while," Laura was thinking as they went over +to the kitchen. + +It certainly was a big lot of peas. Forty girls, living and sleeping in +the open, develop famous appetites, and the "telephone" peas were +delicious. But as the two worked, the great pile of pods grew steadily +smaller, and finally Laura looked at Elizabeth with a laugh. "I've been +trying my best, but I can't keep up with you," she said. "How do you +shell them so fast, Elizabeth?" + +A wee ghost of a smile--the first Laura had ever seen there--fluttered +over the girl's face. "I'm used to this kind of work. You have to do it +fast when you're cookin' for eight," she explained simply. + +"And you have cooked for eight?" Laura questioned, and added to herself, +"No wonder you look like a ghost of a girl." + +Elizabeth nodded. Laura could not induce her to talk, but still she felt +that somehow she had penetrated a little way into the shell of silence +and reserve. As they went back across the camp, she dropped her arm over +Elizabeth's shoulders, and said, + +"You're a splendid helper, Elizabeth. May I call on you the next time I +need any one?" + +Another silent nod, and then the girl slipped back into her place beside +Olga. + +"Then I will--and thank you," Laura returned as she passed on. Olga +glanced after her with something odd and inscrutable in her dark eyes, +and there was a question in the look with which she searched the face of +Elizabeth. But she did not put the question into words. + +Afterwards Laura spoke to her friend of the Poor Thing with a new +hopefulness, telling how willingly she had helped with the peas. + +"You know I've tried in vain to get her to do other things, but this +time she was so quick to respond! I'm almost afraid to hope, but maybe +I've had an inspiration. I must try the child again though before I can +feel at all sure." + +She made her second trial the next day, when she sent Bessie Carroll to +ask Elizabeth to help her with the dishes. "It's my day to work in the +kitchen," Bessie told her, "and Miss Laura thought you might be willing +to help me. Most of the girls, you know, hate the kitchen work. You +don't, do you?" + +"I _like_ to help," replied Elizabeth promptly. + +"I like Elizabeth!" Bessie confided to Laura that night. "Before, I've +tried to get her into things because she seemed so lonesome and 'out of +it,' don't you know? But I like her now, she was so willing to help me +to-day. I thought she was awfully slow, but she was quick as anybody +with the dishes." + +Then Laura felt sure she had found the key. "Elizabeth loves to help," +she told Anne Wentworth. + +"'Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten,'" she +quoted. "Anne, I believe that that spirit is in the Poor Thing--deep +down in the starved little heart of her--while Olga--with Olga it is the +other. She 'glorifies work' because 'through work she is free.' She +works 'to win, to conquer, to be master.' She works 'for the joy of the +working.' That's the difference." + +Anne nodded gravely. "I am sure you are right about Olga. It has always +seemed to me that to her 'Wohelo means work' and only that." + +"And to Elizabeth it means--or will mean--service and that means, +underneath--love," said Laura, her voice full of deep feeling. "O Anne, +I so _long_ to help that poor child to get some of the beauty and joy +of life into her little neglected soul!" + +"If she has love, she has the best thing in life already," Anne +reminded. "The rest will come--in time." + +A day or two later Laura found another excuse for asking Elizabeth's +help, and as before, the response was quick, and again Olga's busy +fingers paused as she looked after the two, and quite unconsciously her +dark brows came together in a frown. Elizabeth had gone with scarcely a +glance at her. A week--two weeks earlier, she would have hung back and +refused. Olga shook her head impatiently as she resumed her work, and +wondered why she was dissatisfied with Elizabeth for going so willingly. +Of course she must do what her Guardian asked. Nevertheless----Olga left +it there. + +It was an hour before Elizabeth came back, and this time there was in +her face something half shy, half exultant, and she did not say a word +about what Miss Laura had wanted her for. Olga made a mental note of +that, but she was far too proud to make any inquiries. + +The next morning after breakfast Elizabeth disappeared again, and this +time too it was fully an hour before she returned, and as before she +came back with a shining something in her eyes--a something that changed +slowly to troubled brooding when Olga did not look at her or speak to +her all the rest of the morning. + +When the third day it was the same, Olga faced the situation in stony +silence. She would not ask why Elizabeth went or where, but she silently +resented her going, and Elizabeth, sensitively conscious of her +resentment, after that, slipped away each time with a wistful backward +glance; and when she returned, there was no shining radiance in her +eyes, but only that wistful pleading which Olga coldly ignored. So it +went on day after day. Olga always knew where Elizabeth was except for +that one hour in the morning, which was never mentioned between them. +The other times she was always helping some one--darning stockings for +Louise Johnson--Elizabeth knew how to darn stockings--or helping little +Bessie Carroll hunt for some of her belongings, which she was always +losing, or helping Katie the cook, who declared that nobody in camp +could pare potatoes and apples, or peel tomatoes or pick over berries so +fast as the Poor Thing. There was not a day now that some one did not +call on Elizabeth for something like this, for the girls had found out +that she was always willing. She seemed to take it quite as a matter of +course that she should be at the service of everybody. But Laura noted +the fact that she never asked anybody to help her. + +Then came a night when Mrs. Royall detained the girls for a moment after +supper in the dining-room. + +"I think we are going to have a heavy storm," she said, "and we must be +prepared for it. Put all your belongings under cover where they will be +secure from wind and rain. I should advise you to sleep in your +gymnasium suits--you will be none too warm in this northeast wind--and +have your rubber blankets and overshoes handy. Guardians will examine +all tent-pins and ropes and see that everything is secure. No tent-sides +up to-night, of course. I shall have a fire here, and lanterns burning +all night; so if anything is needed you can come right here. Now +remember, girls, there is nothing to be afraid of--and Camp Fire Girls, +of course, are never afraid. That is all, but attend to these things at +once, and as it is too chilly to stay out, we will all spend the evening +here." + +The girls scattered, and the next half-hour was spent in making +everything ready for stormy weather. Only Louise Johnson, her mouth full +of mint gum, gaily protested that it was all nonsense. It might rain, of +course, but she didn't believe there was going to be any heavy storm--in +August---- + +"If the rest of you want to bundle up in your gym. suits you can, but +excuse _me_!" she said. "And I can't put all my duds under cover." + +"All right, Johnny, you'll have nobody but yourself to blame if you find +your things soaked, or blown into the bay before morning," Mary Hastings +told her. "I'm going to obey orders," and she hurried over to her own +tent. + +The evening began merrily in the big dining-room. The canvas sides had +been securely fastened down, and a splendid wood fire blazed in the wide +fireplace. Tables were piled at one side of the room, and the girls +played games, and danced to the music of two violins. At bedtime Mrs. +Royall served hot chocolate and wafers, and then the girls went to their +tents. By that time the sky was covered with a murk of black clouds, and +a penetrating wind was blowing up the bay and whistling through the +grove. Extra blankets had been put over the cots and rubber blankets +over all, and the girls were quite willing to pull their flannel gym. +suits over their night clothes, and found them none too warm. Even +Louise Johnson followed the example of the others. "Gee!" she exclaimed +as she tucked the extra blanket closely around her shoulders, "camping +out isn't all it's cracked up to be--not in this weather. Isn't that +thunder?" + +It was thunder, and some of the more timid girls heard it with quaking +hearts. But it was distant, low growling thunder, and after a little it +died away. The girls, under their wool coverings, were warm and +comfortable, and their laughter and chatter ceased as they dropped off +to sleep. + +It seemed as if the storm spirits had maliciously waited that their +onset might be the more effective, for when all was quiet, and everybody +in camp asleep, the muttering of the thunder grew louder, lightning +began to zigzag across the black cloud masses, and the whistling of the +wind deepened to a steady ominous growl. Tent ropes creaked under the +strain of the heavy blasts; trees writhed and twisted, and the rain came +in gusts, swift, spiteful, and icy cold. In the dining-room Mrs. Royall +awoke from a light doze and piled fresh logs on the fire. Anne and +Laura, whom she had kept with her in case their help might be needed, +peered anxiously out of the windows. + +"Can't see a thing but black night except when the flashes come," Anne +said, "but this uproar is bound to awaken the girls." + +"And some of them are sure to be frightened," added Mrs. Royall. + +"It is enough to frighten them--all this tumult," Laura said. "I wish we +could get them all in here." + +"I'd have kept them all here and made a big field bed on the floor if I +had thought we were going to have such a storm as this," Mrs. Royall +said anxiously. "If it doesn't lessen soon, I shall take a lantern and +go the round of the tents to see if all is right." + +As she spoke there came a loud rattling peal of thunder, followed +immediately by a blinding flash of lightning that zigzagged across the +sky, making the dense darkness yet blacker by contrast. + +It was then that Mary Hastings, sitting up in bed, caught a glimpse, in +the glare of the lightning, of Annie Pearson's white terrified face in +the next cot. + +"O Mary, I'm sc--scared to d--death!" Annie whimpered, her teeth +chattering with cold and terror. + +"We are all right if only our tent doesn't blow over," returned Mary, +and her steady voice quieted Annie for the moment. "If it does, we must +make a dive for the dining-room. Got your raincoats and rubbers handy, +girls?" + +"I'm putting mine on," Olga's voice was as cool and undisturbed as +Mary's. She turned towards the next cot and added, "Elizabeth, you've no +raincoat. Wrap yourself in your rubber blanket if the tent goes." + +"Ye--es," returned Elizabeth, with a little frightened gasp. + +Under the bedclothes Annie Pearson was sobbing and moaning, "O, I wish I +was home! I wish I was home!" + +Mary Hastings spoke sternly. "Annie Pearson, if you don't stop that +whimpering I'll shake you!" + +Annie subsided into sniffling silence. Outside there was a lull, and +after a moment, Mary added hopefully, "There, I guess the worst is over, +and we're all right." + +While the words were yet on her lips, the storm leaped up like a giant +refreshed. Rain came down in a deluge, beating through tent-canvas and +spraying, with fine mist, the faces of the girls. Another vivid glare of +lightning was followed by a long, loud rattling peal ending in a +terrific crash that seemed fairly to rend the heavens, while the wind +shook the tents as if giant hands were trying to wrest them from their +fastenings. Then from all over the camp arose frightened shrieks and +wails and cries, but Annie Pearson now was too terrified to utter a +word. The next moment there was a loud, ripping tearing sound, and as +fresh cries broke out, Mrs. Royall's voice, clear and steady, rose above +the tumult. + +"Be quiet, girls," she called. "One tent has gone over, but nobody's +hurt. Mary Hastings, slip on your coat and rubbers, and come and help +us--quick!" + +"I'm coming," called Mary instantly, and directly she was out in the +storm. Where the next tent had been, nothing but the wooden flooring, +the iron cots, and four wooden boxes remained, and over these the rain +was pouring in heavy, blinding sheets. Mrs. Royall, as wet as if she had +just come out of the bay, was holding up a lantern, by the light of +which Mary caught a fleeting glimpse of four figures in dripping +raincoats scudding towards the dining-room, while two others followed +them with arms full of wet bedding. + +Mrs. Royall told Mary to gather up the bedding from a third cot and +carry that to the dining-room, "And you take the rest of it," she added +to another girl, who had followed Mary. "And stay in the +dining-room--both of you. Don't come out again. Miss Anne will tell you +what to do there." + +She held the lantern high until the girls reached the dining-room, then +she hurried to another tent, from which came a hubbub of frightened +cries. Pushing aside the canvas curtain she stepped inside the tent, and +holding up her lantern, looked about her. The cries and excited +exclamations ceased at the sight of her, though one girl could not +control her nervous sobbing. + +"What is the matter here? Your tent hasn't blown over. What are you +crying about, Rose?" Mrs. Royall demanded. + +Rose Anderson, an excitable little creature of fifteen, lifted a face +white as chalk. "O," she sobbed, "something came in--right up on my bed. +It was big and--and furry--and _wet_! O Mrs. Royall, I never was so +scared in my life!" She ended with a burst of hysterical sobbing. + +Mrs. Royall cast a swift searching glance around the tent, then--wet and +cold and worried as she was, her face crinkled into sudden laughter. + +"Look, Rose--over there on that box. That must be the wet, furry _big_ +intruder that scared you so!" + +Four pairs of round frightened eyes followed her pointing finger; and on +the box they saw a half-grown rabbit, with eyes bulging like marbles as +the little creature crouched there in deadly terror. One glance, and +three of the girls broke into shrieks of nervous laughter in which, +after a moment, Rose joined. And having begun to laugh the girls kept +on, until those in the other tents began to wonder if somebody had gone +crazy. Mrs. Royall finally had to speak sternly to put an end to the +hysterical chorus. + +"There, there, girls, that will do--now be quiet! Listen, the thunder is +fainter now, and the lightning less sharp. I think the wind is going +down too. Are any of you wet?" + +"Only--only Rose, where the _big_ furry thing----" began one, and at +that a fresh peal of laughter rang out. But Mrs. Royall's grave face +silenced it quickly. + +"Listen, girls," she repeated, "you are keeping me here when I am needed +to look after others. I cannot go until you are quiet. I'll take this +half-drowned rabbit"--she reached over and picked up the trembling +little creature--"with me; and now I think you can go to sleep. I am +sure the worst of the storm is over." + +"We will be quiet, Mrs. Royall," Edith Rue promised, her lips twitching +again as she looked at the shivering rabbit. + +"And I hope now _you_ can get some rest," another added, and then Mrs. +Royall dropped the curtain and went out again into the rain, which was +still falling heavily. All the other tents had withstood the gale, and +when Mrs. Royall had looked into each one, answered the eager questions +of the girls, and assured them that no one was hurt and the worst of the +storm was over, she hurried back to the dining-room. There she found +that Anne and Laura had warmed and dried the girls, who had been turned +out of their tent, given them hot milk, and made up dry beds for them on +the floor. + +"They are warm as toast," Anne assured her. + +"And now you and I will get back to bed, Elizabeth," Mary Hastings said, +again slipping on her raincoat, while Laura quietly threw her own over +the other girl's shoulders. + +"Wait a minute," Mrs. Royall ordered, and brought them two sandbags hot +from the kitchen oven. "You must not go to sleep with cold feet. And +thank you both for your help," she added. "I'll hold the lantern here at +the door so you can see your way." But Laura quietly took the lantern +from her, and held it till Mary called, "All right!" + +"Is that you, Mary?" Olga's quiet voice questioned, as the girls entered +the tent. + +"Yes--Elizabeth and I. The excitement is all over and the storm will be +soon. Let's all get to sleep as fast as we can." + +"Elizabeth!" Olga repeated to herself. She had not known that Elizabeth +had left her cot. "Why did you go?" she asked in a low tone, as +Elizabeth crept under the blankets. + +"Why--to help," the Poor Thing answered, squeezing the hand that touched +hers in the darkness. + +The storm surely was lessening now. The lightning came at longer +intervals and the thunder lagged farther and farther behind it. The rain +still fell, but not so heavily, and the roar of the wind had died down +to a sullen growl. In ten minutes the other three girls were sound +asleep, but Olga lay long awake, her eyes searching the darkness, as her +thoughts searched her own soul, finding there some things that greatly +astonished her. + + + + +VI + +A WATER CURE + + +There were some pale cheeks and heavy eyes the next morning, but no one +had taken cold from the exposure of the night, and most of the girls +were as fresh and full of life as ever. The camp, however, was strewn +with leaves and broken branches, and one tree was uprooted. Mrs. +Royall's face was grave as she thought of what might have been, had that +tree fallen across any of the tents. It was a heavy responsibility that +she carried with these forty girls under her charge, and never had she +felt it more deeply than now. + +The baby bunny was evidently somebody's stray pet, for it submitted to +handling as if used to it, showed no desire to get away, and contentedly +nibbled the lettuce leaves and carrots which the girls begged of Katie. + +"He fairly _purrs_ when I scratch his head," Louise Johnson declared +gaily. "Girls, we must keep him for the camp mascot." + +"Looks as if we should have to keep him unless a claimant appears," Mary +Hastings said. "I've almost stepped on him twice already. I don't +believe we could drive him away with a club." + +"Nobody wants to drive him away," retorted Louise, lifting him by his +long ears, "unless maybe Rose," she added, with a teasing glance over +her shoulder. "You know Rose doesn't care for _big_ furry things." + +"Well, I guess," protested Rose, "if he had flopped into your face all +dripping wet, in the dark, as he did into mine last night, you wouldn't +have stopped to measure him before you yelled, any more than I did. He +_felt_ as big as--a wildcat, so there!" and Rose turned away with +flushed cheeks, followed by shouts of teasing laughter. + +"It's--too bad. I'd have been scared too," said a low voice, and Rose, +turning, stared in amazement at the Poor Thing--the _Poor Thing_--for +almost the first time since she came to camp, volunteering a remark. + +"Why--why, you Po--_Elizabeth_!" Rose stammered, and then suddenly she +slipped her arm around Elizabeth's waist and drew her off to the hammock +behind the pines. "Come," she said, "I want to tell you about it. The +girls are all laughing at me--especially Louise Johnson--but it wasn't +any laughing matter to me last night. I was scared stiff--truly I was!" +She poured the story of her experiences into the other girl's ears. The +fact that Elizabeth said nothing made no difference to Rose. She felt +the silent sympathy and was comforted. When she had talked herself out, +Elizabeth slipped away and sought Olga, but Olga was nowhere to be +found--not in the camp nor on the beach, but one of the boats was +missing, and at last a girl told Elizabeth that she had seen Olga go off +alone in it. That meant an age of anxious watching and waiting for the +Poor Thing. She never could get over her horror of the treacherous blue +water. To her it was a great restless monster forever reaching out after +some living thing to clutch and drag down into its cruel bosom. It was +agony to her to see Olga swim and dive; hardly less agony to see her go +off in a boat or canoe. Always Elizabeth was sure that _this_ time she +would not come back. + +[Illustration: +We pull long, we pull strong, A dip now--a foaming prow +We pull keen and true; Through waters so blue + We sing to the king of the great black rocks + Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox] + +She had put on her bathing suit, for Olga still made her wade every +morning, and she wandered forlornly along the beach, and finally +ventured a little way into the water. It was horrible to do even that +alone, but she had promised, and she must do it even if Olga was not +there to know. A troop of girls in bathing suits came racing down to the +beach, Anne and Laura following them. + +"What--who is that standing out in the water all alone?" demanded Anne +Wentworth, who was a little near-sighted. + +Annie Pearson broke into a peal of laughter. "It's that Poor Thing," she +cried. "Did you ever see such a forlorn figure!" + +"Looks like a sick penguin," laughed Louise Johnson. + +"Why in the world is she standing there all alone?" cried Laura, and +hurried on ahead, calling, "Elizabeth--Elizabeth, come here. I want +you." + +Elizabeth, standing in water up to her ankles, hesitated for a moment, +swept the wide stretch of blue with a wistful searching glance, and then +obeyed the summons. + +"Why were you standing there, dear?" Laura questioned gently, leading +her away from the laughing curious girls. + +Elizabeth lifted earnest eyes to the kind face bending towards her. + +"I promised Olga I'd wade every day--so I had to." Then she broke out, +"O Miss Laura, do you think she'll come back? She went all alone, and +she isn't anywhere in sight." + +Laura drew the shivering little figure close to her side. "Why, of +course she'll come back, Elizabeth. Why shouldn't she? She's been out so +scores of times, just as I have. What makes you worry so, child?" + +Elizabeth drew a long shuddering breath. "I can't help it," she sighed. +"The water always makes me _so_ afraid, Miss Laura!" + +She lifted such a white miserable face that Laura saw it was really +true--she was in the grip of a deadly terror. She drew the trembling +girl down beside her on the warm sand. "Let's sit here a little while," +she said, and for a few minutes they sat in silence, while further up +the beach girls were wading and swimming and splashing each other, their +shouts of laughter making a merry din. Some were diving from the pier, +and one stood on a high springboard. Suddenly this one flung out her +arms and sprang off, her slim body seeming to float between sky and +water, as she swept downward in a graceful curving line. + +Laura caught her breath nervously as her eyes followed the slender +figure that looked so very small outstretched between sky and water, and +Elizabeth covered her eyes with a little moan. + +"O, I wish she wouldn't do that--I do wish she wouldn't!" she said under +her breath. + +Laura spoke cheerfully. "She is all right. See, Elizabeth, how fast she +is swimming now." + +But Elizabeth shook her head and would not look. Laura put her arm +across the narrow shrinking shoulders and after a moment spoke again, +slowly. "Elizabeth, you love Olga, don't you?" + +Elizabeth looked up quickly. She did not answer--or need to. + +"Yes, I know you do," Laura went on, answering the look. "But do you +love her enough to do something very hard--for her?" + +"Yes, Miss Laura. Tell me what. She won't ever let me do anything for +her." + +"It will be very, very hard for you," Laura warned her. + +The girl looked at her silently, and waited. + +"Elizabeth, I don't think you could do anything else that would please +her so much as to conquer your fear of the water _for her sake_. Can you +do such a hard thing as that--for Olga?" + +A look of positive agony swept over Elizabeth's face. "_Any_thing but +just that," she moaned. "O Miss Laura, you don't know--you _can't_ know +how I hate it--that deep black water!" + +"But can't you--even for Olga?" Laura questioned very gently. + +Elizabeth shook her head and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. "I +would if I could. I'd do anything, anything else for her; but that--I +_can't_!" she moaned. + +Laura put her hand under the trembling chin, and lifting the girl's face +looked deep into the blue eyes swimming with tears. + +"Elizabeth," she said slowly, a world of love and sympathy in her voice, +"Elizabeth, you _can_!" + +In that long deep look the dread and horror and misery died slowly out +of Elizabeth's eyes, and a faint incredulous hope began to grow in +them. It was as if she literally drew courage and determination from the +eyes looking into hers, and who can tell what subtle spirit message +really passed from the strong soul into the weaker one? + +"I never, never could," Elizabeth faltered; but Laura caught the note of +wavering hope in the low-spoken words. + +"Elizabeth, you can. I _know_ you can," she repeated. + +"How?" questioned Elizabeth, and Laura smiled and drew her closer. + +"You are afraid of the water," she said, "and your fear is like a cord +that binds your will just as your arms might be bound to your sides with +a scarf. But you can break the cord, and when you do, you will not be +afraid of the water any more. Myra Karr was afraid just as you +are--afraid of almost everything, but one wonderful day she conquered +her fear. Ask her and she will tell you about it, and how much happier +she has been ever since, as you will be when you have broken your cords. +And just think how it will please Olga!" + +There was a little silence; then suddenly Elizabeth leaned forward, +eagerly pointing off over the water. "Is it--is she coming?" she +whispered. + +"Yes, she is coming. Now just think how you have suffered worrying over +her this morning, and all for nothing." + +Elizabeth drew a long happy breath. "I don't care now she's coming," she +said, and it was as if she sang the words. + +Laura went on, "Have you noticed, Elizabeth, how different Olga is from +the other girls? She never laughs and frolics. She never really enjoys +any of the games. She cares for nothing but work. She hasn't a single +friend in the camp--she won't have one. I don't think she is happy, do +you?" + +Elizabeth considered that in silence. She had known these things, but +she had never thought of them before. + +"It's so," she admitted finally, her eyes on the approaching boat. + +"Elizabeth, I think you are the only one who can really help Olga." + +"I?" Elizabeth lifted wondering eyes. Then she added hastily, "You +mean--going in the water?" She shuddered at the thought. + +"Yes, dear, if you will let Olga help you to get rid of your fear of the +water, it will mean more to her even than to you. Olga needs you, child, +more than you need her, for you have many friends now in the camp, and +she has only you." + +"I like her the best of all," Elizabeth declared loyally. + +"Yes, but you must prove it to her before you can really help her," +Laura replied. "See, she is almost in now, and I won't keep you any +longer." + +Olga secured her boat to a ring and ran lightly up the steps. In a few +minutes she came back in her bathing suit. As she ran down the beach, +she swept a swift searching glance over the few girls sitting or lying +on the sand; then her eyes rested on a little shrinking figure standing +like a small blue post, knee deep in the water. It was Elizabeth, her +cheeks colourless, her eyes fixed beseechingly, imploringly, on Olga's +face. In a flash Olga was beside her, crying out sharply, + +"What made you come in alone?" + +"I p-promised you----" Elizabeth replied, her teeth chattering. + +"Well, you've done it," said Olga. "Cut out now and get dressed." + +But Elizabeth stood still and shook her head. "No," though her lips +trembled, her voice was determined, "no, Olga, I'm going up to my--my +neck to-day," and she held out her hands. + +"You are not--you're coming out!" Olga declared. "You're in a blue funk +this minute." + +"I--know it," gasped Elizabeth, "but I'm going in--_alone_--if you won't +go with me. Quick, Olga, quick!" she implored. + +Some instinct stilled the remonstrance on Olga's lips. She grasped +Elizabeth by her shoulders and walking backward herself, drew the other +girl steadily on until the water rose to her neck. Elizabeth gasped, and +deadly fear looked out of her straining eyes, but she made no sound. The +next instant Olga had turned and was pulling her swiftly back to the +beach. + +"There! You see it didn't hurt you," she said brusquely, but never +before had she looked at Elizabeth as she looked at her then. "Now run +to the bathhouse and rub yourself hard before you dress," she ordered. + +But Elizabeth had turned again towards the water, and Olga followed, +amazed and protesting. + +"Go back," cried Elizabeth over her shoulder, "go back. I'm going in +alone this time." + +And alone she went until once more the water surged and rippled about +her neck. Only an instant--then she swayed and her eyes closed; but +before she could lose her footing Olga's hands were on her shoulders and +pushing her swiftly back to the beach. This time, however, she did not +stop there, but swept the small figure over to the bathhouse. There she +gave Elizabeth a brisk rubdown that set the blood dancing in her veins. + +"Now get into your clothes in a hurry!" she commanded. + +"I'm--n-not c-cold, Olga," Elizabeth protested with a pallid smile, +"truly I'm not. I'm just n-nervous, I guess." + +"You're just a _brick_, Elizabeth Page!" cried Olga, and she slammed the +door and vanished, leaving Elizabeth glowing with delight. + +Each day after that Elizabeth insisted on venturing a little more. Olga +could guess what it cost her--her blue lips and the terror in her eyes +told that--but day after day she fought her battle over and would not be +worsted. She learned to float, to tread water, and then, very, very +slowly, she learned to swim a little. Laura, looking on, rejoiced over +both the girls. Everybody was interested in this marvellous achievement +of the Poor Thing--they spoke of her less often by that name now--but +only Laura realised how much it meant to Olga too. The day that +Elizabeth succeeded in swimming a few yards, Olga for the first time +took her out on the water at sunset; she had never been willing to go +before. Even now she stepped into the boat shrinkingly, the colour +coming and going in her cheeks, but when she was seated, and the boat +floating gently on the rose-tinted water, the tense lines faded slowly +from her face, and at last she even smiled a little. + +"Well," said Olga, "are you still scared?" + +"A little--but not much. If I wasn't any afraid it would be lovely--like +rocking in a big, big beautiful cradle," she ended dreamily. + +A swift glance assured Olga that they had drifted away from the other +boats--there was no one within hearing. She leaned forward and looked +straight into the eyes of the other girl. "Now I want to know what made +you get over your fear of the water," she said. + +"Maybe I've not got over it--quite," Elizabeth parried. + +"What made you? Tell me!" Olga's tone was peremptory. + +"You," said Elizabeth. + +"I? But I didn't--I couldn't. I'd done my best, but I couldn't drag you +into water above your knees--you know I couldn't. Somebody else did it," +Olga declared, a spark flickering in her eyes. + +"Miss Laura talked to me that day you were off so long in the boat," +Elizabeth admitted. "She told me I could get over being afraid. I didn't +think I _could_ before--truly, Olga. I honestly thought I'd die if ever +the water came up to my neck. I don't know how she did it--Miss +Laura--but she made me see that I could get over being so awfully +afraid--and I did." + +"You said _I_ did it," there was reproach as well as jealousy now in +Olga's voice, "and it was Miss Laura." + +"O no, it was you really," Elizabeth cried hastily, "because I did it +for you. I never could have--never in this world!--only Miss Laura said +it would please you. I did it for you, Olga." + +"Hm," was Olga's only response, but now there was in her eyes something +that the Poor Thing had never seen there before--a warm human +friendliness that made Elizabeth radiantly happy. + +"There comes the war canoe," Olga cried a moment later. + +"How fast it comes--and how pretty the singing sounds!" Elizabeth +returned. + +They watched the big canoe as it flashed by, the many paddles rising and +falling as one, while a dozen young voices sang gaily, + + "'We pull long, we pull strong, + We pull keen and true. + We sing to the king of the great black rocks, + Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox.'" + +"Next year," said Olga, "I'm going to teach you to paddle, Elizabeth." + + + + +VII + +HONOURS WON + + +The camp was to break up in a few days, and the Guardians had planned to +make the last Council Fire as picturesque and effective as +possible--something for the girls to hold as a beautiful memory through +the months to come. It fell on a lovely evening, a cool breeze blowing +from the water, and a young moon adding a golden gleam to the silvery +shining of the stars. Most of the girls had finished their ceremonial +dresses and all were to be worn to-night. + +"I'm ridiculously excited, Anne," Laura said, as she looked down at her +woods-brown robe with its fringes and embroideries. "I don't feel a bit +as if I were prosaic Laura Haven. I'm really one of the nut-brown Indian +maids that roamed these woods in ages past." + +"If any of those nut-brown maids were as pretty as you are to-night, +they must have had all the braves at their feet," returned Anne, with an +admiring glance at her friend. "What splendid thick braids you have, +Laura!" + +"I'm acquainted with the braids," Laura answered, flinging them +carelessly over her shoulders, "but this beautiful bead headband I've +never worn before. Is it on right?" + +"All right," Anne replied. "The Busy Corner girls will be proud of +their Guardian to-night." + +Laura scarcely heard, her thoughts were so full of her girls--the girls +she had already learned to love. She turned eagerly as the bugle notes +of the Council call rang out in silvery sweetness. "O, come. Don't let +them start without us," she urged. + +"No danger--they will want their Guardians to lead the procession." + +In a moment Mrs. Royall appeared, and quickly the girls fell into line +behind her. First, the four Guardians; then two Torch Bearers, each +holding aloft in her right hand a lighted lantern. Flaming torches would +have been more picturesque, but also more dangerous in the woods, and +all risk of fire must be avoided. After the Torch Bearers came the Fire +Makers, and last of all the Wood Gatherers, with Katie the cook wearing +a gorgeous robe that some of the girls had embroidered for her. Katie's +unfailing good nature had made her a general favourite in camp. + +As the procession wound through the irregular woods-path Laura gave a +little cry of delight. + +"O, do look back, Anne--it is so pretty," she said. "If it wasn't that I +want to be a part of it, I'd run ahead so I could see it all better." + +Mrs. Royall began to sing and the girls instantly caught up the strain, +and in and out among the trees the procession wound to the music of the +young voices, the lanterns throwing flashes of light on either side, +while the shadows seemed to slip out of the woods and follow "like a +procession of black-robed nuns," Laura said to herself. + +The Council chamber was a high open space, surrounded on every side but +one by tall pines. The open side faced the bay, and across the water +glimmered a tiny golden pathway from the moon in the western sky, where +a golden glow from the sunset yet lingered. + +The girls formed the semicircle, with the Guardians in the open space. +Wood had been gathered earlier in the day, and now the Wood Gatherers, +each taking a stick, laid it where the fire was to be. As the last stick +was brought, the Fire Makers moved forward and swiftly and skilfully set +the wood ready for lighting. On this occasion, to save time, the rubbing +sticks were dispensed with, and Mrs. Royall signed to Laura to light the +fire with a match. + +The usual order of exercises followed, the songs and chants echoing with +a solemn sweetness among the tall pines in whose tops the night wind +played a soft accompaniment. + +To-night the interest of the girls centred in the awarding of honours. +All of the Busy Corner girls had won more or less, and as Laura read +each name and announced the honours, the girl came forward and received +her beads from the Chief Guardian. Mrs. Royall had a smile and a +pleasant word for each one; but when Myra Karr stood before her, she +laid her hand very kindly on the girl's shoulder and turned to the +listening circle. + +"Camp Fire Girls," she said, "here is one who is to receive special +honour at our hands to-night, for she has won a great victory. You all +know how fearful and timid she was, for you yourselves called +her--Bunny. Now she has fought and conquered her great dragon--Fear--and +you have dropped that name, and she must never again be called by it." + +[Illustration: "Wood had been gathered earlier in the day"] + +With a pencil, on a bit of birch back, she wrote the name and dropped +the bark into the heart of the glowing fire. "It is gone forever," she +said, her hand again on Myra's shoulder. "Now what shall be the new Camp +Fire name of our comrade?" + +Several names were suggested, and finally Watéwin, the Indian word for +one who conquers, was chosen. Myra stood with radiant eyes looking about +the circle until Mrs. Royall said, "Myra, we give you to-night your new +name. You are Watéwin, for you have conquered fear," and the girl walked +back to her place, joy shining in her eyes. + +Then Mrs. Royall spoke again, her glance sweeping the circle of intent +faces. "There is another who has conquered the dragon--Fear--and who +deserves high honour--Elizabeth Page." + +Elizabeth, absorbed in watching Myra's radiant face, had absolutely +forgotten herself, and did not even notice when her own name was spoken. +Olga had to tell her and give her a little push forward before she +realised that Mrs. Royall was waiting for her. For a second she drew +back; then, catching her breath, she went gravely forward. The voice and +eyes of the Chief Guardian were very tender as she looked down into the +shy blue eyes lifted to hers. + +"You too, Elizabeth," she said, "have fought and conquered, not once, +but many times, and to you also we give to-night a new name." She did +not repeat the old one, but writing it on a bit of bark as she had +written Myra's, she told the girl to drop it into the fire. Elizabeth +obeyed--she had never known what the girls had christened her and now +she did not care. Breathlessly she listened as Mrs. Royall went on, +"Camp Fire Girls, what shall be her new name?" + +It was Laura who answered after a little silence, "Adawána, the brave +and faithful." + +"Adawána, the brave and faithful," Mrs. Royall repeated. "Is that right? +Is it the right name for Elizabeth, Camp Fire Girls?" + +"Yes, yes, _yes_!" came the response from two score eager voices. + +"You are Adawána, the brave and faithful," said Mrs. Royall, looking +down again into the blue eyes, full now of wonder and shy joy. + +"Now listen to the honours that Adawána has won." + +As Laura read the long list a murmur of surprise ran round the circle. +The girls had known that Elizabeth would have some honours, for they all +knew how Olga had compelled her to do things, but no one had imagined +that there would be anything like this long list--least of all had +Elizabeth herself imagined it. Perplexity and dismay were in her eyes as +she listened, and as Laura finished the reading, Elizabeth whispered +quickly, + +"O Miss Laura, there's some mistake. I couldn't have all those--not half +so many!" + +"It's all right, dear," Laura assured her, and in a louder tone she +added, "There is no mistake. The record has been carefully kept and +verified; but you see Elizabeth was not working for honours, and had no +idea how many she had won." + +Elizabeth looked fairly dazed as Mrs. Royall threw over her head the +necklace with its red and blue and orange beads. Turning, she hurried +back to her place next Olga. + +"It was all you--you did it. You ought to have the honours instead of +me," she whispered, half crying. + +"It's all right. Don't be a _baby_!" Olga flung at her savagely, to +forestall the tears. + +Then somebody nudged her and whispered, "Olga Priest, don't you hear +Mrs. Royall calling you?" + +Wondering, Olga obeyed the summons. She had reported no honours won, and +had no idea why she was called. Laura, standing beside Mrs. Royall, +smiled happily at the girl as she stopped, and stood, her dark brows +drawn together in a frown of perplexity. + +"Olga," Mrs. Royall said, "it has been a great joy to us to bestow upon +Adawána the symbols which represent the honours she has won. We are sure +that she will wear them worthily, and that her life will be better and +happier because of that for which they stand. We recognise the fact, +however, that but for you she could not have won these honours. You have +worked harder than she has to secure them for her; therefore to you +belongs the greater honour----" + +"No! _No!_" cried Olga under her breath, but with a smile Mrs. Royall +went on, "We know that to you the symbols of honours won--beads and +ornaments--have little value--but we have for you something that we hope +you will value because we all have a share in it, every one in the camp; +and we ask you to wear this because you have shown us what one Camp Fire +Girl can do for another. The work is all Elizabeth's. The rest of us +only gave the beads, and your Guardian taught Elizabeth how to use +them." + +She held out a headband, beautiful in design and colouring. Olga stared +at it, at first too utterly amazed for any words. Finally she stammered, +"Why, I--I--didn't know--Elizabeth----" and then to her own utter +consternation came a rush of tears. _Tears!_ And she had lived dry-eyed +through four years of lonely misery. Choked, blinded, and unable to +speak even a word of thanks, she took the headband and turned hastily +away, and as she went the watching circle chanted very low, + + "'Wohelo means love. + Love is the joy of service so deep that self is + forgotten--that self is forgotten.'" + +With shining eyes--yet half afraid--Elizabeth waited as Olga came back +to her. She knew Olga's scorn for honours and ornaments. Would she be +scornful now--or would she be glad? Elizabeth felt that she never, never +could endure it if Olga were scornful or angry now--if this, her great +secret, her long, hard labour of love--should be only a great +disappointment after all. + +But it was not. She knew that it was not as soon as Olga was near enough +to see the look in her eyes. She knew then that it was all right; and +the poor little hungry heart of her sang for joy when Olga placed the +band over her forehead and bent her proud head for Elizabeth to fasten +it in place. Elizabeth did it with fingers trembling with happy +excitement. The coldness that had so often chilled her was all gone now +from the dark eyes. Olga understood. Elizabeth had no more voice than a +duckling, but she felt just then as if she could sing like a song +sparrow from sheer happiness. It was such a wonderful thing to be happy! +Elizabeth had never before known the joy of it. + +But Mrs. Royall was speaking again. "Wohelo means work and health and +love," she said, "you all know that--the three best things in all this +beautiful world. Which of the three is best of all?" + +Softly Anne Wentworth sang, + + "'Wohelo means love," + +and instantly the girls took up the refrain, + + "'Wohelo means love, + Wohelo means love. + Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten. + Wohelo means love.'" + +Laura's eyes, watching the young, earnest faces, filled with quick tears +as the refrain was repeated softly and lingeringly, again and yet again. +Mrs. Royall stood motionless until the last low note died into silence. +Then she went on: + +"Work is splendid for mind and body. Some of you have worked for honours +and that is well. Some have worked for the love of the work--that is +better. Some have worked--or fought--for conquest over weakness, and +that is better yet. But two of our number have worked and conquered, not +for honour, not for love of labour, not even for self-conquest--but for +unselfish love of another. That is the highest form of service, dear +Camp Fire Girls--the service that is done in forgetfulness of self. +That is the thought I leave with you to-night." + +She stepped back, and instantly each girl placed her right hand over her +heart and all together repeated slowly, + + "'This Law of the Fire + I will strive to follow + With all the strength + And endurance of my body, + The power of my will, + The keenness of my mind, + The warmth of my heart, + And the sincerity of my spirit.'" + +The fire had died down to glowing coals. At a sign from the Chief +Guardian two of the Fire Makers extinguished the embers, pouring water +over them till not a spark remained. The lanterns were relighted, the +procession formed again, and the girls marched back, singing as they +went. + +"O dear, I can't bear to think that we shall not have another Council +Fire like this for months--even if we come here next summer," Mary +Hastings said when they were back in camp. + +"And wasn't this the very dearest one!" cried Bessie Carroll. "With +Myra's honours and Elizabeth's, and Olga's headband--_wasn't_ she +surprised, though!" + +"First time I ever saw Olga Priest dumfounded," laughed Louise. "But, +say, girls--that Poor Thing is a duck after all--she is really." + +Bessie's plump hand covered Louise's lips. "Hush, hush!" she cried in a +tone of real distress, for she loved Elizabeth. "That name is burnt up." + +"So it is--beg everybody's pardon," yawned Louise. "But Elizabeth +couldn't hear way over there with Olga and Miss Laura. I say, girls," +she added with her usual giggle, "I feel as if I'd been wound up to +concert pitch and I've got to let down somehow. Get out your fiddle, +Rose, and play us a jig. I've got to get some of this seriousness out of +my system before I go to bed." + +Rose ran for her violin, and two minutes later the girls were dancing +gaily in the moonlight. + +"I wish they hadn't," Laura whispered to Anne. "I wanted to keep the +impression of that lovely soft chanting for the last." + +"You can't do it--not with Louise Johnson around," returned Anne. "But +never mind, Laura, they won't forget this meeting, even if they do have +to 'react' a bit. I'm sure that even Louise will keep the memory of this +last Council tucked away in some corner of her harum-scarum mind." + + + + +VIII + +ELIZABETH AT HOME + + +In a tiny hall bedroom in one of the small brick houses that cover many +blocks in certain sections of Washington, Elizabeth Page was standing a +week later, trying to screw up her courage to a deed of daring; and +because it was for herself it seemed almost impossible for her to do it. +With her white face, her anxious eyes, and trembling hands, she seemed +again the Poor Thing who had shrunk from every one those first days at +the camp--every one but Olga. + +Three times Elizabeth started to go downstairs and three times her +courage failed and she drew back. So long as she waited there was a +chance--a very faint one, but still a chance--that the thing she so +desired might come true. But the minutes were slipping away, and +finally, setting her lips desperately, she fairly ran down the stairs. + +Her stepmother glanced up with a frown as the girl stood before her. + +"Well, what now?" she demanded, in the sharp, fretful tone of one whose +nerves are all a-jangle. + +"I've done everything--all the supper work, and fixed everything in the +kitchen ready for morning," Elizabeth said, her words tumbling over each +other in her excitement, "and O, please may I go this evening--to Miss +Laura's? It's the Camp Fire meeting, and one of the girls is going to +stop here for me, and--and O, I'll do _anything_ if only I may go!" + +The frown on the woman's face deepened as Elizabeth stumbled on, and her +answer was swift and sharp. + +"You are not going one step out of this house to-night--you can make up +your mind to that--not one step. I knew when I let you go off to that +camp that it would be just this way. Girls like you are never satisfied. +You want the earth. Here you've had a month--a whole month--off in the +country while I stood in that hot kitchen and did your work for you, and +now you are teasing to go stringing off again. You are _not going_." + +"But," pleaded Elizabeth desperately, "I've worked so hard to-day--every +minute since five o'clock--and I washed and ironed Sadie's white dress +before supper. If there was any work I had to do it would be different. +And--and even servant girls have an afternoon and evening off every +week, and I never do. And I'm only asking now to go out one evening in a +month--just _one_!" + +"There it is again!" Mrs. Page flung out. "Not this one evening, but an +evening every month; and if I agreed to that, next thing you'd be +wanting to go every week. I tell you--_no_. Now let that end it." + +The tears welled up in Elizabeth's eyes as she turned slowly away; and +the sight of those tears awakened a tumult in another quarter. +Four-year-old Molly had been rocking her Teddy Bear to sleep when +Elizabeth came downstairs, and had listened, wide-eyed and wondering, to +all that passed. But tears in Elizabeth's eyes were too much. The Teddy +Bear tumbled unheeded to the floor as Molly rushed across to Elizabeth +and, clinging to her skirts, turned a small flushed face to her mother. + +"Naughty, naughty mamma--make 'Lizbet' _ky_!" she cried out, stamping +her small foot angrily. "Molly love 'Lizbet' _hard_!" + +Elizabeth caught up the child and turned to go, but a sharp command +stopped her. "Put that child down. I won't have you setting her against +her own mother!" + +Elizabeth unclasped the little clinging arms and put the child down, but +Molly still clutched her dress, sobbing now and hiding her face from her +mother. The tinkle of the doorbell cut the tense silence that followed +Mrs. Page's last command. Sadie, an older girl, ran to open it, flashing +a triumphant glance at Elizabeth as she passed her. + +As Sadie flung open the door, Elizabeth saw Olga on the step, and Olga's +quick eyes took in the scene--the frowning woman, Elizabeth's wet eyes +and drooping mouth, and little Molly clinging to her skirts as she +looked over her shoulder to see who had come. Sadie stared pertly at +Olga and waited for her to speak. + +"I've come for Elizabeth. I'm Olga----" + +"Elizabeth can't go. Mother won't let her," interrupted Sadie with +ill-concealed satisfaction in her narrow eyes. + +Elizabeth started towards the door. "O Olga, please tell Miss Laura----" +she was beginning when Sadie unceremoniously slammed the door and +marched back with a victorious air to her mother's side. + +Olga was left staring at the outside of the door, and if a look could +have demolished it and annihilated Miss Sadie, both these things might +have happened then and there. But the door stood firm, and there was no +reason to think that anything untoward had happened to Sadie; so after a +moment Olga turned, flew down the steps, and hurrying over to the +car-line, hailed the first car that appeared. Fifteen minutes later she +was ringing the bell at the door of Judge Haven's big stone house on +Wyoming Avenue. The servants in that house never turned away any girl +asking for Miss Laura, so this one was promptly shown into the library. +Laura rose to meet her with a cordial greeting, but Olga neither heard +nor heeded. + +"She can't come. Elizabeth can't come!" she cried out. "They wouldn't +even let me speak to her, though she was right there in the hall--nor +let her give me a message for you. Her sister slammed the door in my +face. Miss Laura, I'd like to _kill_ that girl and her mother!" + +"Hush, hush, my dear!" Laura said gently. "Sit down and tell me quietly +just what happened." + +Olga flung herself into a chair and told her story, but she could not +tell it quietly. She told it with eyes flashing under frowning brows and +her words were full of bitterness. + +"Elizabeth's just a slave to them--worse than a servant!" she stormed. +"She never goes anywhere--_never_! They wouldn't have let her go to the +camp if she hadn't been sick and the doctor said she'd die if she didn't +have a rest and change, and so Miss Grandis got her off. O Miss Laura, +can't you do something about it? Elizabeth _wanted_ so to come--she was +crying. I know how she was counting on it before we left the camp." + +Laura shook her head sorrowfully. "I don't know what I can do. You see +she is not yet of age, and her father has a right--a legal right, I +mean--to keep her at home." + +"But it isn't her father, it's that woman--his wife," Olga declared. +"She won't even let Elizabeth call her mother--not that I should think +she'd want to--but when I asked Elizabeth why she called her Mrs. Page +she said her stepmother told her when she first came there that she +didn't want a great girl that didn't belong to her calling her mother." + +"Elizabeth is seventeen?" Laura questioned. + +Olga nodded. "She won't be eighteen till next April. _I_ wouldn't stay +there till I was eighteen. I'd clear out. She could earn her own living +and not work half as hard somewhere else, and go out when she liked, +too." She was silent for a moment, then half aloud she added, "I'll find +a way to fix that woman yet!" + +"Olga," Laura looked straight into the sombre angry eyes, "you must not +interfere in this matter. Two wrongs will never make a right. If there +is anything that can be done for Elizabeth, be sure that I will do it. +And if not--it is only seven months to April." + +"Seven months!" echoed Olga passionately. "Miss Laura, how would you +live through seven months without ever getting out _any_where?" + +Laura shook her head. "We will hope that Elizabeth will not have to do +that," she said gently. "But I hear some of the girls. Come." + +In the wide hall were half a dozen girls who had just arrived, and Laura +led the way to a large room on the third floor. At the door of this +room, the girls broke into cries and exclamations of pleasure. + +"It's like a bit of the camp," Mary Hastings cried, and Rose Anderson +exclaimed, + +"It's just the sweetest room I ever saw!" and she sniffed delightedly +the spicy fragrance of the pines and balsam firs that stood in great +green tubs about the walls. On the floor was a grass rug of green and +wood-colour, and against the walls stood several long low settees of +brown rattan, backs and seats cushioned in cretonne of soft greens and +cream-colour, and a few chairs of like pattern were scattered about. +Curtains of cream-coloured cheesecloth, with a stencilled design of pine +cones in shaded browns, draped the windows, and in the wide fireplace a +fire was laid ready for lighting. The low mantelpiece above it held only +three brass candlesticks with bayberry candles, and above it, +beautifully lettered in sepia, were the words, + + "'Whoso shall stand by this hearthstone, + Flame-fanned, + Shall never, never stand alone: + Whose house is dark and bare and cold, + Whose house is cold, + This is his own.'" + +And below this + + "'Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.'" + +Bessie Carroll drew a long breath as she looked about, and said +earnestly, "Miss Laura, I never, never saw any place so dear! I didn't +think there could be such a pretty room." + +Laura bent and kissed the earnest little face. "I am glad you like it so +much, dear," she said. "I like it too. You remember the very first +words of our Camp Fire law--'Seek beauty'? I thought of that when I was +furnishing this. It is our Camp Fire room, girls, and I hope we shall +have many happy times together here." + +"I guess they couldn't help being happy times in a room like this--and +with you," returned Bessie with her shy smile, which remark was promptly +approved by the other girls--except Olga, who said nothing. + +"You look as glum as that old barn owl at the camp, Olga," Louise +Johnson told her under cover of the gay clamour of talk that followed. +"For heaven's sake, do cheer up a bit. That face of yours is enough to +curdle the milk of human kindness." + +Olga's only response was a black scowl and a savage glance, at which +Louise retreated with a shrug of her shoulders and an exasperating wink +and giggle. + +Within half an hour all the girls were there except Elizabeth. Olga, +glooming in a corner, thought of Elizabeth crawling off alone to her +room to cry. Torture would not have wrung tears from Olga's great black +eyes, and she would have seen them unmoved in the eyes of any other +girl; but Elizabeth--that was another thing. She glanced scornfully at +the others laughing and chattering around Miss Laura, and vowed that she +would never come to another of the meetings unless Elizabeth could come +too. If Miss Laura, after all her talk, couldn't do something to help +Elizabeth----But Miss Laura was standing before her now with a box of +matches in her hand. + +"I want you to light our fire to-night, Olga," she said gently. +Ungraciously enough, Olga touched a match to the splinters of resinous +pine on the hearth, and as the fire flashed into brightness, Miss +Laura, turning out the electric lights, said, "I love the fire, but I +love the candles almost as much; so at our meetings here, we will have +both." The girls were standing now in a circle broken only by the fire. +Miss Laura set the three candlesticks with the bayberry candles on the +floor in the centre of the circle and motioned the girls to sit down. +Lightly they dropped to the floor, and Laura, touching a splinter to the +fire, handed it to Frances Chapin, a grave studious High School girl who +had not been at the camp. Rising on one knee, Frances repeated slowly, + +"'I light the light of Work, for Wohelo means work,'" and lighting the +candle, she added, + + "'Wohelo means work. + We glorify work, because through work we are free. + We work to win, to conquer, to be masters. We work + for the joy of the working and because we are free. + Wohelo means work.'" + +As Frances stepped back into the circle, Laura beckoned to Mary +Hastings, the strongest, healthiest girl of them all, who, coming +forward, chanted slowly in her deep rich voice, + + "'I light the light of Health, for Wohelo means health!'" + +Lighting the candle, she went on, + + "'Wohelo means health. + We hold on to health, because through health we serve + and are happy. + In caring for the health and beauty of our persons we + are caring for the very shrine of the Great Spirit. + Wohelo means health.'" + +As Mary went back to her place Laura laid her hand on the shoulder of +Bessie Carroll, who was next her. With a glance of pleased surprise +Bessie took the third taper and in her low gentle voice repeated, + + "'I light the light of Love, for Wohelo means love.'" + +The room was very still as she lighted the third candle, saying, + + "'Wohelo means love. + We love love, for love is life, and light and joy and + sweetness. + And love is comradeship and motherhood, and fatherhood and all + dear kinship. + Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten. + Wohelo means love.'" + +As she spoke the last words a strain of music, so low that it was barely +audible, breathed through the room, then deepened into one clear note, +and instantly the wohelo cheer rose in a joyful chorus. + +After the roll-call and reports of the last meeting there was no more +ceremony. Miss Laura had set the three candles back on the mantelpiece, +where they burned steadily, sending out a faint spicy odor that mingled +with the pleasant fragrance of the firs. The fire snapped and sang and +blazed merrily, and Laura dropped down on the floor in front of it, +gathering the girls closer about her. + +"To-night," she began, "I want to hear about your good times--the 'fun' +that every girl wants and needs. Tell me, what do you enjoy most?" + +"Moving pictures," shouted Eva Bicknell, a little bundle-wrapper of +fifteen. + +"Dances," cried another girl. + +"O yes, dances," echoed pretty Annie Pearson, her eyes shining. + +"I like the roller skating at the Arcade," another declared. + +"The gym and swimming pool and tennis." That was Mary Hastings. + +"Hear her, will ye?" Eva Bicknell muttered. "Great chance _we_ have for +tennis and gym.!" + +"You could have them at the Y.W.C.A. That's where I go for them when you +go to your dances and picture shows," retorted Mary. + +"But the picture shows is great fun, 'specially when the boys take ye +in," the other flung back. + +There was a laugh at that, and the little bundle-wrapper added, "an' +finish up with a promenade on the avenue in the 'lectric lights." + +Laura's heart sank at these frank expressions of opinion. What had she +to offer that would offset picture shows, dances and "the boys" for such +girls as these? But now one of the High School girls was speaking. "We +have most of our good times at the school. There is always something +going on--lunches or concerts or socials or dances--and once a year we +get up a play. Some girl in the class generally writes the play. It's +great fun." + +Laura brightened at that. Here were three at least who cared for +something besides picture shows. For half an hour longer she let the +talk run on, and that half-hour gave her sidelights on many of the +girls. Except Olga--she had not opened her lips during the discussion. + +When there came a little pause, Laura spoke in a carefully careless way. +"I told you, girls, that this is our Camp Fire room and I want you to +feel that it belongs to you--every one of you owns a share in it. We +shall have the Council meetings here every Saturday, but this room is +not to be shut up all the other evenings. We may have no moving +pictures, but you can come here and dance if you wish, or play games, or +sing--I'm going to have a piano here soon--or if you like you can bring +your sewing--your Christmas presents to make. What I want you to +understand is that this room is yours, to be used for your pleasure. You +haven't seen all yet." + +Rising, she touched a button, and as the room was flooded with light, +threw open a door. The girls, crowding after her, broke into cries of +delight and admiration; for here was a white-tiled kitchen complete in +all its appointments, even to a small white-enamelled gas range and a +tiny refrigerator. On brass hooks hung blue and white saucepans and +kettles and spoons, and a triangular corner closet with leaded doors +revealed blue and white china and glass. + +"All for the Camp Fire Girls," Laura said, "and it means fudge, and +popcorn, and toasted marshmallows and bacon-bats and anything else you +like. You can come here yourselves every Wednesday evening, and if you +wish, you can bring a friend with you to share your good times." + +"Boy or girl friend?" Lena Barton's shrewd eyes twinkled as she asked +the question, with a saucy tilt to her little freckled nose. + +"Either," returned Laura instantly, though until that moment she had +thought only of girls. + +"Gee, but you're some Guardian, Miss Laura!" Lena replied. + +As the girls reluctantly tore themselves away from the fascinating +kitchen, two maids entered with trays of sandwiches and nutcakes, olives +and candy. + +"It is the first time I have had the pleasure of having you all here in +my own home," Miss Laura said, "so we must break bread together." + +"Gee! This beats the picture shows," Lena Barton declared. "Three cheers +for our Guardian--give 'em with claps!" and both cheers and clapping +were given in generous measure. + +When finally there was a movement to depart, Laura gathered the girls +once more about her before the fire. "I hope," she began, "you have all +enjoyed this evening as much as I have----" + +"We have! We _have_!" half a dozen voices broke in, and Lena Barton +shrilled enthusiastically, "_More_!" + +Laura smiled at them; then she glanced up at the words above the +mantelpiece. "The _joy of service_," she said. "That, to me, is the +heart--the very essence--of the Camp Fire idea. And while I am planning +good times and many of them for ourselves in these coming months, I wish +that together we might do some of this loving service for some one +beside ourselves. Think it over--think hard--and at our next Council +meeting, if you are willing, we will consider what we can do, and for +whom." + +"You mean mish'nary work?" questioned Eva Bicknell doubtfully. + +"No--at least not what you probably mean by missionary work," Laura +answered. + +"Christmas trees for alley folks, and that sort of thing?" ventured +another. + +"I mean, something for somebody else," Laura explained. "It may be an +old man or woman, a child or--or anything," she ended hastily, +intercepting an exchange of glances between Lena and Eva. "I just want +you to think over it and have an idea to suggest at our next meeting." + +"Huh! Thought the'd be nickels wanted fer somethin'," Eva Bicknell +grumbled as she linked her bony little arm through Lena's when they were +outside in the starlight. + +"Come now--you shut up!" retorted Lena. "Miss Laura's given us a dandy +time to-night, an' I ain't goin' back on her the minute I'm out of her +house. An' I didn't think it of you, Eva Bicknell." + +"Who's goin' back on her?" Eva's hot temper took fire at once. "Shut up +yourself, Lena Barton!" she flared. "I ain't goin' back on Miss Laura +any more than you are. Mebbe you're so flush that you can drop pennies +an' nickels 'round promiscuous, but me--well, I ain't--that's all," and +she marched on in sulky silence. + +On the next Wednesday evening, some of the girls came to the Camp Fire +room, and played games, which some enjoyed and others yawned over, and +made fudge which all seemed to enjoy. On the next Wednesday they sang +for a while, Laura accompanying them on the piano, and Rose Anderson +played for them on her violin. After that they sat on the floor before +the fire and talked; but Laura was a little doubtful about these +evenings. She feared that these quiet pleasures would not hold some of +the girls against the alluring delights of dances and moving pictures +and boys. + +Meantime she did not forget Elizabeth, and on the first opportunity she +went to see Mrs. Page. Sadie opened the door, and was present at the +interview. She was evidently very conscious of the fact that her braids +were now wound about her head and adorned with a stiff white bow that +stuck out several inches on either side. + +Mrs. Page received her visitor coldly, understanding that she came to +intercede for Elizabeth. She said that Elizabeth's father did not want +his daughter to go out evenings; that she had a good home and must be +contented to stay in it "as my own children do," she ended with a glance +at Sadie, who sat on the edge of a chair with much the aspect of a +terrier watching a rat-hole. When Miss Laura asked if she might see +Elizabeth, Sadie tossed her head and coughed behind her handkerchief, as +her mother answered that Elizabeth was busy and could not leave her +work. + +"But wouldn't she do her work all the better if she had a little change +now and then, and the companionship of other girls?" Laura urged gently. + +"She has the companionship of her sister--she must be satisfied with +that," was the uncompromising reply. + +With a sigh, Laura rose to leave, but as she glanced at Sadie's +triumphant face, she had an inspiration. The child was certainly +unattractive, but perhaps all the more for that reason she ought to have +a chance--a chance which might possibly mean a chance for Elizabeth too. +She smiled at the girl and Laura's smile was winning enough to disarm a +worse child than Sadie. + +"If you do not think it best for Elizabeth to attend our Council +meetings regularly, perhaps you would be willing to let her come this +next Saturday and bring her sister. After the business is over, we are +going to have a fudge party. I have a little upstairs kitchen just for +the girls to use whenever they like. I think your daughter might enjoy +it--if she cared to come--with Elizabeth." + +Marvellous was the effect of those few words on Sadie. Seeing a refusal +on her mother's lips, she burst out eagerly, "O mother, I want to go--I +_want_ to go! You _must_ let me." + +Taken entirely by surprise, Mrs. Page hesitated--and was lost. What +Sadie wanted, her mother wanted for her, and she saw that Sadie's heart +was set on accepting this invitation. "I suppose they might go, just for +this once," she yielded reluctantly. + +Laura allowed no time for reconsideration. "I shall expect both of them +then, on Saturday," she said and turned to go. She longed to look back +towards the kitchen where she felt sure that Elizabeth must have been +wistfully listening, but Mrs. Page and Sadie following her to the door, +gave her no chance for even a backward glance. + +"Good-bye," Sadie called after her as she went down the steps, and the +child's small foxy face was alight with anticipation. + +Slamming the door after the caller, Sadie flew to the kitchen. + +"There now, Elizabeth," she cried, "I'm going to her house next Saturday +and you're going--you can just thank me for that too. Mother wouldn't +have let you go if it hadn't been for me." + +Elizabeth's face brightened, but there was a little shadow on it too. Of +course it was better to go with Sadie than not to go at all--O, much +better--but still---- + +When Saturday came Sadie was in a whirl of excitement. She even +offered--an unheard-of concession--to wipe the supper dishes so that +Elizabeth might get through her work the sooner, and she plastered a +huge white bow across the back of her head, and pulled down the skirt of +her dress to make it as long as possible. Sadie would gladly have thrown +away three years of her life so that she might be sixteen, and really +grown up that very night. + +Olga was waiting at the corner for them, Miss Laura having told her that +Elizabeth was to go. Her scathing glance would have had a subduing +effect on most girls, but not on Sadie! Sadie did most of the talking as +the three walked on together, but the other two did not care. It was +enough for Elizabeth to be with Olga again, and as for Olga, she was +half frightened and half glad to find a little glow of happiness deep +down in her heart. She was afraid to let herself be even a little happy. + +When the three entered the Camp Fire room Laura met them with an +exclamation of pleasure. "We've missed you so at the Councils, +Elizabeth," she said, "but it's good to have you here to-night, isn't +it, Olga? And Miss Sadie is very welcome too." + +Sadie smiled and executed her best bow, then drew herself up to look as +tall as "Miss" Sadie should be; but the rest of the evening her eyes and +ears were so busy that for once her tongue was silent. She vowed to +herself that she would give her mother no peace until she--Sadie--was a +really truly Camp Fire Girl like these. + +When in the last hour they were all gathered on the floor before the +fire, Mary Hastings asked, "Miss Laura, have you decided yet what our +special work is to be--the 'service for somebody else'?" she added with +a glance at the words over the mantelpiece. + +"That is for you girls to decide," Laura returned. "Have you any +suggestion, Mary?" + +"I've been wondering if we couldn't help support some little +child--maybe a sick child in a hospital, or an orphan." + +"Gracious! That would take a pile of money," objected Louise Johnson, +"and I'm always dead broke a week after payday." + +"There are fifteen of us--it wouldn't be so much, divided up," Mary +returned. + +"Sixteen, Mary--you aren't going to leave me out, are you?" Miss Laura +said. + +"I think it would be lovely," cried Bessie Carroll, "if we could find a +dear little girl baby and adopt her--make her a Camp Fire baby." + +"Huh!" sniffed Lena Barton. "If you had half a dozen kids at home I +reckon you wouldn't be wanting to adopt any more." + +"Right you are!" added Eva Bicknell, who was the oldest of eight. + +"We might 'adopt' an old lady in some Home, and visit her and do things +for her," suggested Frances Chapin. "There are some lonely ones in the +Old Ladies' Home where I go sometimes." + +But the idea of a pretty baby appealed more to the majority of the +girls. + +"O, I'd rather take a baby. We could make cute little dresses for her," +Rose Anderson put in, "all lacey, you know." + +"Say--where's the money comin' from for the lacey dresses and things +you're talkin' about?" demanded Lena Barton abruptly. + +There was an instant of silence. Then Mary threw back a counter +question. "How much did you spend for moving pictures and candy last +week, Lena Barton?" + +"I d'know--mebbe a quarter, mebbe two. What of it?" Lena retorted, her +red head lifted defiantly. + +"Well now--couldn't you give up two picture shows a week, for the Camp +Fire baby?" Mary demanded. "If sixteen of us give ten cents a week we +shall have a dollar sixty. That would be more than six dollars a month." + +"Gracious! Money talks!" put in Louise. "Think of this crowd dropping +over six dollars a month for picture shows and such. No wonder they're +two in a block on the avenue." + +"You see," Laura said, "we could easily provide for some little child, +at least in part. Girls, I'd like to tell you about one I saw at the +Children's Hospital yesterday. Would you care to hear about him?" + +"Yes, yes, do tell us," the girls begged. + +"He is no blue-eyed baby, but a very plain ordinary-looking little chap, +nine years old, whose mother died a few weeks ago, leaving him entirely +alone in the world. Think of it, girls, a nine-year-old boy without any +one to care for him! He's lame too--but he is the bravest little soul! +The nurse told me that they thought it was because he was so +homesick--or rather I suppose mother-sick--that he is not getting on as +well as he should." + +"O, the poor little fellow!" Frances Chapin said softly, thinking of her +nine-year-old brother. + +"Tell us more about him, Miss Laura," Rose Anderson begged. "Did you +talk with him?" + +"Yes, I stayed with him for half an hour, and I promised to see him +again to-morrow. He wanted a book--about soldiers. I wonder if any of +you would care to go with me. You might possibly find your blue-eyed +baby there; and anyhow, the children there love to have +visitors--especially young ones." + +Two of the High School girls spoke together. "I'd like to go." + +"And I too," added Alice Reynolds, the third. + +"I guess I'd like to, maybe--if there isn't anything catching there." It +was pretty little Annie Pearson who said that. + +"I'd love to go, but I can't," Elizabeth whispered to Olga, who frowned +at her and demanded, + +"What do you want to go for?" + +"I'd so love to do something for that little fellow," Elizabeth +answered. "I've been lonesome too--always--till now." + +"Humph!" grunted Olga, the hardness melting out of her black eyes as she +looked into Elizabeth's wistful blue ones. + +It was finally agreed that the three High School girls, Frances Chapin, +Elsie Harding, and Alice Reynolds, with Mary Hastings, Annie Pearson, +and Rose, should go with Miss Laura to the hospital. + +"I c'n see kids enough at home any time," Lena Barton declared airily. +"I'd rather walk down the avenue on Sunday than go to any hospital." + +"I guess I'll be excused too," said Louise Johnson. "Hospital visiting +isn't exactly in my line. I've a hunch that I'd be out of place amongst +a lot of sick kiddies. But I'll agree to be satisfied with any +blue-eyed baby girl you and Miss Laura pick out for our Camp Fire Kid. +Say, girlies"--she looked around the group--"I move we make those seven +our choosing committee--Miss Laura, chairman, of course." + +"But, Johnny," one girl objected, "maybe they won't find any girl to fit +our pattern over at the hospital." + +"It is not at all likely that we shall," Laura hastened to add, "and if +we did, it would probably be one with parents or relatives to care for +it after it leaves the hospital." + +"Blue-eyed angel babies, with dimples, don't come in every package. I +s'pose you'd want one with dimples too?" Eva Bicknell scoffed. + +"O, of course, dimples. Might as well have all the ear-marks of a beauty +to begin with, anyhow," giggled Louise. "She'll probably develop into a +homely little freckle-faced imp by the time she's six, anyhow." + +"There's worse things in the world than freckles," snapped Lena Barton, +whose perky little nose was well spattered with them. + +"So there are, Lena--so there are," Louise teased. "Yours will probably +fade out by the time you're forty." + +A cuckoo clock called the hour, and the girls reluctantly agreed that it +was time to go. But first Laura, her arms around as many as she could +gather into them, with a few gentle tender words brought their thoughts +back to the deep meaning of the thing they were planning to do--trying +to make them realize their opportunity for service, and the far-reaching +results that must follow if a little life should come under their care +and influence. + +For once Louise was silent and thoughtful as she went away, and even +Lena Barton was more subdued than usual until, at last, with a shrug of +her shoulders, she flung out the vague remark, + +"After all, what's the use?" and thereupon rebounded to her usual gay +slangy self. + +But Elizabeth went home with Miss Laura's words echoing in her heart. "I +don't suppose I can do much for our Camp Fire baby," she told herself, +"but there's Molly. Maybe I can do more for her and--and for Sadie and +the boys--perhaps." + + + + +IX + +JIM + + +In the first ward of the Children's Hospital the next afternoon, No. 20 +lay very still--strangely still for a nine-year-old boy--watching the +door. He had watched it all day, although he knew that visitors' hours +were from two to four, and none would be admitted earlier. No. 18 in the +next cot asked him a question once, but No. 20 only shook his head +wearily. Some of the children had books and games, but they soon tired +of them, and lay idly staring about the long, sunny room, or looking out +at the sky and the trees, or watching the door. Sometimes mothers or +fathers came through that door, and if you hadn't any of your own, at +any rate you could look at those that came to see other fellows, and +sometimes these mothers had a word or a smile for others as well as +their own boys. No. 20, however, didn't want any other fellow's mother +to smile down at him--no indeed, that was the last thing in the world he +wanted--yet. He wished sometimes, just for a moment, that there weren't +any mothers to come, since the _one_ could never come to him again. But +they did come and smile at him, and pat his head--these mothers of the +other boys--came drawn by the hungry longing in his eyes--and he set his +teeth and clinched his hands under the bedclothes, and when they went +away gulped down the great lump that always jumped into his throat, all +in a minute--but he never cried. One day when a kind-hearted nurse asked +him about his mother, he bore her questioning as long as he could, and +then he struck at her fiercely and slipped right down under the +bedclothes where nobody could see him; but he didn't cry, though he +shook and shook for a long time after she went away. + +But--Miss Laura--she was different. She didn't kiss him, nor pat him, +nor ask fool questions. She just talked to him--well, the right way. And +she'd promised to come again to-day. Maybe she'd forget though; people +did forget things they'd promised--only somehow, she didn't look like +the forgetting kind. And she was awful pretty--most the prettiest lady +he had ever seen. But hospital hours were so dreadfully long! Seemed +like a hundred hours since breakfast. Ah! He lifted his head and looked +eagerly towards the door--somebody was coming in. O, only some other +fellow's mother. He dropped down again, choking back an impatient groan +that had almost slipped out. When the next mother came in he turned his +back on the door, but soon he was watching it again. A half-hour dragged +wearily by; then a crowd of girls fluttered through the doorway. No. 20 +gazed at them listlessly until one behind slipped past the others; then +his eyes widened and his lips twitched as if they had almost a mind to +smile, for here was the pretty lady coming straight to him. + +"Jim" she said, shaking hands with him just as if he had been a man, +"I've brought some of my girls to see you to-day. I hope you are glad to +see us all, but you needn't say you are if you are not." + +Jim didn't say--and Rose Anderson laughed softly. Jim flashed a glance +at her, but he saw at once that it wasn't a mean laugh--just a girly +giggle, and he manfully ignored it. + +"I have to speak to Charley Smith over there," Miss Laura went on, "but +I'll be back in a few minutes." + +As she crossed to the other cot, Frances Chapin slipped into the chair +by Jim's--there was only one chair between each two cots. "I think you +are about nine, aren't you, Jim?" she asked. + +"Goin' on ten," Jim corrected stoutly. + +"I've a brother going on ten," she said. + +Jim looked at her with quick interest. "Tell about him," he ordered. +"What's his name?" + +"David Chapin. He's in the sixth grade----" + +"So'm I--I mean I was 'fore I came here," Jim interrupted. "What else?" + +"--and he's--he's going to be a Boy Scout as soon as he's twelve." + +Jim's plain little face brightened into keen interest. "That's bully!" +he cried. "I'm going to be a Scout soon's I'm big enough--if I can." The +wistful longing in the last words brought a mist into Frances's eyes, +but Jim did not see it. He was looking at the other girls. "Any of the +rest of you got brothers?" he demanded. + +"I have one, but he's a big fellow, twice as old as you are," Alice +Reynolds said. + +"And I've six," Mary Hastings told him. "Two of them are Scouts." + +"Fine!" exulted Jim. "Say--tell me what they do, all about it," he +pleaded, and sitting down on the edge of his cot, Mary told him +everything she could think of about the scouting. + +When Miss Laura came back Jim's face was radiant. "She's been telling me +about her brothers--they're Boy Scouts," he cried eagerly, pointing a +stubby finger at Mary. "I wish," he looked pleadingly into Mary's eyes, +"I do wish they'd come and see me; but I guess boys don't come to +hospitals 'thout they have to," he ended with a sigh. + +"I'll get them to come if I can," Mary promised, "but----" + +"I know," Jim nodded, "I guess they won't have time. There's so many +things for boys to do outdoors!" + +"Jim," said Miss Laura, "there are so many things for you to do outdoors +too. You must get well as fast as you can to be at them." + +Jim's lips took on a most unchildlike set, and his eyes searched her +face with a look she could not understand. "I--I d'know----" he said +vaguely. + +He could not put into words his fear and dread of the time when he must +go out into some Home where he would be only one of a hundred boys and +all alone in a big lonesome world. That was the black dread that weighed +on Jim's heart night and day. He had seen that long procession of girls +and boys from the Orphan Asylum going back from church on Sundays, the +girls all in white dresses, the boys in blue denim suits, all just alike +except for size. He had peeped through knotholes in the high fence that +surrounded the Asylum yard too, and had seen the boys playing there on +weekdays; and some not playing, but standing off by themselves looking +so awful lonesome. Jim had always pitied those lonesome-looking ones. +More than once he had poked a stick of chewing-gum through a knothole to +one of them--a little chap with frightened blue eyes. Jim felt that he'd +almost rather die than go to the Asylum; and he'd heard the nurse tell +Charley Smith's mother that he'd have to go there when he got well. That +was why Jim was in no hurry to get well. + +The girls all shook hands with him before they went off to search the +other wards for their blue-eyed baby. Miss Laura did not go with the +girls; she stayed with Jim, and somehow, before long, he was telling her +all about the Asylum boys and how he dreaded to get well and go there to +live till he was fourteen. And, unconsciously, as he told it all, his +stubby little fingers crept into Miss Laura's hand that closed over them +with a warm pressure very comforting to Jim. + +And then--then a wonderful thing happened, for Miss Laura put her head +down close to his and whispered, "Jim, you shall never go to the Asylum, +I promise you that. If you will try very hard to get well, I'll find a +home for you somewhere, and I'll take care of you until you can take +care of yourself." + +Jim caught his breath and his eyes seemed looking through hers deep into +her heart, to see if this incredible thing could be true. What little +colour there was in his face faded slowly out of it and his lips +quivered as he whispered, "You--you ain't--jest foolin'? You mean it, +honest Injun?" + +"Yes, Jim--honest." + +He struggled to a sitting posture. "Cross your heart!" he ordered +breathlessly. + +She made the sign that children make. "Cross my heart, Jim. You are my +boy now," she said. + +With a long, happy breath Jim fell back on his pillow. His eyes began to +shine, and a spot of red burned in each thin cheek. "O gee!" he cried +exultantly, and again, "O _gee_! I'll get well in a hurry now, Miss +Laura." Then eagerly, "Where'll I live?" + +"I don't know yet. I'll find a place," she promised. + +He nodded, happily content just then to leave that in her hands. + +"An' I'll grow big soon," he crowed, "and I can earn a lot of money when +I'm well, carryin' papers an'--an' other ways. An' you'll let me be a +Boy Scout soon's I'm big enough, an' a soldier when I get over being +lame?" + +Laura nodded, and again Jim drew a long rapturous breath. When Laura +went away his eyes followed her, and as from the door she looked back at +him, he waved his hand to her and then settled down on his pillow to +dream happy waking dreams. He was somebody's boy once more. + +Laura found the girls waiting for her in the reception room. + +"Did you find your blue-eyed baby?" she asked. + +"We found one----" Alice Reynolds began, and Rose broke in, + +"But, O Miss Laura, her mother was with her and she wouldn't hear of +giving her up. I don't wonder--such a darling as she is!" + +"You can try at the Orphan Asylum," Miss Laura said, the words sending +her thoughts back in a flash to Jim. + +"Miss Laura, I wish we could have Jim. I think he's a dear!" Mary +Hastings said as they left the hospital. + +"Jim's pre-empted. He's my boy now," Laura answered quickly. + +"O Miss Laura, I wanted him too for our Camp Fire child," Frances said. +"Are you really going to adopt him--have him live with you?" + +"I don't know, Frances, about the living. When I found that he was +fairly dying of loneliness and dread of the Orphan Asylum, I just had to +do something; so I told him he should be my boy and I would take care of +him. I know my father won't mind the expense, but he may object to +having the boy live with us. Of course, if he does I shall find a good +home for him elsewhere." + +"But, Miss Laura, why can't we all 'adopt' him?" Frances pleaded. "I'd +so much rather have him than any baby. And there are always people ready +to adopt pretty blue-eyed baby girls, but they don't want just +boys--like Jim." + +"That's true," Alice Reynolds agreed. "My mother is a director at the +Orphan Asylum, and she says nine out of ten who go there for a child to +adopt, want a pretty baby girl." + +"But you can find some other boy for the Camp Fire," Miss Laura +returned. + +"Not another Jim. Please share him with us, anyhow, Miss Laura," Alice +urged. + +"I don't want to be selfish about it," Laura replied, "but somehow Jim +has crept into my heart and I thought I would take him for my own +special Camp Fire 'service.' And perhaps the other girls won't be +willing to give up their pretty baby." + +"I--I'd hate to, though I like Jim too," Rose admitted. + +"You couldn't make pretty lacey dresses for Jim," Laura reminded her +with a little laugh. "Rose is hankering for a live doll to dress, girls, +so you'd better wait and see what the others say about it." + +"When can Jim leave the hospital?" Alice inquired. + +"To judge from his face when I left him, he will get well quickly, now," +Miss Laura answered. + +And he did. The next time she went to see him, he welcomed her with a +beaming smile. "I'm getting well," he exulted. "She says I can sit up +to-morrow," he nodded towards the nurse. + +"He is certainly getting better," the nurse agreed. "He has seemed like +another boy since Sunday. How did you work such magic, Miss Haven?" + +Laura looked at Jim and his eyes met hers steadily. "Hasn't he told +you?" she asked the nurse. + +"He has told me nothing." + +Laura smiled at him as she explained, "Jim is my boy now--we agreed on +that, Sunday. When he leaves the hospital he is coming to me." + +"Jim, I congratulate you. You are a lucky boy," said the nurse, who knew +all about Judge Haven and his daughter. + +"I think I too am to be congratulated," said Laura quickly, and the +nurse nodded. + +"Yes, Jim is a good boy," she answered. Then she went away and left the +two together. This time Jim did not talk very much. It was enough for +him to have his pretty lady where he could look at her, and be sure it +was not all a dream. + +Not many days later, after a telephone conference with the nurse, Laura +went to the hospital again. She found the boy lying there with a look of +patient endurance in his eyes, but they widened with half-incredulous +joy when she told him that she had come to take him away. + +"Not--not _now_!" he cried out, with a little break in his voice. + +"Yes, now--just as you are. We are going to wrap you in a blanket and +put you into a carriage, and before you have time to get tired we shall +be home." + +"Home!" echoed Jim, his eyes shining. + +"What makes you look so sober?" Miss Laura asked him as they drove away. +"You aren't sorry to leave the hospital?" + +"Sorry?" Jim gave a shaky little laugh, then suddenly was grave again. +"Yes, I'm sorry, but it's for all the other fellows that nobody's coming +for," he explained. + +"I wish I could have taken them all home with us," Laura answered +quickly. "I'll tell you what we'll do, Jim. If you'll get well very +fast, maybe you and I can give a little Christmas party in your ward, to +those other boys who have to stay there." + +"Hang up stockin's an'--an' a tree an' all?" Jim questioned +breathlessly. + +"Yes. Wouldn't you like that?" + +"_Gee!_" was Jim's rapturous comment. "You bet I'll get well fast--if I +can," the afterthought in a lower tone. + +The room Laura had prepared for the boy had been a nursery, and had a +frieze, representing in gay colours the old Mother Goose stories. Jim +was put on a cot beside the open fire, where he lay very still, but it +was not the dull hopeless stillness of the hospital. Now he was resting, +and his eyes travelled happily along the wall as he picked out the old +familiar characters. + +"Makes me feel like a little kid--seeing all those," he said, pointing +at them. + +The thin white face and small figure under the bedclothes looked like a +very "little kid" still, Laura thought. The gray eyes swept over the +large sunny room and then back to Miss Laura's face, and suddenly Jim's +lips trembled. + +"I--I--I think you're _bully_!" he broke out, and instantly turned his +face to the wall and was still again. Laura slipped quietly out of the +room. When she returned a few minutes later, she brought a supper tray. + +"You and I are going to have supper here to-night, Jim," she announced +cheerfully, "because my father is away, and I should be lonesome all +alone downstairs and you might be lonesome up here. You must have a +famous appetite, you know, if you are to get well and strong for that +Christmas party at the hospital." + +"I'm hungry, all right," Jim declared, his eyes lingering on the +tempting food so daintily served; but after all he did not eat very +much. + +After supper he lay quietly watching the leaping flames for a long time. +Suddenly he broke the silence with a question. + +"I'll be back there then?" + +"Back where, Jim? I don't understand," Miss Laura said. + +"At the hospital--when we have that Christmas party." + +"Oh. Why, yes, of course, you and I will both be there." + +"Yes, but I mean--I mean----" Jim's eyes were very anxious, "will I be +back there to stay, or where will I be stayin'?" + +Laura's hand dropped softly over one of his and held it in a warm clasp. +"No, Jim, you won't go back there to stay--ever--not if you do your best +to get well, as of course you are going to. I told you I would find a +good home for you and I will, but there's plenty of time to think of +that before your two weeks here are over." + +"You're the--the best ever, Miss Laura," Jim said. "I--I didn't s'pose," +he stumbled on, trying to put his feeling into words, "ladies like you +ever--cared about boys that get left out of things--like I have." + +Laura longed to put her arms about him and hold him close, but there was +something about the sturdy little fellow that warned her, so, waiting a +moment to steady her voice, she answered, "O yes, there are many that +care and do all they can; but you see there are so very many little +fellows that--get left out, Jim." + +Jim nodded, his face very sober. "I wonder why," he said, voicing the +world-old query. + +When she had settled him for the night, she stood looking down at the +dark head on the pillow. "Shall I put the light out, or leave it?" she +asked. + +"Just as you like, Miss Laura," he said, but she thought there was a +little anxiety in his eyes. + +"It makes no difference to me, of course. I want it whichever way you +like best. I know you are not afraid of the dark." + +A moment's silence, then in a very small voice, "Yes--I am--Miss Laura." + +"_Afraid!_" Miss Laura caught herself up quickly. + +"Yes'm," said Jim in a still smaller voice, his eyes hidden now. + +"O--then I'll leave the light, of course." But there was just a shade of +disappointment in Miss Laura's voice and Jim caught it. "Good-night, +dear," she added, with a light touch on the straight brown hair. + +"G'night," came in a muffled voice from the pillow. + +Laura turned away, but before she reached the stairs the boy called her. +She went back at once. + +"What is it, Jim? Do you want anything?" + +"Yes'm, the light. I guess--you better put it out." + +"Not if you are afraid in the dark, Jim." + +"Yes, Miss Laura, that's why." + +"But I don't understand. Can't you tell me?" she urged gently. + +Jim gulped down a troublesome something in his throat before he said in +a whisper, "Put your head down close, Miss Laura." + +She turned out the light and as she dropped down beside the bed, a small +arm slipped around her neck and a husky little voice whispered in her +ear, "It's 'cause I'm 'fraid inside that I mustn't have the light left." +Another gulp. "Mother--she said you wasn't a coward just 'cause you was +'fraid inside, but only when you let the 'fraid get out into the things +you _do_. She said lots of brave men were 'fraid inside sometimes. +An'--an' she said I mustn't ever be a coward nor tell lies, an' I +promised--cross my heart--I wouldn't. So that's why, Miss Laura." + +Again Laura longed to hug the little fellow and kiss him as his mother +would have done, but she said only, + +"Yes, Jim, I quite understand now, and I know you will never be a +coward. Here's the bell, you know. You can press the button if you want +anything, and the maid sleeps in the next room. She'll be up in a few +minutes." + +"Yes'm." A little drowsiness was creeping into Jim's voice already. + +"Good-night, dear." + +"Good-night," Jim murmured and Laura went away, but she left the door +open into the lighted hall, and when she slipped back a little later the +boy was asleep. + +When the other Camp Fire Girls learned about "Miss Laura's boy" they +were all interested in him, and begged that he might come to the next +Council meeting. Jim was sitting up most of the day now, and his +wheelchair was rolled into the room after all the girls had come. He was +dressed and sat up very straight, but though he was much better, his +face was still very thin and white. + +"All but one of my girls are here to-night, Jim," Miss Laura told him. +"I'm going to introduce you to them and see how many of the names you +can remember." + +"Why isn't that other one here?" he demanded. + +"She couldn't come this time," Laura said with a glance at Olga, sitting +grave and silent a little apart from the others. + +The girls gathered about the wheelchair and Jim held out his hand to +each one as Laura mentioned her name. His gray eyes searched each face, +but he said nothing until Lena Barton flung him a careless nod and would +have passed on, but he caught her hand and laughed up into the freckled +face with the bunch of red frizzes puffed out on each side in the +"latest moment" fashion. + +"Hello, Carrots," he called in the tone of jovial good-fellowship, "I +like you, 'cause you look like a fellow I used to sit with in school. +His name was Barton too--Jo Barton. O, I say," leaning forward eagerly, +"mebbe he's your brother?" + +"You're right, kiddie--he's one of the bunch," Lena answered, her face +softening as she looked down into the eager gray eyes. + +"Gee! Jo's sister!" Jim repeated. "I wish Jo was here too. I s'pose," he +glanced at Miss Laura, "you couldn't squeeze in just one more boy?" + +Laura shook her head. "Not into these meetings. But you can invite +Lena's brother to come and see you, if you like." + +"O bully!" Jim cried out and turned again to Lena. "You tell him, won't +you?" + +"I will, sure," she promised, and Jim reluctantly released her hand. + +The girls begged that he might stay, and though Jim's tongue was silent +his eyes pleaded too, so Miss Laura conceded, "Just for a while then, if +you'll be very quiet so as not to get too tired," and with a contented +smile Jim leaned back against his cushions and looked and listened. When +the girls chanted the Fire Ode his eyes widened with pleasure and he +listened with keen interest to the recital of "gentle deeds." Even Olga +gave one this time. Jim's eyes studied her grave face, his own almost as +grave, and when later she passed his chair, he caught her dress and said +very low, "Put down your head. I want to ask you something." + +Olga impatiently jerked her dress from his grasp, but something in his +eyes held her against her will, and under cover of a burst of laughter +from another group, she leaned over the wheelchair and ungraciously +enough asked what he wanted. Jim's eyes, very earnest and serious now, +were looking straight into hers. + +"I know what makes you keep away from the others and look +so--so--dif'rent. You're lonesome like I was at the hospital. Is it your +mother, too?" + +Olga's face went dead white and for an instant her eyes flamed so +fiercely that the boy shrank away with a little gasp of fear. But the +next moment she was looking at him with eyes full of tears--a long +silent look--then, without a word, she was gone. + +The first time that Jim came downstairs to dinner he was very shy and +spoke only in answer to a question. But his awe of Judge Haven and the +servants soon wore off, and his questions and comments began to interest +the judge. When one evening after dinner Laura was called to the +telephone, the judge laid aside his paper and called the boy to him. Jim +promptly limped across the room and stood at the judge's knee, his gray +eyes looking steadily into the keen blue ones above him. + +"Are you having a good time here?" the judge began. + +"O, splendid!" + +"And you are almost well, aren't you?" + +"Almost well," Jim assented, a little shadow of anxiety creeping into +the gray eyes. + +"Let me see--how many days have you been here?" + +Jim answered instantly, "Nine. I've got five more," this last very +soberly. + +"Five more?" the judge questioned. + +Jim nodded gravely. "Miss Laura said I could stay here two weeks, you +know." + +"Oh! And then what--back to the hospital?" + +"O no!" Jim was very positive about that. "No, I don't know where I'll +be after the five days. I--I kind o' wish I did. It would be--settleder, +you know. But," his face brightening, "but of course, it will be a nice +place, because Miss Laura said she'd find me a good home somewhere, and +she don't ever forget her promises. And besides, I'm going to be her boy +just the same when I go away from here--she promised that too." + +The judge nodded, his eyes studying the small earnest face. + +"Miss Laura must find that good home right away," he said. "Of course +you want to know where you are going." + +"I hope she'll be the kind that likes boys," Jim said after a thoughtful +pause. "Do you think she will?" + +"Who?" + +"The woman in that good home. They don't all, you know. Some of 'em +think boys are dreadful noisy and bothering, and some think they eat too +much. I eat a lot sometimes----" he ended with an anxious frown. + +The judge found it necessary just then to put his hand over his eyes. He +muttered something about the light hurting them, and then Laura came in +and told Jim it was bedtime. He said good-night, holding out his small +stubby hand. The judge's big one grasped it and held it a moment. + +"We had a nice talk, didn't we?" Jim said, and with the smile that made +his homely little face radiant for a moment, he added, "It sure is nice +to talk with a _man_," and he went off wondering what the judge was +laughing about. + +He was not laughing when Laura came downstairs again after tucking up +the boy in bed. She so hated to turn out the light and leave him in the +dark, but she always did it. Now she told her father what Jim had said +about that the first night. + +The judge made no comment, but after a moment he remarked, "The boy is +rather worried about the home you are to find for him. It ought to be +settled. Have you any place in view?" + +"No. To tell the truth, father, I can't bear to have him go away. Would +you mind if I keep him here a while longer? You are so much away, and he +is company for me, and very little trouble. I shall miss him dreadfully +when he goes." + +"Of course I don't mind," her father said. "Only, Laura, is it fair to +keep him here--fair to him, I mean? The longer he stays the harder it +will be for him to go to a strange place." + +"I suppose you are right," Laura admitted with a sigh, "and I must find +the home for him at once." + +"But be sure it is a good place, and with a woman who will 'mother' +him," the judge added. "Poor little chap--only nine and lame, and alone +in the world. It's hard lines." + +"It would seem so," his daughter admitted, "and yet, Jim is such a brave +honest little fellow, and he has such a gift for making friends, that +perhaps he is not so badly handicapped, after all. I shall miss him +dreadfully when he leaves us." + + + + +X + +SADIE PAGE + + +But the finding of a satisfactory home for the boy proved to be no easy +task. At the end of the two weeks Laura was still carrying on the quest. +When she told Jim that he was to stay with her another week the look in +his eyes brought the tears into hers. For the first time she dared to +put her arms about him and hold him close, and Jim stayed there, his +head on her shoulder, trying his best to swallow the lump in his throat. +When he lifted his head he said in a shaky voice, "G--gee! But I'm +glad!" + +"Not a bit gladder than I am, Jim," Laura said, "and now we must have a +bit of a celebration to-night. Father is dining out, so we'll have +supper up in the nursery and we'll invite somebody. Who shall it be?" + +She thought he would say Jo Barton, but instead he said, "Olga." + +"Olga?" she repeated doubtfully. "I'm not at all sure that she will +come, but I'll ask her. I'll write a note now and send it to the place +where she works." + +Jim gave a little happy skip. He ignored his lameness so absolutely that +often Laura too almost forgot it. "I guess she'll come," he said in the +singing voice he used when he was especially pleased. + +Olga was just starting for home when the note reached her. She scowled +as she read. + + "Dear Olga: Jim wants you to come to supper with us--just with + him and me--to-night at 6:30. I shall be very glad if you will, + for, aside from the pleasure of having you with us, I want to + talk over with you something that concerns Elizabeth. Please + don't fail us. + + "Yours faithfully, + + "Laura E. Haven." + +Olga read the note twice, her eyes lingering on the words "something +that concerns Elizabeth." But for those words she would have refused the +invitation, but she had not seen Elizabeth for some time, and did not +know whether she was sick or well. She did not want to go to supper with +Miss Laura and Jim. Jim was well enough--her face softened a little as +she thought of him, but she did not want to see him to-night. If there +was something to be done for Elizabeth, however----Reluctantly she +turned towards Wyoming Avenue. + +Jim was watching for her at the window and ran to open the door before +the servant could get there. + +"I knew you'd come!" he crowed, flashing a smile up into her sombre +face. "I told Miss Laura you would." + +"What made you so sure, Jim?" she asked curiously. + +"O 'cause. I knew you would. I wanted you _hard_, and when you want +things hard they come--sometimes," Jim said, the triumph dropping out of +his voice with the last word. + +Jim did most of the talking during supper, Laura throwing in a word now +and then, and leaving Olga to speak or be silent, as she chose. She +wondered what it was in Olga that attracted the boy, for he seemed +quite at ease with her, taking it for granted that she liked to be there +and was interested in what interested him; and although Olga was so +silent and grave, there was a friendly light in her eyes when she looked +at Jim, and she did not push him away when he leaned on her knee and +once even against her shoulder, as the three of them gathered about the +fire after supper. But when he had gone to bed, Olga began at once. + +"Miss Laura, what about Elizabeth?" + +"You told me," Miss Laura returned, "that you thought Sadie had +something to do with her absence from the Council meetings." + +Olga's face hardened. "I'm sure of it. She's a hateful little cat--that +Sadie. I'm sure she is determined that Elizabeth shall not come here +unless she comes too." + +"I wonder why the child is so eager to come," Miss Laura said +thoughtfully. + +"Oh!" Olga flung out impatiently. "She's bewitched over the Camp Fire +dresses, and headbands, and all the other toggery, and she likes to be +with older girls. She's just set her heart on being a Camp Fire Girl and +she's determined that if she can't be, Elizabeth shan't be +either--that's all there is about it." + +"Then perhaps we'd better admit her." + +Olga stared in amazement and wrath. "Into _our_ Camp Fire?" + +Miss Laura nodded. + +"But we don't want her, a hateful little snake in the grass like that!" +the girl flung out angrily. "If you knew the way she treats +Elizabeth--like the dirt under her feet!" + +"I know. Her face shows what she is," Laura admitted. + +"Well--do you want a girl like that in your Camp Fire?" + +"Yes," Laura's voice was very low and gentle, "yes, I want any kind of +girl--that the Camp Fire can help." + +"The other girls won't want her," Olga declared. + +"They want Elizabeth, and you think they cannot have her without having +Sadie." + +Olga sat staring into the fire, her black brows meeting in a moody +scowl. + +"Olga, what is the Camp Fire for?" Laura asked presently. + +"For? Why----" Olga paused, a new thought dawning in her dark eyes. + +Laura answered as if she had spoken it. "Yes, the Camp Fire is to help +any girl in any way possible. Not only to help weak girls to grow +strong, and timid girls to grow brave, and helpless girls to become +useful, and lonely girls to find friends and social opportunities--it is +for all these things, but for more--much more besides. It is to show +selfish, narrow-minded girls--like that poor little Sadie--the beauty of +unselfishness and generosity and thoughtful kindness to others. Don't +you see that we have no right to refuse to give Sadie her chance just +because she doesn't know any better than to be disagreeable?" + +Again Olga was silent, and the clock had ticked away full ten minutes +before Laura spoke again. "You want Elizabeth to come to our meetings?" + +"It's the only pleasure she has in the world--coming to them," Olga +returned. + +"I know, and I want her to come just as much as you do," Miss Laura +said, "but I think you are the only one who can bring it about." + +"How can I?" + +"There is a way--I think--but it will be a very unpleasant one for you. +It will call for a large patience, and perseverance, and determination." + +Olga, searching Miss Laura's face, cried out, "You mean--_Sadie_!" + +"Yes, I mean Sadie. Olga, do you care enough for Elizabeth to do this +very hard thing for her? You did so much for her at the Camp! It was you +who put hope and courage and will-power into her and helped her to find +health. But she still needs you, and she needs what the Camp Fire can +give her. She cannot have either, it seems, unless we take Sadie too, +and Sadie needs what the Camp Fire can give quite as much--in a +different way--as Elizabeth did or does. Olga, are you willing for +Elizabeth's sake to do your utmost for Sadie--so that the other girls +will take her in? They wouldn't do it as she is now, you know." + +Olga pondered over that and Laura left her to her own thoughts. This +thing meant much to the lives of three girls--this one of the three must +not be hurried. But she studied the dark face, reading there some of the +conflicting thoughts passing through the girl's mind. After a long time +Olga threw back her head and spoke. + +"I shall _hate_ it, but I'll do it." + +Laura shook her head doubtfully. "Sadie is keen--sharp. If you hate her +she will know it, and you'll make no headway with her." + +"I know." Olga gave a rueful little laugh. "She's sharp as +needles--that's the one good thing about her. I shall have to start +with that and not pretend--anything. It wouldn't be any use. I shall +tell her plainly that I'll help her get into our Camp Fire on condition +that she treats Elizabeth as she ought and gets her out to our meetings. +I'll make a square bargain with her. Maybe she won't agree, but I think +she will, and if she agrees, I think she'll do her part." + +Laura drew a long breath of relief. "I am so glad, Olga--glad for +Elizabeth and for Sadie both," and in her heart she added, "and for you +too, Olga--O, for you too!" + +So the very next evening Olga stood again at the door which Sadie had +slammed in her face, and as before it was Sadie who answered her ring. + +"You can't see Elizabeth," she began with a flirt, but Olga said +quietly, + +"I came to see you this time." + +"I don't believe it," Sadie flung back at her. + +"I want to talk with you," Olga persisted. "Can you walk a little way +with me?" + +Sadie's small black eyes seemed to bore like gimlets into the eyes of +the other girl, but curiosity got the better of suspicion after a minute +and saying, "Well, wait till I get my things, then," she left Olga on +the steps till she returned with her coat and hat on. + +"Now, what is it?" she demanded as the two walked down the street. + +"Do you want to be a Camp Fire Girl?" Olga began. + +"What if I do?" Sadie returned suspiciously. + +"You can be if you like." + +"In your Camp Fire--the Busy Corner one?" + +"Yes." + +"How can I? You said I couldn't before." + +"There wasn't any vacancy then, but one of our girls has gone to +Baltimore, so there is a chance for some one in her place." + +Sadie's breath came quickly, and the suspicion and sharpness had dropped +out of her voice as she asked eagerly, "Will Miss Laura let me +join--truly?" + +"Yes----" + +"Yes--what?" Sadie demanded, the sharpness again in evidence. + +Olga faced her steadily. "Sadie, I'm going to put it to you straight, +for if you join, you've got to understand exactly how it is." + +"I know," Sadie broke out angrily, "you're just letting me in so's to +get 'Lizabeth. You can't fool me, Olga Priest." + +"I know it, and I'm not trying to," Olga answered quietly. "Now listen +to me, Sadie. _I_ wouldn't have let you join only, as you say, to get +Elizabeth. But Miss Laura wants you for yourself too." + +"'D she say so?" Sadie demanded eagerly. + +"Yes, she said so." Again Olga looked straight into the sharp little +suspicious face of the younger girl. "Sadie, you're no fool. I wonder if +you've grit enough to listen to some very plain facts--things that you +won't like to hear. Because you've got to understand and do your part, +or else you'll get no pleasure of our Camp Fire if you do join. Are you +game, Sadie Page?" + +The eyes of the two met in a long look and neither wavered. Finally +Sadie said sulkily, "Yes, I'm game. Of course, it's something hateful, +but--go ahead. I'm listening." + +"No, it isn't hateful--at least, I don't mean it so," and actually Olga +was astonished to find now that she no longer hated this girl. "I'm just +trying to do the best I can for you. Of course, if you come in, +Elizabeth, too, must come to all the meetings; but I'll help you, Sadie, +just as I helped her, to win honours, and I'll teach you to do the craft +work, and to meet the Fire Maker's tests later. I'll do everything I can +for you, Sadie." + +"Will you show me how to make the Camp Fire dress and the bead headbands +and all that?" Sadie demanded breathlessly. + +"Yes--all that." + +"O, goody!" Sadie gave a little gleeful skip. "I know I can learn--I +_know_ I can--better'n 'Lizabeth." + +Then, seeing Olga's frown, Sadie added hastily, "But 'Lizabeth can learn +to do some of them, I guess, too." + +"Elizabeth can learn if she has half a chance," Olga said. "She works so +hard at home that she is too tired to learn other things quickly." + +Sadie shot an angry glance at the other girl's face, but she managed +with an effort to hold back the sharp words she plainly longed to fling +out. She was silent a moment, then she asked, "You said 'things that I +wouldn't like.' What are they?" + +"Sadie--did you know that you can be extremely disagreeable without half +trying?" Olga asked very quietly. + +"I d'know what you mean." Sadie's face darkened, and her voice was sulky +and defiant. + +"I wonder if you really don't," Olga said, looking at her thoughtfully. +"But it's true, Sadie. You have hateful little ways of speaking and +doing things. They're only habits--you can break yourself of them, and +quick and bright as you are, you'll find that the girls--our Camp Fire +Girls--will like you and take you right in as soon as you do drop those +ugly nagging ways. You know, Sadie, you can't ever be really happy +yourself until you try to make other people happy----" + +Suddenly realising what she was saying, Olga stopped short. Sadie's eyes +saw the change in her face, and Sadie's sharp voice demanded instantly, +"What's the matter?" + +Olga answered with a frankness that surprised herself, no less than the +younger girl, "Sadie, it just came to me that you and I are in the same +box. I've not been trying to make others happy any more than you +have----" + +"No," Sadie broke in, "I was going to tell you that soon as I got a +chance." + +Olga's lips twisted in a wry smile as she went on, "--so you see you and +I both have something to do in ourselves. Maybe we can help each other? +What do you say? Shall we watch and help each other? I'll remind you +when you snap and snarl, and you----" + +"I'll remind you when you sulk and glower," Sadie retorted in impish +glee. "Maybe we _can_ work it that way." + +"All right, it's a bargain then?" Olga held out her hand and Sadie's +thin nervous fingers clasped it promptly. The child's cheeks were +flushed and her small black eyes were shining. + +"I can learn fast if I want to," she boasted. "I'm going to make me a +silver bracelet like Miss Laura's and a pin; and I'll have lovely +embroidery on my Camp Fire dress. I _love_ pretty things like +those--don't you?" + +Olga shook her head. "No, I don't care for them," she returned; but as +she spoke there flashed into her mind some words Mrs. Royall had spoken +at one of the Council meetings--"Seek beauty in everything--appreciate +it, create it, for yourself and for others." Sadie was seeking beauty, +even though for her it meant as yet merely personal adornment, and +she--Olga--deep down in her heart had been cherishing a scorn for all +such beauty. She put the thought aside for future consideration as she +said, "Then, Sadie, you and Elizabeth will be at Miss Laura's next +Saturday?" + +"I rather guess we _will_!" Sadie answered emphatically. + +"You don't have to ask your mother about it?" + +Sadie gave a scornful little flirt. "Mother! She always does what I +want. We'll be there." And then, with a burst of generosity, she added, +"You can see Elizabeth, for a minute, if you want to--now." + +But again Olga shook her head. "Tell her I'll stop for her and you +Saturday," she said. "Good-bye, Sadie." + +"Good-bye," Sadie echoed, turning towards her own door; but the next +minute she was clutching eagerly at Olga's sleeve. "Say--tell Miss Laura +to be sure and have my silver ring ready for me as soon's I join," she +cried. "You won't forget, Olga?" + +"I won't forget," Olga assured her. + + + + +XI + +BOYS AND OLD LADIES + + +The change into a home atmosphere and the loving care with which he was +surrounded, worked wonders in Jim, and when the judge decided that he +should remain where he was, and not be sent to any other home, the boy +grew stronger by the hour. Then Laura had her hands full to keep him +happily occupied; for after a while, in spite of auto rides and visits +to the Zoo--in spite of books and games and picture puzzles--sometimes +she thought he seemed not quite happy, and she puzzled over the problem, +wondering what she had left undone. When one day she found him watching +some boys playing in a vacant lot, the wistful longing in his eyes was a +revelation to her. + +"Of course, it is boys he is longing for--boys and out-of-door fun. I +ought to have known," she said to herself, and at once she called Elsie +Harding on the telephone. + +"Will you ask your brother Jack if he will come here Saturday morning +and see Jim? Tell him it is a chance for his 'one kindness,' a kindness +that will mean a great deal to my boy." + +"I'll tell him," Elsie promised. "I know he'll be glad to go if he can." + +Laura said nothing to Jim, but when Jack Harding appeared, she took him +upstairs at once. Jim was standing at the window, watching two boys and +a puppy in a neighbouring yard. He glanced listlessly over his shoulder +as the door opened, but at sight of a boy in Scout uniform, he hurried +across to him, crying out, + +"My! But it's good to see a boy!" Then he glanced at Laura, the colour +flaming in his face. Would she mind? But she was smiling at him, and +looking almost as happy as he felt. + +"This is Jack Harding, Elsie's brother," she said, "and, Jack, this is +my boy Jim. I hope he can persuade you to stay to lunch with him." Then +she shut the door and left the two together. + +When she went back at noon, she found the boys deep in the mysteries of +knots. Jim looked up, his homely little face full of pride. + +"Jack is learning me to tie all the different knots," he cried, "and +he's going to learn me ['teach,' corrected Jack softly]--yes, teach me +everything I'll have to know before I can be a Scout. Jack's a second +class Scout--see his badge? We've had a bully time, haven't we, Jack?" + +Suddenly his head went down and his heels flew into the air as he turned +a somersault. Coming right end upwards again, he looked at Laura with a +doubtful grin. "I--I didn't mean to do that," he stammered. "It--just +did itself--like----" + +Jack's quick laugh rang out then. "I know. You had to get it out of your +system, didn't you?" he said with full understanding. + +That was a red-letter day to Jim. He kept his visitor until the last +possible moment, and stood at the window looking after him till the +straight little figure in khaki swung around a corner and was gone. +Then with a long happy breath he turned to Laura and said, half +apologetically, half appealingly, "You see a fellow gets kind o' hungry +for boys, sometimes. You don't mind, do you, Miss Laura?" + +"No, indeed, Jim. I get hungry for girls the same way--it's all right," +she assured him. But she made up her mind that Jim should not get _so_ +hungry for boys again--she would see to that. + +After a moment he asked thoughtfully, "Why can't boys be Scouts till +they're twelve, Miss Laura?" + +"I think because younger boys could not go on the long tramps." + +"Oh!" Jim thought that over and finally admitted, "Yes, I guess that's +it." A little later he asked anxiously, "Do you s'pose they'd let a +fellow join when he's twelve even if he is just a _little_ lame?" + +"O, I hope so, Jim," Laura answered quickly. + +"But you ain't sure. Jack wasn't sure, but he guessed they would." Jim +pondered a while in silence, then he broke out again, "Seems to me the +only way is for me to get this leg cured. I can't be shut out of things +always just 'cause of that, can I now, Miss Laura?" + +"Nothing can shut you out of the best things, Jim." + +The boy looked up at her, tipping his round head till he reminded her of +an uncommonly wise sparrow. "I don't _quite_ know what you mean," he +said in a doubtful tone. + +"You like stories of men who have done splendid brave things, don't +you?" Laura asked. + +Jim nodded, his eyes searching her face. + +"But some of the bravest men have never been able to fight or do the +things you love to hear about." + +"How did they be brave then?" Jim demanded. + +"They were brave because they endured very, very hard things and never +whimpered." + +"What's whimpered?" + +"To whimper is to cry or complain--or be sorry for yourself." + +Jim studied over that; then coming close to Laura, he looked straight +into her eyes. "You mean that I mustn't talk about that?" He touched his +lame leg. + +"It would be better not, if you can help it," she said very gently. + +"I got to help it then, 'cause, of course, I've got to be brave. And +mebbe if I get strong as--as anything, they'll let me join the Scouts +when I'm twelve even--even if I ain't quite such a good walker as the +rest of 'em. Don't you think they _might_, Miss Laura?" + +"Yes, Jim, I think they might," she agreed hastily. Who could say "No" +to such pleading eyes? + +Jim had been teasing to go to school, and when at the next Camp Fire +meeting, Lena Barton told him that Jo had been sent to an outdoor +school, Jim wanted to go there too. + +"Take him to the doctor and see what he thinks about it," the judge +advised, and to Jim's delight the doctor said that it was just the place +for him. + +"Let him sleep out of doors too for a year," the doctor added. "It will +do him a world of good." + +So the next day Miss Laura went with him to the school, Jim limping +gaily along at her side, and chuckling to himself as he thought how +"s'prised" Jo would be to see him there. + +Jo undoubtedly was surprised. He was a thin little chap, freckled and +red-haired like his sister, and he welcomed his old comrade with a wide +friendly grin. + +Jim thought it a very queer-looking school, with teacher and pupils all +wearing warm coats, mittens, and hoods or caps, and all with their feet +hidden in big woolen bags. There was no fire, of course, and all the +windows were wide open. + +"But what a happy-looking crowd it is!" Laura said, and the teacher +answered, + +"They are the happiest children I ever taught, and they learn so easily! +They get on much faster than most of the children in other schools of +the same grade. We give them luncheon here--plain nourishing things +which the doctor orders--and," she lowered her voice, "that means a deal +to some who come from poor homes where there is not too much to eat." + +"We shall gladly pay for Jim," Laura said quickly, "enough for him and +some of the others too." + +So Jim's outdoor life began. There was a covered porch adjoining the +old nursery, and the judge had the end boarded up to protect the boy's +cot from snow or rain; and there, in a warm sleeping-bag, with a wool +cap over his ears, and a little fox terrier cuddled down beside him for +company, Jim slept through all the winter weather. + +He and the judge were great chums now. It would be hard to say which +most enjoyed the half-hour they spent together before Laura carried the +boy off to bed. And as for Laura--she often wondered how she had ever +gotten on without Jim. He filled the big house with life, and she didn't +at all mind the noise and disorder that he brought into it. He whistled +now from morning till night, and his pockets were perfect catch-alls. +Sometimes they were stuck together with chewing-gum or molasses candy, +and sometimes they were soaked with wet sponges, and his hands--she +counted one Saturday, thirteen times that she sent him to wash them +between getting up and bedtime. + +The girls always wanted Jim at their Camp Fire meetings, for a part of +the time at least. As "Miss Laura's boy" they felt that in a way he +belonged to them too, and Jim was very proud and happy to make one of +the company. + +"I'm going to be a Camp Fire boy until I'm big enough to be a Scout, if +you'll all let me," he told the girls one night, and they all gave him +the most cordial of welcomes. + +He was sitting between Olga and Elizabeth, when the girls were talking +about some of the babies they had found. + +"We never find one that is just right," Rose Parsons complained. "Or if +the baby is what we would like, there is always some one that wants to +keep it." + +"I'm glad of it," Lena Barton flung out. "It was silly of us to think of +taking a baby, anyhow. We better just help out somewhere--maybe with +some older kid." Her red-brown eyes flashed a glance at Jim. + +It was then that Frances Chapin broke in earnestly, "O girls, I do so +wish you'd take one of the old ladies at the Home! They need our help +quite as much as the babies--more, I sometimes think, for they are so +old and tired, and they've such a little time to--to have things done +for them. The babies have chances, but the chances of these old ladies +are almost over. There's one--Mrs. Barlow--I'm sure you couldn't help +loving her--she is so gentle and patient and uncomplaining, although she +cannot see to sew or read, and cannot go out alone. She has her board +and room at the Home of course, but clothes are not provided, and she +hasn't any money at all. Just think of never having a dollar to buy +anything with! And the money we could give would buy so many of the +things she needs, and it would make her so happy to have us run in and +see her now and then. There are so many of us that no one would have to +go often, and she loves girls. She had two of her own once, but they +both died in one year, and her husband was killed in an accident. She +did fine sewing and embroidery as long as she could see; then an old +friend got her into the Home. I took this picture of her to show you." + +She handed the picture to Laura, who passed it on with the comment, "It +is a sweet face." + +The girls all agreed that it was a sweet face, and Mary Hastings, +stirred by Frances' earnest pleading, moved that what money they could +spare should be given to Frances for Mrs. Barlow, but Frances interposed +quickly, "She needs the money, but she needs people almost more. She is +so happy when Elsie or I go in to see her even just for a minute! I +shall be delighted if we take her for our Camp Fire 'service,' but +please, girls, _if_ we do, give her a little of your_selves_--not just +your money alone," she pleaded. + +"How would I know what to say to an old woman?" Lena Barton grumbled. "I +shouldn't have an idea how to talk to her." + +"You wouldn't need to have--she has ideas of her own a-plenty. Girls, +if you'll only once go and see her, you won't need to be coaxed to go +again, I'm sure," Frances urged. + +"I'm in favour of having Frances' old lady for our 'Camp Fire baby,'" +laughed Louise Johnson. "I second Mary's motion." + +But Lena Barton's high-pitched voice cut in, "Before we vote on that I'd +like to say a word. I've no doubt that Mrs. Barlow is an angel minus the +wings, but before we decide to adopt her I'd like to see some of the +other old ladies. I've wanted for a long time to get into one of those +Homes with a big H. How about it, Frances--would they let me in or are +working girls ruled out?" + +"O no, any one can go there," Frances replied, but her face and her +voice betrayed her disappointment. When Louise spoke, Frances had +thought her cause was won. + +"All right--I'll go then to-morrow, and maybe I'll find some old lady +I'll like better than your white-haired angel," Lena flung out, her +red-brown eyes gleaming with sly malice and mischief. + +Quite unconsciously, and certainly without intention, the three High +School girls held themselves a little apart from Lena and her "crowd," +and Lena was quite sharp enough to detect and resent this. She chuckled +as she watched Frances' clouded face. + +"O never mind, Frances," Elsie Harding whispered under cover of a brisk +discussion on old ladies, that Lena's words had started, "Lena's just +talking for effect. She won't take the trouble to go to the Home." + + + + +XII + +NANCY REXTREW + + +But that was where Elsie was mistaken. Lena did go the very next +afternoon, and dragged the reluctant Eva with her. The girls, proposing +to join the Sunday promenade on the Avenue later, were in their Sunday +best when they presented themselves at the big, old-fashioned frame +house on Capitol Hill. + +"Who you goin' to ask for?" Eva questioned as Lena, lifting the old +brass knocker, dropped it sharply. + +"The Barlow angel, I s'pose. We don't know the name of anybody else +here," Lena returned with a grin. + +The maid who answered their summons told them to go right upstairs. They +would find Mrs. Barlow in Room 10 on the second floor. So they went up, +Lena's eyes, as always, keen and alert, Eva scowling, and wishing +herself "out of it." + +"Here's No. 6--it must be that second door beyond," Lena said in a low +tone; but low as it was, somebody heard, for the next door--No. 8--flew +open instantly, and a woman stepped briskly out and faced the girls. + +"Come right in--come right in," she said with an imperative gesture. +"My! But I'm glad to see ye!" + +So compelling was her action that, with a laugh, Lena yielded and Eva +followed her as a matter of course. + +The woman closed the door quickly, and pulled forward three chairs, +planting herself in the third. + +"My land, but it's good to see ye sittin' there," she began. "What's yer +names? Mine's Nancy Rextrew." + +Lena gave their names, and the woman repeated them lingeringly, as if +the syllables were sweet on her tongue. Then she tipped her head, pursed +her lips, and gave a little cackling laugh. + +"I s'pose ye was bound fer her room--Mis' Barlow's, eh?" she questioned. + +"Yes," Lena admitted, "but----" + +"I don't care nothin' about it if you was!" Nancy Rextrew broke in +hastily, her little black eyes snapping and her wrinkled face all alive +with eager excitement. "I don't care a mite if you was. Mis' Barlow has +somebody a-comin' to see her nigh about every day, an' I've stood it +jest as long as I can. Yesterday when the Chapin girl an' the Harding +girl stayed along of her half the afternoon I made up my mind that the +next girl that came through this corridor was a-comin' in here--be she +who she might. I was right sure some girl or other'd come on a pretty +Sunday like this, to read the Bible or suthin' to her, an' I says to +myself, 'I'll kidnap the next one--I don't care if it's the daughter of +the president in the White House.' An' I've done it, an' I'm _glad_!" +she added triumphantly, her eyes meeting Lena's with a flash that drew +an answering flash from the girl's. + +"Well, now that you've kidnapped us, what next?" Lena demanded with a +laugh. + +"I do' know an' I don't care what next," the woman flung out with a +gleeful reckless gesture. "Of course I can't keep ye if ye _want_ to go +in there," with a nod towards No. 10, "but you don't somehow look like +the pious sort. Be ye?" + +Lena shook her head. "I guess I'm your sort," she said. She had never +before met an old woman at all like this one, and her heart went out to +her. In spite of wrinkles and gray hairs, the spirit of youth nodded to +her from Nancy Rextrew's little black eyes, and something in Lena +answered as if in spite of herself. + +Nancy hitched her chair closer, and with her elbows on her knees, rested +her shrivelled chin on her old hands, wrinkled and swollen at the +joints. "Now tell me," she commanded, "all about yourself. You ain't no +High School girl, I'm thinkin'." + +"You're right--I never got above the seventh grade--I had to go to work +when I was thirteen. Eva and I both work in Wood and Lanson's." + +"What d'ye do there?" Nancy snapped out the question, fairly hugging +herself in her delight. + +"I'm a wrapper in the hosiery department. Eva's in the hardware." + +"I know--I know," Nancy breathed fast as one who must accomplish much in +little time, "I've been all over that store. My! But I'd like to see ye +both there--'specially _you_!" Her crooked finger pointed at Lena. "I +bet you're a good one. You could make a cow buy stockings if you took a +notion to." + +Lena broke into a shout of laughter at the vision of a cow coming in to +be fitted with stockings. "I'm afraid," she gurgled, "that we'd have to +make 'em to order--for a cow!" and all three joined in the laughter. + +But Nancy could not spare time for much merriment. She poured out eager +questions and listened to the answers of the girls with an interest that +drew forth ever more details. At last, with a furtive sidelong glance at +the clock, she said, "I s'pose now if I should go there to the store +you'd be too busy to speak to me--or mebbe you wouldn't want to be seen +talkin' to an old thing like me, an' I wouldn't blame ye, neither." + +"Stuff!" retorted Lena promptly. "You come to my place next time you're +down town and I'll show you. We wouldn't be shoddy enough to turn down a +friend, would we, Eva?" + +"I guess no," Eva agreed, but without enthusiasm. + +"A friend!" As Nancy repeated the word a curious quiver swept over her +old lined face. "You don't have to call me a friend," she said. "Old +women like me don't expect to be called _friend_--didn't ye know that?" + +"I said friend, and I meant what I said," repeated Lena stoutly, and the +old woman swallowed once or twice before she spoke again. + +"You've told me about your work, now tell me the rest of it--the fun +part," she begged. + +"O that!" said Lena. "The fun is moving pictures and roller skating and +dances and the Avenue parade--with the boys along sometimes." + +"I bet ye there's boys along where you be!" Nancy flashed an admiring +glance at the girl. "I always did admire bright hair like yours, an' a +pinch o' freckles is more takin' than a dimple--if you ask me." + +Had Nancy been the shrewdest of mortals she could have said nothing +that would have pleased Lena more. She had been called "Carrots" and +"Redhead" all her life, and from the bottom of her soul she loathed her +fiery locks and her freckles, though never yet had she acknowledged this +to any living creature--and here was one who _liked_ freckles and red +hair! Lena could have hugged the little old woman beaming at her with +such honest admiration. A wave of hot colour swept up to her forehead. +But Nancy's thoughts had taken another turn. + +"Movin' pictures. That's the new kind of show, ain't it? I've heard +about 'em, but I've never seen any." + +"You can go for a nickel," said Eva. + +"A nickel?" echoed Nancy, flashing a swift glance at her. "But nickels +don't grow on gooseberry bushes, an' if they did, there ain't any +gooseberry bushes around here," she retorted. + +"Say----" Lena was leaning forward, her eyes full of interest, "we'll +take you to see the movies any time you'll go, won't we, Eva?" + +"Er--yes, I guess so," Eva conceded reluctantly; but Nancy paid no +attention now to Eva. Her eyes, widened with incredulous joy, were fixed +on Lena's vivid face. + +"Do you mean it? You ain't foolin'?" she faltered. + +"Fooling? Well, I guess you don't know me. When I invite a friend +anywhere I mean it. When can you go?" + +"When? Now--_this minute_!" Nancy cried, starting eagerly to her feet. +Then recollecting herself, she sat down again with a shamefaced little +laugh. "For the land's sake, if I wasn't forgettin' all about it's bein' +Sunday!" she cried under her breath. + +"I guess you wouldn't want to go Sunday," Lena said. "But how about +to-morrow evening?" + +Old Nancy drew a long breath. "I s'pose mebbe I _can_ live through the +time till then," she returned. Then with a quick, questioning +glance--"But s'posing some of your friends should be there? I guess +mebbe--you wouldn't care for 'em to see you with an old woman like me in +such a place." + +"Don't you fret yourself about that," Lena replied. "You just meet us at +the corner of Tenth and the Avenue. I'll be there at half-past seven, if +I can. Anyhow, you wait there till I come." + +When the girls went away Nancy Rextrew walked with them down to the +front door and stood there watching as long as she could see them, her +sharp old face full of pride and joy and hope that had long been +strangers there. + +"O my Lord!" she said under her breath as she went back to her room--and +again "O my Lord!" + +"That old woman's going to have the time of her life to-morrow night," +Lena said, as the two girls walked towards the Avenue. + +"I don't suppose she's got a decent thing to wear," Eva grumbled. + +Lena turned on her like a flash. "I don't care if she's got nothing but +a _nightgown_ to wear, she shall have a good time for once if I can make +her!" she stormed. "Talk about your Mrs. Barlow!" And Eva subsided into +cowed silence. + +At quarter of eight the next evening, the two girls saw Nancy Rextrew +standing on the corner of Tenth Street and the Avenue, peering anxiously +first one way and then the other. + +"Oh!" groaned Eva. "Lena Barton, look at the shawl she's got on. I bet +it's a hundred years old--and that bonnet!" + +"If it's a hundred years old it's an antique and worth good money!" +retorted Lena. "Hurry up!" + +But Eva hung back. "I'd be ashamed forever if any of the boys should see +me with her," she half whimpered. + +Lena stopped short and stamped her foot, heedless of interested +passers-by. "Then go back!" she cried. "And you needn't hang around me +any more. Go _back_, I say!" Without another glance at Eva she hurried +on, and Eva sulkily followed. + +Rapturous relief swept the anxiety from old Nancy's little triangle of a +face as she caught sight of the two girls. + +"'Fraid you've been waitin' an age," Lena greeted her breezily. "I +couldn't get off as early as I meant to. Come on now--we won't lose any +more time," and slipping her arm under Nancy's, she swept her, +breathless and beaming, towards the brilliantly-lighted show-place. + +"Two," she slapped a dime down before the ticket-taker, quite ignoring +Eva, who silently laid a nickel beside the dime. + +The place was one of the best of its kind, well ventilated and spaced +and, though the lights were turned down, it was by no means dark within. +Lena guided the old woman into a seat and sat down beside her, and Eva, +after a quick searching glance that revealed none of her acquaintances +present, took the next seat. + +For the hour that followed Nancy Rextrew was in Fairyland. With +breathless interest, her eyes glued to the pictures, her mouth half +open, she followed the quick-moving figures through scenes pathetic or +ludicrous with an absorbed attention that would not miss the smallest +detail. When that popular idol--the Imp--was performing her antics, the +old woman's quick cackling laugh made Eva drop her head that her big hat +might hide her face. When the "Drunkard's Family" were passing through +their harrowing experiences, tears rolled unheeded down old Nancy's +wrinkled cheeks as she sat with her knobby fingers tight clasped. + +When, at last, Lena whispered in her ear, "I guess we'll go now," Nancy +exclaimed, + +"Oh! Is it over? I thought it had just begun. But it was +beautiful--beautiful! I'll never----" + +A loud sharp explosion cut through her sentence and instantly the whole +place was in an uproar. Suffocating fumes filled the room with smoke as +the lights went out. Then somebody screamed, "Fire! _Fire_!" and +pandemonium reigned. Women shrieked, children wailed, and men and boys +fought savagely to get to the doors. Lena was swept on by the first mad +rush of the crowd, crazy with fear, but catching at a seat, she tried to +slip into it and climb back to Nancy and Eva. Before she could reach +them, she saw Eva thrown down in the aisle by a big woman frantic with +terror, who tried to walk over her prostrate body, but a pair of bony +hands grabbed the woman's hair and yanked her back, holding her, it +seemed, by sheer force of will, for the few precious seconds that gave +Lena a chance to pull Eva up and out of the aisle. + +"You fools!" The old woman's voice, shrill and cracked, but steady and +unafraid, cut through the babel of shrieks and cries, "You fools, there +ain't no fire! If you'll stop yellin' an' pushin' and go quiet you'll +all get out in a minute. It's jest a step to the doors." + +She was only a little old woman--a figure of fun, if they could have +seen her clearly, with her old bonnet tilted rakishly over one ear and +her shawl trailing behind her--but through the smoke, in that tumult of +fear and dread, the dauntless spirit of her loomed large, and dominated +the lesser souls craven with terror. + +A draught of air thinned the smoke for a moment, and as those in front +rushed out, the pressure in the main aisle lessened. Climbing over the +back of a seat, Lena caught the old woman's arm. + +"Come," she shouted in her ear, "we can get through to the side aisle +now--that's almost clear. Come, Eva, buck up--buck up, I say, or we'll +never get out of this!" for Eva, terrified, bruised, and half fainting, +was now hanging limp and nerveless to Lena's arm. + +"Don't you worry 'bout me. Go ahead an' I'll follow," Nancy Rextrew +said, and grabbing Eva's other arm, the two half pushed and half carried +her between them. Once outside, her blind terror suddenly left her, and +she declared herself all right. + +"Well, then, let's get out of this," and Lena's sharp elbows forced a +passage through the crowd that was increasing every minute, as the +rumour of fire spread. She turned to old Nancy. "We'll get you on a +car--My goodness, Eva, catch hold of her _quick_! We must get her into +the drug store there on the corner," she ended as she saw the old +woman's face. + +They got her into the drug store somehow, and then for the first time in +her life Nancy Rextrew fainted; and great was her mortification when she +came to herself and realised what had happened. + +"My soul and body!" she muttered. "I always did despise women that +didn't know no better than to faint, an' now I'm one of 'em. Gi' me my +Injy shawl an' let me get away. Yes, I be well enough to go home, too!" +She struggled to her feet, and snatching her bonnet from Eva, crammed it +on her head anyhow, fumbling with the strings while she swayed dizzily. + +"Here, let me tie them," Eva said gently. "You sit down so I can reach." +She tied the strings very slowly, pulled the old bonnet straight and +drew the India shawl over the thin shoulders, taking as much time as she +could, to give the old woman a chance to pull herself together. + +"I'll take her home," Lena said. + +"No, you won't--that's my job!" Eva spoke with unusual decision, and +Lena promptly yielded. + +"Well--I guess you're right. I guess if it hadn't been for her----" + +"Yes," said Eva, and her look made further words unnecessary. + +The three walked out to the car a few minutes later. The fire in the +picture theatre had been quickly put out, and already the crowd in the +street was melting away. Nancy looked up and down the wide avenue +brilliant with its many electric lights; then as she saw the car coming +she turned to Lena, her pale face crinkling into sudden laughter. + +"I don't care--it was worth it!" she declared. "I've lived more to-night +than I have in twenty years before. I loved every minute of it--the +pictures an' the fire an' everything. But see here--" she leaned down +and whispered in the girl's ear,--"don't you let any feller put his arm +round you like the man did round that girl that set in front of +us--don't you do it!" + +"I guess _not_!" retorted the girl sharply. "I ain't that kind." + +"That's right, that's right! An'--an' do come an' see me again some +time--do, dearie!" the old woman added over her shoulder as the +conductor pulled her up the high step of the car. + +Eva followed her. "I'm going to see she gets home all right," she said, +and Lena waved her hand as the car passed on. + +"An' to think her sharp old eyes saw that!" Lena thought with a chuckle +as she turned away. "An' me all the time thinkin' she didn't see +anything but the pictures. Well, you never can tell. But she's a duck, +an' it's her gets my nickels--angel or no angel. And to think how she +kidnapped us--the old dear," and Lena went on laughing to herself. + +At the next Camp Fire meeting, Lena, with a mischievous spark in her +eyes, called out to Frances Chapin, "Say, Frances, Eva and I took one of +your old ladies to the picture show the other night." + +Frances looked distinctly disapproving. "I think you might have made a +better use of your money," she returned. + +"I don't, then!" retorted Lena, and thereupon she told the story of +Nancy's Sunday kidnapping, and of what had happened at the picture show. +Her graphic wording held the girls breathless with interest. + +"Well!" commented Louise Johnson, "I'd like to see that old lady of +yours, Lena." + +"She's worth seeing." This from Eva. + +A week later Louise announced that she had seen Lena's old lady. "Saw +her at the Home yesterday. I like her. She sure is a peach." + +"Isn't she just?" Lena responded, her face lighting up. "And did you see +Frances' angel-all-but-the-wings old lady too?" + +"Yes, and she's a peach also, but a different variety," Louise answered +with a laugh. "I gave your Miss Rextrew some mint gum and she popped it +into her mouth as handily as if she'd chewed gum all her life." + +Lena nodded. "She wanted to try it. She wants to try everything that is +going. She's a live wire, that's what she is--good old Nancy!" + +"We went the rounds--Annie Pearson and I," Louise continued. "Saw all +the old ladies except one that doesn't want any visitors. Most of 'em +do, though; and say, girlies--" Louise's sweeping glance included all in +the room--"I reckon it won't hurt any of us to run up there once a month +or so when it means such a lot to those old shut-ins to have us." + +There was a swift exchange of amazed glances at this, _from Louise +Johnson_, and then a murmur of assent from several voices, before Mary +Hastings in her business-like way suggested, "Why not each of us set a +date for going? Then we won't forget--or maybe all go on the same day." + +"All right, Molly--you make out the list an' we'll all sign it," Lena +said, "and, say--make it a nickel fine for any girl that forgets her +date or fails to keep it. Does that go, girls?" + +"Unless for some good and sufficient reason that she will give at our +next meeting," Laura amended. + +Then began a new era for the old ladies at the Home. Always on Saturday +and Sunday afternoons and often on other evenings, light footsteps and +young voices were heard in the corridors and rooms of the old mansion. +Not only gentle Mrs. Barlow and eager old Nancy Rextrew, but all the +women who had drifted into this backwater of life found their dull days +wonderfully brightened by contact with these young lives. Nancy Rextrew +looked years younger than on that Sunday when she had turned kidnapper. +Naturally she was still the prime favourite with Lena and Eva, and +gloried in that fact. But there were girls "enough to go around" in more +senses than one, and most of them were faithful to their agreement, and +seldom allowed anything to keep them from the Home on the date assigned +to them. + + + + +XIII + +A CAMP FIRE CHRISTMAS + + +For over a year Olga had been working in the evening classes of the Arts +and Crafts school, and she was now doing excellent work in silver. Her +designs were so bold and original and her execution so good, that she +received from patrons of the school many orders for Christmas gifts--so +many that she gave up her other work in order to devote all her time to +this. She had now two rooms, a small bedroom and a larger room which +served as kitchen, living-room, and workroom. None of the girls had ever +been invited to these rooms, nor even Miss Laura. Elizabeth, Olga would +have welcomed there; but it was quite useless to ask her before Sadie +joined the Camp Fire. Then Olga saw her opportunity, but it was an +opportunity hampered by a very unpleasant condition, and the condition +was Sadie. Could she admit Sadie even for the sake of having Elizabeth? +Olga pondered long over that while she was teaching the girl to work +with the beads and the raffia. Sadie was an apt pupil. Those bony little +fingers of hers were deft and quick. Within a month she had made her +Camp Fire dress and her headband, and was eagerly at work over the +requirements for a Fire Maker. But, as Mary Hastings said to Rose +Anderson one day, + +"She's sharp as nails--that Sadie! I believe she can learn anything she +sets her mind on; but she's such a selfish little pig! I can't endure +her." + +"I wish I had her memory," Rose answered. "How she did reel off the Fire +Ode and the Fire Maker's desire the other night! I haven't learned that +Ode yet so that I can say it without stumbling." + +"O, Sadie can reel it off without a mistake, but she's as blind to the +meaning of it as this sidewalk. There's no _heart_ to Sadie Page. She +can thank Elizabeth that we ever voted her in." + +"Elizabeth--and Olga," Rose amended. + +"O, Olga--well, that was for Elizabeth too. Olga did it just for +her--got Sadie in, I mean." + +"She's--different--lately, don't you think, Molly?" + +"Who--Olga?" + +Rose nodded. + +"Yes, she's getting more human. She's opened her heart to Elizabeth and +she can't quite shut it against the rest of us--not quite--though she +opens it only the tiniest crack." + +"But I think it's lovely the way she is to Sadie. You know she must hate +that kind of a girl as much as we do, or more--and yet she endures and +helps her in every way just to give Elizabeth her chance. Miss Laura +says Olga is doing lovely silver work. I'd like to see some of it, but I +don't dare ask her to let me." + +"You'd better not," laughed Mary, "unless you are ready to be snubbed. +Nobody but Elizabeth will ever be privileged to that extent." + +"And Sadie." + +"Well, possibly, but not if Olga can help it." + +Yet it was Sadie and not Elizabeth who was the first of the Camp Fire +Girls to be admitted to Olga's rooms. Sadie was wild to take up the +silver work. She wanted to make herself a complete set--bracelet, ring, +pin, and hatpin, after a design she had seen. Again and again she +brought the matter up, for, once she got an idea in her head, she clung +to it with the tenacity of a limpet to a rock. + +"I think you _might_ teach me!" she cried out impatiently one day, +meeting Olga in the street. "You said you'd teach me all you know--you +did, Olga Priest--and now you won't." + +"I've taught you basket work and beadwork and embroidery, and the knots, +and the Red-Cross things, and I'm helping you to win your honours," Olga +reminded her. + +"O, I know--but I want to make the silver set just awfully. I can do +it--I know I can--and you promised, Olga Priest, you _promised_!" Sadie +repeated, half crying in her eager impatience. + +"Well," Olga said with a reluctance she did not try to conceal, "if you +hold me to that promise----" + +"I do then!" Sadie declared, her black eyes watching Olga's lips as if +she would snatch the words from them before they were spoken. + +"Then I suppose I must," Olga went on slowly. "But listen, Sadie. You +don't seem to realise what you are asking of me. I've been nearly two +years learning this work, and I paid for my lessons--a good big price, +too--yet you expect me to teach you for nothing." + +"Well, you know I've no money to pay for lessons," Sadie retorted +sulkily. + +"I know--but you see you don't _have_ to learn the silver work. There +are plenty of other things for you to learn in handcraft." + +Sadie's narrow sharp face flushed and she stamped her foot angrily. "But +I don't _want_ the other things, and I _do_ want this. I--I've just got +to have that silver set, Olga Priest." + +Olga set her lips firmly. She must draw the line somewhere, for there +seemed no limit to Sadie's demands. Then a thought occurred to her and +she said slowly, "I don't feel, Sadie, that you have any right to ask +this of me. It is different from the other things. The silver work is my +trade--the way I earn my living. But I will teach you to make your set +on one condition." + +"It's something about Elizabeth, I know," Sadie flung out with an angry +flirt. + +"No, not this time. Sadie, have you ever given any one a Christmas +present?" + +"No, of course not. I don't have any money to buy 'em." + +"Well, this is my condition. I'll teach you to make the silver set for +yourself if you will first make something for----" + +"Elizabeth!" broke in Sadie. "I said so." + +"No, not for Elizabeth--for your mother." + +Sadie stood staring, her mouth open, her eyes full of amazement. + +"What you want me to do that for?" she demanded. + +"No matter why. Will you do it?" + +Sadie wriggled her shoulders and scowled. "I want to make my set +first--then I will." + +But Olga shook her head. "No," she replied firmly, "for your mother +first, or else I'll not teach you at all." + +"But I'll have to wait so long then for mine." Sadie was half crying +now. + +"That's my offer--you can take it or leave it," Olga said. "I must go on +now. Think it over and tell me Saturday what you decide." + +"O--if I must, I must, I s'pose," Sadie yielded ungraciously. "How long +will it take me to make mother's?" + +"Depends on how quickly you learn." + +"O, I'll learn quick enough!" Sadie tossed her head as one conscious of +her powers. "When can I begin?" + +"Monday. Can you come right after school?" + +"Uh, huh," and with a brief good-bye Sadie was gone. + +Olga had no easy task with her over the making of her mother's gift. It +was to be a brass stamp box, and her only thought was to get it out of +the way so that she could begin on her own jewelry; but Olga was firm. + +"If you don't make a good job of this your lessons will end right here," +she declared, and Sadie had learned that when Olga spoke in that tone, +she must be obeyed. She gloomed and pouted, but seeing no other way to +get what she wanted she set to work in earnest. And as the work grew +under her hands, her interest in it grew. When, finally, the box was +done, it was really a creditable bit of work for the first attempt of a +girl barely fourteen, and Sadie was inordinately proud of it. + +It was December now and Christmas was the absorbing interest of the +Camp Fire Girls. They were to have a tree in the Camp Fire room, but +Laura told them to make their gifts very simple and inexpensive. + +"We must not spoil the Great Day by giving what we cannot afford," she +said. "The loving thought is the heart of Christmas giving--not the +money value. I'll get our tree, but you can help me string popcorn and +cranberries to trim it, and put up the greenery." + +"Me too--O Miss Laura, can't I help too?" Jim cried anxiously. + +"Why, of course. We couldn't get along without you, Jim," half a dozen +voices assured him before Laura could answer. + +"I wish our old ladies could come to our tree," Elsie Harding said to +Alice Reynolds. + +"They couldn't. Most of them can't go out evenings, you know. But we +might put gifts for them on the tree they have at the Home." + +"Or have them hang up stockings," suggested Louise Johnson. "Just +imagine forty long black stockings strung around those parlour walls. +Wouldn't it be a sight?" she giggled. + +"Nancy Rextrew wouldn't have her stocking hung on any parlour wall. It +would be in her own room or nowhere," put in Lena. + +"Why not get some of those red Christmas stockings from the five cent +store, and fill one for each old lady?" Mary Hastings proposed. "We +could go late, after they'd all gone to their rooms, and hang the +stockings, full, on their doorknobs." + +"Or get the superintendent to hang them early in the morning," was +Laura's suggestion. + +"Yes, we can get the stockings and the 'fillings,'" Mary Hastings went +on, "and have all sent to the superintendent's room. Then we can go +there and fill them. It won't take long if we all go." + +"And not have any tree for them?" Myra asked in a disappointed tone. + +"O, they always have a tree with candles and trimmings--the Board ladies +furnish that," Frances explained. + +The girls lingered late that night talking over Christmas plans. The air +was heavy with secrets, there were whispered conferences in corners, and +somebody was always drawing Laura aside to ask advice or help. Only +Elizabeth had no part in these mysterious whisperings. She had blossomed +into happy friendliness with all the girls now that she came regularly +to the meetings, but the old sad silence crept over her again in these +December days. It was Olga who guessed her trouble and went with it to +Sadie, drawing her away from a group of girls who were busy over crochet +work. + +"Look at Elizabeth," she began. + +Sadie stared at her sister sitting apart from the others, listlessly +gazing into the fire. "Well, what of her? What's eating her?" Sadie +demanded in her most aggravating manner. + +Olga frowned. Sadie's slang was a trial to her. + +"Elizabeth says she is not coming to the Christmas tree here." + +"Well, she don't have to, if she don't want to," Sadie retorted, but she +cast an uneasy glance at the silent figure by the fire. + +"She does want to, Sadie Page--you know she does." + +"Well, then--what's the answer?" demanded Sadie. + +"Would _you_ come if you couldn't give a single thing to any one?" Olga +asked quietly. + +"Why don't she make things then--same's I do?" Sadie's tone was sullen +now. + +"You know why. Your mother gives you a little money----" + +"Mighty little," Sadie interrupted. "I'm going to work when I'm sixteen. +Then I'll have my own money to spend." + +"And Elizabeth is nearly eighteen and can't work for herself because she +spends all her time working for the rest of you at home," said Olga. + +A startled look flashed into the sharp black eyes. Sadie had actually +never before thought of that. + +Olga went on, "I guess you'd miss Elizabeth at home if she should go +away to work, but she ought to do it as soon as she is eighteen. And if +she should, you'd have to do some of the kitchen work, wouldn't you? And +maybe then you wouldn't have a chance to go away and earn money for +yourself." + +"Is she going to do that--go off to work when she's eighteen?" Sadie +demanded, plainly disturbed at the suggestion. + +"Everybody would say she had a right to. Most girls would have gone long +ago--you know it, Sadie. You'd better make things easier for her at home +if you want to keep her there." + +"How?" Sadie's voice was despondent now. "Father gets so little +pay--we're pinched all the time." + +"Yet _you_ have good clothes and money for your silver work----" + +"Well, I have to just tease it out of mother. You don't know how I have +to tease." + +Olga could imagine. "Well," she said, "the girls all guess how it is +about Elizabeth, and, if you come to the tree and she doesn't, I shan't +envy you, that's all. You are smart enough to think up some way to help +Elizabeth out." + +"I d'know how!" grumbled Sadie. "I think you're real mean, Olga +Priest--always saying things to spoil my fun, so there!" and she whirled +around and went back to the other girls. + +"All the same," said Olga to herself, "I've set her to thinking." + +The next afternoon Sadie burst tumultuously into Olga's room crying out, +"I've thought what Elizabeth can do! She can make some cakes--she made +some for us last Christmas--awful nice ones, with nuts an' citron an' +raisins in 'em. She can put white icing over 'em an' little blobs of red +sugar for holly berries, you know, with citron leaves. I thought that up +myself, about the icing. Won't they be dandy?" + +"Fine! Good for you, Sadie!" + +Sadie accepted the approval as her due, and went on breathlessly, "I +thought it all out in school to-day. An' say, Olga--I can make baskets +of green and white crêpe paper to hold three or four of the cakes, an' +stick a bit of holly in each basket. Then they can be from me an' +'Lizabeth both--how's that?" + +"Couldn't be better," Olga declared. + +"Uh huh, you see little Sadie has a head on her all right!" Sadie +exulted. But Olga could overlook her conceit since, for once, she had +taken thought for Elizabeth too. + +Laura wondered if, amid all the bustle and excitement of Christmas +planning and doing, Jim would forget about the Christmas for the +Children's Hospital, but he did not forget; and when she told him that +she was depending upon him to tell her what the boys there would like, +Jim had no trouble at all in deciding. So one Saturday Miss Laura took +him down town early before the stores were crowded and they had a +delightful time selecting books and toys. + +"My-ee!" Jim cried, as they were speeding up Connecticut Avenue, the car +piled with packages, "won't this be a splendid Christmas! Ours first at +home, and the hospital Christmas and the Camp Fire one and the old +ladies' one--it'll be four Christmases all in one year, won't it, Miss +Laura?" he exulted. + +"Besides a tree and a gift for each one in your outdoor school," Laura +added. + +Jim stared at her wide-eyed. "O, who's going to give them?" he cried. +"You?" + +"You and I and the judge, Jim. That is our thank-offering for all that +the school is doing for you--and for Jo." + +Jim moved close and hid his face for a long moment on Laura's shoulder. +She knew that he was afraid he might cry, but this time they would have +been tears of pure joy. He explained presently, when he was sure that +his eyes were all right. + +"That will be the best Christmas of all, 'cause some of the out-doorers +wouldn't have a teeny bit of Christmas at home. Jo wouldn't. He says +they never hang up stockings or anything like that at his house. He said +he didn't care, but I know he did." + +That evening Miss Laura asked, "How would you like to put something on +our tree for Jo?" + +"The Camp Fire tree--and have him come?" Jim cried eagerly. + +"Of course." + +It took three somersaults to get that out of Jim's system. When he came +up, flushed and joyful, Laura said, "I'm going to tell you a Christmas +secret, Jim. I am going to have each Camp Fire Girl invite her mother, +or any one else she likes, to come to our tree. We can't have presents +for them all, of course, but there will be ice cream and cake enough for +everybody." + +"O, Miss _Laura_!" Jim cried. "It's going to be the best Christmas that +ever was in this world!" + +And Jim was not the only one who thought so before the Great Day was +over. The tree at the outdoor school, the day before, was a splendid +surprise to every one there except the teacher and Jim, and all the +little "out-doorers," as Jim called them, went home with their hands +full. At the hospital the celebration was very quiet, but in spite of +pain and weariness, the boys in the first ward enjoyed their gifts as +much as Jim had hoped they would. And the Christmas stocking, full and +running over, that each old lady at the Home found hanging to her +doorknob, made those old children as happy as the young ones. + +Jim's stocking could not hold half his treasures, and words failed him +utterly before he had opened the last package. But the Camp Fire +celebration was the great success. The tree was a blaze of light and +colour, and the gifts which the girls had made for each other were many +and varied. Some of the beadwork and basket work was really beautiful, +and there were pretty bits of crochet and some knitted slippers--all the +work of the girls themselves. Miss Laura had begged them to give her no +gift, and hers to each of them was only a little water-colour sketch +with "Love is the joy of service," beautifully lettered, beneath it. + +Sadie's baskets of crêpe paper were really very pretty, and these filled +with Elizabeth's holly cakes were one of the "successes" of the evening. +They were praised so highly that Elizabeth was quite, quite happy and +Sadie "almost too proud to live," as she confided to Olga in an excited +whisper. + +But the best of all was the pleasure of the guests of the evening--Jack +Harding and Jo Barton and David Chapin, who all came as Jim's +guests--Louise Johnson's brother, a big awkward boy of sixteen--Eva +Bicknell's mother, with her bent shoulders and rough hands, and other +mothers more or less like her. The four boys helped when the cake and +ice cream were served, and Jim whispered to Jo that he could have just +as many helpings as he wanted--Miss Laura said so--and Jo wanted +several. It was by no means a quiet occasion--there was plenty of noise +and laughter, and fun, and Laura was in the heart of it all. They closed +the evening with ten minutes of Christmas carols in which everybody +joined, and then while the girls were getting on their wraps, the +mothers crowded about Laura, and the things some of them said filled her +heart with a great joy, for they told her how much the Camp Fire was +doing for their girls--making them kinder and more helpful at home, +keeping them off the streets, teaching them so many useful and pretty +sorts of work. + +"My girl is so much happier, and more contented than she used to be," +one said. + +"Mine, too," another added. "I can't be glad enough for the Camp Fire. +Johnny's a Scout an' that's a mighty good thing, too, but for girls +there's nothing like the Camp Fire." + +"Eva used to hate housework, but now she does it thinkin' about the +beads she's getting, and she don't hardly ever fret over it," Mrs. +Bicknell confided. + +"These things you are saying are the very best Christmas gift I could +possibly have," Laura told them, with shining eyes. + +And the girls themselves, as they bade her good-night said words that +added yet more to the full cup of her Christmas joy. + +"O, it pays, father--this work with my girls," she said, when all had +gone, and they two sat together before the fire. "It has been such a +beautiful, beautiful Christmas!" + + + + +XIV + +LIZETTE + + +The last night of December brought a heavy storm of sleety rain, with a +bitter north wind. Laura, reading beside the fire, heard the doorbell +ring, and presently Olga Priest appeared. The biting wind had whipped a +fresh colour into her cheeks, and her eyes were clear and shining under +her heavy brows. + +"You aren't afraid of bad weather, Olga," Laura said as she greeted the +girl. + +"All weather is the same to me," Olga returned indifferently, but as she +sat down Laura cried out, + +"Why, child, your feet are soaking wet! Surely you did not come without +rubbers in such a storm!" + +"I forgot them. It's no matter," Olga said, drawing her wet feet under +her skirts. + +"I'll be back in a moment," Laura replied, and left the room, returning +with dry stockings and slippers. + +"Take off those wet things and heat your feet thoroughly--then put these +on," she ordered in a tone that admitted of no refusal. + +With a frown, Olga obeyed. "But it's nonsense--I never mind wet feet," +she grumbled. + +"You ought to mind them. Your health is a gift. You have no right to +throw it away--no _right_, Olga. It is yours--only to _use_--like +everything else you have." + +Olga paused, one slipper in her hand, pondering that. + +"Don't you see, Olga," Laura urged gently, "we are only stewards. +Everything we have--health, time, money, intellect--all are ours only to +use the little while we are in this world, and not to use for ourselves +alone." + +"It makes life harder if you believe that," Olga flung back defiantly. +"I want my things for myself." + +"O no, it makes life easier, and O, so big and beautiful!" Laura leaned +forward, speaking earnestly. "When we really accept this idea of +service, then 'self is forgotten.' We give as freely as we have +received." Olga shook her head with a gesture that put all that aside. + +"You said Saturday that you wanted my help----" she began. + +"Yes, I do want your help. I'll tell you how presently. Sadie Page is +doing very well in the craft work, isn't she?" + +"Yes. She can copy anything--designing is her weak point--but she is +doing very well." + +"She is improving in other ways." + +"There's room for improvement still," Olga retorted in her grimmest +voice. Then her conscience forced her to add, "But she is more +endurable. She treats Elizabeth some better than she did." + +"Yes, Elizabeth seems so happy now." + +Laura went on thoughtfully, "You are a Fire Maker. Olga, I want you for +a Torch Bearer." + +Olga stared in blank amazement, then her face darkened. "But I don't +want to be a Torch Bearer," she cried. "A Torch Bearer is a leader. I +don't want to be a leader." + +"But I need your help, and some of the girls need you. You can be a +splendid leader, if you will. Have you any right to refuse?" + +"I don't see why not." + +"If in our Camp Fire there are girls whom you might hold back from what +will harm them, or whom you could help to higher and happier living, +don't you owe it to them to do this?" + +"Why? They do nothing for me. I don't ask them to do anything for me." + +"But that is pure selfishness. That attitude is unworthy of you, Olga." + +The girl stirred restlessly. "I don't want to be responsible for other +girls," she impatiently cried out. + +"Have you any choice--you or I? We have promised to keep the law." + +"What law?" + +"The law of love and service--have you forgotten?" Miss Laura repeated +softly, "'I purpose to bring my strength, my ambition, my heart's +desire, my joy, and my sorrow, to the fire of humankind. The fire that +is called the love of man for man--the love of man for God.'" + +Then for many minutes in the room there was silence broken only by the +crackling of the fire, and the voices of the storm without. Olga sat +motionless, the old sombre shadow brooding in her eyes. At last she +stirred impatiently, and spoke. + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Have you noticed Lizette Stone lately?" Miss Laura asked. + +"No. I never notice her." + +"Poor girl, I'm afraid most of you feel that way about her," Laura said, +with infinite pity in her voice. "She never looks happy, but lately +there is something in her face that troubles me. She looks as if she had +lost hope and courage, and were simply drifting. I've tried to win her +confidence, but she will not talk with me about herself. I thought--at +least, I hoped--that you might be able to find out what is the trouble." + +"Why I, rather than any other girl?" + +"I don't know why I feel so sure that you might succeed, but I do feel +so, Olga. She may be in great trouble. If you could find out what it is, +I might be able to help her. Will you try, Olga?" + +The girl shook her head. "I can't promise, Miss Laura. I'll think about +it," was all she would concede. + +"She works in Silverstein's," Laura added, "and I think she has no +relatives in the city." + +The talk drifted then to other matters, and when Olga glanced at the +clock, Miss Laura touched a bell, and in a few minutes a maid brought up +a cup of hot clam bouillon. "You must take it, Olga, before you go out +again in this storm," Laura said, and reluctantly the girl obeyed. + +When she went away, Laura went to the door with her. The car stood +there, and before she fairly realised that it was waiting for her Olga +was inside, and the chauffeur was tucking the fur rug around her. As, +leaning back against the cushions, shielded from wet and cold, she was +borne swiftly through the storm, something hard and cold and bitter in +the girl's heart was suddenly swept away in a strong tide of feeling +quite new to her, and strangely mingled of sweet and bitter. It was +Miss Laura she was thinking of--Miss Laura who had furnished the +beautiful Camp Fire room for the girls and made them all so warmly +welcome there--who so plainly carried them all in her heart and made +their joys and sorrows, their cares and troubles, her own--as she was +making Lizette Stone's now. How good she had been to Elizabeth, how +patient and gentle with that provoking Sadie, and with careless slangy +Lena Barton and Eva! And to her--Olga thought of the dry stockings and +slippers, the hot broth, and now--the car ordered out on such a night +just for her. The girl's throat swelled, her eyes burned, and the last +vestige of bitterness was washed out of her heart in a rain of hot +tears. + +"If she can do so much for all of us I _can't_ be mean enough to shirk +any longer. I'll see Lizette to-morrow," she vowed, as the car stopped at +her door. She stood for a moment on the steps looking after it before +she went in. It had been only "common humanity" to send the girl home in +the car on that stormy night, so Miss Laura would have said. She did not +guess what it would mean to Olga and through her to other girls--many +others--before all was done. + +Silverstein's was a large department store on Seventh Street. Lizette +Stone, listlessly putting away goods the next day, stopped in surprise +at sight of Olga Priest coming towards her. + +"Almost closing time, isn't it?" Olga said, and added, as Lizette nodded +silently, "I want to speak to you--I'll wait outside." + +In five minutes Lizette joined her. "Do you walk home?" Olga asked. + +"Yes, it isn't far--Ninth Street near T." + +"We're neighbours then. I live on Eleventh." + +"I know. Saw you going in there once," Lizette replied. + +There was little talk between them as they walked. Lizette was +waiting--Olga wondering what she should say to this girl. + +"Well, here's where I hang out." In Lizette's voice there was a reckless +and bitter tone. + +"O--here!" Olga's quick glance took in the ugly house-front with its +soiled "Kensington" curtains--its door ajar showing worn oilcloth in the +hall. + +"Cheerful place--eh?" Lizette said. "Want to see the inside, or is the +outside enough?" + +"I want you to come home to supper with me--will you?" Olga said, half +against her will. + +"Do you mean it?" Lizette's hard blue eyes searched her face. "Take it +back in a hurry if you don't, for I'd accept an invitation from--anybody +to-night, rather than spend the evening here." + +"Of course, I mean it. Please come." Olga laid a compelling hand on the +other girl's arm and they went on down the street. + +"Now you are to rest while I get supper," Olga said as she threw open +her own door. "Here--give me your things." She took Lizette's hat and +coat. "Now you lie down in there until I call you." + +Without a word Lizette obeyed. + +Olga creamed some chipped beef, toasted bread, and made tea, adding a +few cakes that she had bought on the way home. When all was ready, she +stood a moment, frowning at the table. The cloth was fresh and clean, +but the dishes were cheap and ugly. She had never cared before. Now, +for this other girl, she wanted some touch of beauty. But Lizette found +nothing lacking. + +"Everything tastes so good," she said. "You sure do know how to cook, +Olga." + +"Just a few simple things. I never care much what I eat." + +"You'd care if you had to eat at Miss Rankin's table," Lizette declared. + +With a question now and then, Olga drew her on to tell of her life at +Miss Rankin's, and her work at the store. After a little she talked +freely, glad to pour the tale of her troubles into a sympathetic ear. + +"I _hate_ it all--that boarding-house, where nothing and nobody is +really clean, and the store where only the pretty girls or the extra +smart ones ever get on. The pretty girls always have chances, but +me--I'm homely as sin, and I know it; and I'm not smart, and I know +that, too. I shall get my walking ticket the first dull spell, and +then----" + +"Then, what, Lizette?" + +"The Lord knows. It's a hard world for girls, Olga." + +"You've no relatives?" + +"Only some cousins. They're all as poor as poverty too, and they don't +care a pin for me." + +"Is there any kind of work you would really like if you could do it?" + +"What's the use of talking--I can't do it." + +"But tell me," Olga urged. + +"You'll think I'm a fool." + +"No, I will not," Olga promised. + +"It seems ridiculous----" Lizette hesitated, the colour rising in her +sallow cheeks, "but I'd just _love_ to make beautiful white +things--lingerie, you know, like what I sell at the store. It would be +next best to having them to wear myself. I don't care so much about the +outside things--gowns and hats--but I think it would be just heavenly to +have all the underneath things white and lacey, and lovely--don't you +think so?" + +"I never thought of it. You see I don't care about clothes," Olga +returned. "Can you sew, Lizette?" + +Lizette hesitated, then, with a look half shamefaced and half proud, she +drew from her bag a bit of linen. + +"It was a damaged handkerchief. I got it for five cents, at a sale," she +explained. "It will make a jabot." + +"And you did this?" Olga asked. + +Lizette nodded. "I know it isn't good work, but if I had time I could +learn----" + +"Yes, you could--if you had the time and a few lessons. Are your eyes +strong?" + +The other nodded again. "Strong as they are ugly," she flung out. + +"Leave this with me for a day or two, will you, Lizette?" + +"Uh-huh," Lizette returned indifferently. "Give it to you, if you'll +take it." + +"Oh no--it's too pretty. Lizette, you hate it so at Miss Rankin's--why +don't you rent a room and get your own meals as I do?" + +"Couldn't. I'm so dead tired most nights that I'd rather go hungry than +get my own supper. Some girls don't seem to mind being on their feet +from eight to six, but I can't stand it. Sometimes I get so tired it +seems as if I'd rather _die_ than drag through another day of it! And +besides--I don't much like the other boarders at Rankin's, but they're +better than nobody. To go back at night to an empty room and sit there +till bedtime with not a soul to speak to--O, I couldn't stand it. I'd +get in a blue funk and end it all some night. I'm tempted to, as it is, +sometimes." She added, with a miserable laugh that was half a sob, +"Nobody'd care," and Olga heard her own voice saying earnestly, + +"I'd care, Lizette. You must never, _never_ think a thing like that +again!" + +Lizette searched the other's face with eyes in which sharp suspicion +gradually changed into half incredulous joy. "Well," she said slowly, +"if one living soul cares even a little bit what happens to me, I'll try +to pull through somehow. The Camp Fire's the only thing that has made +life endurable to me this past year, and I haven't enjoyed that so +awfully much, for nobody there seems to really care--I just hang on to +the edges." + +"Miss Laura cares." + +"O, in a way, because I belong to her Camp Fire--that's all," returned +Lizette moodily. + +"No, she cares--really," Olga persisted, but Lizette answered only by an +incredulous lift of her thin, sandy brows. + +"I must go now," she said, rising, and with her hands on Olga's +shoulders she added, "You don't know what this evening here has meant to +me. I--was about at the end of my rope." + +"I'm glad you came," Olga spoke heartily, "and you are coming again +Thursday. Maybe I'll have something then to tell you, but if I don't, +anyhow, we'll have supper together and a talk after it." + +To that Lizette answered nothing, but the look in her eyes sent a little +thrill of happiness through Olga's heart. + +Olga carried the bit of linen to Laura the next evening, and told her +what she had learned of Lizette's hard life. + +"Poor child!" Miss Laura said. "I imagined something like this. We must +find other work for her. Perhaps I can get her into Miss Bayly's Art +Store. She would not have to be on her feet so much there, and would +have a chance to learn embroidery if she really has any aptitude for it. +I know Miss Bayly very well, and I think I can arrange it to have +Lizette work there for six months. That would be long enough to give her +a chance." + +"Would she get any pay?" Olga asked. + +"Of course--the same she gets now," Laura returned, but Olga was sure +that the pay would not come out of Miss Bayly's purse. + +Laura went on thoughtfully, "The other matter is not so easily arranged. +Even if we get her a better boarding place, she might be just as lonely +as at Miss Rankin's. Evidently she does not make friends easily." + +"No, she is plain and unattractive and so painfully conscious of it that +she thinks nobody can want to be her friend, so she draws into herself +and--and pushes everybody away," Olga was speaking her thought +aloud--one of her thoughts--the other that had been in her heart since +her talk with Lizette, she refused to consider. But it insisted upon +being considered when she went away. It was with her in her own room +where Lizette's hopeless words seemed to echo and re-echo. Finally, in +desperation she faced it. + +"I _can't_ have her come here!" she cried aloud. "It would mean that I'd +never be sure of an hour alone. She'd be forever running in and out and +I'd feel I must be forever bracing her up--pumping hope and courage into +her. It's too much to ask of me. I'm alone in the world as she is, but +I'm not whining. I stand on my own feet and other people can stand on +theirs. I can't have that girl here and I won't--and that ends it!" But +it didn't end it. Lizette's hopeless eyes, Lizette's reckless voice, +would not be banished from her memory, and when Thursday evening the +girl herself came, Olga knew that she must yield--there was no other +way. + +Lizette paused on the threshold. "You can still back out," she said, +longing and pride mingling in her eyes. "I can get back to Rankin's in +time for my share of liver and prunes." + +Olga drew her in and shut the door. "Your days at Miss Rankin's are +numbered," she said, "that is if you will come here. There's a little +room across the hall you can have if you want it." + +Lizette dropped into a chair, the colour slowly ebbing from her sallow +cheeks. "Don't fool with me, Olga," she cried, "I'm--not up to it." + +"I'm not fooling." + +"But--I don't understand." The girl's lips were quivering. + +Olga went on, "And your days at Silverstein's are numbered too. I showed +your embroidery to Miss Laura, and she has found you a place at Bayly's +Art Store. You can go there as soon as you can leave Silverstein's," she +ended. To her utter dismay Lizette dropped her head on the table and +began to cry. Olga sat looking at her in silence. She did not know what +to do. But presently Lizette lifted her blurred and tear-stained face +and smiled through her tears. + +"You must excuse me this once," she cried. "I'm not tear-y as a general +thing, but--but, I hadn't dared to hope--for anything--and it bowled me +over. I'll promise not to do so again; but O, Olga Priest, I'll never, +_never_ forget what you've done, as long as I live!" + +"It's not I, it's Miss Laura. I couldn't have got you the place." + +"I know, and I'm grateful to Miss Laura, but that isn't half as much as +your letting me come here. I--I won't be a bother, truly I won't. But O, +it will be so heavenly good to be in reach of somebody who _cares_ even +a little bit. You shall not be sorry, Olga--I promise you that." + +"I'm not sorry. I'm glad," Olga said. "Come now and see the room." + +It was a small room--the one across the hall--and rather shabby, with +its matting soiled and torn, its cheap iron bedstead and painted +washstand and chairs. Lizette however was quite content with it. + +"It's lots better than the one I have at Rankin's," she declared. + +But the next day Laura came and saw the room, and then sent word to all +the girls except Lizette to come on Wednesday evening to the Camp Fire +room and bring their thimbles. And when they came she had some soft +curtain material to be hemmed, and some cream linen to be hemstitched. +Many fingers made light work, and all was finished that evening, and an +appointment made with two of the High School girls for the next Monday +afternoon. Then two hours of steady work transformed the bare little +room. There was fresh white matting on the floor with a new rag rug +before the white enamelled bedstead with its clean new mattress, a +chiffonier and washstand of oak, with two chairs, and a tiny round table +that could be folded to save room. The soft cream curtains that the +girls had hemmed shaded the window, and the linen covers were on the +chiffonier and washstand. + +"Doesn't it look fresh and pretty!" Alice Reynolds cried, as she looked +around, when all was done. + +"I'm sure she'll like it," Elsie Harding added. + +"Like it?" Olga spoke from the doorway. "You can't begin to know what it +will mean to her. You'd have to see her room at Rankin's to understand. +But that isn't all. Lizette will believe now that _somebody cares_." + +"O!" Elsie's eyes filled with tears. "Did she think that--that nobody +cared?" + +"She said she was 'most at the end of her rope' the first time she came +to see me." + +"She shall never again feel that nobody cares," Laura said softly. + +"Indeed, no!" echoed Alice, and added, "I'm going to bring down a few +books to put on that table." + +"I'll make a hanging shelf to hold them. That will be better than having +them on the table," Elsie said. + +"And I'll bring some growing plants for the window-sill," Laura +promised. + +"O, I hope she'll just _love_ this room," Elsie cried, when reluctantly +they turned away. + +"She will--you needn't be afraid," Olga assured her. + +But Olga was the only one privileged to see Lizette when she had her +first glimpse of the room. She stopped short inside the door and looked +around her, missing no single detail. Then she turned to Olga a face +stirred with emotion too deep for words. When she did speak it was in a +whisper. "For _me_? Olga, who did it?" + +"Miss Laura, Elsie, and Alice--and we all helped on the curtains and +covers." + +"I just can't believe it. I--I must be dreaming. Don't let me wake up +till I enjoy it a little first," she pleaded. After a moment she added, +"And this all came through the Camp Fire, and my place at Miss Bayly's +too. Olga Priest, I'm a Camp Fire Girl heart and soul and body from now +on. I've been only the shell of one before, but now--now, I've got to +pass this on somehow. I must do things for other girls that have no one +and nothing--as they've done this for me." + +And through Olga's mind floated like a glad refrain, "'Love is the joy of +service so deep that self is forgotten.'" + +Olga was glad--glad with all her heart--for Lizette, and yet that first +evening she sat in her own room dreading to hear the tap on her door +which she expected every moment. At nine o'clock, however, it had not +come, and then she went across and did the knocking herself. + +"Come in, come in," Lizette cried, as she opened her door. + +"I've been expecting you over all the evening," Olga said, "and when you +didn't come I was afraid you were sick--or something." + +Lizette looked at her with a queer little smile. "I know. You sat there +thinking that you'd never have any peace now with me so near; but you +needn't worry. I'm not going to haunt you. I've got a home corner here +all my own, and I know that you are there just across the hall, and +that's enough. It's going to _be_ enough." + +"But I don't want you to feel that way," Olga protested. "I want you to +come." + +"You _want_ to want me, you mean. O, I'm sharp enough, Olga, if I'm not +smart. I know--and I don't mean that you shall ever be sorry that you +brought me here. If I get way down in the doleful dumps some night I'll +knock at your door--perhaps. Anyhow, you're _there_, and that means a +lot to me." + +Almost every evening after that Olga heard light footsteps and voices in +the hall, and taps on Lizette's door. Elsie and Alice were determined +she should no longer feel that "nobody cared," so they were her first +callers, but others followed. Lizette welcomed them all with shining +eyes, and once she cried earnestly, "I just _love_ every one of you +girls now! And I wish I could do something for you as lovely as what you +have done for me." + +"And that's Lizette Stone!" Lena said to Eva after they left. "Who +would ever have thought she'd say a thing like that?" + +For more than a week Olga, alone in her room, listened to the merry +voices across the hall. Then one night, she put aside her work, and went +across again. + +"I've found out that I'm lonesome," she said as Lizette opened the door. +"May I come in?" + +"Well, I _guess_!" and Lizette drew her in and motioned to the bed. "You +shall have a reserved seat there with Bessie and Myra," she cried, "and +we're gladder than glad to have you." + +For a moment sheer surprise held the others silent till Olga exclaimed, +"Don't let me be a wet blanket. If you do I shall run straight back." + +The tongues were loosened then and though Olga said little, the girls +felt the difference in her attitude. She lingered a moment after the +others left, to say, "Lizette, you mustn't stay away any more. I really +want you to come to my room." + +Lizette's sharp eyes studied her face before she answered, "Yes, I see +you do now, and I'll come. I'll love to." + +Back in her own room Olga turned up the gas and stood for some minutes +looking about. Clean it was, and in immaculate order, but bare, with no +touch of beauty anywhere. The contrast with the simple beauty of +Lizette's room made her see her own in a new light. The words of the +Wood Gatherer's "Desire" came into her mind--"Seek beauty." She had not +done that. "Give service." She had given it, grudgingly at first to +Elizabeth, grudgingly all this time to Sadie, grudgingly to Lizette, and +not at all to any one else. Only one part of her promise had she kept +faithfully--to "Glorify work." She had done that, after a fashion. She +drew in her breath sharply. "Lizette is a long way ahead of me. She is +trying to be an all-around Camp Fire Girl. If I'm going to keep up with +her, I must get busy," she said to herself. "Before I can be Miss +Laura's Torch Bearer I've a lot to make up. Here I've been calling Sadie +Page a selfish little beast and all the time I've been as bad as she in +a different way. Well--we'll see." + +She went shopping the next morning. Her purchases did not cost much, but +they transformed the bare room. Cheesecloth curtains at the windows, a +green crex rug on the dull stained floor, two red geraniums, and on the +mantelpiece three brass candlesticks holding red candles. These and a +few pretty dishes were all, but she was amazed at the difference they +made. At six o'clock she set her door ajar, and when Lizette came, +called her in. + +"You are to have supper with me to-night," she said. + +"But I've had my supper. I----" Lizette began--then stopped short with a +little cry, "O, how pretty! Why, your room is lovely now, Olga." + +"You see the influence of example," replied Olga. "Yours is so pretty +that I couldn't stand the bareness of mine any longer." + +"I'm glad." Lizette spoke earnestly. "Isn't it splendid--the way the +Camp Fire ideas grow and spread? They are making me over, Olga." + +Olga nodded. "Take off your things. I'll have supper ready in two +minutes. Did you get yours at the Cafeteria?" + +"Yes, I'm getting all my meals there--ten cents apiece." + +"Ten cents. I know you don't get enough--for that, Lizette Stone." + +Lizette laughed. "It's all I can afford," she said "out of six dollars a +week. When I earn more----" + +"You can't cook for yourself as I do--you haven't room. Lizette, why +can't we co-operate?" + +"What do you mean?" breathlessly Lizette questioned. + +"I mean, take our meals together and share the expense. It won't cost +you more than thirty cents a day, and you'll have enough then." + +"But I can't cook--I don't know how," Lizette objected. + +"I'll teach you. And you've got to learn before you can be a Fire Maker, +you know." + +"Yes--I know," said Lizette slowly, "and I'd like it, but you--Olga, +you'd get sick of it. You're used to being alone. You wouldn't want any +one around every day--you know you wouldn't." + +"It would be better for me than eating alone, and better for you than +the Cafeteria. Come, Lizette, say 'yes.'" + +"Yes, then," Lizette answered. "At least--I'll try it for a month, if +you'll promise to tell me frankly at the end of the month if you'd +rather not keep on." + +"Agreed," said Olga. + +"My! But it will be good to have a change from the Cafeteria!" Lizette +admitted. + +And now, having opened her heart to the sunshine of love, Olga began to +find many pleasant things springing up there. She no longer held Miss +Laura and the girls at arm's length. They were all friends, even Lena +Barton and Eva Bicknell, whom until now she had regarded with scornful +indifference, and Sadie Page, whom she had barely tolerated for +Elizabeth's sake--even these she counted now as friends; and Laura, +noting the growing comradeship--seeing week by week the strengthening of +the bond between the girls, said to herself, joyfully, + +"It was in Olga's heart that the fire of love burst into flame, and it +has leaped from heart to heart until now I believe in all my girls it is +burning--'The love of man to man--the love of man to God.'" + + + + +XV + +AN OPEN DOOR FOR ELIZABETH + + +Sadie Page burst tumultuously into Olga's room one afternoon and hardly +waited to get inside the door before she cried out, "I've thought of +something Elizabeth can do--something splendid." + +"Well," said Olga drily, "if it is something splendid for Elizabeth, +I'll excuse you for coming in without knocking." + +"All right, please excuse me, I forgot," Sadie responded with unusual +good nature, "I was in such a hurry to tell you. It's a way Elizabeth +can earn money at home----Now, Olga Priest, I think you're real mean to +look so!" she ended with a scowl. + +"Look how?" Olga laughed. + +"You know. As if--as if I was just thinking of keeping Elizabeth at +home." + +"But weren't you?" + +"No, I _wasn't_!" Sadie retorted. "At any rate--I was thinking of +Elizabeth too. I was, honest, Olga." + +"Well, tell me," said Olga. + +"Why, you know those Christmas cakes she made?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, she can make them and other kinds to sell in one of the big +groceries. I saw some homemade cakes in Council's to-day that didn't +look half as nice as Elizabeth's and they charged a lot for them." + +Olga nodded thoughtfully. "I shouldn't wonder if you'd hit upon a good +plan, Sadie. But if she does that, you'll have to help her with the work +at home, for she has all she can do now." + +Sadie scowled. She hated housework. "Guess I have plenty to do myself," +she grumbled, "with school and my silver work and all." + +"But your silver work is just for yourself," Olga reminded her, "and +Elizabeth has no time to do anything for herself." + +"Well, anyhow, if she makes lots of cakes she'll have money for +herself." + +"And she's got to have money for herself," Olga said decidedly. "I've +been thinking about that." Sadie wriggled uneasily. She had been +thinking about it too, and that Elizabeth would be eighteen soon, and +free to go out and earn her own living, if she chose. + +"Well, I must go and tell her," she said and left abruptly. + +Elizabeth listened in silence to Sadie's eager plans, but the colour +came and went in her face and her blue eyes were full of longing. + +"O, if I could only do it--if I only _could_!" she breathed. "But I--I +couldn't go around to the stores and ask them to sell for me. I never +could do that!" + +"Well, you don't have to. I'd do that for you. I wouldn't mind it," +Sadie declared. "You just make up some of those spicy Christmas cakes +and some others, a few, you know, just for samples, and I'll take 'em +out for you. I know they'll sell." + +"I--I'm not so sure," Elizabeth faltered. + +Sadie's brows met in a black frown. "You're a regular 'fraid-cat, +'Lizabeth Page!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot. "How do you ever +expect to do _any_thing if you're scared to try! To-morrow's Sat'-day. +Can't you get up early an' make some?" + +It was settled that she should. There was little sleep for Elizabeth +that night, so eager and excited was she, and very early in the morning +she crept down to the kitchen and set to work. Before her usual rising +time, Sadie ran downstairs, buttoning her dress as she went. + +"Have you made 'em?" she demanded, her black eyes snapping. + +"Yes," Elizabeth glanced at the clock, "I'm just going to take them +out." She opened the oven door, then she gasped and her face whitened as +she drew out the pans. + +"My _goodness_!" cried Sadie. "Elizabeth Page--what ails 'em?" + +"O--_O_!" wailed Elizabeth, "I must have left out the baking powder--and +I never did before in all my life!" + +"_Well!_" Sadie exploded. "If this is the way you're going to----" Then +the misery in Elizabeth's face was too much for her. She stopped short, +biting her tongue to keep back the bitter words. + +Elizabeth crouched beside the oven, her tears dropping on the cakes. + +"O, come now--no need to cry all over 'em--they're flat enough without +any extra wetting," Sadie exclaimed after a moment's silence. "You just +fling them out an' make some more after breakfast. I bet you'll never +leave out the baking powder again." + +"I never, never _could_ again," sobbed Elizabeth. + +"O, forget it, an' come on in to breakfast," Sadie said with more +sympathy in her heart than in her words. + +"I don't want any--I couldn't eat a mouthful. You take in the coffee, +Sadie--everything else is on the table." + +"Well, you just make more cakes then. They'll be all right--the next +ones--I know they will," and coffee-pot in hand, Sadie whisked into the +dining-room. + +And the next cakes were all right. Sadie gloated over them as Elizabeth +spread the icing, and added the fancy touches with pink sugar and +citron. + +When she had gone away with the cakes Elizabeth cooked and cleaned, +washed dishes, and swept, but all the time her thoughts followed Sadie. +She dared not let herself hope, and yet the time seemed endless. But at +last the front door slammed, there were flying feet in the hall, and +Sadie burst into the kitchen, flushed and triumphant. + +"O--O Sadie--did you--will they----?" Elizabeth stumbled over the words, +her breath catching in her throat. + +Sadie tossed her basket on the table and bounced into the nearest chair. +"Did I, and will they?" she taunted gaily. "Well, I guess I _did_ and +they _will_, Elizabeth Page!" + +"O, do tell me, Sadie--quick!" Elizabeth begged, and she listened with +absorbed attention to the story of Sadie's experiences, and could hardly +believe that Mr. Burchell had really agreed to sell for her. + +"I bet Miss Laura had been talking to him," Sadie ended, "for he asked +me if I knew her and then said right away he'd take your cakes every +Wednesday and Saturday. _Now_ what you got to say?" + +"N-n-nothing," cried Elizabeth, "only--if I can really, _really_ sell +them, I'll be most too happy to live!" + +All that day Elizabeth went around with a song in her heart. The first +consignment of cakes sold promptly, and then orders began to come in. It +meant extra work for her, but if only she could keep on selling she +would not mind that. And as the weeks slipped away, every Saturday she +added to the little store of bills in her bureau drawer. Even when she +had paid for her materials and Mr. Burchell's commission, and for a girl +who helped her with the Saturday work, there was so much left that she +counted it and recounted it with almost incredulous joy. All this her +very own--she who never before had had even one dollar of her own! O, it +was a lovely world after all, Elizabeth told herself joyfully. + +But after a while she noticed a change in Sadie. She was still +interested in the cake-making, but now it seemed a cold critical +interest, lacking the warm sympathy and delight in it which she had +shown at first. Elizabeth longed to ask what was wrong but she had not +the courage, so she only questioned with her eyes. Maybe by-and-by Sadie +would tell her. If not--with a long sigh Elizabeth would leave it there, +wistfully hoping. So April came and Elizabeth was eighteen years old, +though still she looked two years younger. She did not suppose that any +one but herself would remember her birthday--no one ever had through all +the years. Sadie's glance seemed sharper and colder than usual that +morning, and Elizabeth sorrowfully wondered why. The postman came just +as Sadie was starting for school. He handed her an envelope addressed to +Elizabeth, and she carried it to the kitchen. + +"For _me?_" Elizabeth cried, hastily taking her hands from the +dish-water. She drew from the envelope a birthday card in water-colour +with Laura's initials in one corner. + +"O, isn't it lovely!" she cried. "I never had a +birthday--anything--before. Isn't it beautiful, Sadie?" + +"Uh-huh," was all Sadie's response, but her lack of enthusiasm could not +spoil Elizabeth's pleasure in the gift. Somebody remembered--Miss Laura +remembered and made that just for her, and joy sang in her heart all +day. And in the evening Olga came bringing a little silver pin. +Elizabeth looked at it with incredulous delight. + +"For _me_!" she said again. "O Olga, did you really make this for me?" + +Olga laughed. "Why not?" + +"I--I can't find anything to say--I want to say so much," Elizabeth +cried, her lips quivering. + +Olga leaned over and kissed her. "I just enjoyed making it--for you," +she said. + +She was almost startled at the radiance in Elizabeth's eyes then. "It +has been the loveliest day of all my life!" she whispered. "I----" + +They were in Elizabeth's little room, and now hurried footsteps sounded +on the stairs, and Sadie pushed open the door. + +"That yours?" she demanded, her sharp eyes on the pin. + +Elizabeth held it towards her with a happy smile. "Olga made it for me. +Isn't it lovely?" + +Sadie did not answer, but plumped herself down on the narrow cot. When +Olga had gone, Sadie still sat there, her black eyes cold and +unfriendly. "Don't see why you lugged Olga up here," she began. + +"She asked me to." + +"Humph!" Sadie grunted. + +"Sadie," Elizabeth said, gently, "what is the matter? Have I done +anything you don't like?" + +"I didn't say so." + +"No, but you've been different to me lately, and I don't know why. You +were so nice a few weeks ago--you don't know how glad it made me. I +hoped we were going to be real sisters, but now," she drew a long +sorrowful breath, "it is as it used to be." + +Sadie, swinging one foot, gnawed at a fingernail. Finally, "I helped you +start the cake-making," she reminded. + +"I know--I never forget it," Elizabeth said warmly. + +"You've made a lot of money----" + +"It seems a lot to me--forty-seven dollars--just think of it! I haven't +spent any except for materials." + +"And you'll make more." + +"Yes, but Mr. Burchell says cakes don't sell after it gets hot. He won't +want any after May." + +"That's four or five weeks longer. You'll have enough to get you heaps +of fine clothes," Sadie flung out enviously, with one of her +needle-sharp glances. + +"O--clothes!" returned Elizabeth slightingly. "I suppose I must have a +few--shoes, and a plain hat and a blue serge skirt, and some +blouses--they won't cost much." + +"Then what _are_ you going to do with all that money?" Sadie blurted +out the question impatiently. + +Elizabeth smiled into the frowning face--a beautiful happy smile--as she +answered gently, "I'll tell you, Sadie. I've been longing to tell you +only--only you've held me off so lately. I'm going to send two girls to +Camp Nepahwin for three weeks in August. I'm one of the girls and--you +are the other." + +For once in her life Sadie Page was genuinely astonished and genuinely +ashamed. For a long moment she sat quite still, the colour slowly +mounting in her face until it flamed. Then, all the sharpness gone from +her voice, she stammered, "I--I--Elizabeth, I never _thought_ of such a +thing as you paying for me. I--think you're real good!" and she was +gone. + +Elizabeth looked after her with a smile, all the shadows gone from her +blue eyes. + +One hot evening a week later, Elizabeth and Sadie met Lizette at Olga's +door. She silently led the way to her own room. + +"Olga's sick," she said, dropping wearily down on the bed. + +"What's the matter?" Sadie demanded before Elizabeth could speak. + +"It's a fever. The doctor can't tell yet whether it's typhoid or +malarial, but she's very sick. The doctor has sent a nurse to take care +of her." + +"I wish I could help take care of her," Elizabeth said earnestly. + +"Well, you can't!" Sadie snapped out. "And, anyhow, she doesn't need you +if she has a nurse." + +"But the nurse must sleep sometimes--I could help then. O Lizette, ask +Olga to let me," Elizabeth pleaded. + +"She won't." Lizette shook her head. "Much as ever she'll let me do +anything. I get the meals for the nurse--Olga takes only milk. The nurse +says she can do with only four hours' sleep, and I can see to Olga that +little time." + +"No," Elizabeth said decidedly, "no, Lizette, you have your work at the +shop and the cooking. You mustn't do more than that. I can come after +supper--at eight o'clock--and stay till twelve----" + +"You couldn't go home all alone at midnight--you know you couldn't," +Sadie interrupted. + +"I needn't to. I could sleep in a chair till morning." + +"As to that, you could sleep on the nurse's cot, I guess," Lizette +admitted. "Well, if Olga will let you--I'll ask her." + +But as she started up Elizabeth gently pushed her back. "No, don't ask +her. I'll just come to-morrow night, anyway." + +"Let it go so, then," Lizette answered. "Maybe it will be best, for I'm +pretty well tired out myself with the heat, and worrying over Olga, and +all. I knew she was overworking but I couldn't help it." + +On the way home Elizabeth was silent until Sadie broke out gloomily, "I +s'pose if she don't get better you won't go to the camp, 'Lizabeth." + +"O, _no_, I couldn't go away and leave her sick--of course, I couldn't." + +"Huh!" growled Sadie. "You don't think about _me_, only just about Olga, +and she isn't your sister." + +At another time Elizabeth would have smiled at this belated claim of +relationship, but now she said only, "Olga has been so good to me, +Sadie--I never can forget it--and now when I have a chance to do a +little for her, I'm so _glad_ to do it! I couldn't enjoy the camp if I +left her here sick, but it won't make any difference to you. You can go +just the same." + +Sadie's face cleared at that. "We-ell," she agreed, "I might just as +well go. I couldn't do anything much for Olga if I stayed; and maybe, +anyhow, she'll get well before the tenth. I'm most sure she will." + +"O, I hope so," Elizabeth sighed, but she was not thinking of the camp. + +Anxious weeks followed, for Olga was very sick. Day after day the fever +held her in restless misery, and when at last it yielded to the +treatment, it left her weak and worn--the shadow of her former self. + +Then one morning Miss Laura came, and carried her and the nurse off to +the yacht, and there followed quiet, restful, beautiful days for +Olga--such days as she had never dreamed of. Judge Haven and Jim, and Jo +Barton were on the yacht, but she saw little of any one except Miss +Laura and the nurse, and day by day strength came back to her body as +the joy of life flooded her soul. + +One night sitting on deck in the moonlight, she said suddenly, "Miss +Laura, I'm glad of this sickness." + +"Why?" + +"Because I've learned a big lesson. I've learned why Camp Fire Girls +must 'Hold on to health.' I didn't know before, else I would not have +been so careless--so wicked. I see now that it was all my own fault. I +should not have been sick if I had taken care of myself--if I had held +on to my health as you tried so hard to make me do." + +"Yes, dear, you had to have a hard lesson because you had always had +such splendid health that you didn't know what it would mean to lose +it." + +"Yes," Olga agreed, "I didn't believe that I could get sick--I was so +strong. And down in my heart I really half believed that people need not +be sick--that it was mostly imagination. I shall not be so uncharitable +after this." + +"Girls need not be sick many times when they are," Laura said, "if they +would be more careful and reasonable." + +"I know. I won't go with wet feet any more," Olga promised, "and I won't +work fourteen hours a day and go without eating, as I've been doing this +summer. You see, Miss Laura, when I got the order for all that silver +work, I knew that if I could fill it satisfactorily, it would mean many +other orders. And I did--I finished the last piece the day I was taken +sick. But now the money I got for it will go to the doctor and the +nurse, and I've lost all this time and other work. And that isn't all. +My sickness made it harder for Lizette and Elizabeth. I can't forgive +myself for that. They were so good to me, and so were all the Camp Fire +Girls! Every single one of them came to see me, some of them many times, +and they brought so many things, and all wanted to stay and help--O, +they are the dearest girls!" + +Laura's eyes searched the eyes of the other in the moonlight. + +"Olga, are you happy?" she asked softly. + +Olga caught her breath and for a moment was silent. When she spoke there +was wonder and a great joy in her voice. "O, I am--I am!" she said. +"And--and I believe I have been for a long time, but I never realised +it till this minute. I didn't _want_ to be happy--I didn't mean to +be--after mother died. I shut my heart tight and wouldn't see anything +pleasant or happy in all my world. It was so when I went to the camp +last year. I went just to please Miss Grandis because she had gotten me +into the Arts and Crafts work, and though I wanted to refuse, I +couldn't, when she asked me to go. But I'm so glad now that I went--so +_glad_! Just think if I had not gone, and had never known you and +Elizabeth, and Lizette, and the others! Miss Laura, I can't ever be half +glad enough for all that the Camp Fire has done for me." + +"You will pay it all back--to others, Olga," Laura said gently, her eyes +shining. "When I made you my Torch Bearer, you did not realise the +importance of holding on to health, nor the duty as well as privilege of +being happy. Now you do." + +"O, I do--I _do_!" the girl cried earnestly. + +"So now my Torch Bearer is ready to lead others." + +"I'll be glad to do it now. I want to 'pass on' all that you and the +girls have done for me. It will take a lifetime to do it, though. +And--I'm not half good enough for a Torch Bearer, Miss Laura." + +"If you thought you were good enough I shouldn't want you to be one," +Laura answered. + + + + +XVI + +CAMP FIRE GIRLS AND THE FLAG + + +Miss Laura's girls had been at the camp a few days when Sadie Page one +morning raced breathlessly up to a group of them, crying out, "There's a +big white yacht coming--I saw it from the Lookout. Do you s'pose it's +Judge Haven's?" + +"Won't it be splendid if it is--if it's bringing Miss Laura and Olga!" +Frances Chapin cried. "Could you see the name, Sadie?" + +"No, it was too far off." + +"Let's borrow Miss Anne's glass," cried two or three voices, and Frances +ran off in search of Anne Wentworth. When she returned with the glass, +they all rushed over to the Lookout. The yacht was just dropping anchor +as they turned the glass upon it and Frances cried out, + +"O, it is--it is! I can read the name easily. Here, look!" she +surrendered the glass to Elsie. + +"It _is_ the Sea Gull," Elsie confirmed her, "and they are lowering a +boat already." + +"O, tell us if Miss Laura gets into it, and Olga," cried Lizette. + +"Two men--sailors, I suppose, two girls, and two boys," Elsie announced. + +"Then it's Miss Laura and Olga and Jim and Jo Barton," Frances cried +joyfully. + +[Illustration: A favorite rendezvous at the camp] + +"Let's hurry down to the landing to meet them," Mary Hastings proposed, +and instantly the whole group turned and raced back to camp to leave the +glass, with the joyous announcement, "Miss Laura's coming, and Olga. +We're going to the landing to meet them." And waiting for no response +they sped through the pines to the landing-steps, Elsie snatching up a +flag as she passed her own tent. + +"Let's all go," one of the other girls cried, but Miss Anne said, + +"No, let Miss Laura's girls have the first greeting--they all love her +so! But we might go to the Lookout and wave her a welcome from there." + +"What shall we wave?" some one asked, and another cried, "O, towels, +handkerchiefs--anything. But _hurry_!" and they did, reaching the +Lookout breathless and laughing, to see the yacht resting like a great +bird on the blue water, and the small boat already nearing the point. + +"Get your breath, girls, then--the wohelo cheer," said Miss Anne. + +Two score young voices followed her lead, and as they chanted, the white +banners fluttered in the breeze. Instantly there came a response from +the boat in fluttering handkerchiefs and waving caps, while the girls +below on the landing echoed back the wohelo greeting. + +But when the boat rounded the point the voices of those on the landing +wavered into silence. They were too glad to sing as they saw Laura and +Olga coming back to them--they could only wait in silence. Lizette's +lips were quivering nervously and Elizabeth's blue eyes were full of +happy tears. Even Sadie for once was silent, but she waved her +handkerchief frantically to the two boys who were gaily swinging their +caps. When the boat reached the landing, however, and the girls crowded +about Laura and Olga, tongues were loosened, and everybody talked. + +"How well Olga looks!" Mary cried. + +"Doesn't she? I'm so proud of her for gaining so fast!" Laura laughed. + +"I couldn't help gaining with all she has done for me," Olga said with a +grateful glance. + +"And you've come to stay? Do say you have, Miss Laura," the girls +begged. + +"Of course, we're going to stay--we've been homesick for the camp," +Laura answered. + +"That's splendid. We've missed you so!" they cried. + +"The camp's fine. I'm having the time of my life!" Sadie declared, and +added, "Elizabeth, you haven't said one word." + +"She doesn't need to," Olga put in quickly, her hand on Elizabeth's +shoulder. + +They were climbing the steps now, and at the camp they were greeted with +another song of welcome from the Guardians and the rest of the girls, +and then Laura put Olga into the most comfortable hammock to rest and, +leaving Elizabeth beside her, carried the others off for a talk. + +That night the supper was a festival. The girls had gathered masses of +purple asters with which they had filled every available dish to +decorate the tables, the mantelpiece, and even the tents where the +newcomers were to sleep. Miss Anne had brought to camp a big box of tiny +tapers, and these stuck in yellow apples made a glow of light along the +tables. + +Nobody appreciated all this more than Jim. With his hands in his +pockets he stood looking about admiringly, and finally expressed his +opinion thus: "Gee, but it's pretty! Camp Fire Girls beat the Scouts +some ways, if they ain't so patriotic." + +Instantly there was an outburst of reproach and denial from Miss Laura's +girls. + +"O, come, Jim, that's not fair!" + +"We're _just_ as patriotic as the Scouts!" + +"Boy Scouts can't hold a candle to Camp Fire Girls _any_ way!" + +"We'll put you out if you go back on Camp Fire Girls, Jim." + +Jim, flushed and a little bewildered at the storm he had raised, +instinctively sidled towards Laura, while Jo, close behind him, +chuckled, "Started a hornets' nest that time, ol' feller." + +Laura, her arm about the boy's shoulders, quickly interposed. "We'll let +Jim explain another time. I know he thinks Camp Fire Girls are the +nicest girls there are, don't you, Jim?" + +"Sure!" Jim assented hastily, and peace was restored--for the time. + +But the girls did not forget nor allow Jim to. The next night after +supper they swooped down on him. + +"Now tell us, Jim," Lena Barton began, "why you think Boy Scoots are +more patriotic than we are." + +"'Tisn't Boy _Scoots_--you know it isn't," Jim countered, flushing. + +"O, excuse me." Lena bowed politely. "I only had one letter wrong, and, +anyhow, they do scoot, don't they? Well, Boy Scouts then, if you like +that better." + +"They love the flag better'n you do--_lots_ better!" Jim declared with +conviction. + +"Prove it! Prove it!" cried half a dozen voices. + +"Er--er----" Jim choked and stammered, searching desperately for words. +"You've got an awful nice Camp Fire room at Miss Laura's, but you +haven't even a little teeny flag in it, and Scouts _always_ have a flag +in their rooms--don't they, Jo?" he ended in triumph. + +"You bet they do!" Jo stoutly supported his friend. + +"Ho! That doesn't prove anything. Besides, we'll _have_ a flag when we +go back," Lena asserted promptly. + +"Well, anyhow, girls an' women can't fight for the flag, so of course, +they _can't_ be so patriotic," Jim declared. + +"Can't, eh? How about the women that go to nurse the wounded men?" said +Mary. + +"And the women that send their husbands and sons to fight?" added Elsie. + +"And how about----" began another girl, but Laura's hand falling lightly +on her lips, cut short the question, and then Laura dropped down on the +grass pulling Jim down beside her. Holding his hand in both hers, and +softly patting it, she said, "Sit down, girls, and we'll talk this +matter over. Jim's hardly big enough or old enough to face you all at +once. But, honestly, don't you think there is some truth in what he +says? As Camp Fire Girls, do we think as much about patriotism as the +Scouts do? Elsie, you have a Scout brother, what do you think about it?" + +Elsie laughed but flushed a little too as she answered, "I hate to admit +it, but I don't think we do." + +"Time we did then. We can't have any Boy Scouts getting ahead of us," +Lena declared emphatically. + +Jim, gathering courage from Miss Laura's championship, looked up with a +mischievous smile. "Bet you can't tell about the stars and stripes in +the flag," he said. + +"Can you? How many can?" Miss Laura looked about the group. "Elsie, +Frances--and Mary--I see you can, and nobody else is sure. How does it +happen?" There was a twinkle now in her eyes. "Is there any special +reason for you three being better posted than the others?" + +The three girls exchanged smiling glances, and Elsie admitted +reluctantly, "I think there is--a Boy Scout reason--isn't there, Mary?" +and as Mary Hastings nodded, Elsie went on, "You know my brother Jack is +the most loyal of Scouts, and before he was old enough to be one, he had +learned all the things that a boy has to know to join--and to describe +the flag is one of those things. He discovered one day that I didn't +know how many stars there are on it and how they are arranged, and he +was so dreadfully distressed and mortified at my ignorance that I had to +take a flag lesson from him on the spot--and it was a thorough one." + +"Uh huh!" Jim triumphed under his breath, but the girls heard and there +was a shout of laughter. Over the boy's head Laura's laughing eyes swept +the group. + +"Jim," she said, "will you ask Miss Anne to lend us her flag for a few +minutes?" + +"Won't ours do? Jo'n' I've got one," Jim cried instantly, and as Miss +Laura nodded, he scampered off. + +"I think Jim has won, girls," she said, and then the laughter dying out +of her eyes, added gravely, "Really I quite agree with him. I think +we--I mean our own Camp Fire--have not given as much thought to +patriotism as we ought. There have been so many things for us to talk +about and work for! But we'll learn the flag to-day, and when we go +home, it may be well for us to arrange a sort of 'course' in patriotism +for the coming year. Of all girls in America, those who live in +Washington ought to be the most interested in their own country. We will +all be more patriotic--better Americans--a year from now." + +Jim came running back with a small silk flag. He held it up proudly for +the inspection of the girls, and it was safe to say that they would all +remember that brief object lesson. It was Lena whose eyes lingered +longest on the boy's eager face as he looked at the flag. + +"He does--he really _loves_ it," she said wonderingly to Elsie standing +beside her. "He's right. We girls don't care for it that way--honest we +don't." + +"Maybe not just for the flag," Elsie admitted, "but we care just as much +as boys do for our country. Don't you think we do, Miss Laura?" + +"I'm not sure, Elsie. You see many boys look forward to a soldier's +life, and most of them feel that they may some time have to fight for +their flag--their country--and so perhaps they think more about it than +girls do. And patriotism is made prominent among the Scouts." + +"They always salute the flag wherever they see it," Mary said. + +"Must keep 'em busy in Washington," Lena observed. + +"It does. Jim is forever saluting it when he is out with me," Laura +replied, "but he never seems to tire of it, and I like to see him do +it." + +"The girls salute it in the schools--you know we have Flag Day every +year," Frances added. + +"Yes, and it is a good thing. There is no danger of any of us caring too +much for our country or the flag that represents it. When I catch sight +of our flag in a foreign land I always want to kiss it." + +"Can't we have one in our Camp Fire room when we go back?" Lena asked. + +"We surely will. I'm really quite ashamed of myself for not having one +long ago. We owe something--do we not?--to a going-to-be Boy Scout for +reminding us?" Laura said. + +They admitted that they did. "But, anyhow," Frances Chapin added, "even +if they do think more about the _flag_, I won't admit that Scouts love +their country any more than we Camp Fire Girls do. We are _quite_ as +patriotic as any Boy Scouts." + +"And that's right!" Lena flung out as the group separated. + + + + +XVII + +SONIA + + +"O dear, I did hope it wouldn't be awfully hot when we got back, but it +is," Lizette Stone sighed on the day they returned from camp. "Just +think of the breeze on the Lookout this very minute!" + +Olga glanced over her shoulder with a smile as she threw open her door. +"Let's pretend it's cool here too," she said. "I'm so thankful to be +well and strong again that I'm determined to be satisfied with things as +they are. The camp was lovely and Miss Laura and the girls were dear, +but this is home, and my work is waiting for me, and I'm _able to do +it_. And you have your lovely work too, Lizette, and your home corner +across the hall." + +Lizette looked at her half wondering, half envious, as she slowly pulled +out her hatpins. "I never knew a fever to change a girl as that one +changed you, Olga Priest," she said. + +"Is the change for the better?" + +"Yes, it is, but----" + +"But what?" Olga questioned, half laughing, yet a little curious too. + +[Illustration: "Just think of the Lookout this very minute!"] + +"Well--all is, I can't keep up with you," Lizette dropped unconsciously +into one of her country phrasings. "I can't help getting into the +doleful dumps sometimes, and I can't--I just _can't_ be happy and +contented with the mercury at ninety-three. I guess it's easier for some +folks to stand the heat than it is for others." + +"I think it is," Olga admitted. "Give me your hat. Now take that fan and +sit there by the window till I come back. I'm not so tired as you are, +and I must get something for our supper." + +While she was gone Lizette sat thinking of the Camp with its shady woods +and blue water and wishing herself back there. She had had three weeks +there, but a hateful little imp was whispering in her ear that some of +the girls were staying four or five weeks, and it wasn't fair--it wasn't +_fair_! Of course it was better to earn her living doing embroidery than +in Goldstein's store, but still, some girls didn't have to earn their +living at all, and---- + +The door opened and Olga came breezily in, her hands full of bundles. "I +really ought to have taken a basket," she said. "There's the nicest +little home bakery opened just around the corner--I got bread there." + +"I'm not a bit hungry," Lizette said listlessly, then started up, crying +out, "Well, I am ashamed of myself! I meant to have the table set when +you came back, and I forgot all about it." + +"Never mind--I'll have it ready in a minute. Sit still, Lizette." + +But Lizette insisted upon helping, and her face brightened as Olga set +forth fresh bread, nut cakes, ice cold milk, and a dish of sliced +peaches. + +"Weren't you mistaken?" Olga asked with a laugh. "Aren't you a little +bit hungry?" + +"Yes, I am. How good that bread looks--and the peaches." + +"After all it is rather nice to be back here at our own little table, +isn't it?" Olga asked as they lingered over the meal. + +Lizette looked at her curiously. "Olga Priest, what makes you so happy +to-night?" she demanded. "I never saw you so before." + +"Maybe not quite so happy, but wasn't I happy all the time at camp? +Wasn't I, Lizette?" + +"Yes--yes, you were, only I didn't notice it so much there with all the +girls, and something always going on. You never were so here before. +Sometimes you wouldn't smile for days at a time." + +"I know. I hadn't realised then that I could be happy if I'd let myself +be--and that I had no right not to." + +"No _right_ not to," Lizette echoed with a puzzled frown. "I don't see +_that_. I should think anybody might have the privilege of being blue if +she likes." + +"No." Olga shook her head with decision. "No, not when she has health, +and work that she likes, and friends. A girl has no right to be unhappy +under those conditions--and I've found it out at last. I'm going to keep +my Camp Fire promises now as I never have done." + +After a little silence she went on, "I've such beautiful plans for our +Camp Fire this year! One of them is to learn all we can about our +country. We can't have Jim," laughter flashed into her eyes as she +thought of him, "thinking us less patriotic than his beloved Scouts. And +we can see and learn so much right here in Washington! I'm ashamed to +think how little I know about this beautiful city where I've lived all +my life. I mean to 'know my Washington' thoroughly before I'm a year +older." + +Lizette did not seem much interested in patriotism, but she laughed over +the remembrance of the indignation of the girls at Jim's remark about +their lack of it. "He did look so plucky, facing us all that day, didn't +he!" she said. "And he was scared too at the rumpus he had raised; but +all the same he didn't back down." + +"No, Jim wouldn't back down if he thought he was right no matter how +scared he might be inside." + +"Well," Lizette yawned, "I'm so sleepy I can hardly hold my eyes open. +Let's wash the dishes and then I'm going straight to bed." + +She came in to breakfast the next morning in a different mood. + +"Didn't we have a glorious rain in the night!" she cried gaily. "And it +left a lovely cool breeze behind it. Last night I felt like a wet rag, +but this morning I'm a different creature. It _is_ good to be 'home' +again, Olga, and I don't mind going back to the shop." + +"That's good!" Olga's eyes were shining as they had shone the night +before. + +The two set off together after breakfast, and wished each other good +luck as they parted at the door of Miss Bayly's shop. Lizette came back +at night jubilant. "I got my good luck, Olga," she cried. "I'm to have +eight a week now. Isn't that fine?" + +"Indeed it is--congratulations, Lizette. And I had my good luck +too--better than I dared hope for--two splendid orders. Now we can both +settle down to work and get a nice start before the next Camp Fire +meeting. I'm going to try to keep half a day a week free for our +'learning Washington' trips." + +"Personally conducted?" Lizette laughed. + +"Personally conducted. Your company is solicited, Miss Stone, whenever +your other engagements will permit." + +Over the tea-table they talked of work and Camp Fire plans, and then +Lizette went off to her own "corner" and Olga took up a book. She had +been reading for an hour when her quick ears caught the sound of +hesitating steps outside her door--steps that seemed to linger +uncertainly. Thinking that some stranger might have wandered in from the +street, she rose and quietly slipped her bolt. As she did so there came +a knock at the door. She stood still, listening intently. No one ever +came to her door except the landlady or the Camp Fire Girls, and none of +them would knock in this hesitating fashion. She was not in the least +timid, and when the knock was repeated she opened the door. She found +herself facing a woman, young, in a soiled and wrinkled dress and shabby +hat, and carrying a baby in her arms. + +"Olga--it is Olga?" the woman exclaimed half doubtfully. + +Olga did not answer. She stood staring into the woman's face and +suddenly her own whitened and her eyes widened with dismay. + +"You?" she said under her breath. "_You!_" + +"Yes, I--Sonia. Aren't you going to let me in?" + +For an instant Olga hesitated, then she stood aside, but in that moment +all the happy hopefulness seemed to melt out of her heart. It was as if +a black shadow of disaster had entered the quiet room at the heels of +the draggled woman and her child. + +"This is a warm welcome, I must say, to your own sister," Sonia said in +a querulous tone, as she dropped into the easiest chair and laid the +child across her knees. It made no sound, but lay as it was placed, its +eyes half closed and its tiny face pinched and colourless. + +"I--I can't realise that it is really--you," Olga said. "Where did you +come from, and how did you find me?" + +"I came from--many places. As to finding you--that was easy. You are not +so far from the old neighbourhood where I left you." + +"Yes--you left me," Olga echoed slowly, her face dark with the old +sombre gloom. "You left me, a child of thirteen, with no money, and +mother--dying!" + +"I suppose it was rather hard on you, but you were always a plucky one, +and I knew well enough you would pull through somehow. As to mother, of +course I didn't know--she'd been ailing so long," Sonia defended +herself, "and Dick wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I _had_ to go with +him." + +Olga was silent, but in her heart a fierce battle was raging. She knew +her sister--knew her selfish disregard of the rights or wishes of +others, and she realised that much might depend on what was said now. + +"Well?" Sonia questioned, breaking the silence abruptly. + +Olga drew a long weary breath. "I--I can't think, Sonia," she said. +"You have taken me so by surprise. I don't know what to say." + +"I suppose you're not going to turn us into the street to-night--the +baby and me?" + +"Of course not," Olga answered, and added, "Is the baby sick?" + +Sonia's eyes rested for a moment on the small pallid face, but there was +no softening in them when she looked up again. "She's never been well. +The first one died--the boy. This one cried day and night for weeks +after she came. Dick couldn't stand it, and no wonder. That's the reason +he cleared out--one reason." + +"His own child!" cried Olga indignantly, and as she looked at the +pitiful white face her heart warmed towards the little creature, She +held out her hands. "Let me take her." + +Sonia promptly transferred the baby to her sister's arms, and rising, +crossed to the small sleeping-room. + +"You're pretty well fixed here, with two rooms," she remarked. + +"It's hardly more than one--the bedroom is so small." + +"What do you do for a living?" Sonia demanded. + +Olga told her. + +"Hm. Any money in it?" + +"I make a living, but I had a long sickness last summer and it took all +I had and more to pay the bills." + +"O well," replied Sonia carelessly, "you'll earn more. You look well +enough now." She stretched her arms and yawned. "I'm dead tired. How +about sleeping? That single bed won't hold the three of us." + +"You can sleep there--I'll sleep on the floor to-night. There's no +other way," Olga answered. + +"All right then. I'll get to bed in a hurry," and taking the child from +her sister, Sonia undressed it as carelessly as if it had been a doll. +The baby half opened its heavy eyes and whimpered a little, but did not +really awaken. + +When Sonia and the child were in bed, Olga went across to Lizette's +room. Lizette's welcoming smile vanished at sight of the stern set face, +and she drew Olga quickly in and shut the door. + +"O, what is it? What has happened, Olga?" she cried anxiously. + +"My sister has come with her baby. I don't know how long she will stay." +Olga spoke in a dull lifeless voice. "I came to tell you, so that you +could get your breakfast somewhere else. You wouldn't enjoy having it +with me--now." + +"O Olga, I'm so sorry--so _sorry_!" Lizette cried, her hands on her +friend's shoulders, her voice full of warm sympathy. + +"I know, Lizette," Olga answered, a quivering smile stirring for an +instant the old hard line of her set lips. Then she turned away, +forgetting to say good-night. When the door closed behind her, Lizette's +eyes were full of tears. + +"O, it's a shame--a shame!" she said aloud. "To think how happy she was +only last night, and now--now she looks as she did a year ago before +Elizabeth went to the camp. O, I wonder why that sister had to come +back!" + +Lizette lay awake long that night, her heart full of sympathy for her +friend, and Olga, lying on her hard bed on the floor, did not sleep at +all. She went out early to the market, and coming back, prepared +breakfast, but when she called her sister, Sonia answered drowsily: + +"I'm too tired to get up, Olga. Bring me some coffee and toast here, +will you?" + +Olga carried her a tray, and Sonia ate and drank and then turned over +and went to sleep again, and Olga, having washed the dishes, went off to +the school. All day she worked steadily, forcing back the thoughts that +crowded continually into her mind; but when she turned homewards the +dark thoughts swooped down upon her like a flock of ravens, blotting out +all her happy hopes and joyous plans, for she knew--only too well she +knew--what she had to expect if Sonia remained. + +"Well, you've come at last!" was her sister's greeting. "I hope you've +brought something nice for supper. I'm nearly starved. And you didn't +leave half enough milk for the baby." + +"I left plenty for your dinner," Olga answered, "and I thought you could +get more milk for the baby if you wanted it." + +"Get more! How could I get it without money? And you didn't leave me a +penny," Sonia complained. + +Olga brought out a bottle of malted milk. "That will do for to-night, +won't it?" she said, trying to speak cheerfully. + +"I don't know anything about this stuff." Sonia was reading the label +with a scowl. "You'll have to fix it; and do hurry, for she's been +fretting for an hour." + +Without a word, Olga prepared the food and handed it to her sister; +then she set about getting supper; but when it was ready she felt +suddenly too tired to eat. Sonia ate heartily, however, remarking with a +glance at Olga's empty plate, "I suppose you got a good dinner down +town." + +"I haven't eaten a mouthful since breakfast," Olga told her wearily. + +"O well," Sonia returned, "some folks don't need much food, but I do. If +I don't have three solid meals a day I'm not fit for anything." Then +looking at the baby lying on a pillow in a chair beside her, she added, +"Really she seems to like that malted stuff. You'd better bring back +another bottle to-morrow. There isn't much left in this one." + +"Isn't that my dress you have on?" Olga asked suddenly. + +"Yes, I had to have something fresh--mine was so mussed and dirty," +Sonia replied lightly. "Lucky for me we're about the same size." + +"But not lucky for me," was Olga's thought. + +For a week things went on so--Sonia occasionally offering to wash the +dishes, but leaving her sister to do everything else. Then one night +Olga found her best suit in a heap on the closet floor. Picking it up +she spoke sharply. "Sonia, have you been wearing this suit of mine?" + +"Well, what if I have? You needn't look so savage about it!" Sonia +retorted. "I have to have something decent to wear on the street, don't +I?" + +"Not if you have nothing decent of your own," Olga flashed back. "Sonia, +you have no _right_ to wear my things so--without asking!" + +With a provoking smile Sonia responded, "I knew better than to ask. I +knew you'd make a fuss about it. If you don't want me to wear your +clothes why don't you give me money to buy something decent for myself? +Then I wouldn't need to borrow." + +Olga's thoughts were in such an angry whirl that for a moment she dared +not trust herself to speak. She shook out the suit and hung it up, then +she went slowly across the room and sat down facing her sister. + +"Sonia," she began, "we can't go on in this way--I cannot endure it. Now +let us have a plain understanding. You came here of your own choice--not +on my invitation. What are your plans? Do you mean to stay on here +indefinitely?" + +"Why, of course. Where else should I stay?" + +"Then," said Olga decidedly, "you must help pay our expenses. You are +well and strong. Why should you expect me to support you?" + +"Why? Because you have a trade and I have not, for one reason. And +besides, there's the baby--I can't leave her to go out to work." There +was a note of triumph in Sonia's voice. + +"You could get work to do at home--sewing, embroidery, knitting--or +something." + +"'Or something!'" There was fretful impatience now in Sonia's tone. "I +hate sewing--any kind of sewing. You know I always did." + +"Then what will you do?" + +Sonia sat looking down in sulky silence at the baby. + +Olga went on, "If there is no work you can do at home, you must find +something outside. You can go into a store as you did before you were +married." + +"And I guess," Sonia broke out angrily, "if you'd ever stood behind a +counter from eight in the morning to six at night, you'd know how nice +_that_ is! You earn enough. I think it's real mean and stingy of you to +grudge a share of it to this poor sick baby--and me. I do so!" + +"I don't grudge anything to the baby, Sonia, though I do think it is +your business to provide for her, not mine. But I say again it is not +right for me to have to support you, and I am not willing to do it. It +is best to speak plainly once for all." + +"Well, I should say you _were_ speaking plainly," Sonia flung out with +an unpleasant smile. She rocked with a quick motion, her brows drawn +into a frown. "How can I go into a store, even if I could get a place? I +couldn't take the baby with me," she muttered. + +"I could bring my work home--most of it--and you could leave the baby +with me." + +"Ah ha! I knew it. I knew you could do your work here if you wanted to," +Sonia triumphed, pointing to the bench in the corner. "You just don't +want to stay here with me." Olga made no denial and her sister went on +in a complaining tone, "Anyhow I'd like to know how I'm going to get a +place anywhere when I've no decent clothes. You know it makes all the +difference how one is dressed." + +"That is true," Olga admitted, "but, Sonia, I cannot buy you a suit. I +haven't the money." + +"You could borrow it." + +Olga's face flushed. "I've never borrowed a cent in my life or bought +_any_thing on credit, except--mother's coffin," she said passionately. +"And I did night work till I paid for that. I cannot run in debt. I +_will_ not!" + +Sonia shrugged her shoulders. "Well then, if you want me to get a +place, you'll just have to let me wear that suit of yours that you are +so choice of." + +Olga was silent. It was true that Sonia's chance of securing employment +would be small if she sought it in the shabby clothes which she had. But +Olga needed that suit. The money which would have bought a new one had +paid her doctor's bill. Still--the important thing was to get Sonia to +work. "I suppose," she said slowly, "I shall have to let you wear it, +but, Sonia, you _must_ realise how it is, and do your best to find a +place soon. Will you do that?" + +"Why, of course," returned Sonia with the light laugh that always +irritated her sister. "You don't suppose I like being dependent on you, +do you?" + +"I don't think you'd mind, if I would give you money whenever you want +it." + +Again Sonia laughed. "But that's not imaginable, you know," she answered +airily. "It's like drawing eyeteeth to get a dollar out of you. You're a +perfect miser, Olga Priest." + +Olga let that pass. "I had intended to keep my suit in Lizette's closet +after this, but I will leave it here if you will promise to begin +to-morrow to look for work. Will you promise?" + +"You certainly are the limit!" Sonia cried impatiently. "I believe you +grudge me every mouthful I eat, and the baby her milk too--poor little +soul!" She caught up the baby and kissed it. + +"Will you promise, Sonia?" Olga repeated. + +Sonia dropped the baby on her lap again. "Of _course_ I promise. I told +you so before. Now for pity's sake give me a little peace!" she +exclaimed. + + + + +XVIII + +THE TORCH UPLIFTED + + +So the next day Olga brought home her work, and Sonia, wearing not only +her sister's best suit but her hat, shoes, and gloves as well, set off +down town. She departed with a distinctly holiday air, tossing from the +doorway a kiss to the baby and a good-bye to Olga. But Olga cherished +small hope of her success. She felt no confidence in her sister's +sincerity, and did not believe that she really wanted to find work. + +For once the baby was awake--usually she seemed half asleep, lying where +she was put, and only stirring occasionally with weak whimpering cries. +But this morning the blue eyes were open, and Olga stopped beside the +chair in which the baby was lying and looked down at the small face, so +pathetically grave and quiet. + +"You poor little mortal," she said, "I wonder what life holds for +you--if you live. I almost hope you won't, for it doesn't seem as if +there's much chance for you." + +The solemn blue eyes stared up at her as if the baby too were wondering +what chance there was for her. Olga laid her face for a moment against +one little white cheek; then pulling out her bench she set to work. + +At twelve o'clock Sonia came back. "O dear!" she exclaimed with a swift +glance around the room, "I hoped you'd have dinner ready, Olga. I'm +tired to death." + +Without a word Olga put aside her work and went to the gas stove. Sonia +pulled off her shoes--Olga's shoes--and took off Olga's hat, and rocked +until the meal was ready. + +"What luck did you have?" Olga inquired when they were at the table. + +"Not a bit. I tell you, Olga, you're a mighty lucky girl to have that +work to do." She nodded towards the bench. + +Olga ignored that. "Where did you try?" she asked. + +"Well, I tried at Woodward & Lothrop's." Sonia's tone was distinctly +sulky. "They hadn't any vacancy--or anyhow they said so." + +"They always have a long waiting-list, I know. Did you leave your name?" + +"No, I didn't. What was the use with scores ahead of me?" + +"And where else did you try?" + +"I didn't try _any_where else!" Sonia said with a defiant lift of her +chin. "You needn't think, Olga, that you can drive me like a slave just +because I am staying with you. I'm going to take my time about this +business, and don't you forget it!" + +Olga waited until she could speak quietly; then she said, "Sonia, there +is one thing you've got to understand. I _must_ have peace. I cannot do +my work if there is to be discord and friction all the time between you +and me." + +"It's your own fault," Sonia retorted. "I'm peaceful enough if I'm let +alone. I let you alone." + +"But, Sonia, don't you see that we can't go on this way?" Olga pleaded. +"Don't you feel that you ought to pay half our expenses if you stay with +me?" + +"No, I don't. Why should I pay half?" Sonia demanded. "Your rent is no +higher because I am here." + +"No, but I have to sleep on the floor, and it is not very restful as you +would find if you tried it once." + +"Well, why don't you buy a cot then? You could get one for two dollars." + +"I need the two dollars for other things," Olga answered wearily. "Do +you mean, Sonia, that you are not going to look for a place anywhere +else?" + +"O, I'll look--but I won't be hurried about it," Sonia declared moodily. + +"Well," Olga spoke with deliberation, "if that is your attitude, there +is but one thing for me to do, and that is to go away from here." + +"Olga! You couldn't be that _mean_!" Sonia sat up straight and stared +with startled eyes at the grave face opposite her. + +"Think, Sonia," said Olga in a low voice, though her heart was beating +furiously, "how it would seem to you if I should refuse to work and +expect you to support me." + +"That's different," Sonia muttered sullenly. + +"How is it different?" + +"Because you've got your work--I haven't any." + +"But you might have if you would." + +"Much you know about it! Did you ever try to find a place in a store?" + +"When I was thirteen and you left mother and me"--Olga's voice was very +low now, but it thrilled with bitter memories--"I walked the streets for +three long days hunting for work, and I found it at last in a laundry +where I stood from seven in the morning till six at night, with only +fifteen minutes at noon. And I stayed there while mother lived, going +back to her to care for her through those long dreadful nights of +misery. That is what I know about hard work, Sonia!" + +It was Sonia's turn now to be silent. There was something in Olga's +white face and blazing eyes that stilled even her flippant tongue. For a +moment her thoughts drifted back, and perhaps for the first time she +fully realised what her going then had meant to the little sister upon +whose shoulders she had left the heavy burden. But she banished these +unpleasant memories with a shrug. "O well, all that's past and gone--no +use in raking it up again," she declared. + +"No, no use," Olga admitted. "But, Sonia, I want you to realise that I +mean just what I say. You have come here of your own accord. If you stay +you must share our expenses. If you will not, I surely shall go away, +and leave you to pay all yourself." + +Seeing that her sister was determined, Sonia suddenly melted into weak +tears. "You are so hard, Olga!" she sobbed. "I don't believe you have +any heart at all." + +"Maybe not," was the grim response. "I've thought sometimes it was +broken--or frozen--five years ago." + +"You keep harking back to that!" Sonia moaned. "I'm not the first girl +that has gone away with the man she loved. You have no sympathy--you +make no allowances. And I didn't realise how sick mother was. If I +had----" + +"If you had," Olga interrupted, "you would have done exactly the same. +But let that pass. Are you going to give me the promise that I ask?" + +"What do you want me to promise?" Sonia evaded. + +"I want you to promise that you will go out every week day and look for +work--that you will keep trying until you do find it. Will you?" + +"It seems I can't help myself." Sonia's voice was still sulky. + +"Will you? I must have your promise," Olga insisted, and finally Sonia +flung out an angry, + +"Yes!" + +Thereafter Olga worked at home and her sister went out morning or +afternoon--sometimes both; but she found no position. + +"They all want younger girls--chits of sixteen or seventeen," she +complained, "or else those who have had large experience. They won't +give me a chance." + +Olga crowded down her doubts. Perhaps it was all true--perhaps Sonia +really had honestly tried, but the doubts would return, for she felt +that her sister was quite content to let things remain as they were as +long as Olga made no further protest. But others were not content with +things as they were. Elizabeth was not, nor Lizette. Laura met Lizette +on the street one day and learned all that the girl could tell her of +Olga's trouble. + +"She's so changed!" Lizette said, her eyes filling. "When we came home +she was so happy, and so full of plans for Camp Fire work, and now--now +she takes no interest in it at all. She won't talk about it, or hardly +listen when I talk." + +"I must see her," Laura said. "I'll take you home now," and when they +reached the house, Lizette ran eagerly up the stairs to give Miss +Laura's message. + +"I've come to invite you to another tea party--with Jim and me," Laura +said when Olga appeared. "You will come--to-morrow night?" + +"Thank you, but I can't," the girl answered gravely. + +"Why can't you, Olga? I want you very much," Laura urged. + +"My sister is with me now. I cannot leave her." + +"But just this once--please, Olga." + +Laura's eyes--warm, loving, compelling--looked into Olga's, dark, +sombre, and miserable; and suddenly with a little gasping sob the girl +yielded because she knew if she stood there another minute she would +break down. + +"I'll--come," she promised, and without another word turned and hurried +back into the house. + +Laura was half afraid that she would not keep her promise, but at six +o'clock she appeared. Jim fell upon her with a gleeful welcome, and she +tried to answer gaily, but the effort with which she did it was evident, +and earlier than usual Laura took the boy off to bed. + +"Something is troubling Olga," she whispered as she tucked him in, "and +I'm going to try to find a way to help her." + +"You will," he said confidently. "You're the best ever for helping +folks," and he pulled her face down to give one of his rare kisses. + +Laura, going back to the other room, drew the girl down beside her. +"Now, child," she said, her voice full of tenderest persuasion, "let us +talk over your problems and find the way out." + +For a moment the old proud reserve held the girl, but it melted under +the tender sympathy in the eyes looking into hers. She drew a long +breath. "It seems somehow wrong to talk about it even to you," she said. +"Sonia is my sister." + +"I know, dear, but sisters are not always--sisters," Laura replied, "and +you are very much alone in the world. I am more truly your sister--am I +not, Olga--your elder sister who loves you and wants to help?" + +"O yes, yes!" the girl cried. "But I've felt I must not tell _any_ +one--even you--and I've crowded it all down in my heart until----" + +"Until you are worn out with the strain of it all," Laura said as Olga +paused. "Now tell me the whole just as if I were your sister in very +fact." + +And Olga told it all, from Sonia's unexpected arrival that September +night to the present--of the failure of her efforts to get her sister to +do some kind of work, and of Sonia's constant demands for money and +clothes. + +"Do you think she has really tried to get a place in a store, Olga?" + +"I don't know. She says she has, but I can't feel that she really wants +to do anything, or that she will ever find a place as long as I let her +stay on with me. Of course I could support her, though it would not be +easy, for she is hard on clothes. She doesn't take care of them and she +wears them out much faster than I do. She has almost worn out my best +shoes already, and my gloves, as well as my hat and suit, and she uses +my handkerchiefs and--and everything, just as if they were her own. I +can't earn enough to clothe her and keep myself decent." She glanced +down at the old serge skirt she wore. "Miss Laura, tell me--what shall I +do? Would it be right for me to leave her? The continual fret and worry +of it all are wearing me out." + +"I know it, dear--that is why I felt you must come and talk it all over +with me." + +Olga went on, "It isn't only a matter of money--and clothes, but I have +_nothing_ left. If I go out evenings--even across to Lizette's room--she +wants to go too, or else she goes off somewhere as soon as I am out of +sight, and leaves the baby shut up all alone. That's why I can't go +anywhere--not even to the Camp Fire meetings. And, O Miss Laura, I was +so happy when I came back from camp--I had so many lovely plans for Camp +Fire work! I did mean to be a good Torch Bearer--I _did_!" + +"I know you did." + +"And now it's all spoilt. I can't do a single bit of Camp Fire work," +she ended sadly. + +"Olga," Laura's arm was around the girl's shoulders, her voice very low +and tender, "you say that now you cannot do a single bit of Camp Fire +work?" + +Olga looked up in surprise. "How can I--when I can't be with the girls +at all, nor attend the meetings?" + +"Do you know what I think is the best Camp Fire service the girls have +done? It is the work in their own homes. Mrs. Bicknell says that Eva is +getting to be a real comfort to her. She helps with the housework and +the younger children as she never used to do, and her influence is +making the younger ones so much easier to manage." + +"But, Miss Laura, I don't see how that is _Camp Fire_ work," Olga said. + +"Don't you?" Very softly Laura repeated, "'Love is the _joy of service_ +so deep that self is forgotten.' And isn't the home the place above all +others where Camp Fire Girls should render service?" + +"I--never--thought of it--that way," Olga said very slowly. + +"But isn't it so?" Laura persisted. "Think now." + +"Yes--of course it is so. Miss Laura, it will--it _will_ make it easier +to think of it as Camp Fire service, for I did so hate to be out of it +all--all the Camp Fire work, I mean. I'll try to think of it that way +after this. And--and I guess there isn't any way out. I suppose I ought +not to long so for a way out, if I am going to be a faithful Torch +Bearer." She made a brave attempt to smile. + +"There is a way out--I am sure of it, but we may not find it just at +once. Meantime you have a great opportunity, Olga. Don't you see? It is +easy to be happy as you were in August at the camp, when you were +growing stronger every day, and had just begun to realise what Camp Fire +might mean to you in your service for and with the girls, and their love +for you. Once you had opened your heart, you could not help being happy. +But now it is different. Now you must be happy not because of, but in +spite of, circumstances. And so if you keep the law of the Camp Fire to +give service--a service that it is very hard for you to give--and to be +happy in spite of the trying things in your life--don't you see how much +more your happiness will mean--how much deeper and stronger and finer +it will be?" + +"Yes, I see." + +"And the girls will see too, Olga. You know how quick they are. You +could not deceive them if you tried--Lena, Sadie, Louise Johnson--they +will all be watching you--weighing you; and if they see that, in spite +of the hard things, you are really and truly happy--that you have really +found the 'joy in service so deep that _self is forgotten_'--don't you +see how much stronger your influence over them will be--how immensely +stronger?" + +Slowly, thoughtfully, Olga nodded, her eyes on the glowing embers in the +fireplace. + +"So all these things that are making your life now so hard, are your +great opportunity, dear," the low voice went on. "If in spite of all, +you can hold high the torch of love and happiness, every girl in our +Camp Fire will gladly follow her Torch Bearer." + +Olga looked up, and now her eyes were shining. "_You_ are the real Torch +Bearer, Miss Laura!" she cried. "You have shown me the light to-night +when I didn't think there was any." + +"I've shown you how to keep your torch burning--that is all. Now you +must hold it high to light the way for others; for you know, dear, there +are others in our Camp Fire who are stumbling in dark and stony +pathways, and we--you and I--must help them too, to find the lighted +way." + +"O, I'll try, Miss Laura, I will," Olga promised, and in her voice now +there was determination as well as humility. + + + + +XIX + +CLEAR SHINING AFTER DARKNESS + + +Sonia was an adept in thinking up remarks that carried a taunt or a +sting, and she had one ready to greet her sister that night on her +return; but as she looked up, she saw in Olga's face something that held +back the provoking words trembling on her tongue. Instead she said, half +enviously, "You look as if you'd had a fine time. What you been doing?" + +"Nothing but having a firelight talk with Miss Laura. That always does +me good." + +"Hm!" returned Sonia. She wondered what kind of a talk it could have +been to drive away the sullen gloom that had darkened her sister's face +for days, and bring that strange shining look into her eyes. Sonia +shrugged her shoulders. At least, Olga wouldn't hound her about finding +work--not while she had that look in her eyes--and, with a mind at ease, +Sonia went off to bed. + +She went out the next morning, but came back in the middle of the +afternoon in a gay mood. "I didn't find any place," she announced, "but +I had a good dinner for once. I met--an old friend." + +Something in her voice and her heightened colour awakened an indefinite +suspicion in Olga's mind. "Who was it? Any one I know?" she asked. + +Sonia made no reply. She had gone into the bedroom to put away her hat +and jacket. When she came back she spoke of something else, but all that +evening there was a curious air of repressed excitement about her. + +"Oh, I forgot--the postman gave me a letter for you. It's in my bag," +she exclaimed later, and bringing it from the other room, tossed it +carelessly into her sister's lap. + +Olga read it and handed it back. "It concerns you. O, I do hope you'll +get the place," she said. + +The note was from Miss Laura to say that the manager of one of the large +department stores had promised to employ Sonia if she applied at once. + +"Isn't that fine!" Olga cried. + +"O--perhaps," Sonia returned with a chilling lack of enthusiasm. + +"O Sonia, don't act so about it," Olga pleaded. "You know you must get +something to do. You will go to-morrow and see the manager, won't +you--after Miss Laura has taken so much trouble for you?" + +"For _me_!" There was a sneer in Sonia's voice. "Much she cares for me. +She did it for you--you know she did. You needn't pretend anything +else." + +"I don't pretend--anything," Olga said, the brightness dying out of her +face. + +In the morning she watched her sister with intense anxiety, but she +dared not urge her further, and Sonia seemed possessed by some imp of +perversity to do everything in her power to prolong Olga's suspense. She +stayed in bed till the last minute, dawdled over her breakfast, insisted +upon giving the baby her bath--a task which she usually left to her +sister--and when at last she was ready to go out it was nearly noon. + +"You'll have to give me money to get something to eat down town, Olga," +she said then. "It will be noon by the time I get to that store, and I +can't talk business on an empty stomach. I'd be sure to make a bad +impression if I did. Half a dollar will do." + +With a sigh Olga handed her the money. Sonia took it with a mocking +little laugh, and was gone at last. + +"O, I wonder--I _wonder_ if she will really try to get the place," Olga +said to herself as the door closed. She set to work then, but her +restless anxiety affected her nerves and the work did not go well. The +baby too fretted and required more attention than usual. As the day wore +on Olga began to worry about the baby--her small face was so pinched, +and the blue shadows under her eyes were more noticeable than usual; so +it was with an exclamation of relief that, opening the door in response +to a knock in the late afternoon, she saw the nurse who had taken care +of her in the summer. + +"O, I'm so glad it's you, Miss Kennan!" she cried. "Do come in and tell +me what ails this baby." + +"A _baby_! Whose is it?" the nurse asked; but as she looked at the +child, she forgot her question. "The poor little soul!" she exclaimed. +Then with a quick sharp glance at the girl, "What have you been giving +it?" + +"Giving it?" Olga echoed. "Why, nothing except her food." + +"What kind of food--milk?" + +"Milk, and this." Olga brought a bottle of the malted food. + +"That's all right. Let me see some of the milk," the nurse ordered. + +She looked at the milk, smelt it, tasted it. "That seems all right too," +she declared. "And you've put nothing--no medicine of any sort--in her +food?" + +"Why, of course not." + +"Do you prepare her food always?" + +"Not always. Her mother--my sister--fixes it some times." + +"Ah!" said the nurse. + +"What do you mean, Miss Kennan? What is the matter with the baby?" + +"She's been doped," answered the nurse shortly. "Soothing syrup or +something probably, to keep her quiet. Sleeps a lot, doesn't she?" + +"Yes. She never seems really awake. O Miss Kennan, I never knew----" + +"I see. Well, you'll have to know now. Find out what has been given her, +and fix all her food after this, yourself. Can you?" + +"I don't know. I'll try to." + +"If you don't, she won't need food much longer," said the nurse. + +"O, how can any one be so wicked!" cried Olga. + +"It isn't wickedness--it's ignorance mostly--laziness sometimes, when a +mother doesn't want to be troubled with the care of a baby. Probably +this one had an overdose this morning." + +Olga stood silently thinking. Yes, Sonia had given the baby her bottle +that morning, and always gave it to her at night. She went into the +bedroom and searched the closet and the bed. Sonia usually made the bed. +Under the pillow Olga found a bottle which she handed without a word, +to the nurse. Miss Kennan nodded. + +"That's it," she said briefly. + +Opening the window Olga flung the bottle passionately into the street. + +"Can't you do anything to--to counteract it?" she questioned, her face +as white as the child's. + +"I'll bring you something," the nurse said, "and now you must stop +worrying. You can't take proper care of this baby if you are in a white +heat--she'll feel the mental atmosphere. I wish I could take her home +with me to-night." + +"You can. I wish you would. I'd feel safer about her," said Olga. + +"And her mother?" the nurse questioned with a searching look. + +"I won't tell her where you live. You can bring the baby back in the +morning if she's better--if not, keep her till she is. I'll pay +you--when I can." + +"This isn't a pay-case," the nurse said in her crisp way, "it's a case +of life-saving. Then I'll take her away now, before--anybody--comes to +interfere." + +An hour later Sonia came home. In her absorption over the baby, Olga had +quite forgotten about Laura's note, and she asked no questions. That +puzzled Sonia. + +"What's happened?" she demanded abruptly. "You look as if you'd seen a +ghost." + +"I feel as if I had," Olga answered gravely. + +"What do you mean, Olga?" + +"The baby is sick." + +"The baby?" Sonia cast a swift glance about, then hurried to the +bedroom. "Where is she? What have you done with her?" she cried. + +"Sonia, a nurse came here this afternoon, and she said some one had +been poisoning the baby with soothing syrup." + +"Poisoning her!" Sonia echoed under her breath. + +"She had had an overdose," said Olga. "O Sonia, how _could_ you give her +that dangerous stuff?" + +"How'd I know it was dangerous? An old nurse told me it was harmless," +Sonia defended herself, but the colour had faded out of her face and her +eyes were full of terror. + +Olga told her what the nurse had said. "I asked her to take the baby +home with her to-night. I knew that she would take better care of her +than we could," she ended. + +Sonia was too frightened to object. "I didn't know. Of course I wouldn't +have given her the stuff if I had known," she said again and again, and +finally to turn her thoughts to something else, Olga asked about the +place. + +"Yes, they took me. I am to begin Monday," Sonia answered briefly. + +Neither of them slept much that night, and immediately after breakfast +Olga hurried over to Miss Kennan's. The nurse met her with a smile. + +"She's better--she'll pull through--and she's a darling of a baby, +Olga," she said. "But you'll have to watch her closely for a while. That +deadly stuff has weakened her so!" + +"O, I will, I will!" Olga promised. A great love for the little creature +filled her heart, as she stooped to kiss her. + +For a month after this, things went better. Sonia was at the store from +eight to six, and Olga in her quiet rooms, worked steadily except when +the baby claimed her attention. The baby wanted more and more attention +as the days went by. She no longer lay limp and half unconscious, but +awoke from sleep, laughing and crowing, to stretch and roll and kick +like any healthy baby. She took many precious moments of Olga's time, +but Olga did not grudge them. In that one day of fear and dread, the +baby had established herself once for all in the girl's heart. If things +could only go on as they were--if Sonia would earn her own clothes even, +and be content to stay on and leave the baby to her care, Olga felt that +she could be quite happy. But she had her misgivings in regard to Sonia. +There was about her at times an air of mystery and of suppressed +excitement that puzzled her sister. She spent many evenings out--with +friends, she said, but she never told who the friends were. Still Olga +was happy. Her work, her baby (she thought of it always now as hers), +and the Camp Fire friends--these filled her days, and she put aside +resolutely her misgivings in regard to her sister, worked doubly hard to +pay the extra bills, and endured without complaint the discomfort of her +crowded rooms where Sonia claimed and kept the most and best of +everything. There was a cheery old lady in the room below--an old lady +who dearly loved to get hold of a baby, and with her Olga left her +little niece on Camp Fire nights, and when she went to market or to the +school. The girls began to drop in again evenings, now that Sonia was so +seldom there, and Olga welcomed them with shining eyes. The baby soon +had all the girls at her feet. They called her "The Camp Fire Baby" and +would have adopted her forthwith, but Olga would not agree to that. + +"You can play with her and love her as much as you like, but she's my +very own," she told them. + +But with her delight in the child was always mingled a haunting fear +that Sonia would some day snatch her up and disappear with her as +suddenly as she had come. + +It was in December that the blow fell. Sonia had not come back to +supper, and Olga left the baby with old Mrs. Morris, and set off with +Lizette for the Camp Fire meeting. It was a delightful meeting, and Olga +enjoyed every minute of it, and the walk home with Elizabeth afterwards, +while Sadie followed with Lizette. + +"Come down soon and see my baby--and me," she said, as Elizabeth and +Sadie turned off at their own corner, and she went on with Lizette. + +Before she could knock at Mrs. Morris's door, it was opened by the old +lady. "I've been watching for you----" she began, and instantly Olga +read the truth in her troubled face. + +"My--baby----" she gasped. + +"She's gone, dearie--her mother took her away," the old lady said, her +arms about the girl. "I tried to make her wait till you came, but she +wouldn't." + +"Gone--for good, you mean?" It was Lizette who questioned. + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Morris, "she said so. She said you'd find a note +upstairs. Here's your key. I'm so sorry for you, child--O, so sorry!" + +Olga made no reply--she could not find words then. She went slowly up +the stairs, Lizette following. Lighting the gas, she flashed a swift +glance about the room. The note lay on her workbench. She snatched it up +and read: + + "I'm going with Dick--he came back a month ago. He says he's + turned over a new leaf, and he's got a job in New York. I've + always wanted to live in New York. Good-bye, Olga--be good to + yourself. Baby sends bye-bye to auntie. + + "Sonia." + +She handed the note to Lizette, who read it with a scowl. "Well, of all +the----" she began, but a glance from Olga stopped her. "Isn't there +_any_thing I can do?" she begged, her eyes full of tears. + +"Nothing, thank you. I'll--I'll brace up as--as soon as I can, Lizette. +Good-night," Olga said gently, and Lizette went away, her honest heart +aching with sympathy for her friend, and Olga was alone in the place +that seemed so appallingly empty because a little child had gone out of +it. + +But the next morning when Lizette came in Olga met her with a smile. + +"I'm all right," she said. "I miss my baby every minute, but, Lizette, I +mean to be happy in spite of it, and I know you'll help me. Breakfast is +ready--you won't leave me to eat it alone?" Her brave smile brought a +lump into Lizette's throat. + +So they dropped back into their old pleasant companionship, and the +girls came more often than before evenings, and Olga threw herself +whole-heartedly into Camp Fire work, seeking opportunities for service. +And the days slipped away and it was Christmas Eve again. Olga had spent +the evening in the Camp Fire room helping to put up greens and trim the +tree. She had a smile and a helping hand for every one, and Laura, +watching her, said to herself, "She is holding her torch high--the dear +child." + +But it had not been easy--holding the torch high. On the way home the +reaction came, and Olga was silent. In the merry crowd, however, only +Elizabeth and Lizette noticed her silence, for Laura had sent them all +home in the car, and the swift flight through the snowy streets was +exciting and exhilarating. The others called gay greetings and farewells +as they rolled away, leaving Olga and Lizette on the steps in the +moonlight. + +At Lizette's door Olga said good-night and went across to her own room. +Closing the door behind her she dropped into a chair by the window, and +suddenly she realised that she was very tired and O, so lonely! She +longed for the pressure of a little head on her arm--for tiny fingers +curling about hers--she wanted her baby. + +"O, why couldn't I keep her? Sonia doesn't care for her--she doesn't! +And I do. I want my baby!" she cried into the night. + +But again after a little she caught back her courage. "I'm +ashamed--ashamed!" she said aloud. "I'm not playing fair. I've got to be +happy if I can't have my baby, and I will. But, O, if I were only sure +that she is cared for!" + +At that moment there came a low rap on her door. Going to it, she +called, "Who is it? Who is there?" but she did not open the door. + +There was no reply, only the sound of soft retreating footsteps. + +"Somebody going by," she said, turning away, but as she did so she +thought she heard a little whimpering cry outside. Instantly she flung +the door open, and there in a basket lay her baby. + +"It--it _can't_ be!" Olga cried out, incredulous. Then she caught up the +baby and hugged her till the little thing whimpered again, half afraid. +"O, it is--it _is_!" Olga cried. "You blessed darling--if I could only +keep you forever!" Still holding the child close, she snatched up the +basket, shut the door, and lit the gas. In the basket she found a note +from her sister. + + "I'm sending back the baby [it read]; I only took her to scare + you--just to pay you off for nagging me so about work. You can + have her now for keeps. Dick doesn't care for children and they + are an awful bother, and you've spoiled this one anyhow, fussing + so over her. I reckon you and I aren't exactly congenial, and I + shan't trouble you any more unless Dick goes back on me again, + and I don't think he will. + + "Sonia." + +Through the still night air came the sound of bells--Christmas bells +ringing in the Great Day. To Olga they seemed to call softly: + +"'Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.'" + + + + +Printed in the United States of America + + + * * * * * * + + +FICTION, JUVENILE, Etc. + +CLARA E. LAUGHLIN + "Everybody's Lonesome" A True Fairy Story. + Illustrated by A. I. Keller, 12mo, cloth, net 75c. + +Every new story by the author of "Evolution of a Girl's Ideal" may be +truthfully called her best work. No one who feels the charm of her +latest, will question the assertion. Old and young alike will feel its +enchantment and in unfolding her secret to our heroine the god-mother +invariably proves a fairy god-mother to those who read. + +ROBERT E. KNOWLES + The Handicap + 12mo, cloth, net $1.20. + +A story of a life noble in spite of environment and heredity, and a +struggle against odds which will appeal to all who love the elements of +strength in life. The handicap is the weight which both the appealing +heroine and hero of this story bear up under, and, carrying which, they +win. + +WINIFRED HESTON, M. D. + A Bluestocking in India Her Medical Wards and Messages Home. + With Frontispiece, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00. + +A charming little story told in letters written by a medical missionary +from India, abounding in feminine delicacy of touch and keenness of +insight, and a very unusual and refreshing sense of humor. + +WILFRED T. GRENFELL + Down to the Sea + Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00. + +A new volume of Dr. Grenfell's adventures in Labrador. 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The narrative is full of the same characters, humor, +department store lingo and vital human interest of MISS 318. + +MARY ELIZABETH SMITH + In Bethany House + A Story of Social Service. 12mo, cloth, net $1.25. + +"Without any plot at all the book would still be worth reading; with its +earnestness, its seriousness of purpose, its health optimism, its +breadth of outlook, and its sympathetic insight into the depths of the +human heart."--N. Y. Times + +MARGARET E. SANGSTER + Eastover Parish Cloth, net $1.00. + +A new story by Margaret Sangster is an "event" among a wide circle of +readers. Mary E. Wilkins places Mrs. Sangster as "a legitimate successor +to Louise M. Alcott as a writer of meritorious books for girls, combining +absorbing story and high moral tone." Her new book is a story of "real +life and real people, of incidents that have actually happened in Mrs. +Sangster's life." + +THOMAS D. 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T. Thurston</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + <!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + h1 {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em; clear: both;} + h2 {text-align: center; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 2em; clear: both;} + h3 {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; font-weight: normal; clear: both;} + h3.pg {text-align: center; margin-top: 2em; font-weight: bold; clear: both;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} + table p {text-align: center; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} + h2.toc {margin-top: 1em;} + td.tdright {vertical-align: top; text-align: right;} + td.tdleft {vertical-align: top; text-align: left;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .center {text-align:center;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; + position: absolute; right: 2%; border:1px solid #eee; + padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; + color: silver; background-color: inherit;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr.minor {width: 25%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} + hr.dashed {width: 100%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; border:none; border-bottom:1px dashed;} + h2.loi {margin-top: 1em;} + a.pagenum:after {border: 1px solid silver; padding: 1px 3px; content: attr(title);} + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Torch Bearer, by I. T. Thurston</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Torch Bearer</p> +<p> A Camp Fire Girls' Story</p> +<p>Author: I. T. Thurston</p> +<p>Release Date: December 23, 2007 [eBook #23987]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORCH BEARER***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<h1>The Torch Bearer</h1> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<table summary="" style="border-collapse:collapse; border: 1px solid black; width:23em;"> +<tr><td style="padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom:5px; text-align:center; font-size: 1.8em;">BY I. T. THURSTON</td></tr> + +<tr><td style="padding: 0 10px 0 10px;"> +<p style="text-align: left; font-size:large; font-weight:bold">The Torch Bearer</p> + +<p style="text-align: left;">A Camp Fire Girls’ Story. Illustrated, 12mo, net $1.00.</p> + +<p style="text-align: justify; font-size:smaller; margin-bottom:.5em;">The author of “The Bishop’s Shadow” and “The Scout Master of Troop 5” +has scored another conspicuous success in this new story of girl life. +She shows conclusively that she knows how to reach the heart of a girl +as well as that of a boy.</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td style="padding: 0 10px 0 10px;"> +<p style="text-align: left; font-size:large; font-weight:bold">The Scout Master of Troop 5</p> + +<p style="text-align: left;">By author of “The Bishop’s Shadow.” Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00.</p> + +<p style="text-align: justify; font-size:smaller; margin-bottom:.5em;">“The daily life of the city boys from whom the scouts are recruited +is related, and the succession of experiences afterward coming +delightfully to them—country hikes, camp life, exploring +expeditions, and the finding of real hidden treasure. The depiction +of boy nature is unusually true to life, and there are many +realistic scenes and complications to try out traits of +character.”—<i>N. Y. Sun</i>. </p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td style="padding: 0 10px 0 10px;"> +<p style="text-align: left; font-size:large; font-weight:bold">The Big Brother of Sabin Street</p> + +<p style="text-align: left;">Containing the story of Theodore Bryan (The Bishop’s Shadow). +Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00.</p> + +<p style="text-align: justify; font-size:smaller; margin-bottom:.5em;">“This volume is the sequel to the Story of Theodore Bryan, ‘The +Bishop’s Shadow,’ which came into prominence as a classic among +boys’ books and was written to supply the urgent demand for a story +continuing the account of Theodore’s work among the +boys.”—<i>Western Recorder</i>. </p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td style="padding: 0 10px 0 10px;"> +<p style="text-align: left; font-size:large; font-weight:bold">The Bishop’s Shadow</p> + +<p style="text-align: left;">Illustrated, cloth, net $1.00.</p> + +<p style="text-align: justify; font-size:smaller; margin-bottom:.5em;">“A captivating story of dear Phillips Brooks and a little street +gamin of Boston. The book sets forth the almost matchless character +of the Christlike bishop in most loving and lovely lines.”—<i>The +Interior</i>. </p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:348px"> +<a name="illus-000" id="illus-000"></a> +<img src="images/illus-fpc.png" alt="The Torch Bearer" title="" width="348" /><br /> +<span class="caption">The Torch Bearer</span> +</div> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<table style="margin: auto; border: black 1px solid; border-spacing:4em" summary=""><tr><td> +<p style=" font-size:2.0em; margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:0em;">THE</p> +<p style=" font-size:2.2em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:1em;">TORCH BEARER</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.2em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:2em;">A Camp Fire Girls’ Story</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.8em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:2em;">BY</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.2em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em;">I. T. THURSTON</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.7em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em;">Author of “The Bishop’s Shadow,”</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.7em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em;">“The Scout Master of Troop 5,”</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.7em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:2em;">Etc., Etc.</p> +<p style=" font-size:1em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:3em; font-style:italic;">ILLUSTRATED</p> +<p><img class="figcenter" src="images/illus-emb.png" alt="" /></p> +<p style=" font-size:0.9em; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:0em; font-variant:small-caps;">New York Chicago Toronto</p> +<p style=" font-size:1.2em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em;">Fleming H. Revell Company</p> +<p style=" font-size:0.9em; margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em; font-variant:small-caps; letter-spacing:.1em;">London and Edinburgh</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<p style="margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; font-size:smaller; text-align:center;">Copyright, 1913, by<br /> +FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY</p> + + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> +<p style="text-align: justify; font-size: smaller;"> +New York: 158 Fifth Avenue<br /> +Chicago: 125 N. Wabash Ave.<br /> +Toronto: 25 Richmond St., W.<br /> +London: 21 Paternoster Square<br /> +Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<p style="margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; text-align:center;">To<br />M. N. T.</p> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<h2 class="loi"><a name="Illustrations" id="Illustrations"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<col style="width:80%;" /> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<tr><td class="tdleft">The Torch Bearer</td><td class="tdright"><a href="#illus-000"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">“At Last a Tiny Puff of Smoke Arose”</td><td class="tdright"><a href="#illus-001">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">“Soon the Flames Began to Blaze and Crackle, Filling the Air with a Spicy Fragrance”</td><td class="tdright"><a href="#illus-002">20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">A Group of Girls Busy Over Beadwork</td><td class="tdright"><a href="#illus-003">34</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">“We Pull Long, We Pull Strong”</td><td class="tdright"><a href="#illus-004">78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">“Wood had Been Gathered Earlier in the Day”</td><td class="tdright"><a href="#illus-005">90</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">A Favorite Rendezvous At the Camp</td><td class="tdright"><a href="#illus-006">212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdleft">“Just Think of the Lookout This Very Minute!”</td><td class="tdright"><a href="#illus-007">220</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<h2 class="toc"><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>CONTENTS</h2> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents" style="font-variant: small-caps; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<col style="width:15%;" /> +<col style="width:5%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">I.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">The Camp in the Forest</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#THE_CAMP_IN_THE_FOREST_156">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">II.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Introducing the Problem</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#INTRODUCING_THE_PROBLEM_589">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">III.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">The Camp Coward Dares</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#THE_CAMP_COWARD_DARES_831">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">IV.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">The Poor Thing</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#THE_POOR_THING_1241">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">V.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Wind and Weather</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#WIND_AND_WEATHER_1930">65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">VI.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">A Water Cure</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#A_WATER_CURE_2306">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">VII.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Honours Won</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#HONOURS_WON_2652">88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">VIII.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Elizabeth At Home</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#ELIZABETH_AT_HOME_2954">98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">IX.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Jim</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#JIM_3612">119</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">X.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Sadie Page</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#SADIE_PAGE_4187">137</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XI.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Boys and Old Ladies</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#BOYS_AND_OLD_LADIES_4534">147</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XII.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Nancy Rextrew</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#NANCY_REXTREW_4797">155</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XIII.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">A Camp Fire Christmas</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#A_CAMP_FIRE_CHRISTMAS_5204">168</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XIV.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Lizette</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#LIZETTE_5633">181</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XV.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">An Open Door For Elizabeth</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#AN_OPEN_DOOR_FOR_ELIZABETH_6257">200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XVI.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Camp Fire Girls and the Flag</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#CAMP_FIRE_GIRLS_AND_THE_FLAG_6669">212</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XVII.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Sonia</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#SONIA_6938">220</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XVIII.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">The Torch Uplifted</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#THE_TORCH_UPLIFTED_7383">233</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="tdright">XIX.</td> + <td></td> + <td class="tdleft">Clear Shining After Darkness</td> + <td class="tdright"><a href="#CLEAR_SHINING_AFTER_DARKNESS_7721">243</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_11" id="pg_11">11</a></span> +<a name="THE_CAMP_IN_THE_FOREST_156" id="THE_CAMP_IN_THE_FOREST_156"></a> +<h2>I</h2> +<h3>THE CAMP IN THE FOREST</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Wohelo—wohelo—wo-<i>he</i>-lo!”</p> + +<p>The clear, musical call, rising from the green tangle of the forest that +fringed the bay, seemed to float lingeringly above the treetops and out +over the wide stretch of gleaming water, to a girl in a green canoe, who +listened intently until the last faint echo died away, then began +paddling rapidly towards the wooded slope. The sun, just dropping below +the horizon, flooded the western sky with a blaze of colour that turned +the wide waters into a sea of gold, through which the little craft +glided swiftly, scattering from its slender prow showers of shining +drops.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to find out what that means,” the girl said under her breath. +“It sounds like an Indian call, but I’m sure those were not Indian +voices.”</p> + +<p>On and on, steadily, swiftly, swept the green canoe, until, rounding a +wooded point, it slipped suddenly into a beautiful little cove where +there was a floating dock with a small fleet of canoes and rowboats +surrounding it, and steps leading up the slope. The girl smiled as she +stepped lightly out on the dock, and fastened her canoe to one of the +rings.</p> + +<p>“A girls’ camp it surely is,” she said to herself. “I’m going to get a +glimpse of it anyhow.”</p> + +<p>Running up the steps, she followed a well-trodden path through a pine +grove, and in a few minutes, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_12" id="pg_12">12</a></span>through the trees, she caught the gleam of +white tents and stopped to reconnoitre. A dozen or more tents were set +irregularly around an open space; also there was a large frame building +with canvas instead of boarding on two sides, and adjoining this a small +frame shack, evidently a kitchen—and girls were everywhere.</p> + +<p>“O, I’m hungry for girls!” breathed the one peering through the green +branches. “I wonder if I dare venture——” She broke off abruptly, +staring in surprise at a group approaching her. Then she ran forward +crying out, “Why, Anne Wentworth—to think of finding you here!”</p> + +<p>“To think of finding <i>you</i> here, Laura Haven! Where did you drop from?” +cried the other. The two were holding each other’s hands and looking +into each other’s faces with eyes full of glad surprise.</p> + +<p>“I? I didn’t drop—I climbed—up the steps from the landing,” Laura +laughed. “I was out on the bay in my canoe—we came up yesterday in the +yacht—and I heard that beautiful Indian call, and I just <i>had</i> to find +out where it came from, and what it meant. I suspected a girls’ camp, +but of course I never dreamed of finding you here. Do tell me all about +it. It is a camp, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we are Camp Fire Girls,” Anne Wentworth replied. She glanced +behind her, but the others had disappeared. “They vanished for fear they +might be in the way,” she said. “O Laura, I’m so glad you’re here, for +this is the night for our Council Fire. You can stay to it, can’t +you—I’m sure you would be interested.”</p> + +<p>“Stay—how long? It’s after sunset now.”</p> + +<p>“O, stay all night with me, and all day to-morrow. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_13" id="pg_13">13</a></span>You must stay to the +Council Fire to-night, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“I’d love to dearly, but father won’t know where I am.” Laura’s voice +was full of regret.</p> + +<p>“Why can’t you go back and tell him? I’ll go with you,” Anne suggested.</p> + +<p>“Will there be time before your Council Fire?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, if we hurry—wait one minute.” Anne called to the nearest girl, +gave her a brief message, and turned again to her friend. “Come on, +we’ve no time to lose, but I know how you can make a canoe fly,” she +said, and hand-in-hand the two went scurrying through the grove and down +to the landing. Then while the canoe swept swiftly over the water, Anne +Wentworth answered the eager questions of her friend.</p> + +<p>“It’s a new organisation—the Camp Fire Girls,” she explained. “It is +something like the Boy Scouts only, I think, planned on broader lines +and with higher and finer ideals—at any rate it is better suited for +girls. It aims to help them to be healthy, useful, trustworthy, and +happy. Health—work—love—as shown in service—these are the ideals on +which we try to build. We have three grades. First a girl becomes a Wood +Gatherer; then after passing certain tests, a Fire Maker, then a Torch +Bearer.”</p> + +<p>“And which are you?” Laura asked.</p> + +<p>“I’m a Guardian—that is, I am the head of one of our city Camp Fires. +Mrs. Royall is our Chief Guardian.” She went on to explain about the +work and play, the tests and rewards, ending with, “But you’ll +understand it all so much better after our Council Fire to-night.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_14" id="pg_14">14</a></span>Laura nodded. “What kind of girls is it for—poor girls—working +girls?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“It is for any kind of girls—just girls, you know. Of course we can’t +admit any bad ones, nothing else matters. Dorothy Groves is one of my +twelve, and I’ve two dear little High School girls; all the rest are +working girls. They can stay here at the camp only two weeks—some of +them only ten days—the working girls, I mean, and it would make your +heart ache to see how much those ten days mean to them, and how +intensely they enjoy even the commonest pleasures of camping out.”</p> + +<p>“Who pays for them?” Laura demanded.</p> + +<p>“They pay for themselves. It’s no charity, and the charges are very low. +They wouldn’t come if it were charity.”</p> + +<p>Laura shook her head half impatiently. “It’s so hard to get a chance +really to help the ones who need help most,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it surely is,” Anne agreed; and then they were alongside the big +white yacht with its shining brass, and Judge Haven was helping them up +the steps.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later they were on their way back to the camp, but this +time in a boat rowed by two of the crew. The last golden gleam of the +afterglow was fading slowly in the West as the two girls came again +through the pines into the open space between the tents. Mrs. Royall met +them and made Laura cordially welcome.</p> + +<p>“She’s just the right one—a real camp mother,” Anne said, as she led +her friend over to a group gathered on the grass before one of the +tents. “And these are my own girls,” she added, introducing each by +name.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:522px"> +<a name="illus-001" id="illus-001"></a> +<img src="images/illus-014.png" alt="“At last a tiny puff of smoke arose”" title="" width="522" /><br /> +<span class="caption">“At last a tiny puff of smoke arose”</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_15" id="pg_15">15</a></span>“You’ve got to take me right in,” Laura told them. “I can’t help it if +I am an odd number—I’m going to belong to this particular Camp Fire +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Of course we’ll take you in, and love to. Aren’t you Miss Anne’s +friend?” said one, as she snuggled down on the grass beside Laura. “It’s +so nice you came on our Council Fire night!”</p> + +<p>Laura’s eyes swept the group. “It must be nice—you all look so happy,” +she answered.</p> + +<p>Anne Wentworth excused herself for a few minutes, and Laura settled back +against a tree with a little sigh of content. “I’ve been abroad for a +year,” she said, “and it seems so good to be with girls again—American +girls! Please, won’t you forget that I am here and talk just as if I +were not? I want to sit still and enjoy the place and you +and—everything, for a bit, before your Council begins.”</p> + +<p>With ready courtesy they took her at her word, and chatted of camp plans +and happenings until the talk was interrupted by a clear musical call +that floated softly out of the gathering dusk.</p> + +<p>“How beautiful! What is it?” Laura asked as all the girls started up.</p> + +<p>“It’s the bugle call to the Council,” one explained, “and here comes +Miss Anne.”</p> + +<p>Laura glanced curiously at her friend’s dress. It was a long loose +garment of dark brown, fringed at the bottom and the sleeves. A band of +beadwork was fastened over her forehead, and she wore a long necklace of +bright-coloured beads.</p> + +<p>“What is it—a robe of state?” Laura inquired.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_16" id="pg_16">16</a></span>“Yes, the ceremonial dress,” Anne told her, “but you can’t see in this +light how pretty it is. Come on, we must join the procession.”</p> + +<p>“What has become of your girls?” Laura asked. “They were here a moment +ago.”</p> + +<p>“They have gone to get their necklaces,” Anne returned. “My girls are +all Wood Gatherers as yet—we’ve not been organised long, you know; but +they’ve been working hard for honours, and for every honour they are +entitled to add a bead to their necklaces.”</p> + +<p>“Yours then must represent a great many honours.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Anne replied. “You see it incites the girls to work for honours +when they see that their Guardians have worked and won them. The red +beads show that the wearer has won health honours by keeping free from +colds, headaches, etc., for a number of months, or by sleeping out of +doors, or doing some sort of athletics—walking, swimming, rowing, and +the like. The blue ones are for nature study, the black and gold for +business, and so on. Each bead has a meaning for the girl—it tells a +story—and the more she wins, the finer her record, of course.”</p> + +<p>“What a splendid idea! And how the girls will prize their necklaces +by-and-by, and enjoy recalling the stories connected with them!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Anne agreed, “they will hand them down to their daughters as a +new kind of heirloom, but——” with a laugh she added, “that’s looking a +long way ahead, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>By this time the two were in the midst of a merry procession of girls +from twelve to twenty, perhaps a third of them wearing the ceremonial +dress.</p> + +<p>“What a gay company they are!” Laura commented, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_17" id="pg_17">17</a></span>as the procession +followed a winding path through the woods, a few carrying lanterns. “Is +there anything in the world, Anne, lovelier than a crowd of happy +girls?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” her friend assented in a low tone. “And, Laura, if you could +only see the difference a few days here make in some of the girls who +have had all work and no play—like some of mine! It is so delightful to +see them grow merry and glad day by day. But here we are. This is our +Council Chamber.”</p> + +<p>“I want as many eyes as a spider so that I can look every way at once,” +Laura cried as the girls arranged themselves in a large circle. “What +are those girls over there doing?”</p> + +<p>“They are the Fire Makers. They were Wood Gatherers for over three +months, and have met the requirements for the second class. Some of the +others are to be made Fire Makers to-night. Watch Mary Walsh—the one +rubbing two sticks. She will make fire without matches—or at least she +will try to.”</p> + +<p>The girl, with one knee on the ground, was rubbing one stick briskly +back and forth in the groove of another. A little group beside her +watched her with eager interest, two of them holding lanterns, and Mrs. +Royall stood near her, watch in hand. The talk and laughter had ceased +as the circle formed, and now in silence, all eyes were centred on the +girl. Faster and faster her hands moved to the accompaniment of a +whining, scraping sound that rose at intervals to a shrill squeak. At +last a tiny puff of smoke arose, and the girl blew carefully until she +had a glowing spark, which she fed with tiny shreds of wood, until +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_18" id="pg_18">18</a></span>suddenly it blazed up brightly. Then, springing lightly to her feet, +she stood erect, the flaming wood in her outstretched hand distinctly +revealing her happy, triumphant face against the dark background of the +pines.</p> + +<p>There was a quick clamour of applause as Mrs. Royall announced, “Thirty +seconds within the time limit, Mary. Well done! Now light the Council +Fire.”</p> + +<p>The girl stepped forward and touched her flaming brand to the wood that +had been made ready by the other Fire Makers, and soon the flames began +to blaze and crackle, filling the air with a spicy fragrance, and +sending a vivid glow across the circle of intent young faces. Laura +caught her breath as she looked around the circle.</p> + +<p>“What a picture!” she whispered. “It is lovely—lovely!”</p> + +<p>At a signal from Mrs. Royall the girls now gathered closer about the +fire and began to chant all together,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Wohelo—wohelo—wohelo.<br /> +Wohelo means love.<br /> +We love love, for love is the heart of life.<br /> +It is light and joy and sweetness,<br /> +Comradeship and all dear kinship.<br /> +Love is the joy of service so deep<br /> +That self is forgotten.<br /> +Wohelo means love.’”</p> + +<p>Then louder swelled the chorus,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Wohelo for aye,<br /> +Wohelo for aye,<br /> +Wohelo, wohelo, wohelo for aye.’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_19" id="pg_19">19</a></span>The last note was followed by a moment of utter silence; then one side +of the circle chanted,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Wohelo for work!’”</p> + +<p>and the opposite side flung back,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Wohelo for health!’”</p> + +<p>and all together they chorused exultantly,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Wohelo, wohelo, wohelo for love!’”</p> + +<p>Then in unison, led by Anne Wentworth, the beautiful Fire Ode was +repeated,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘O Fire!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Long years ago when our fathers fought with great</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">animals you were their great protection.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">When they fought the cold of the cruel winter you</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">saved them.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">When they needed food you changed the flesh of beasts</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">into savoury meat for them.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">During all the ages your mysterious flame has been</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">a symbol to them for Spirit.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">So, to-night, we light our fire in grateful remembrance</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">of the Great Spirit who gave you to us.’”</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>In a few clear-cut sentences Mrs. Royall spoke of the Camp Fire +symbolism—of fire as the living, renewing, all-pervading element—“Our +brother the fire, bright and pleasant, and very mighty and strong,” as +being the underlying spirit—the heart of this new order of the girls of +America, as the hearth-fire is the heart of the home. She spoke of the +brown chevron with the crossed sticks, the symbol of the Wood <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_20" id="pg_20">20</a></span>Gatherer, +the blue and orange symbol of the Fire Maker, and the complete insignia +combining both of these with the touch of white representing smoke from +the flame, worn by the Torch Bearer, trying to make clear and vivid the +beautiful meaning of it all.</p> + +<p>When the roll-call was read, each girl, as she answered to her name, +gave also the number of honours she had earned since the last meeting. +It was then that Laura, watching the absorbed faces, shook her head with +a sigh as her eyes met Anne’s; and Anne nodded with quick understanding.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she whispered, “there is some rivalry. It isn’t all love and +harmony—yet. But we are working that way all the time.”</p> + +<p>There was a report of the last Council, written in rather limping rhyme, +and then each girl told of some kind or gentle deed she had seen or +heard of since the last meeting—things ranging all the way from hunting +for a lost glove to going for the doctor at midnight when a girl was +taken suddenly ill in camp. Only one had no kindness to tell. And when +she reported “Nothing” it was as if a shadow fell for a moment over all +the young faces turned towards her.</p> + +<p>“Who is that? Her voice sounds so unhappy!” Laura said, and her friend +answered, “I’ll tell you about her afterwards. Her name is Olga Priest. +There’s a new member to be received to-night. Here she comes.”</p> + +<p>Laura watched the new member as she stepped out of the circle, and +crossed over to the Chief Guardian.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:557px"> +<a name="illus-002" id="illus-002"></a> +<img src="images/illus-020.png" alt="“Soon the flames began to blaze and crackle, filling the air with a spicy fragrance”" title="" width="557" /><br /> +<span class="caption">“Soon the flames began to blaze and crackle, filling the air with a spicy fragrance”</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_21" id="pg_21">21</a></span>“What is your desire?” Mrs. Royall asked, and the girl answered,</p> + +<p>“I desire to become a Camp Fire Girl and to obey the law of the Camp +Fire, which is to</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Seek beauty,<br /> +Give service,<br /> +Pursue knowledge,<br /> +Hold on to health,<br /> +Glorify work,<br /> +Be happy.’</p> + +<p>This law of the Camp Fire I will strive to follow.”</p> + +<p>Slowly and impressively, Mrs. Royall explained to her the law, phrase by +phrase, and as she ceased speaking, the candidate repeated her promise +to keep it, and instantly every girl in the circle, placing her right +hand over her heart, chanted slowly,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘This law of the fire I will strive to follow<br /> +With all the strength and endurance of my body,<br /> +The power of my will,<br /> +The keenness of my mind,<br /> +The warmth of my heart,<br /> +And the sincerity of my spirit.’”</p> + +<p>And again after the last words—like a full stop in music—came the few +seconds of utter silence.</p> + +<p>It was broken by the Chief Guardian. “With this sign you become a Wood +Gatherer,” and she laid the fingers of her right hand across those of +her left. The candidate made the same sign; then she held out her hand, +and Mrs. Royall slipped on her finger the silver ring, which all Camp +Fire Girls are entitled to wear, and as she did so she said,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘As fagots are brought from the forest<br /> +Firmly held by the sinews which bind them,<br /> +So cleave to these others, your sisters,<br /> +Whenever, wherever you find them.<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_22" id="pg_22">22</a></span>Be strong as the fagots are sturdy;<br /> +Be pure in your deepest desire;<br /> +Be true to the truth that is in you;<br /> +And—follow the law of the fire.’”</p> + +<p>The girl returned to her place in the circle, and at a sign from Anne +Wentworth, four of her girls followed her as she moved forward and stood +before Mrs. Royall. From a paper in her hand she read the names of the +four girls, and declared that they had all met the tests for the second +grade.</p> + +<p>The Chief Guardian turned to the four.</p> + +<p>“What is your desire?” she asked, and together they repeated,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘As fuel is brought to the fire<br /> +So I purpose to bring<br /> +My strength,<br /> +My ambition,<br /> +My heart’s desire,<br /> +My joy,<br /> +And my sorrow<br /> +To the fire<br /> +Of humankind.<br /> +For I will tend<br /> +As my fathers have tended,<br /> +And my father’s fathers<br /> +Since time began,<br /> +The fire that is called<br /> +The love of man for man,<br /> +The love of man for God.’”</p> + +<p>As the young earnest voices repeated the beautiful words, Laura Haven’s +heart thrilled again with the solemn beauty of it all, and tears crowded +to her eyes in the silence that followed—a silence broken only by the +whispering of the night wind high in the treetops.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_23" id="pg_23">23</a></span>Then Mrs. Royall lifted her hand and soft and low the young voices +chanted,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Lay me to sleep in sheltering flame,<br /> +O Master of the Hidden Fire;<br /> +Wash pure my heart, and cleanse for me<br /> +My soul’s desire.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">In flame of service bathe my mind,<br /> +O Master of the Hidden Fire,<br /> +That when I wake clear-eyed may be<br /> +My soul’s desire.’“</p> + +<p>It was over, and the circle broke again into laughing, chattering +groups. Lanterns were lighted, every spark of the Council Fire carefully +extinguished, and then back through the woods the procession wound, +laughing, talking, sometimes breaking into snatches of song, the +lanterns throwing strange wavering patches of light into the dense +darkness of the woods on either side.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_24" id="pg_24">24</a></span> +<a name="INTRODUCING_THE_PROBLEM_589" id="INTRODUCING_THE_PROBLEM_589"></a> +<h2>II</h2> +<h3>INTRODUCING THE PROBLEM</h3> +</div> + +<p>“You did enjoy it, didn’t you?” Anne said as the two walked back through +the woods-path to camp.</p> + +<p>“I loved every bit of it,” was the enthusiastic response. “It’s so +different from anything else—so fresh and picturesque and full of +interest! I should think girls would be wild to belong.”</p> + +<p>“They are. Camp Fires are being organised all over the country. The +trouble is that there are not yet enough older girls trained for +Guardians.”</p> + +<p>“Where can they get the training?”</p> + +<p>“In New York there is a regular training class, and there will soon be +others in other cities,” Anne returned, and then, with a laugh, “I +believe you’ve caught the fever already, Laura.”</p> + +<p>“I have—hard. You know, Anne, all the time we were abroad I was trying +to decide what kind of work I could take up, among girls, and this +appeals to me as nothing else has done. It seems to me there are great +possibilities in it. I’d like to be a Guardian. Do you think I’m fit?”</p> + +<p>“Of course you’re fit, dear. O Laura, I’m so glad. We can work together +when we go home.”</p> + +<p>“But, Anne, I want to stay right here in this camp now. Do you suppose +Mrs. Royall will be willing? Of course I’ll pay anything she says——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_25" id="pg_25">25</a></span>“She’ll be delighted. She needs more helpers, and I can teach you all I +learned before I took charge of my girls. But will your father be +willing?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure he will. He knows you, and everybody in Washington knows and +honours Mrs. Royall. Father is going to Alaska on a business trip and +I’ve been trying to decide where I would stay while he is gone. This +will solve my problem beautifully.”</p> + +<p>“Come then—we’ll see Mrs. Royall right now and arrange it,” Anne +returned, turning back.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Royall was more than willing to accede to Laura’s proposal. “Stay +at the camp as long as you like,” she said, “and if you really want to +be a Guardian, I will send your name to the Board which has the +appointing power.”</p> + +<p>“She is lovely, isn’t she?” Laura said as they left the Chief Guardian. +“I don’t wonder you call her the Camp Mother.”</p> + +<p>Something in the tone reminded Anne that her friend had long been +motherless, and she slipped her arm affectionately around Laura’s waist +as she answered, “She is the most motherly woman I ever met. She seems +to have room in her big, warm heart for every girl that wants mothering, +no matter who or what she is.” They were back at the camp now, and she +added, “But we must get to bed quickly—there’s the curfew,” as a bugle +sounded a few clear notes.</p> + +<p>“O dear, I’ve a hundred and one questions to ask you,” sighed Laura.</p> + +<p>“They’ll keep till morning,” replied the other. “It’s so hard for the +girls to stop chattering after the curfew sounds! We Guardians have to +set them a good example.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_26" id="pg_26">26</a></span>The cots in the sleeping tents were placed on wooden platforms raised +three or four inches from the ground, and on clear nights the sides of +the tents were rolled up. Laura, too interested and excited to sleep at +once, lay in her cot looking out across the open space now flooded with +light from the late-risen moon, and thought of the girls sleeping around +her. Herself an only child, she had a great desire—almost a +passion—for girls; girls who were lonely like herself—girls who had to +struggle with ill-health, poverty, and hard work as she did not.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she started up in bed, her eyes wide with half-startled +surprise. Reaching over to the adjoining cot, she touched her friend, +whispering, “Anne, Anne, look!” and as Anne opened drowsy eyes, Laura +pointed to the moonlit space.</p> + +<p>Anne stared for a moment, then she laughed softly and whispered back, +“It’s a ghost dance, Laura. Some of those irrepressible girls couldn’t +resist this moonlight. They’re doing an Indian folk dance.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it weird—in the moonlight and in utter silence!” Laura said +under her breath. “I should think somebody would giggle and spoil the +effect.”</p> + +<p>“That would be a signal for Mrs. Royall to ‘discover’ them and send them +back to bed,” Anne returned. “So long as they do it in utter silence so +as to disturb no one else, the Guardians wink at it. It is pretty, isn’t +it?”</p> + +<p>“Lovely!”</p> + +<p>Anne turned over and went to sleep again, but Laura watched the slender +graceful figures in their loose white garments till suddenly they melted +into the shadows and were gone. Then she too slept till a <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_27" id="pg_27">27</a></span>shaft of +sunlight, touching her eyelids, awakened her to a new day. She looked +across at her friend, who smiled back at her. “I feel so well and so +happy!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“It is sleeping in the open air,” Anne replied. “Almost everybody wakes +happy here—except the Problem.”</p> + +<p>“The Problem?” Laura echoed.</p> + +<p>“I mean Olga Priest, the girl you asked about last night. We Guardians +call her the Problem because no one has yet been able to do anything for +her.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me about her,” Laura begged, as, dropping the sides of the tent, +Anne began to dress.</p> + +<p>“Wait till we are outside—there are too many sharp young ears about us +here,” Anne cautioned. “There’ll be time for a walk or a row before +breakfast and we can talk then.”</p> + +<p>“Good—let’s have a walk,” Laura said, and made quick work of her +dressing.</p> + +<p>“Now tell me about the Problem,” she urged, when they were seated on a +rocky point overlooking the blue waters of the bay.</p> + +<p>“Poor Olga,” Anne said. “I wonder sometimes if she has ever had a really +happy day in the eighteen years of her life. Her mother was a Russian of +good family and well educated. She married an American who made life +bitter for her until he drank himself to death. There were three +children older than Olga—two sons who went to the bad, following their +father’s example. The older girl married a worthless fellow and +disappeared, and there was no one left but Olga to support the sick +mother and herself, and Olga was only thirteen then! She supported them, +somehow, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_28" id="pg_28">28</a></span>but of course she had to leave her mother alone all day, and +one night when she went home she found her gone. She had died all +alone.”</p> + +<p>“<i>O!</i>” cried Laura.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was pitiful. I suppose the child was as nearly heartbroken as +any one could be, for her mother was everything to her. Of course there +were many who would have been glad to help had they known, but Olga’s +pride is something terrible, and it seems as if she hates everybody +because her father and her brothers and sister neglected her mother, and +she was left to die alone. I don’t believe there is a single person in +the world whom she likes even a little.”</p> + +<p>“O, the poor thing!” sighed Laura. “Not even Mrs. Royall?”</p> + +<p>“No, not even Mrs. Royall, who has been heavenly kind to her.”</p> + +<p>“Is she in your Camp Fire?”</p> + +<p>“No, Ellen Grandis is her Guardian, but Ellen is to be married next +month and will live in New York, so that Camp Fire will have to have a +new Guardian.”</p> + +<p>“What about the other girls in it?”</p> + +<p>“All but three are working girls—salesgirls in stores, I think, most of +them.”</p> + +<p>“How did Olga happen to join the Camp Fire?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I’ve wondered about that myself. She doesn’t make friends +with any of the girls, nor join in any of the games; but work—she has a +perfect passion for work, and it seems as if she can do anything. She +has won twice as many honours as any other girl since she came, but she +cares nothing for them—except to win them.”</p> + +<p>“She must be a strange character, but she interests <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_29" id="pg_29">29</a></span>me,” Laura said +thoughtfully. “Anne, maybe I can take Miss Grandis’ place when she +leaves.”</p> + +<p>Anne gave her friend a searching look. “Are you sure you would like it? +Wouldn’t you rather have a different class of girls?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Laura answered gravely, “I want the girls I can help most—those that +need me most—and from what you say, I should think Olga needed—some +one—as much as any girl could.”</p> + +<p>“As much perhaps, but hardly more than some of the others. There’s that +little Annie Pearson who thinks of nothing but her pretty face and ‘good +times,’ and Myra Karr who is afraid of her own shadow and always +clinging to the person she happens to be with. The Camp Fire is a +splendid organisation, Laura, and it will do a deal for the girls, but +still almost every one of them is some sort of ‘problem’ that we have to +study and watch and labour over with heart and head and hands if we hope +really to accomplish any permanent good. But come, we must go back or we +shall be late for breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“Then let’s hurry, for this air has given me a famous appetite,” Laura +replied. But she did not find it easy to keep up with her friend’s +steady stride.</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to get in training for tramps if you are going to be a Camp +Fire Girl,” Anne taunted gaily.</p> + +<p>Laura’s eyes brightened as she entered the big dining-room with its +canvas sides rolled high.</p> + +<p>“Just in time,” Anne said, as she pulled out a chair for Laura and +slipped into the next one herself.</p> + +<p>The meal was cheerful, almost hilarious. “Mrs. Royall believes in +laughter. She never checks the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_30" id="pg_30">30</a></span>girls unless it’s really necessary,” +Anne explained under cover of the merry chatter. “She——”</p> + +<p>But Laura interrupted her. “O Anne, that must be Olga—the dark still +girl, at the end of the next table, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and Myra Karr is next to her. All at that table belong to the Busy +Corner Camp Fire.”</p> + +<p>After breakfast Laura again paddled off to the yacht with Anne. It did +not require much coaxing to secure her father’s permission for her to +spend a month at the camp with Anne Wentworth and Mrs. Royall. He kept +the girls on the yacht for luncheon, and after that they went back to +camp, a couple of sailors following in another boat with Laura’s +luggage.</p> + +<p>“How still it is—I don’t hear a sound,” Laura said wonderingly, as she +and her friend approached the camp through the pines.</p> + +<p>Anne listened, looking a little perplexed, as they came out into the +camp and found it quite deserted—not a girl anywhere in sight.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go and find out where everybody is,” she said. “I see some one +moving in the kitchen. The cook must be there.”</p> + +<p>She came back laughing. “They’ve all gone berrying. That’s one of the +charms of this camp—the spontaneous fashion in which things are done. +Probably some one said, ‘There are blueberries over yonder—loads of +them,’ and somebody else exclaimed, ‘Let’s go get some,’ and +behold”—she waved her hand—“a deserted camp.”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_31" id="pg_31">31</a></span> +<a name="THE_CAMP_COWARD_DARES_831" id="THE_CAMP_COWARD_DARES_831"></a> +<h2>III</h2> +<h3>THE CAMP COWARD DARES</h3> +</div> + +<p>Each girl at the camp was expected to make her own bed and keep her +belongings in order. Each one also served her turn in setting tables, +washing dishes, etc. Beyond this there were no obligatory tasks, but all +the girls were working for honours, and most of them were trying to meet +the requirements for higher rank. Some were making their official +dresses. Girls who were skilful with the needle could secure beautiful +and effective results with silks and beads, and of course every girl +wanted a headband of beadwork and a necklace—all except Olga Priest. +Olga was working on a basket of raffia, making it from a design of her +own, when Ellen Grandis, her Guardian, came to her just after Anne +Wentworth and Laura had left the camp.</p> + +<p>“I’ve come to ask your help, Olga,” Miss Grandis began.</p> + +<p>The girl dropped the basket in her lap, and waited.</p> + +<p>Miss Grandis went on, “It is something that will require much patience +and kindness——”</p> + +<p>“Then you’d better ask some one else, Miss Grandis. You know that I do +not pretend to be kind,” Olga interrupted, not rudely but with finality.</p> + +<p>“But you are very patient and persevering, and—I don’t know why, but I +have a feeling that you could do more for this one girl than any one +else here could. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_32" id="pg_32">32</a></span>She is coming to take the only vacant place in our +Camp Fire. Shall I tell you about her, Olga?”</p> + +<p>“If you like.” The girl’s tone was politely indifferent.</p> + +<p>With a little sigh Miss Grandis went on, “Her name is Elizabeth Page. +She is about a year younger than you, and she has had a very hard life.”</p> + +<p>Olga’s lips tightened and a shadow swept across her dark eyes.</p> + +<p>Miss Grandis continued, “You have superb health—this girl has perhaps +never been really well for a single day. You have a brain and hands that +enable you to accomplish almost what you will. Poor Elizabeth can do so +few things well that she has no confidence in herself: yet I believe she +might do many things if only she could be made to believe in herself a +little. She needs—O, everything that the Camp Fire can do for a girl. +Olga, won’t you help us to help her?”</p> + +<p>“How can I?” There was no trace of sympathy in the cold voice, and +suddenly the eager hopefulness faded out of Miss Grandis’ face.</p> + +<p>“How can you indeed, if you do not care. I am afraid I made a mistake in +coming to you, after all,” she said sadly. “I’m sorry, Olga—sorry even +more on your account than on Elizabeth’s.”</p> + +<p>With that she rose and went away, and Olga looked after her thoughtfully +for a moment before she took up her work again.</p> + +<p>A little later Myra Karr stood looking down at her with a curious +expression in her wide blue eyes.</p> + +<p>“I’m—I’m going to walk to Kent’s Corners,” she announced, with a little +nervous catch in her voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_33" id="pg_33">33</a></span>“Well, what of it? You’ve been there before, haven’t you?” Olga +retorted.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but this time I’m going all <i>alone</i>!”</p> + +<p>Olga’s only reply was a swift mocking smile.</p> + +<p>“I <i>am</i>—Olga Priest!” repeated Myra, stamping her foot angrily. “You +all think me a coward—I’ll just show you!” and with that she whirled +around and marched off, her chin up and her cheeks flushed.</p> + +<p>As she passed a group of girls busy over beadwork, one of them called +out, “What’s the matter, Bunny?”</p> + +<p>Myra paused and faced them. “I’m going to walk to Kent’s Corners +<i>alone</i>!” she cried defiantly.</p> + +<p>A shout of incredulous laughter greeted that.</p> + +<p>“Better give it up before you start, Bunny,” said one.</p> + +<p>Another, with a mischievous laugh, whisked out her handkerchief and in a +flash had twisted it into a rabbit with flopping ears. “Bunny, bunny, +bunny!” she called, making the rabbit hop across her lap.</p> + +<p>Myra’s blue eyes filled with angry tears. “You’re horrid, Louise +Johnson!” she cried out. “You’re <i>all</i> horrid. But I’ll show you!” and +with a glance that swept the whole laughing group, she threw back her +head and marched on.</p> + +<p>The girls looked after her and then at each other.</p> + +<p>“Believe she’ll really do it?” one questioned doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“Not she. Maybe she’ll get as far as the village,” replied another.</p> + +<p>“She’d never dare pass Slabtown alone—never in the world,” a third +declared with decision.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_34" id="pg_34">34</a></span>“Poor Myra, I’m sorry for her. It must be awful to be scared at +everything as she is!” This from Mary Hastings, a big blonde who did not +know what fear was.</p> + +<p>“Bunny certainly is the scariest girl in this camp,” laughed Louise +Johnson carelessly. “She’s afraid of her own shadow.”</p> + +<p>“Then she ought to have more credit than the rest of us when she does do +a brave thing,” put in little Bess Carroll in her gentle way.</p> + +<p>“We’ll give her credit all right <i>if</i> she goes to Kent’s Corners,” +retorted Louise.</p> + +<p>Just then another girl ran up to the group and announced that a +blueberry picnic had been arranged. Somebody had discovered a pasture +where the bushes were loaded with luscious fruit. They would carry +lunch, and bring back enough for a regular blueberry festival.</p> + +<p>“All who want to go, get baskets or pails and come on,” the girl ended.</p> + +<p>In an instant the others were on their feet, work thrown aside, and five +minutes later there was no one but the cook left in the camp.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:352px"> +<a name="illus-003" id="illus-003"></a> +<img src="images/illus-034.png" alt="A group of girls busy over beadwork" title="" width="352" /><br /> +<span class="caption">A group of girls busy over beadwork</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_35" id="pg_35">35</a></span>By that time Myra Karr was tramping steadily on towards Kent’s Corners. +Scarcely another girl in the camp would have minded that walk, but never +before had she dared to take it alone; now in spite of her nervous +fears, she felt a little thrill of incredulous pride in herself. So many +times she had planned to do this thing, but always before her courage +had failed. Now, now she was really doing it! And if she went all the +way perhaps—O, perhaps the girls would stop calling her Bunny. How she +hated that name! She hurried on, her heart beating hard, her hands +tight-clenched, her eyes fearfully searching the long sunny road before +her and the woods or fields that bordered it. It was not so bad the +first part of the way—the mile and a half to the little village of East +Bassett. To be sure, she had never before been even that far alone, but +she had been many times with other girls. She passed slowly and +lingeringly through the village. Should she turn back now? Before her +flashed the face of Olga with that little cold mocking smile, and she +saw again Louise Johnson hopping her handkerchief rabbit across her lap. +The incredulous laughter with which the others had greeted her +announcement rang still in her ears. She was walking very very slowly, +but—but no, she wouldn’t—she <i>couldn’t</i> turn back. She forced her +unwilling feet to go on—to go faster, faster until she was almost +running. She was beyond the village now and another mile and a half +would bring her to Slabtown. <i>Slabtown!</i> She had forgotten Slabtown. The +colour died swiftly out of her face as she remembered it now. Even with +a crowd of girls she had never passed the place without a fearful +shrinking, and now alone—<i>could</i> she pass those ugly cabins swarming +with rough, dirty men and slovenly women and rude, staring children? Her +knees trembled under her even at the thought, and her newborn courage +melted like wax. It was no use. She could not do it. She wavered, +stopped, and turned slowly around. As she did so a grey rabbit with a +white tail scurried across the road before her, his ears flattened +against his head and his eyes bulging with terror. The sight of him +suddenly steadied the girl. She stood still looking after the tiny grey +streak flying across a wide <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_36" id="pg_36">36</a></span>green pasture, and a queer crooked smile +was on her trembling lips.</p> + +<p>“A bunny—<i>another</i> bunny,” she said under her breath, “and just as +scared as I am—at nothing. I won’t be a bunny any longer! I won’t be +the camp coward—I won’t, won’t, <i>won’t</i>!” she cried aloud, and turning, +went on again swiftly with her head lifted. A bit of colour drifted back +to her white cheeks, and her heart stopped its heavy thumping as she +drew a long deep breath. She would not let herself think of Slabtown. +She counted the trees she passed, named the birds that wheeled and +circled about her, even repeated the multiplication table—anything to +keep Slabtown out of her thoughts; but all the while the black dread of +it was there in the back of her mind. When she caught sight of the +sawmill where the Slabtown men earned their bread, her feet began to +drag again.</p> + +<p>“I can’t—O, I can’t!” she sobbed out, two big tears rolling down her +cheeks. Then across her mind flashed a vision of the little cottontail +streaking madly across the road before her, and again some strange new +power within urged her on. She went on slowly, reluctantly, with +dragging feet, but still she went on. There were no men about the place +at this hour—they were at work—but untidy women sat on their doorsteps +or rocked at the windows, and a horde of ragged barefooted children +catching sight of the girl swarmed out into the road to stare at her. +Some begged for pennies, and getting none, yelled after her and threw +stones till she took to her heels and ran “just like the other bunny!” +she told herself in miserable scorn, when once she was safely past the +settlement. Well, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_37" id="pg_37">37</a></span>there was no other such place to pass, but—she +shivered as she remembered that she must pass this one again on the way +back.</p> + +<p>She went on swiftly now with only occasionally a fearful glance on +either side when the road cut through the woods. Once a farmer going by +offered her a ride; but she shook her head and plodded on. It was +half-past eleven when, with a great throb of relief and joy, she came in +sight of the Corners. A few minutes more and she was in the village +street with its homey-looking white houses and flower gardens. She +longed to stop and rest on one of the vine-shaded porches, but she was +too shy to ask permission. At the store she did stop, and rested a few +minutes in one of the battered wooden chairs on the little porch, but it +was sunny and hot there. Now for the first time she thought of lunch, +but she had not a penny with her; she must go hungry until she got back +to camp. A boy came up the steps munching a red apple, his pockets +bulging with others. The storekeeper’s little girl ran out on the porch +with a big molasses cooky just out of the oven, and the warm spicy odour +of it made Myra realise how hungry she was. She looked so longingly at +the cooky that the child, seeming to read her thoughts, crowded it all +hastily into her own mouth. Myra laughed a bit at that, and after a +little rest, set off on her return. She was tired and hungry, but a +strange new joy was throbbing at her heart. She had come all the way to +Kent’s Corners alone—they <i>could not call her a coward now</i>! That +thought more than balanced her weariness and hunger. She had to walk all +the way back—she had to pass Slabtown again. Yes, but now she was <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_38" id="pg_38">38</a></span>not +afraid—<i>not afraid</i>! She drew herself up to her slender height, threw +back her head, and laughed aloud in the joy of her deliverance from the +fear that had held her in bondage all her life. She didn’t understand in +the least how it had happened, but she knew that at last she was +free—<i>free</i>—like the other girls whom she had envied; and dimly she +began to realise that this was a big thing—something that would make +all her life different. She walked as if she were treading on air. The +loneliness of the woods, of the long stretch of empty road, no longer +filled her with trembling terror.</p> + +<p>As for the second time she approached Slabtown, her heart began to beat +a little faster, but the newborn courage did not fail her now. She found +herself whistling a gay tune and laughed. Whistling to keep her courage +up? Was that what she was doing? Never mind—the courage <i>was</i> up. The +women still sat on their doorsteps or stared from their windows, but +this time the children did not swarm around her. They stood by the +roadside and stared, but none called after her or followed her. She did +not realise how great was the difference between the girl who now walked +by with shining eyes and lifted head, and the white-faced trembling +little creature with terror writ large in every line of her face and +figure that had scurried by earlier in the day. But the children +realised it. Instinctively now they knew her unafraid, and they did not +venture to badger her. She even smiled and waved her hand to them as she +went by, and at that a youngster of a dozen years suddenly broke out, +“Three cheers fer the girl—now, fellers!” And with the echo of the +shrill response ringing in her <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_39" id="pg_39">39</a></span>ears, Myra passed on, proud and happy as +never before in her life.</p> + +<p>All the rest of the way she went with the new happy consciousness making +music in her heart—the consciousness of victory won. The last mile or +two her feet dragged, but it was from weariness and lack of food. As she +drew near the camp her steps quickened, her head went up again, and her +eyes began to shine; but when she came to the white tents, she stood +looking about in blank amazement. There was not a girl anywhere in +sight; even the cook was missing.</p> + +<p>Myra stood for a moment wondering where they had all gone; then she +walked slowly across the camp to a hammock swung behind a clump of +low-growing pines. Dropping into the hammock, she tucked a cushion under +her head and, with a long sigh of delicious content and restfulness her +eyes closed and in two minutes she was sound asleep—so sound asleep +that when, an hour later, the girls came straggling back with pails and +baskets full of big luscious berries, the gay cries and laughter and +chatter of many voices did not arouse her.</p> + +<p>The girls trooped over to the kitchen and delivered up their spoil to +the cook.</p> + +<p>“Now, Katie,” cried one, “you must make us some blueberry flapjacks for +supper—lots and lots of ’em, too!”</p> + +<p>“And blueberry gingerbread,” added another.</p> + +<p>“And pies—fat juicy pies,” called a third.</p> + +<p>“<i>And</i> rolypoly—blueberry rolypoly!” shouted yet another.</p> + +<p>The cook, her arms on her hips, stood laughing into the sun-browned +young faces before her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_40" id="pg_40">40</a></span>“Sure ye’re not askin’ me to make all them things fer ye <i>to-night</i>!” +she protested gaily.</p> + +<p>“We-ell, not all maybe. We can wait till to-morrow for some of them. But +heaps and heaps of flapjacks, Katie dear, if you love us, and you know +you do,” coaxed Louise Johnson.</p> + +<p>“Love ye? <i>Love</i> ye, did ye say?” laughed the cook. “Be off wid ye now +an’ lave me in pace or ye’ll not get a smirch of a flapjack to yer +supper. Shoo!” and she waved them off with her apron.</p> + +<p>As the laughing girls turned away from the kitchen, Mary Hastings came +towards them from the other side of the camp.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, Molly? You look as sober as an owl!” cried Louise +who never looked sober.</p> + +<p>“It’s Myra—she isn’t here. Miss Grandis and I have hunted all over the +camp for her,” Mary answered. “You know she started for Kent’s Corners +before we went berrying.”</p> + +<p>“So she did,” cried another girl, the merriment dying out of her eyes. +“You don’t suppose she really went there?”</p> + +<p>“Myra Karr—alone—to Kent’s Corners? Never in the world,” Louise flung +out carelessly. “She’s somewhere about. Let’s call her.” She lifted her +voice and called aloud, “Myra, Myra, My-raa!”</p> + +<p>At the call Mrs. Royall came hastily towards them. “Where is Myra? +Didn’t she go berrying with us?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“No,” Louise explained lightly. “Bunny got her back up this morning and +said she was going alone to Kent’s Corners, but of course she didn’t. +She’s started <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_41" id="pg_41">41</a></span>that stunt half a dozen times and always backed out. +She’s just around somewhere.”</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Royall still looked troubled. “She must be found,” she said +with quick decision. “Get the megaphone, Louise, and call her with +that.”</p> + +<p>Still laughing, Louise obeyed. Her clear voice carried well, and many +keen young ears were strained for the response that did not come. In the +silence that followed a second call, Mrs. Royall spoke to another girl.</p> + +<p>“Edith, get your bugle and sound the recall. If that does not bring her, +two of you must hurry over to the farm and harness Billy into the buggy; +and I will drive to Kent’s Corners at once.”</p> + +<p>The girls were no longer laughing. “You don’t think anything could have +happened to Myra, Mrs. Royall?” one of them questioned anxiously. +“Almost all of us have walked over there. I went alone and so did Mary.”</p> + +<p>“I know, but Myra is such a timid little thing. She cannot do what most +of you can.”</p> + +<p>Edith Rue came running back with her bugle, and in a moment the notes of +the recall floated out on the still summer air. It was a rigid rule of +the camp that the recall should be promptly answered by any girl within +hearing, so when, in the silence that followed, no response was heard, +Mrs. Royall sent the two girls for the horse and buggy.</p> + +<p>“Have them here as quickly as possible,” she called after them.</p> + +<p>Before the messengers were out of sight, however, there was an outcry +behind them.</p> + +<p>“Why, there she is! There’s Myra now!” and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_42" id="pg_42">42</a></span>every face turned towards +the small figure coming from the clump of evergreens, her eyes still +half-dazed with sleep.</p> + +<p>With an exclamation of relief, Mrs. Royall hurried to meet her.</p> + +<p>“Where were you, child? Didn’t you hear us calling you?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“I—I—no. I heard the recall, and I came—I guess I was asleep,” +stammered Myra bewildered by something tense in the atmosphere, and the +eyes all centred on her.</p> + +<p>“Asleep!” echoed Louise Johnson with a chuckle. “What did I tell you, +girls?”</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Royall saw that Myra looked pale and tired, and she noticed the +change that came over her face as Louise spoke. A quick wave of colour +swept the pale cheeks and the small head was lifted with an air that was +new and strange—in Myra Karr. Mrs. Royall spoke again, laying her hand +gently on the girl’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Myra, how long have you been asleep? How long have you been back in +camp?”</p> + +<p>And Myra answered quietly, but with that new pride in her voice, “It was +quarter of four by the kitchen clock when I came. There was nobody +here—not even Katie——”</p> + +<p>“I’d just run out a bit to see if anny of ye was comin’,” put in the +cook from the kitchen door where she stood, as much interested as any +one else in what was going on.</p> + +<p>“And did you go to Kent’s Corners, my dear?” Mrs. Royall questioned +gently.</p> + +<p>It was Myra’s hour of triumph. She forgot Louise <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_43" id="pg_43">43</a></span>Johnson’s mocking +laugh—forgot everything but her beautiful new freedom.</p> + +<p>“O, I did—I did, Mrs. Royall!” she cried out. “I was awfully frightened +at first, but coming home I wasn’t <i>one bit afraid</i>, and, please, you +won’t let them call me Bunny any more, will you?”</p> + +<p>“No, my child, no. You’ve won a new name and you shall have it at the +next Council Fire. I’m so glad, Myra!” Mrs. Royall’s face was almost as +radiant as the girl’s.</p> + +<p>It was Louise Johnson who called out, “Three cheers for Myra Karr! She’s +a <i>trump</i>!”</p> + +<p>The cheers were given with a will. Tears filled Myra’s eyes, but they +were happy tears, as the girls crowded around her with questions and +exclamations, and Miss Grandis stood with a hand on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“That’s what Camp Fire has done for one girl,” Mrs. Royall said in a low +tone to Laura Haven. “That child was afraid of the dark, afraid of the +water, afraid to be alone a minute, when she came. It is a great triumph +for her—a great victory.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” returned Laura thoughtfully, and Anne added,</p> + +<p>“You’ve no idea how lonesome the camp looked when Laura and I came back +and found you all gone. It was so still it seemed almost uncanny. Myra +never would have dared to stay alone here before.”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_44" id="pg_44">44</a></span> +<a name="THE_POOR_THING_1241" id="THE_POOR_THING_1241"></a> +<h2>IV</h2> +<h3>THE POOR THING</h3> +</div> + +<p>A week later Miss Grandis was called home by illness in her family, and +she asked Laura to drive to the station with her.</p> + +<p>“I wanted the chance to talk with you,” she explained, as they drove +along the quiet country road. “You know I should not have been able to +stay here much longer anyhow, and now I shall not come back, and I want +you to take charge of my girls. Will you?”</p> + +<p>“O, I can’t yet—I haven’t had half enough training,” Laura protested.</p> + +<p>“I know, but you’ve put so much into the time you have had in camp, and +I know that Mrs. Royall will be glad to have you in my place. You can +keep on with your training just the same. I want to tell you about the +girls.” She told something of the environment of each one—enough to +help Laura to understand their needs. “And there’s Elizabeth Page, who +is coming to-morrow,” she went on. “I always think of her as the Poor +Thing. O, I do so hope the Camp Fire will do a great deal for her—she’s +had so pitifully little in her life thus far. Her mother died when she +was a baby, and she has been just a drudge for her stepmother and the +younger children, and she’s not strong enough for such hard work. She’s +never had anything for herself. The camp will seem like paradise <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_45" id="pg_45">45</a></span>to her +if she can only get in touch with things—I’m sure it will.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do my best for her,” Laura promised.</p> + +<p>“I know you will. And you’ll meet her when she comes, to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Laura returned.</p> + +<p>There was no time to spare when they reached the station, but Miss +Grandis’ last word was of Elizabeth and her great need.</p> + +<p>Laura was at the station early the next day, and would have recognised +the Poor Thing even if she had not been the only girl leaving the train +at that place. Elizabeth was seventeen, but she might have been taken +for fourteen until one looked into her eyes—they seemed to mirror the +pain and privation of half a century. Laura’s heart went out to her in a +wave of pitying tenderness, but the girl drew back as if frightened by +the warm friendliness of her greeting.</p> + +<p>All the way back to camp she sat silent, answering a direct question +with a nod or shake of the head, but never speaking; and when, at the +camp, a crowd of girls came to meet the newcomer, she looked wildly +around as if for refuge from all these strangers. Seeing this, Laura, +with a whispered word, sent the girls away, and introduced Elizabeth +only to Mrs. Royall and Anne Wentworth.</p> + +<p>“Another scared rabbit?” giggled Louise Johnson.</p> + +<p>“Don’t call her that, Louise,” said Bessie Carroll. “I’m awfully sorry +for the poor thing.”</p> + +<p>Laura, overhearing the low-spoken words, said to herself, “There it +is—Poor Thing. That name is bound to cling to her, it fits so exactly.”</p> + +<p>It did fit exactly, and within two days Elizabeth was <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_46" id="pg_46">46</a></span>the Poor Thing to +every girl in the camp. Laura kept the child with her most of the first +day; she was quiet and still as a ghost, did as she was told, and +watched all that went on, but she spoke to no one and never asked a +question. At night she was given a cot next to Olga’s. When Laura showed +her her place at bedtime, she pointed to the adjoining tent.</p> + +<p>“I sleep right there, Elizabeth,” she said, “and if you want anything in +the night, just speak, and I shall hear you. But I hope you will sleep +so soundly that you won’t know anything till morning. It’s lovely +sleeping out of doors like this!”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth said nothing, but she shivered as she cast a fearful glance +into the shadowy spaces beyond the tents, and Laura hastened to add, +“You needn’t be a bit afraid. Nothing but birds and squirrels ever come +around here.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth went early to bed, and was apparently sound asleep when the +other girls went to their cots. But after all was still and the camp +lights out, she lay trembling, and staring wide-eyed into the darkness. +A thousand strange small sounds beat on her strained ears, and when +suddenly the hoot of an owl rang out from a nearby treetop, Elizabeth +sprang up with a frightened cry and clutched wildly at the girl in the +nearest cot.</p> + +<p>Olga’s cold voice answered her cry. “It’s nothing but an owl, you goose! +Go back to your bed!”</p> + +<p>But Elizabeth was on her knees, clinging desperately to Olga’s hand.</p> + +<p>“O, I’m afraid, I’m afraid!” she moaned. “Please <i>please</i> let me stay +here with you. I never was in a p-place like this before.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_47" id="pg_47">47</a></span>Olga jerked her hand away from the clinging fingers. “Get back to your +bed!” she ordered under her breath. “Anybody’d think you were a <i>baby</i>.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care <i>what</i> anybody’d think if you’ll only let me stay. I—I +must touch s-somebody,” wailed the Poor Thing in a choked voice.</p> + +<p>“Well, it won’t be me you’ll touch,” retorted Olga. “And if you don’t +keep still I’ll report you in the morning. You’ll have every girl in the +camp awake presently.”</p> + +<p>“O, I don’t care,” sobbed Elizabeth under her breath. “I—I want to go +home. I’d rather die than stay here!”</p> + +<p>“Well, die if you like, but leave the rest of us to sleep in peace,” +muttered Olga, and turning her face away from the wretched little +creature crouching at her side, she went calmly to sleep.</p> + +<p>When she awoke she gave a casual glance at the next cot. It was empty, +but on the floor was a small huddled figure, one hand still clutching +Olga’s blanket. Olga started to yank the blanket away, but the look of +suffering in the white face stayed her impatient hand. She touched the +thin shoulder of Elizabeth, and for once her touch was almost gentle. +Elizabeth opened her eyes with a start as Olga whispered, “Get back to +your bed. There’s an hour before rising time.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth crawled slowly back to her own cot, but she did not sleep +again. Neither did Olga, and she was uncomfortably aware that a pair of +timid blue eyes were on her face until she turned her back on them.</p> + +<p>At ten o’clock that morning the girls all trooped down to the water. +Some in full knickerbockers and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_48" id="pg_48">48</a></span>middy blouses were going to row or +paddle, but most wore bathing suits. With some difficulty Laura +persuaded Elizabeth to put on a bathing suit that Miss Grandis had left +for her, but no urging or coaxing could induce her to go into the water +even to wade, though other girls were swimming and splashing and +frolicking like mermaids. Elizabeth sat on the sand, her eyes following +Olga’s dark head as the girl swept through the water like a +fish—swimming, floating, diving—she seemed as much at home in the +water as on land.</p> + +<p>“You can do all those things too, Elizabeth, if you will,” Laura told +her. “Look at Myra, there—she has always been afraid to try to swim, +but she’s learning to-day, and see how she is enjoying it.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth drew further into her shell of silence. She cast a fleeting +glance at Myra Karr, nervously trying to obey Mary Hastings’ directions +and “act like a frog”—then her eyes searched again for Olga, now far +out in the bay.</p> + +<p>When she could not distinguish the dark head, anxiety at last conquered +her timidity, and she turned to Laura:</p> + +<p>“O, is she drowned?” she cried under her breath. “Olga—is she?”</p> + +<p>Anne Wentworth laughed out at the question. “Why, Elizabeth,” she said, +leaning towards her, “Olga’s a perfect fish in the water. She’s the best +swimmer in camp. Look—there she comes now.”</p> + +<p>She came swimming on her side, one strong brown arm cutting swiftly and +steadily through the water. When presently she walked up on the beach, a +pale smile glimmered over Elizabeth’s face, but it vanished <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_49" id="pg_49">49</a></span>at Olga’s +glance as she passed with the scornful fling—“Haven’t even wet your +feet—<i>baby</i>!”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth’s face flushed and she drew her bare feet under her.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, you’ll wet them to-morrow, won’t you, Elizabeth?” Laura +said; but the Poor Thing made no reply; she only gulped down a sob as +she looked after the straight young figure in the dripping bathing suit +marching down the beach.</p> + +<p>“She notices no one but Olga,” Laura said as she walked back to camp +with her friend. “If Olga would only take an interest in <i>her</i>!”</p> + +<p>“If only she would!” Anne agreed. “But she seems to have no more feeling +than a fish!”</p> + +<p>Many of the girls did their best to draw the Poor Thing out of her shell +of scared silence, but they all failed. And Olga would do nothing. Yet +Elizabeth followed Olga like her shadow day after day. Olga’s impatient +rebuffs—even her angry commands—only made the Poor Thing hang back a +little.</p> + +<p>When things had gone on so for a week, Laura asked Olga to go with her +to the village. She went, but they were no sooner on the road than she +began abruptly, “I know what you want of me, Miss Haven, but it’s no +use. I can’t be bothered with that Poor Thing—she makes me sick—always +hanging around and wanting to get her hands on me. I can’t stand that +sort of thing, and I won’t—that’s all there is about it. I’ll go home +first.”</p> + +<p>When Laura answered nothing, Olga glanced at her grave face and went on +sulkily, “Nobody ought to expect me to put up with an everlasting +trailer like that girl.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_50" id="pg_50">50</a></span>Still Laura was silent until Olga flung out, “You might as well say it. +I know what you are thinking of me.”</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t thinking of you, Olga. I was thinking of Elizabeth. If you saw +her drowning you’d plunge in and save her without a moment’s +hesitation.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I would—but I wouldn’t have her hanging on to me like a +leech after I’d saved her.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you have not realised that in ‘hanging on’ to you—as you +express it—she is simply fighting for her life.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Miss Haven?”</p> + +<p>“I mean that Elizabeth is—starving. Not food starvation, but a worse +kind. Olga, this is the first time in her life that she has ever spent a +day away from home—she told me that—or ever had any one try to make +her happy. Is it any wonder that she doesn’t know how to <i>be</i> happy or +make friends? It seems strange that, from among so many who would gladly +be her friends here, she should have chosen you who are not willing to +be a friend to any one—strange, and a great pity, it seems. It throws +an immense responsibility upon you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want any such responsibility. I don’t think any of you ought to +put it on me,” Olga flung out sulkily.</p> + +<p>“We are not putting it on you,” returned Laura gently.</p> + +<p>Olga twitched her shoulder with an impatient gesture, and the two walked +some distance before she spoke again. Then it was to say, “What are you +asking me to do, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>“<i>I</i> am not asking you to do anything,” Laura answered. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_51" id="pg_51">51</a></span>“It is for you +to ask yourself what you are going to do. I believe it is in your power +to make over that poor girl mind and body—I might almost say, soul too. +She thinks she can do nothing but household drudgery. She is afraid of +everything. When I think of what you could do for her in the next +month—Olga, I wonder that you can let such a wonderful opportunity pass +you by.”</p> + +<p>They went the rest of the way mostly in silence. When they returned to +the camp, Elizabeth was watching for them, but the glance Olga gave her +was so repellent that she shrank away, and went off alone to the +Lookout. Later Laura tried to interest Elizabeth in the making of a +headband of beadwork, but though she evidently liked to handle the +bright-coloured beads, she would not try to do the work herself.</p> + +<p>“I can’t. I can’t do things like that,” she said with gentle +indifference, her eyes wandering off in search of Olga.</p> + +<p>The next day, however, Laura came to Anne Wentworth, her eyes shining. +“O Anne, what <i>do</i> you think?” she cried. “Olga had Elizabeth in wading +this morning. Isn’t that fine?”</p> + +<p>“Fine indeed—for a beginning. It shows what Olga might do with her if +she would.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, for she was so cross with her! I wondered that Elizabeth did not +go away and leave her. No other girl in camp would let Olga speak to her +as she speaks to that Poor Thing.”</p> + +<p>“No, the others are not Poor Things, you see—that makes all the +difference. But that Olga should take the trouble to make Elizabeth do +anything is a big step in advance—for Olga.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_52" id="pg_52">52</a></span>“There is splendid material in Olga, Anne—I am sure of it,” Laura +returned.</p> + +<p>There was splendid persistence in her, anyhow. She had undertaken to +overcome Elizabeth’s fear of the water, but it was a harder task than +she had imagined. She did make the Poor Thing wade—clinging tightly to +Olga’s fingers all the time—but further than that she could not lead +her. Day after day Elizabeth would stand shivering and trembling in +water up to her knees, her cheeks so white and her lips so blue that +Olga dared not compel her to go further. Yet day after day Olga made her +wade in that far at least; not once would she allow her to omit it.</p> + +<p>One day she sat for a long time looking gravely at the Poor Thing, who +flushed and paled nervously under that steady silent scrutiny. At last +Olga said abruptly, “What do you like best, Elizabeth?”</p> + +<p>“Like—best——” Elizabeth faltered uncertainly.</p> + +<p>Olga frowned and repeated her question.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “I—I like Molly. And the other +children—a little.”</p> + +<p>“You mean your brothers and sisters?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth nodded.</p> + +<p>“Which is Molly?”</p> + +<p>“The littlest one. She’s four, and she’s real pretty,” Elizabeth +declared proudly. “She’s prettier than Annie Pearson.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but what do you yourself like?” Olga persisted. “What would you +like to have—pretty dresses, ribbons—what?”</p> + +<p>“I—I never thought,” was the vague reply.</p> + +<p>Again Olga’s brows met in a frown that made the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_53" id="pg_53">53</a></span>Poor Thing shrink and +tremble. She brought out her necklace and tossed it into the other +girl’s lap.</p> + +<p>“Think that’s pretty?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“O <i>yes</i>!” Elizabeth breathed softly. She did not touch the necklace, +but gazed admiringly at the bright-coloured beads as they lay in her +lap.</p> + +<p>“You can have one like it if you want,” Olga told her.</p> + +<p>“O no! Who’d give me one?”</p> + +<p>“Nobody. But you can get it for yourself. See here—I got all those blue +beads by learning about the wild flowers that grow right around here, +the weeds and stones and animals and birds. You can get as many in a few +days. I got that green one for making a little bit of a basket, +that—for making my washstand there out of a soap box—that, for +trimming my hat. Every bead on that necklace is there because of some +little thing I did or made—all things that you can do too.”</p> + +<p>The Poor Thing shook her head. “O <i>no</i>,” she stammered in her weak +gentle voice, “I can’t do anything. I—I ain’t like other girls.”</p> + +<p>“You can be if you want to,” Olga flung out at her impatiently. +“Say—what <i>can</i> you do? You can do something.”</p> + +<p>“No—nothing.” The Poor Thing’s blue eyes filled slowly with big tears, +and she looked through them beseechingly at the other. Olga drew a long +exasperated breath. She wanted to take hold of the girl’s thin shoulders +and shake the limpness out of her once for all.</p> + +<p>“What did you do at home?” she demanded with harsh abruptness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_54" id="pg_54">54</a></span>“N—nothing,” Elizabeth answered with a miserable gulp.</p> + +<p>“You did too! Of course you did something,” Olga flamed. “You didn’t sit +and stare at Molly and the others all day the way you stare at me, did +you? <i>What</i> did you do, I say?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth gave her a swift scared glance as she stammered, “I didn’t do +anything but cook and sweep and wash and iron and take care of the +children—truly I didn’t.”</p> + +<p>Olga’s face brightened. “Good heavens—if you aren’t the limit!” she +shrugged. Then she sprang up and got pencil and paper. “What can you +cook?” she demanded, and proceeded to put Elizabeth through a rapid-fire +examination on marketing, plain cooking, washing, ironing, sweeping, +bed-making, and care of babies. At last she had found some things that +even the Poor Thing could do. With flying fingers she scribbled down the +girl’s answers. Finally she cried excitingly, “<i>There!</i> See what a goose +you were to say you couldn’t do anything! Why, there are lots of girls +here who couldn’t do half these things. Elizabeth Page, listen. You’ve +got twelve orange beads like those,” she pointed to the +necklace—“already, for a beginning. That’s more than I have of that +colour. I don’t know anything about taking care of babies, nor half what +you do about cooking and marketing.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth stared, her mouth half open, her eyes widened in incredulous +wonder. “But—but,” she faltered, “I guess there’s some mistake. Just +housework and things like that ain’t anything to get beads for—are +they?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_55" id="pg_55">55</a></span>“They are <i>that</i>! I tell you Mrs. Royall will give you twelve honours +and twelve yellow beads at the next Council Fire, and if you half try +you can win some blue and brown and red ones too before that, and you’ve +just <i>got to do it</i>. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>The other nodded, her eyes full of dumb misery. Then she began to +whimper, “I—I—can’t ever do things like you and the rest do,” she +moaned.</p> + +<p>“Why not? You can walk, can’t you?”</p> + +<p>“W—walk?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—<i>walk</i>! Didn’t hurt you to walk to the village yesterday, did it?”</p> + +<p>“No—but I couldn’t go—alone.”</p> + +<p>“Who said anything about going alone? You’ll walk to Slabtown and back +with me to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“O, I’d like that—with you,” said the Poor Thing, brightening.</p> + +<p>Olga gave an impatient sniff. Sometimes she almost hated +Elizabeth—almost but not quite.</p> + +<p>“You’ll go with me to-morrow,” she declared, “but next day you’ll go +with some other girl.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth shrank into herself, shaking her head.</p> + +<p>Olga eyed her sternly. “Very well—if you won’t go with some other girl, +you can’t go with me to-morrow,” she declared.</p> + +<p>But the next day after breakfast the two set off for Slabtown. Halfway +there, Elizabeth suddenly crumpled up and dropped in a limp heap by the +roadside.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” Olga demanded, standing over her.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth lifted tired eyes. “I don’t know. You walked so—fast,” she +panted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_56" id="pg_56">56</a></span>“Fast!” echoed Olga scornfully; but she sat on a stone wall and waited +until a little colour had crept back into the other girl’s thin cheeks, +and went at a slower pace afterwards.</p> + +<p>“There! Do that every day for a week and you’ll have one of your red +beads,” was her comment when they were back at camp. “And now go lie in +that hammock.”</p> + +<p>When from the kitchen she brought a glass of milk and some crackers, she +found Elizabeth sitting on the ground.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you get into the hammock as I told you?” she demanded, and +the Poor Thing answered vaguely that she “thought maybe they wouldn’t +want” her to.</p> + +<p>Olga poked the milk at her. “Drink it!” she ordered, “and eat those +crackers,” and when Elizabeth had obeyed, added, “Now get into that +hammock and lie there till dinner-time,” and meekly Elizabeth did so.</p> + +<p>When, later in the day, some of the younger girls started a game of +blindman’s buff, Olga seized Elizabeth’s hand. “Come,” she said, “we’re +going to play too.”</p> + +<p>“O, I can’t! I—I never did,” cried the Poor Thing, hanging back.</p> + +<p>“I never did either, but I’m going to now and so are you. Come!” and +Elizabeth yielded to the imperative command.</p> + +<p>The other girls stared in amazement as the two joined them. It was +little Bess Carroll who smiled a welcome as Louise Johnson cried out,</p> + +<p>“Wonders will never cease-<i>-Olga Priest playing a game!</i>”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_57" id="pg_57">57</a></span>She spoke to Mary Hastings, who answered hastily, “Bless her +heart—she’s doing it just to get that Poor Thing to play. Let’s take +them right in, girls.”</p> + +<p>The girls were quick to respond. Olga was the next one caught, and when +she was blinded she couldn’t help catching Elizabeth, who stood still, +never thinking of getting out of the way. Elizabeth didn’t want the +handkerchief tied over her eyes, but she submitted meekly, at a look +from Olga. Half a dozen girls flung themselves in her way, and the one +on whom her limp grasp fell ignored the fact that Elizabeth could not +name her, and gaily held up the handkerchief to be tied over her own +eyes in turn. Nobody caught Olga again. She was as quick as a flash and +as slippery as an eel. Elizabeth’s eyes followed her constantly, and a +little glimmer of a smile touched her lips as Olga slipped safely out of +reach of one catcher after another.</p> + +<p>When she pulled Elizabeth out of the noisy merry circle, Olga glanced at +the clock in the dining-room and made a swift calculation. +“Three-quarters of an hour—blindman’s buff.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to play at some game every day, Elizabeth,” she announced, +with grim determination. She hated games, but Elizabeth must win her red +beads and the red blood for which they stood. She had undertaken to make +something out of this jellyfish of a girl and she did not mean to fail. +That was all there was about it. So every day she led forth the +reluctant Elizabeth and patiently stood over her while she blundered +through a game of basket-ball, hockey, prisoner’s base, or whatever the +girls were playing. But Elizabeth made small progress. Always she barely +stumbled <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_58" id="pg_58">58</a></span>through her part, helped in every way by Olga and often by +other girls who helped her for Olga’s sake.</p> + +<p>It was Mary Hastings who broke out earnestly one day, looking after the +two going down the road, “I say, girls, we’re just a lot of selfish pigs +to leave that Poor Thing on Olga’s hands all the time. It must be misery +to her to have Elizabeth hanging on to her as she does—a dead weight.”</p> + +<p>“Right you are! I should think she’d hate the Poor Thing—I should. I +should take her down to the dock some night and drown her,” said Louise +Johnson with her inevitable giggle.</p> + +<p>“I think Olga deserves all the honours there are for the way she endures +that—jellyfish,” said Edith Rue.</p> + +<p>“I never saw any one thaw out the way Olga has lately though. She really +deigns to speak amiably now—sometimes,” Annie Pearson put in with a +sniff.</p> + +<p>“She ‘deigns’ to do anything under the sun that will help that Poor +Thing to be a bit like other girls,” cried Mary. “Olga is splendid, +girls! She makes me ashamed of myself twenty times a day. Do you realise +what it means? She is trying to make that Poor Thing <i>live</i>. She just +exists now. O, we must help her—we must—every single one of us!”</p> + +<p>“But how, Molly? We’re willing enough to help, but we don’t know how. +Elizabeth turns her back on every one of us except Olga—you know she +does.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” Mary admitted, “but if we really try we can find ways to +help.”</p> + +<p>When, compelled by Olga’s unyielding determination, the Poor Thing had +taken a three-mile tramp <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_59" id="pg_59">59</a></span>every day for a week, she began to enjoy it, +and did not object when another mile was added. She was always happy +when she was with Olga, but at other times—when they were not +walking—her content was marred by the consciousness that Olga was not +really pleased with her because she could not do so many things that the +others wanted her to do—like beadwork and basketwork, and above all, +swimming. But Olga was pleased with her when she went willingly on these +daily tramps.</p> + +<p>The Poor Thing seemed to find something particularly attractive about +the Slabtown settlement, and liked better to go in that direction than +any other. She would often stop and watch the dirty half-naked babies +playing in the bare yards; and as she watched them there would come into +her face a look that Olga could not understand—Olga, who had never had +a baby sister to love and cuddle.</p> + +<p>One day when the two approached the little settlement, they saw half a +dozen boys and girls walking along the top of a stone-wall that bordered +the road. A baby girl—not yet three—was begging the others to help her +up, but they refused.</p> + +<p>“You can’t get up here, Polly John—you’re too little!” the boys shouted +at her. But evidently Polly John had a will of her own, for she made +such an outcry that at last her sister exclaimed, “We’ve got to take her +up—she’ll yell till we do,” and to the baby she cried, “Now you hush +up, Polly, an’ ketch hold o’ my hand.”</p> + +<p>The baby held up her hand and with a jerk she was pulled to the top of +the wall, but by no means did she “hush up.” She writhed and twisted and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_60" id="pg_60">60</a></span>screamed, but there was a difference now—a note of pain and terror in +the shrill cries.</p> + +<p>“What ails her? What’s she yellin’ for now?” one boy demanded, and +another shouted, “Take her down, Peggy. You get down with her.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t, either!” Peggy retorted angrily, but she was sitting on the +wall now, holding the baby half impatiently, half anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Look at her arm. What makes her stick it out like that?” one boy +questioned.</p> + +<p>The big sister took hold of the small arm, but at her touch the baby’s +cries redoubled, and a woman put her head out of a window and sharply +demanded what they were doing to that child anyhow.</p> + +<p>It was then that the Poor Thing suddenly darted across the road and +caught the wailing child from the arms of her astonished sister.</p> + +<p>“O, don’t touch her arm!” Elizabeth cried. “Don’t you see? It’s hurting +her dreadfully. You slipped it out of joint when you pulled her up +there.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t, either! Much you know about it!” the older girl flashed back, +sticking out her tongue. But the fear in her eyes belied her impudence.</p> + +<p>“Where’s her mother?” Elizabeth demanded.</p> + +<p>“She ain’t got none,” chorused all the children.</p> + +<p>Several women now came hurrying out to see what was the matter. One of +them held out her arms to the child, but she hid her face on Elizabeth’s +shoulder, and still kept up her frightened wailing.</p> + +<p>“How d’ye know her arm’s out o’ joint?” one of the women demanded when +Peggy had repeated what Elizabeth had said.</p> + +<p>“I do know because I pulled my little sister’s arm <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_61" id="pg_61">61</a></span>out just that way +once, lifting her over a crossing. O, I <i>wish</i> I knew how to slip it in +again! It wouldn’t take a minute if we only knew how. Now we must get +her to a doctor—quick. It is hurting her dreadfully, you know—that’s +why she keeps crying so!”</p> + +<p>“A doctor! Ain’t no doctor nearer’n East Bassett,” one woman said.</p> + +<p>“East Bassett! Then we must take her there,” Elizabeth said to Olga, who +for once stood by silent and helpless.</p> + +<p>“We can get her there in twenty minutes—maybe fifteen if we walk fast,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“Then”—Elizabeth questioned the women—“can any of you take her there?”</p> + +<p>The women exchanged glances. “It’s ’most dinner time—my man will be +home,” said one. The others all had excuses; no one offered to take the +child to East Bassett. No one really believed in the necessity. What did +this white-faced slip of a girl know about children, anyhow?</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll take her myself,” the Poor Thing declared. “I guess I can +carry her that far.”</p> + +<p>“An’ who’ll bring her back?” demanded the child’s sister gloomily.</p> + +<p>“You must come with me and bring her back,” Elizabeth answered with +decision. “Come quick! I tell you it’s hurting her awfully. Don’t you +see how white she is?”</p> + +<p>Peggy looked at the little face all white and drawn with pain, and +surrendered.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go,” she said meekly, and without more words, Elizabeth set off +with the child in her arms. Olga followed in silence, and Peggy trailed +along in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_62" id="pg_62">62</a></span>rear, but as she went she turned and shouted back to one +of the boys, “Jimmy, you come along too with the wagon to bring her home +in,” and presently a freckled-faced boy, with straw-coloured hair, had +joined the procession. The wagon he drew was a soapbox fitted with a +pair of wheels from a go-cart.</p> + +<p>“Let me carry her, Elizabeth—she’s too heavy for you,” Olga said after +a few minutes; but the child clung to Elizabeth, refusing to be +transferred, and at the pressure of the little yellow head against her +shoulder, Elizabeth smiled.</p> + +<p>“I can carry her,” she said. “She’s not so very heavy. She makes me +think of little Molly.”</p> + +<p>So Elizabeth carried the child all the way, and held her still when they +reached East Bassett and by rare good luck found the doctor at home. He +was an old man, and over his glasses he looked up with a twinkle of +amusement as the party of five trailed into his office. But the next +instant he demanded abruptly,</p> + +<p>“What ails that child?”</p> + +<p>“It’s her arm—see?” Elizabeth said. “It’s out of joint.”</p> + +<p>“Yes!” The doctor snapped out the word. Then his hands were on the +baby’s shoulder, there was a quick skilful twist, a shriek of pain and +terror from the baby, and the bone slipped into place.</p> + +<p>“There, that’s all right. She’s crying now only because she’s +frightened,” the doctor said, snapping his fingers at the child. “How +did it happen?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth explained.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess you’ll know better than to lift a baby by the arm another +time,” the doctor said, with a kindly smile into Elizabeth’s tired face. +“Is it your sister?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_63" id="pg_63">63</a></span>“No—hers.” Elizabeth indicated Peggy, who twisted her bare feet +nervously one over the other as the doctor looked her over. “They live +at Slabtown,” Elizabeth added.</p> + +<p>“O—at Slabtown. And where do you live?”</p> + +<p>“I’m—we,” Elizabeth’s gesture included Olga, “we are at the camp.”</p> + +<p>“And how came you mixed up in this business?” The doctor meant to know +all about the affair now. When Elizabeth had told him, he looked at her +curiously. “And so you lugged that heavy child all the way down here?” +he said.</p> + +<p>“Olga wanted to carry her, but the baby wouldn’t let her—and she was +crying, so——” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off into silence.</p> + +<p>The doctor smiled at her again. Then suddenly he inquired in a gruff +voice, “Well now, who’s going to pay me for this job—you?”</p> + +<p>“<i>O!</i>” cried Elizabeth, her eyes suddenly very anxious. “I—I never +thought of that. It was hurting her so—and she’s so little—I just +thought—thought——” Again she left her sentence unfinished.</p> + +<p>“What’s her name? Who’s her father?” the doctor demanded.</p> + +<p>Peggy answered, “Father’s Jim Johnson. I guess mebbe he’ll pay +you—sometime.”</p> + +<p>The doctor’s face changed. He remembered when Jim Johnson’s wife died a +year before—he remembered the three children now.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing to pay,” he said kindly, “only be careful how you pull +your little sister around by the arms after this. Some children can +stand that sort of handling, but she can’t.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_64" id="pg_64">64</a></span>“O, thank you!” Elizabeth’s eyes full of gratitude were lifted to the +old doctor’s face as she spoke. He rose, and looking down at her, laid a +kindly hand on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“That camp’s a good place for you. Stay there as long as you can,” he +said. “But don’t lug a three-year-old a mile and a half again. You are +hardly strong enough yet for that kind of athletics.”</p> + +<p>They all filed out then, and Elizabeth put little Polly John into the +soapbox wagon, kissed the small face, dirty and tear-stained as it was, +and stood for a moment looking after the three children as they set off +towards Slabtown.</p> + +<p>As they went on to the camp, Olga kept glancing at Elizabeth in silent +wonder. Was this really the Poor Thing who could not do anything—who +would barely answer “yes” or “no” when any one spoke to her? Olga +watched her in puzzled silence.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_65" id="pg_65">65</a></span> +<a name="WIND_AND_WEATHER_1930" id="WIND_AND_WEATHER_1930"></a> +<h2>V</h2> +<h3>WIND AND WEATHER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Olga, sitting under a big oak, was embroidering her ceremonial dress, +and, as usual, Elizabeth sat near, watching her as she worked. Olga did +it as she did most things, with taste and skill, but she listened +indifferently when Laura Haven, stopping beside her, spoke admiringly of +the work.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t waste time over it if I hadn’t promised Miss Grandis to +embroider it. She gave us all the stuff, you know,” Olga explained.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t wasting time to make things beautiful,” Laura replied. “That +is part of our law, you know, to seek beauty, and wherever possible, +create it.” She looked at Elizabeth and added, “You’ll be learning +by-and-by to do such work.”</p> + +<p>There was no response from the Poor Thing, only the usual shrinking +gesture and eyes down-dropped. Acting on a sudden impulse, Laura spoke +again. “Elizabeth, the cook is short of helpers this morning, and I’ve +volunteered to shell peas. There’s a big lot of them to do. I wonder if +you would be willing to help me.”</p> + +<p>To her surprise Elizabeth rose at once with a nod. “Olga will be glad to +have her away for a little while,” Laura was thinking as they went over +to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>It certainly was a big lot of peas. Forty girls, living <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_66" id="pg_66">66</a></span>and sleeping in +the open, develop famous appetites, and the “telephone” peas were +delicious. But as the two worked, the great pile of pods grew steadily +smaller, and finally Laura looked at Elizabeth with a laugh. “I’ve been +trying my best, but I can’t keep up with you,” she said. “How do you +shell them so fast, Elizabeth?”</p> + +<p>A wee ghost of a smile—the first Laura had ever seen there—fluttered +over the girl’s face. “I’m used to this kind of work. You have to do it +fast when you’re cookin’ for eight,” she explained simply.</p> + +<p>“And you have cooked for eight?” Laura questioned, and added to herself, +“No wonder you look like a ghost of a girl.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth nodded. Laura could not induce her to talk, but still she felt +that somehow she had penetrated a little way into the shell of silence +and reserve. As they went back across the camp, she dropped her arm over +Elizabeth’s shoulders, and said,</p> + +<p>“You’re a splendid helper, Elizabeth. May I call on you the next time I +need any one?”</p> + +<p>Another silent nod, and then the girl slipped back into her place beside +Olga.</p> + +<p>“Then I will—and thank you,” Laura returned as she passed on. Olga +glanced after her with something odd and inscrutable in her dark eyes, +and there was a question in the look with which she searched the face of +Elizabeth. But she did not put the question into words.</p> + +<p>Afterwards Laura spoke to her friend of the Poor Thing with a new +hopefulness, telling how willingly she had helped with the peas.</p> + +<p>“You know I’ve tried in vain to get her to do other <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_67" id="pg_67">67</a></span>things, but this +time she was so quick to respond! I’m almost afraid to hope, but maybe +I’ve had an inspiration. I must try the child again though before I can +feel at all sure.”</p> + +<p>She made her second trial the next day, when she sent Bessie Carroll to +ask Elizabeth to help her with the dishes. “It’s my day to work in the +kitchen,” Bessie told her, “and Miss Laura thought you might be willing +to help me. Most of the girls, you know, hate the kitchen work. You +don’t, do you?”</p> + +<p>“I <i>like</i> to help,” replied Elizabeth promptly.</p> + +<p>“I like Elizabeth!” Bessie confided to Laura that night. “Before, I’ve +tried to get her into things because she seemed so lonesome and ‘out of +it,’ don’t you know? But I like her now, she was so willing to help me +to-day. I thought she was awfully slow, but she was quick as anybody +with the dishes.”</p> + +<p>Then Laura felt sure she had found the key. “Elizabeth loves to help,” +she told Anne Wentworth.</p> + +<p>“‘Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten,’” she +quoted. “Anne, I believe that that spirit is in the Poor Thing—deep +down in the starved little heart of her—while Olga—with Olga it is the +other. She ‘glorifies work’ because ‘through work she is free.’ She +works ‘to win, to conquer, to be master.’ She works ‘for the joy of the +working.’ That’s the difference.”</p> + +<p>Anne nodded gravely. “I am sure you are right about Olga. It has always +seemed to me that to her ‘Wohelo means work’ and only that.”</p> + +<p>“And to Elizabeth it means—or will mean—service and that means, +underneath—love,” said Laura, her voice full of deep feeling. “O Anne, +I so <i>long</i> to help <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_68" id="pg_68">68</a></span>that poor child to get some of the beauty and joy +of life into her little neglected soul!”</p> + +<p>“If she has love, she has the best thing in life already,” Anne +reminded. “The rest will come—in time.”</p> + +<p>A day or two later Laura found another excuse for asking Elizabeth’s +help, and as before, the response was quick, and again Olga’s busy +fingers paused as she looked after the two, and quite unconsciously her +dark brows came together in a frown. Elizabeth had gone with scarcely a +glance at her. A week—two weeks earlier, she would have hung back and +refused. Olga shook her head impatiently as she resumed her work, and +wondered why she was dissatisfied with Elizabeth for going so willingly. +Of course she must do what her Guardian asked. Nevertheless——Olga left +it there.</p> + +<p>It was an hour before Elizabeth came back, and this time there was in +her face something half shy, half exultant, and she did not say a word +about what Miss Laura had wanted her for. Olga made a mental note of +that, but she was far too proud to make any inquiries.</p> + +<p>The next morning after breakfast Elizabeth disappeared again, and this +time too it was fully an hour before she returned, and as before she +came back with a shining something in her eyes—a something that changed +slowly to troubled brooding when Olga did not look at her or speak to +her all the rest of the morning.</p> + +<p>When the third day it was the same, Olga faced the situation in stony +silence. She would not ask why Elizabeth went or where, but she silently +resented her <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_69" id="pg_69">69</a></span>going, and Elizabeth, sensitively conscious of her +resentment, after that, slipped away each time with a wistful backward +glance; and when she returned, there was no shining radiance in her +eyes, but only that wistful pleading which Olga coldly ignored. So it +went on day after day. Olga always knew where Elizabeth was except for +that one hour in the morning, which was never mentioned between them. +The other times she was always helping some one—darning stockings for +Louise Johnson—Elizabeth knew how to darn stockings—or helping little +Bessie Carroll hunt for some of her belongings, which she was always +losing, or helping Katie the cook, who declared that nobody in camp +could pare potatoes and apples, or peel tomatoes or pick over berries so +fast as the Poor Thing. There was not a day now that some one did not +call on Elizabeth for something like this, for the girls had found out +that she was always willing. She seemed to take it quite as a matter of +course that she should be at the service of everybody. But Laura noted +the fact that she never asked anybody to help her.</p> + +<p>Then came a night when Mrs. Royall detained the girls for a moment after +supper in the dining-room.</p> + +<p>“I think we are going to have a heavy storm,” she said, “and we must be +prepared for it. Put all your belongings under cover where they will be +secure from wind and rain. I should advise you to sleep in your +gymnasium suits—you will be none too warm in this northeast wind—and +have your rubber blankets and overshoes handy. Guardians will examine +all tent-pins and ropes and see that everything is secure. No tent-sides +up to-night, of course. I shall have a fire here, and lanterns burning +all night; so if anything is needed <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_70" id="pg_70">70</a></span>you can come right here. Now +remember, girls, there is nothing to be afraid of—and Camp Fire Girls, +of course, are never afraid. That is all, but attend to these things at +once, and as it is too chilly to stay out, we will all spend the evening +here.”</p> + +<p>The girls scattered, and the next half-hour was spent in making +everything ready for stormy weather. Only Louise Johnson, her mouth full +of mint gum, gaily protested that it was all nonsense. It might rain, of +course, but she didn’t believe there was going to be any heavy storm—in +August——</p> + +<p>“If the rest of you want to bundle up in your gym. suits you can, but +excuse <i>me</i>!” she said. “And I can’t put all my duds under cover.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Johnny, you’ll have nobody but yourself to blame if you find +your things soaked, or blown into the bay before morning,” Mary Hastings +told her. “I’m going to obey orders,” and she hurried over to her own +tent.</p> + +<p>The evening began merrily in the big dining-room. The canvas sides had +been securely fastened down, and a splendid wood fire blazed in the wide +fireplace. Tables were piled at one side of the room, and the girls +played games, and danced to the music of two violins. At bedtime Mrs. +Royall served hot chocolate and wafers, and then the girls went to their +tents. By that time the sky was covered with a murk of black clouds, and +a penetrating wind was blowing up the bay and whistling through the +grove. Extra blankets had been put over the cots and rubber blankets +over all, and the girls were quite willing to pull their flannel gym. +suits over their night clothes, and found them none too warm. Even +Louise Johnson followed the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_71" id="pg_71">71</a></span>example of the others. “Gee!” she exclaimed +as she tucked the extra blanket closely around her shoulders, “camping +out isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—not in this weather. Isn’t that +thunder?”</p> + +<p>It was thunder, and some of the more timid girls heard it with quaking +hearts. But it was distant, low growling thunder, and after a little it +died away. The girls, under their wool coverings, were warm and +comfortable, and their laughter and chatter ceased as they dropped off +to sleep.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if the storm spirits had maliciously waited that their +onset might be the more effective, for when all was quiet, and everybody +in camp asleep, the muttering of the thunder grew louder, lightning +began to zigzag across the black cloud masses, and the whistling of the +wind deepened to a steady ominous growl. Tent ropes creaked under the +strain of the heavy blasts; trees writhed and twisted, and the rain came +in gusts, swift, spiteful, and icy cold. In the dining-room Mrs. Royall +awoke from a light doze and piled fresh logs on the fire. Anne and +Laura, whom she had kept with her in case their help might be needed, +peered anxiously out of the windows.</p> + +<p>“Can’t see a thing but black night except when the flashes come,” Anne +said, “but this uproar is bound to awaken the girls.”</p> + +<p>“And some of them are sure to be frightened,” added Mrs. Royall.</p> + +<p>“It is enough to frighten them—all this tumult,” Laura said. “I wish we +could get them all in here.”</p> + +<p>“I’d have kept them all here and made a big field bed on the floor if I +had thought we were going to have such a storm as this,” Mrs. Royall +said anxiously. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_72" id="pg_72">72</a></span>“If it doesn’t lessen soon, I shall take a lantern and +go the round of the tents to see if all is right.”</p> + +<p>As she spoke there came a loud rattling peal of thunder, followed +immediately by a blinding flash of lightning that zigzagged across the +sky, making the dense darkness yet blacker by contrast.</p> + +<p>It was then that Mary Hastings, sitting up in bed, caught a glimpse, in +the glare of the lightning, of Annie Pearson’s white terrified face in +the next cot.</p> + +<p>“O Mary, I’m sc—scared to d—death!” Annie whimpered, her teeth +chattering with cold and terror.</p> + +<p>“We are all right if only our tent doesn’t blow over,” returned Mary, +and her steady voice quieted Annie for the moment. “If it does, we must +make a dive for the dining-room. Got your raincoats and rubbers handy, +girls?”</p> + +<p>“I’m putting mine on,” Olga’s voice was as cool and undisturbed as +Mary’s. She turned towards the next cot and added, “Elizabeth, you’ve no +raincoat. Wrap yourself in your rubber blanket if the tent goes.”</p> + +<p>“Ye—es,” returned Elizabeth, with a little frightened gasp.</p> + +<p>Under the bedclothes Annie Pearson was sobbing and moaning, “O, I wish I +was home! I wish I was home!”</p> + +<p>Mary Hastings spoke sternly. “Annie Pearson, if you don’t stop that +whimpering I’ll shake you!”</p> + +<p>Annie subsided into sniffling silence. Outside there was a lull, and +after a moment, Mary added hopefully, “There, I guess the worst is over, +and we’re all right.”</p> + +<p>While the words were yet on her lips, the storm leaped up like a giant +refreshed. Rain came down in <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_73" id="pg_73">73</a></span>a deluge, beating through tent-canvas and +spraying, with fine mist, the faces of the girls. Another vivid glare of +lightning was followed by a long, loud rattling peal ending in a +terrific crash that seemed fairly to rend the heavens, while the wind +shook the tents as if giant hands were trying to wrest them from their +fastenings. Then from all over the camp arose frightened shrieks and +wails and cries, but Annie Pearson now was too terrified to utter a +word. The next moment there was a loud, ripping tearing sound, and as +fresh cries broke out, Mrs. Royall’s voice, clear and steady, rose above +the tumult.</p> + +<p>“Be quiet, girls,” she called. “One tent has gone over, but nobody’s +hurt. Mary Hastings, slip on your coat and rubbers, and come and help +us—quick!”</p> + +<p>“I’m coming,” called Mary instantly, and directly she was out in the +storm. Where the next tent had been, nothing but the wooden flooring, +the iron cots, and four wooden boxes remained, and over these the rain +was pouring in heavy, blinding sheets. Mrs. Royall, as wet as if she had +just come out of the bay, was holding up a lantern, by the light of +which Mary caught a fleeting glimpse of four figures in dripping +raincoats scudding towards the dining-room, while two others followed +them with arms full of wet bedding.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Royall told Mary to gather up the bedding from a third cot and +carry that to the dining-room, “And you take the rest of it,” she added +to another girl, who had followed Mary. “And stay in the +dining-room—both of you. Don’t come out again. Miss Anne will tell you +what to do there.”</p> + +<p>She held the lantern high until the girls reached the dining-room, then +she hurried to another tent, from <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_74" id="pg_74">74</a></span>which came a hubbub of frightened +cries. Pushing aside the canvas curtain she stepped inside the tent, and +holding up her lantern, looked about her. The cries and excited +exclamations ceased at the sight of her, though one girl could not +control her nervous sobbing.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter here? Your tent hasn’t blown over. What are you +crying about, Rose?” Mrs. Royall demanded.</p> + +<p>Rose Anderson, an excitable little creature of fifteen, lifted a face +white as chalk. “O,” she sobbed, “something came in—right up on my bed. +It was big and—and furry—and <i>wet</i>! O Mrs. Royall, I never was so +scared in my life!” She ended with a burst of hysterical sobbing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Royall cast a swift searching glance around the tent, then—wet and +cold and worried as she was, her face crinkled into sudden laughter.</p> + +<p>“Look, Rose—over there on that box. That must be the wet, furry <i>big</i> +intruder that scared you so!”</p> + +<p>Four pairs of round frightened eyes followed her pointing finger; and on +the box they saw a half-grown rabbit, with eyes bulging like marbles as +the little creature crouched there in deadly terror. One glance, and +three of the girls broke into shrieks of nervous laughter in which, +after a moment, Rose joined. And having begun to laugh the girls kept +on, until those in the other tents began to wonder if somebody had gone +crazy. Mrs. Royall finally had to speak sternly to put an end to the +hysterical chorus.</p> + +<p>“There, there, girls, that will do—now be quiet! Listen, the thunder is +fainter now, and the lightning <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_75" id="pg_75">75</a></span>less sharp. I think the wind is going +down too. Are any of you wet?”</p> + +<p>“Only—only Rose, where the <i>big</i> furry thing——” began one, and at +that a fresh peal of laughter rang out. But Mrs. Royall’s grave face +silenced it quickly.</p> + +<p>“Listen, girls,” she repeated, “you are keeping me here when I am needed +to look after others. I cannot go until you are quiet. I’ll take this +half-drowned rabbit”—she reached over and picked up the trembling +little creature—“with me; and now I think you can go to sleep. I am +sure the worst of the storm is over.”</p> + +<p>“We will be quiet, Mrs. Royall,” Edith Rue promised, her lips twitching +again as she looked at the shivering rabbit.</p> + +<p>“And I hope now <i>you</i> can get some rest,” another added, and then Mrs. +Royall dropped the curtain and went out again into the rain, which was +still falling heavily. All the other tents had withstood the gale, and +when Mrs. Royall had looked into each one, answered the eager questions +of the girls, and assured them that no one was hurt and the worst of the +storm was over, she hurried back to the dining-room. There she found +that Anne and Laura had warmed and dried the girls, who had been turned +out of their tent, given them hot milk, and made up dry beds for them on +the floor.</p> + +<p>“They are warm as toast,” Anne assured her.</p> + +<p>“And now you and I will get back to bed, Elizabeth,” Mary Hastings said, +again slipping on her raincoat, while Laura quietly threw her own over +the other girl’s shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute,” Mrs. Royall ordered, and brought <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_76" id="pg_76">76</a></span>them two sandbags hot +from the kitchen oven. “You must not go to sleep with cold feet. And +thank you both for your help,” she added. “I’ll hold the lantern here at +the door so you can see your way.” But Laura quietly took the lantern +from her, and held it till Mary called, “All right!”</p> + +<p>“Is that you, Mary?” Olga’s quiet voice questioned, as the girls entered +the tent.</p> + +<p>“Yes—Elizabeth and I. The excitement is all over and the storm will be +soon. Let’s all get to sleep as fast as we can.”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth!” Olga repeated to herself. She had not known that Elizabeth +had left her cot. “Why did you go?” she asked in a low tone, as +Elizabeth crept under the blankets.</p> + +<p>“Why—to help,” the Poor Thing answered, squeezing the hand that touched +hers in the darkness.</p> + +<p>The storm surely was lessening now. The lightning came at longer +intervals and the thunder lagged farther and farther behind it. The rain +still fell, but not so heavily, and the roar of the wind had died down +to a sullen growl. In ten minutes the other three girls were sound +asleep, but Olga lay long awake, her eyes searching the darkness, as her +thoughts searched her own soul, finding there some things that greatly +astonished her.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_77" id="pg_77">77</a></span> +<a name="A_WATER_CURE_2306" id="A_WATER_CURE_2306"></a> +<h2>VI</h2> +<h3>A WATER CURE</h3> +</div> + +<p>There were some pale cheeks and heavy eyes the next morning, but no one +had taken cold from the exposure of the night, and most of the girls +were as fresh and full of life as ever. The camp, however, was strewn +with leaves and broken branches, and one tree was uprooted. Mrs. +Royall’s face was grave as she thought of what might have been, had that +tree fallen across any of the tents. It was a heavy responsibility that +she carried with these forty girls under her charge, and never had she +felt it more deeply than now.</p> + +<p>The baby bunny was evidently somebody’s stray pet, for it submitted to +handling as if used to it, showed no desire to get away, and contentedly +nibbled the lettuce leaves and carrots which the girls begged of Katie.</p> + +<p>“He fairly <i>purrs</i> when I scratch his head,” Louise Johnson declared +gaily. “Girls, we must keep him for the camp mascot.”</p> + +<p>“Looks as if we should have to keep him unless a claimant appears,” Mary +Hastings said. “I’ve almost stepped on him twice already. I don’t +believe we could drive him away with a club.”</p> + +<p>“Nobody wants to drive him away,” retorted Louise, lifting him by his +long ears, “unless maybe Rose,” she added, with a teasing glance over +her shoulder. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_78" id="pg_78">78</a></span>“You know Rose doesn’t care for <i>big</i> furry things.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess,” protested Rose, “if he had flopped into your face all +dripping wet, in the dark, as he did into mine last night, you wouldn’t +have stopped to measure him before you yelled, any more than I did. He +<i>felt</i> as big as—a wildcat, so there!” and Rose turned away with +flushed cheeks, followed by shouts of teasing laughter.</p> + +<p>“It’s—too bad. I’d have been scared too,” said a low voice, and Rose, +turning, stared in amazement at the Poor Thing—the <i>Poor Thing</i>—for +almost the first time since she came to camp, volunteering a remark.</p> + +<p>“Why—why, you Po—<i>Elizabeth</i>!” Rose stammered, and then suddenly she +slipped her arm around Elizabeth’s waist and drew her off to the hammock +behind the pines. “Come,” she said, “I want to tell you about it. The +girls are all laughing at me—especially Louise Johnson—but it wasn’t +any laughing matter to me last night. I was scared stiff—truly I was!” +She poured the story of her experiences into the other girl’s ears. The +fact that Elizabeth said nothing made no difference to Rose. She felt +the silent sympathy and was comforted. When she had talked herself out, +Elizabeth slipped away and sought Olga, but Olga was nowhere to be +found—not in the camp nor on the beach, but one of the boats was +missing, and at last a girl told Elizabeth that she had seen Olga go off +alone in it. That meant an age of anxious watching and waiting for the +Poor Thing. She never could get over her horror of the treacherous blue +water. To her it was a great restless monster forever reaching out after +some living thing to clutch and drag down into its cruel bosom. It was +agony to her to see Olga swim and dive; hardly less agony to see her go +off in a boat or canoe. Always Elizabeth was sure that <i>this</i> time she +would not come back.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus-004" id="illus-004"></a> +<img src="images/illus-078.png" alt="We pull long, we pull strong." title="" width="80%" /><br /> +</div> + +<table cellspacing="0" summary="" style="width:80%; font-size: smaller"> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2">We pull long, we pull strong,</td><td> </td><td align="left" colspan="2">A dip now--a foaming prow</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" colspan="2">We pull keen and true;</td><td> </td><td align="left" colspan="2">Through waters so blue</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="left" colspan="3">We sing to the king of the great black rocks</td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align="left" colspan="3">Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox</td><td> </td></tr> +</table> + +<p style="margin-top:1em"><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_79" id="pg_79">79</a></span>She had put on her bathing suit, for Olga still made her wade every +morning, and she wandered forlornly along the beach, and finally +ventured a little way into the water. It was horrible to do even that +alone, but she had promised, and she must do it even if Olga was not +there to know. A troop of girls in bathing suits came racing down to the +beach, Anne and Laura following them.</p> + +<p>“What—who is that standing out in the water all alone?” demanded Anne +Wentworth, who was a little near-sighted.</p> + +<p>Annie Pearson broke into a peal of laughter. “It’s that Poor Thing,” she +cried. “Did you ever see such a forlorn figure!”</p> + +<p>“Looks like a sick penguin,” laughed Louise Johnson.</p> + +<p>“Why in the world is she standing there all alone?” cried Laura, and +hurried on ahead, calling, “Elizabeth—Elizabeth, come here. I want +you.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth, standing in water up to her ankles, hesitated for a moment, +swept the wide stretch of blue with a wistful searching glance, and then +obeyed the summons.</p> + +<p>“Why were you standing there, dear?” Laura questioned gently, leading +her away from the laughing curious girls.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth lifted earnest eyes to the kind face bending towards her.</p> + +<p>“I promised Olga I’d wade every day—so I had to.” <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_80" id="pg_80">80</a></span>Then she broke out, +“O Miss Laura, do you think she’ll come back? She went all alone, and +she isn’t anywhere in sight.”</p> + +<p>Laura drew the shivering little figure close to her side. “Why, of +course she’ll come back, Elizabeth. Why shouldn’t she? She’s been out so +scores of times, just as I have. What makes you worry so, child?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth drew a long shuddering breath. “I can’t help it,” she sighed. +“The water always makes me <i>so</i> afraid, Miss Laura!”</p> + +<p>She lifted such a white miserable face that Laura saw it was really +true—she was in the grip of a deadly terror. She drew the trembling +girl down beside her on the warm sand. “Let’s sit here a little while,” +she said, and for a few minutes they sat in silence, while further up +the beach girls were wading and swimming and splashing each other, their +shouts of laughter making a merry din. Some were diving from the pier, +and one stood on a high springboard. Suddenly this one flung out her +arms and sprang off, her slim body seeming to float between sky and +water, as she swept downward in a graceful curving line.</p> + +<p>Laura caught her breath nervously as her eyes followed the slender +figure that looked so very small outstretched between sky and water, and +Elizabeth covered her eyes with a little moan.</p> + +<p>“O, I wish she wouldn’t do that—I do wish she wouldn’t!” she said under +her breath.</p> + +<p>Laura spoke cheerfully. “She is all right. See, Elizabeth, how fast she +is swimming now.”</p> + +<p>But Elizabeth shook her head and would not look. Laura put her arm +across the narrow shrinking shoulders <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_81" id="pg_81">81</a></span>and after a moment spoke again, +slowly. “Elizabeth, you love Olga, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth looked up quickly. She did not answer—or need to.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know you do,” Laura went on, answering the look. “But do you +love her enough to do something very hard—for her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss Laura. Tell me what. She won’t ever let me do anything for +her.”</p> + +<p>“It will be very, very hard for you,” Laura warned her.</p> + +<p>The girl looked at her silently, and waited.</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth, I don’t think you could do anything else that would please +her so much as to conquer your fear of the water <i>for her sake</i>. Can you +do such a hard thing as that—for Olga?”</p> + +<p>A look of positive agony swept over Elizabeth’s face. “<i>Any</i>thing but +just that,” she moaned. “O Miss Laura, you don’t know—you <i>can’t</i> know +how I hate it—that deep black water!”</p> + +<p>“But can’t you—even for Olga?” Laura questioned very gently.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth shook her head and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. “I +would if I could. I’d do anything, anything else for her; but that—I +<i>can’t</i>!” she moaned.</p> + +<p>Laura put her hand under the trembling chin, and lifting the girl’s face +looked deep into the blue eyes swimming with tears.</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth,” she said slowly, a world of love and sympathy in her voice, +“Elizabeth, you <i>can</i>!”</p> + +<p>In that long deep look the dread and horror and misery died slowly out +of Elizabeth’s eyes, and a faint <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_82" id="pg_82">82</a></span>incredulous hope began to grow in +them. It was as if she literally drew courage and determination from the +eyes looking into hers, and who can tell what subtle spirit message +really passed from the strong soul into the weaker one?</p> + +<p>“I never, never could,” Elizabeth faltered; but Laura caught the note of +wavering hope in the low-spoken words.</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth, you can. I <i>know</i> you can,” she repeated.</p> + +<p>“How?” questioned Elizabeth, and Laura smiled and drew her closer.</p> + +<p>“You are afraid of the water,” she said, “and your fear is like a cord +that binds your will just as your arms might be bound to your sides with +a scarf. But you can break the cord, and when you do, you will not be +afraid of the water any more. Myra Karr was afraid just as you +are—afraid of almost everything, but one wonderful day she conquered +her fear. Ask her and she will tell you about it, and how much happier +she has been ever since, as you will be when you have broken your cords. +And just think how it will please Olga!”</p> + +<p>There was a little silence; then suddenly Elizabeth leaned forward, +eagerly pointing off over the water. “Is it—is she coming?” she +whispered.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she is coming. Now just think how you have suffered worrying over +her this morning, and all for nothing.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth drew a long happy breath. “I don’t care now she’s coming,” she +said, and it was as if she sang the words.</p> + +<p>Laura went on, “Have you noticed, Elizabeth, how <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_83" id="pg_83">83</a></span>different Olga is from +the other girls? She never laughs and frolics. She never really enjoys +any of the games. She cares for nothing but work. She hasn’t a single +friend in the camp—she won’t have one. I don’t think she is happy, do +you?”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth considered that in silence. She had known these things, but +she had never thought of them before.</p> + +<p>“It’s so,” she admitted finally, her eyes on the approaching boat.</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth, I think you are the only one who can really help Olga.”</p> + +<p>“I?” Elizabeth lifted wondering eyes. Then she added hastily, “You +mean—going in the water?” She shuddered at the thought.</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, if you will let Olga help you to get rid of your fear of the +water, it will mean more to her even than to you. Olga needs you, child, +more than you need her, for you have many friends now in the camp, and +she has only you.”</p> + +<p>“I like her the best of all,” Elizabeth declared loyally.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but you must prove it to her before you can really help her,” +Laura replied. “See, she is almost in now, and I won’t keep you any +longer.”</p> + +<p>Olga secured her boat to a ring and ran lightly up the steps. In a few +minutes she came back in her bathing suit. As she ran down the beach, +she swept a swift searching glance over the few girls sitting or lying +on the sand; then her eyes rested on a little shrinking figure standing +like a small blue post, knee deep in the water. It was Elizabeth, her +cheeks colourless, her eyes fixed beseechingly, imploringly, on <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_84" id="pg_84">84</a></span>Olga’s +face. In a flash Olga was beside her, crying out sharply,</p> + +<p>“What made you come in alone?”</p> + +<p>“I p-promised you——” Elizabeth replied, her teeth chattering.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ve done it,” said Olga. “Cut out now and get dressed.”</p> + +<p>But Elizabeth stood still and shook her head. “No,” though her lips +trembled, her voice was determined, “no, Olga, I’m going up to my—my +neck to-day,” and she held out her hands.</p> + +<p>“You are not—you’re coming out!” Olga declared. “You’re in a blue funk +this minute.”</p> + +<p>“I—know it,” gasped Elizabeth, “but I’m going in—<i>alone</i>—if you won’t +go with me. Quick, Olga, quick!” she implored.</p> + +<p>Some instinct stilled the remonstrance on Olga’s lips. She grasped +Elizabeth by her shoulders and walking backward herself, drew the other +girl steadily on until the water rose to her neck. Elizabeth gasped, and +deadly fear looked out of her straining eyes, but she made no sound. The +next instant Olga had turned and was pulling her swiftly back to the +beach.</p> + +<p>“There! You see it didn’t hurt you,” she said brusquely, but never +before had she looked at Elizabeth as she looked at her then. “Now run +to the bathhouse and rub yourself hard before you dress,” she ordered.</p> + +<p>But Elizabeth had turned again towards the water, and Olga followed, +amazed and protesting.</p> + +<p>“Go back,” cried Elizabeth over her shoulder, “go back. I’m going in +alone this time.”</p> + +<p>And alone she went until once more the water <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_85" id="pg_85">85</a></span>surged and rippled about +her neck. Only an instant—then she swayed and her eyes closed; but +before she could lose her footing Olga’s hands were on her shoulders and +pushing her swiftly back to the beach. This time, however, she did not +stop there, but swept the small figure over to the bathhouse. There she +gave Elizabeth a brisk rubdown that set the blood dancing in her veins.</p> + +<p>“Now get into your clothes in a hurry!” she commanded.</p> + +<p>“I’m—n-not c-cold, Olga,” Elizabeth protested with a pallid smile, +“truly I’m not. I’m just n-nervous, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“You’re just a <i>brick</i>, Elizabeth Page!” cried Olga, and she slammed the +door and vanished, leaving Elizabeth glowing with delight.</p> + +<p>Each day after that Elizabeth insisted on venturing a little more. Olga +could guess what it cost her—her blue lips and the terror in her eyes +told that—but day after day she fought her battle over and would not be +worsted. She learned to float, to tread water, and then, very, very +slowly, she learned to swim a little. Laura, looking on, rejoiced over +both the girls. Everybody was interested in this marvellous achievement +of the Poor Thing—they spoke of her less often by that name now—but +only Laura realised how much it meant to Olga too. The day that +Elizabeth succeeded in swimming a few yards, Olga for the first time +took her out on the water at sunset; she had never been willing to go +before. Even now she stepped into the boat shrinkingly, the colour +coming and going in her cheeks, but when she was seated, and the boat +floating gently on the rose-tinted water, the tense lines faded <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_86" id="pg_86">86</a></span>slowly +from her face, and at last she even smiled a little.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Olga, “are you still scared?”</p> + +<p>“A little—but not much. If I wasn’t any afraid it would be lovely—like +rocking in a big, big beautiful cradle,” she ended dreamily.</p> + +<p>A swift glance assured Olga that they had drifted away from the other +boats—there was no one within hearing. She leaned forward and looked +straight into the eyes of the other girl. “Now I want to know what made +you get over your fear of the water,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I’ve not got over it—quite,” Elizabeth parried.</p> + +<p>“What made you? Tell me!” Olga’s tone was peremptory.</p> + +<p>“You,” said Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>“I? But I didn’t—I couldn’t. I’d done my best, but I couldn’t drag you +into water above your knees—you know I couldn’t. Somebody else did it,” +Olga declared, a spark flickering in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Miss Laura talked to me that day you were off so long in the boat,” +Elizabeth admitted. “She told me I could get over being afraid. I didn’t +think I <i>could</i> before—truly, Olga. I honestly thought I’d die if ever +the water came up to my neck. I don’t know how she did it—Miss +Laura—but she made me see that I could get over being so awfully +afraid—and I did.”</p> + +<p>“You said <i>I</i> did it,” there was reproach as well as jealousy now in +Olga’s voice, “and it was Miss Laura.”</p> + +<p>“O no, it was you really,” Elizabeth cried hastily, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_87" id="pg_87">87</a></span>“because I did it +for you. I never could have—never in this world!—only Miss Laura said +it would please you. I did it for you, Olga.”</p> + +<p>“Hm,” was Olga’s only response, but now there was in her eyes something +that the Poor Thing had never seen there before—a warm human +friendliness that made Elizabeth radiantly happy.</p> + +<p>“There comes the war canoe,” Olga cried a moment later.</p> + +<p>“How fast it comes—and how pretty the singing sounds!” Elizabeth +returned.</p> + +<p>They watched the big canoe as it flashed by, the many paddles rising and +falling as one, while a dozen young voices sang gaily,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 4em; margin-bottom: 0;">“‘We pull long, we pull strong,<br /> + We pull keen and true.</p> +<p style="margin-left: 2em; margin-top: 0;">We sing to the king of the great black rocks,<br /> +Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox.’”</p> + +<p>“Next year,” said Olga, “I’m going to teach you to paddle, Elizabeth.”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_88" id="pg_88">88</a></span> +<a name="HONOURS_WON_2652" id="HONOURS_WON_2652"></a> +<h2>VII</h2> +<h3>HONOURS WON</h3> +</div> + +<p>The camp was to break up in a few days, and the Guardians had planned to +make the last Council Fire as picturesque and effective as +possible—something for the girls to hold as a beautiful memory through +the months to come. It fell on a lovely evening, a cool breeze blowing +from the water, and a young moon adding a golden gleam to the silvery +shining of the stars. Most of the girls had finished their ceremonial +dresses and all were to be worn to-night.</p> + +<p>“I’m ridiculously excited, Anne,” Laura said, as she looked down at her +woods-brown robe with its fringes and embroideries. “I don’t feel a bit +as if I were prosaic Laura Haven. I’m really one of the nut-brown Indian +maids that roamed these woods in ages past.”</p> + +<p>“If any of those nut-brown maids were as pretty as you are to-night, +they must have had all the braves at their feet,” returned Anne, with an +admiring glance at her friend. “What splendid thick braids you have, +Laura!”</p> + +<p>“I’m acquainted with the braids,” Laura answered, flinging them +carelessly over her shoulders, “but this beautiful bead headband I’ve +never worn before. Is it on right?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_89" id="pg_89">89</a></span>“All right,” Anne replied. “The Busy Corner girls will be proud of +their Guardian to-night.”</p> + +<p>Laura scarcely heard, her thoughts were so full of her girls—the girls +she had already learned to love. She turned eagerly as the bugle notes +of the Council call rang out in silvery sweetness. “O, come. Don’t let +them start without us,” she urged.</p> + +<p>“No danger—they will want their Guardians to lead the procession.”</p> + +<p>In a moment Mrs. Royall appeared, and quickly the girls fell into line +behind her. First, the four Guardians; then two Torch Bearers, each +holding aloft in her right hand a lighted lantern. Flaming torches would +have been more picturesque, but also more dangerous in the woods, and +all risk of fire must be avoided. After the Torch Bearers came the Fire +Makers, and last of all the Wood Gatherers, with Katie the cook wearing +a gorgeous robe that some of the girls had embroidered for her. Katie’s +unfailing good nature had made her a general favourite in camp.</p> + +<p>As the procession wound through the irregular woods-path Laura gave a +little cry of delight.</p> + +<p>“O, do look back, Anne—it is so pretty,” she said. “If it wasn’t that I +want to be a part of it, I’d run ahead so I could see it all better.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Royall began to sing and the girls instantly caught up the strain, +and in and out among the trees the procession wound to the music of the +young voices, the lanterns throwing flashes of light on either side, +while the shadows seemed to slip out of the woods and follow “like a +procession of black-robed nuns,” Laura said to herself.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_90" id="pg_90">90</a></span>The Council chamber was a high open space, surrounded on every side but +one by tall pines. The open side faced the bay, and across the water +glimmered a tiny golden pathway from the moon in the western sky, where +a golden glow from the sunset yet lingered.</p> + +<p>The girls formed the semicircle, with the Guardians in the open space. +Wood had been gathered earlier in the day, and now the Wood Gatherers, +each taking a stick, laid it where the fire was to be. As the last stick +was brought, the Fire Makers moved forward and swiftly and skilfully set +the wood ready for lighting. On this occasion, to save time, the rubbing +sticks were dispensed with, and Mrs. Royall signed to Laura to light the +fire with a match.</p> + +<p>The usual order of exercises followed, the songs and chants echoing with +a solemn sweetness among the tall pines in whose tops the night wind +played a soft accompaniment.</p> + +<p>To-night the interest of the girls centred in the awarding of honours. +All of the Busy Corner girls had won more or less, and as Laura read +each name and announced the honours, the girl came forward and received +her beads from the Chief Guardian. Mrs. Royall had a smile and a +pleasant word for each one; but when Myra Karr stood before her, she +laid her hand very kindly on the girl’s shoulder and turned to the +listening circle.</p> + +<p>“Camp Fire Girls,” she said, “here is one who is to receive special +honour at our hands to-night, for she has won a great victory. You all +know how fearful and timid she was, for you yourselves called +her—Bunny. Now she has fought and conquered her great dragon—Fear—and +you have dropped that name, and she must never again be called by it.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:547px"> +<a name="illus-005" id="illus-005"></a> +<img src="images/illus-090.png" alt="“Wood had been gathered earlier in the day”" title="" width="547" /><br /> +<span class="caption">“Wood had been gathered earlier in the day”</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_91" id="pg_91">91</a></span>With a pencil, on a bit of birch back, she wrote the name and dropped +the bark into the heart of the glowing fire. “It is gone forever,” she +said, her hand again on Myra’s shoulder. “Now what shall be the new Camp +Fire name of our comrade?”</p> + +<p>Several names were suggested, and finally Watéwin, the Indian word for +one who conquers, was chosen. Myra stood with radiant eyes looking about +the circle until Mrs. Royall said, “Myra, we give you to-night your new +name. You are Watéwin, for you have conquered fear,” and the girl walked +back to her place, joy shining in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Royall spoke again, her glance sweeping the circle of intent +faces. “There is another who has conquered the dragon—Fear—and who +deserves high honour—Elizabeth Page.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth, absorbed in watching Myra’s radiant face, had absolutely +forgotten herself, and did not even notice when her own name was spoken. +Olga had to tell her and give her a little push forward before she +realised that Mrs. Royall was waiting for her. For a second she drew +back; then, catching her breath, she went gravely forward. The voice and +eyes of the Chief Guardian were very tender as she looked down into the +shy blue eyes lifted to hers.</p> + +<p>“You too, Elizabeth,” she said, “have fought and conquered, not once, +but many times, and to you also we give to-night a new name.” She did +not repeat the old one, but writing it on a bit of bark as she had +written Myra’s, she told the girl to drop it into the fire. Elizabeth +obeyed—she had never known what <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_92" id="pg_92">92</a></span>the girls had christened her and now +she did not care. Breathlessly she listened as Mrs. Royall went on, +“Camp Fire Girls, what shall be her new name?”</p> + +<p>It was Laura who answered after a little silence, “Adawána, the brave +and faithful.”</p> + +<p>“Adawána, the brave and faithful,” Mrs. Royall repeated. “Is that right? +Is it the right name for Elizabeth, Camp Fire Girls?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, <i>yes</i>!” came the response from two score eager voices.</p> + +<p>“You are Adawána, the brave and faithful,” said Mrs. Royall, looking +down again into the blue eyes, full now of wonder and shy joy.</p> + +<p>“Now listen to the honours that Adawána has won.”</p> + +<p>As Laura read the long list a murmur of surprise ran round the circle. +The girls had known that Elizabeth would have some honours, for they all +knew how Olga had compelled her to do things, but no one had imagined +that there would be anything like this long list—least of all had +Elizabeth herself imagined it. Perplexity and dismay were in her eyes as +she listened, and as Laura finished the reading, Elizabeth whispered +quickly,</p> + +<p>“O Miss Laura, there’s some mistake. I couldn’t have all those—not half +so many!”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, dear,” Laura assured her, and in a louder tone she +added, “There is no mistake. The record has been carefully kept and +verified; but you see Elizabeth was not working for honours, and had no +idea how many she had won.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth looked fairly dazed as Mrs. Royall threw <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_93" id="pg_93">93</a></span>over her head the +necklace with its red and blue and orange beads. Turning, she hurried +back to her place next Olga.</p> + +<p>“It was all you—you did it. You ought to have the honours instead of +me,” she whispered, half crying.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right. Don’t be a <i>baby</i>!” Olga flung at her savagely, to +forestall the tears.</p> + +<p>Then somebody nudged her and whispered, “Olga Priest, don’t you hear +Mrs. Royall calling you?”</p> + +<p>Wondering, Olga obeyed the summons. She had reported no honours won, and +had no idea why she was called. Laura, standing beside Mrs. Royall, +smiled happily at the girl as she stopped, and stood, her dark brows +drawn together in a frown of perplexity.</p> + +<p>“Olga,” Mrs. Royall said, “it has been a great joy to us to bestow upon +Adawána the symbols which represent the honours she has won. We are sure +that she will wear them worthily, and that her life will be better and +happier because of that for which they stand. We recognise the fact, +however, that but for you she could not have won these honours. You have +worked harder than she has to secure them for her; therefore to you +belongs the greater honour——”</p> + +<p>“No! <i>No!</i>” cried Olga under her breath, but with a smile Mrs. Royall +went on, “We know that to you the symbols of honours won—beads and +ornaments—have little value—but we have for you something that we hope +you will value because we all have a share in it, every one in the camp; +and we ask you to wear this because you have shown us what one Camp Fire +Girl can do for another. The work is all Elizabeth’s. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_94" id="pg_94">94</a></span>The rest of us +only gave the beads, and your Guardian taught Elizabeth how to use +them.”</p> + +<p>She held out a headband, beautiful in design and colouring. Olga stared +at it, at first too utterly amazed for any words. Finally she stammered, +“Why, I—I—didn’t know—Elizabeth——” and then to her own utter +consternation came a rush of tears. <i>Tears!</i> And she had lived dry-eyed +through four years of lonely misery. Choked, blinded, and unable to +speak even a word of thanks, she took the headband and turned hastily +away, and as she went the watching circle chanted very low,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Wohelo means love.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten—that self is forgotten.’”</span></p> + +<p>With shining eyes—yet half afraid—Elizabeth waited as Olga came back +to her. She knew Olga’s scorn for honours and ornaments. Would she be +scornful now—or would she be glad? Elizabeth felt that she never, never +could endure it if Olga were scornful or angry now—if this, her great +secret, her long, hard labour of love—should be only a great +disappointment after all.</p> + +<p>But it was not. She knew that it was not as soon as Olga was near enough +to see the look in her eyes. She knew then that it was all right; and +the poor little hungry heart of her sang for joy when Olga placed the +band over her forehead and bent her proud head for Elizabeth to fasten +it in place. Elizabeth did it with fingers trembling with happy +excitement. The coldness that had so often chilled her was all gone now +from the dark eyes. Olga understood. Elizabeth <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_95" id="pg_95">95</a></span>had no more voice than a +duckling, but she felt just then as if she could sing like a song +sparrow from sheer happiness. It was such a wonderful thing to be happy! +Elizabeth had never before known the joy of it.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Royall was speaking again. “Wohelo means work and health and +love,” she said, “you all know that—the three best things in all this +beautiful world. Which of the three is best of all?”</p> + +<p>Softly Anne Wentworth sang,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Wohelo means love,”</p> + +<p>and instantly the girls took up the refrain,</p> + +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 2em;">“‘Wohelo means love,</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">Wohelo means love.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 2em;">Wohelo means love.’”</p> + +<p>Laura’s eyes, watching the young, earnest faces, filled with quick tears +as the refrain was repeated softly and lingeringly, again and yet again. +Mrs. Royall stood motionless until the last low note died into silence. +Then she went on:</p> + +<p>“Work is splendid for mind and body. Some of you have worked for honours +and that is well. Some have worked for the love of the work—that is +better. Some have worked—or fought—for conquest over weakness, and +that is better yet. But two of our number have worked and conquered, not +for honour, not for love of labour, not even for self-conquest—but for +unselfish love of another. That is the highest form of service, dear +Camp Fire Girls—the service that is <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_96" id="pg_96">96</a></span>done in forgetfulness of self. +That is the thought I leave with you to-night.”</p> + +<p>She stepped back, and instantly each girl placed her right hand over her +heart and all together repeated slowly,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘This Law of the Fire<br /> + I will strive to follow<br /> + With all the strength<br /> + And endurance of my body,<br /> + The power of my will,<br /> + The keenness of my mind,<br /> + The warmth of my heart,<br /> + And the sincerity of my spirit.’”</p> + +<p>The fire had died down to glowing coals. At a sign from the Chief +Guardian two of the Fire Makers extinguished the embers, pouring water +over them till not a spark remained. The lanterns were relighted, the +procession formed again, and the girls marched back, singing as they +went.</p> + +<p>“O dear, I can’t bear to think that we shall not have another Council +Fire like this for months—even if we come here next summer,” Mary +Hastings said when they were back in camp.</p> + +<p>“And wasn’t this the very dearest one!” cried Bessie Carroll. “With +Myra’s honours and Elizabeth’s, and Olga’s headband—<i>wasn’t</i> she +surprised, though!”</p> + +<p>“First time I ever saw Olga Priest dumfounded,” laughed Louise. “But, +say, girls—that Poor Thing is a duck after all—she is really.”</p> + +<p>Bessie’s plump hand covered Louise’s lips. “Hush, hush!” she cried in a +tone of real distress, for she loved Elizabeth. “That name is burnt up.”</p> + +<p>“So it is—beg everybody’s pardon,” yawned <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_97" id="pg_97">97</a></span>Louise. “But Elizabeth +couldn’t hear way over there with Olga and Miss Laura. I say, girls,” +she added with her usual giggle, “I feel as if I’d been wound up to +concert pitch and I’ve got to let down somehow. Get out your fiddle, +Rose, and play us a jig. I’ve got to get some of this seriousness out of +my system before I go to bed.”</p> + +<p>Rose ran for her violin, and two minutes later the girls were dancing +gaily in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>“I wish they hadn’t,” Laura whispered to Anne. “I wanted to keep the +impression of that lovely soft chanting for the last.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t do it—not with Louise Johnson around,” returned Anne. “But +never mind, Laura, they won’t forget this meeting, even if they do have +to ‘react’ a bit. I’m sure that even Louise will keep the memory of this +last Council tucked away in some corner of her harum-scarum mind.”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_98" id="pg_98">98</a></span> +<a name="ELIZABETH_AT_HOME_2954" id="ELIZABETH_AT_HOME_2954"></a> +<h2>VIII</h2> +<h3>ELIZABETH AT HOME</h3> +</div> + +<p>In a tiny hall bedroom in one of the small brick houses that cover many +blocks in certain sections of Washington, Elizabeth Page was standing a +week later, trying to screw up her courage to a deed of daring; and +because it was for herself it seemed almost impossible for her to do it. +With her white face, her anxious eyes, and trembling hands, she seemed +again the Poor Thing who had shrunk from every one those first days at +the camp—every one but Olga.</p> + +<p>Three times Elizabeth started to go downstairs and three times her +courage failed and she drew back. So long as she waited there was a +chance—a very faint one, but still a chance—that the thing she so +desired might come true. But the minutes were slipping away, and +finally, setting her lips desperately, she fairly ran down the stairs.</p> + +<p>Her stepmother glanced up with a frown as the girl stood before her.</p> + +<p>“Well, what now?” she demanded, in the sharp, fretful tone of one whose +nerves are all a-jangle.</p> + +<p>“I’ve done everything—all the supper work, and fixed everything in the +kitchen ready for morning,” Elizabeth said, her words tumbling over each +other in her excitement, “and O, please may I go this evening—to Miss +Laura’s? It’s the Camp Fire meeting, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_99" id="pg_99">99</a></span>one of the girls is going to +stop here for me, and—and O, I’ll do <i>anything</i> if only I may go!”</p> + +<p>The frown on the woman’s face deepened as Elizabeth stumbled on, and her +answer was swift and sharp.</p> + +<p>“You are not going one step out of this house to-night—you can make up +your mind to that—not one step. I knew when I let you go off to that +camp that it would be just this way. Girls like you are never satisfied. +You want the earth. Here you’ve had a month—a whole month—off in the +country while I stood in that hot kitchen and did your work for you, and +now you are teasing to go stringing off again. You are <i>not going</i>.”</p> + +<p>“But,” pleaded Elizabeth desperately, “I’ve worked so hard to-day—every +minute since five o’clock—and I washed and ironed Sadie’s white dress +before supper. If there was any work I had to do it would be different. +And—and even servant girls have an afternoon and evening off every +week, and I never do. And I’m only asking now to go out one evening in a +month—just <i>one</i>!”</p> + +<p>“There it is again!” Mrs. Page flung out. “Not this one evening, but an +evening every month; and if I agreed to that, next thing you’d be +wanting to go every week. I tell you—<i>no</i>. Now let that end it.”</p> + +<p>The tears welled up in Elizabeth’s eyes as she turned slowly away; and +the sight of those tears awakened a tumult in another quarter. +Four-year-old Molly had been rocking her Teddy Bear to sleep when +Elizabeth came downstairs, and had listened, wide-eyed and wondering, to +all that passed. But tears in Elizabeth’s eyes were too much. The Teddy +Bear tumbled unheeded to the floor as Molly rushed across <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_100" id="pg_100">100</a></span>to Elizabeth +and, clinging to her skirts, turned a small flushed face to her mother.</p> + +<p>“Naughty, naughty mamma—make ‘Lizbet’ <i>ky</i>!” she cried out, stamping +her small foot angrily. “Molly love ‘Lizbet’ <i>hard</i>!”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth caught up the child and turned to go, but a sharp command +stopped her. “Put that child down. I won’t have you setting her against +her own mother!”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth unclasped the little clinging arms and put the child down, but +Molly still clutched her dress, sobbing now and hiding her face from her +mother. The tinkle of the doorbell cut the tense silence that followed +Mrs. Page’s last command. Sadie, an older girl, ran to open it, flashing +a triumphant glance at Elizabeth as she passed her.</p> + +<p>As Sadie flung open the door, Elizabeth saw Olga on the step, and Olga’s +quick eyes took in the scene—the frowning woman, Elizabeth’s wet eyes +and drooping mouth, and little Molly clinging to her skirts as she +looked over her shoulder to see who had come. Sadie stared pertly at +Olga and waited for her to speak.</p> + +<p>“I’ve come for Elizabeth. I’m Olga——”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth can’t go. Mother won’t let her,” interrupted Sadie with +ill-concealed satisfaction in her narrow eyes.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth started towards the door. “O Olga, please tell Miss Laura——” +she was beginning when Sadie unceremoniously slammed the door and +marched back with a victorious air to her mother’s side.</p> + +<p>Olga was left staring at the outside of the door, and if a look could +have demolished it and annihilated Miss Sadie, both these things might +have happened then <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_101" id="pg_101">101</a></span>and there. But the door stood firm, and there was no +reason to think that anything untoward had happened to Sadie; so after a +moment Olga turned, flew down the steps, and hurrying over to the +car-line, hailed the first car that appeared. Fifteen minutes later she +was ringing the bell at the door of Judge Haven’s big stone house on +Wyoming Avenue. The servants in that house never turned away any girl +asking for Miss Laura, so this one was promptly shown into the library. +Laura rose to meet her with a cordial greeting, but Olga neither heard +nor heeded.</p> + +<p>“She can’t come. Elizabeth can’t come!” she cried out. “They wouldn’t +even let me speak to her, though she was right there in the hall—nor +let her give me a message for you. Her sister slammed the door in my +face. Miss Laura, I’d like to <i>kill</i> that girl and her mother!”</p> + +<p>“Hush, hush, my dear!” Laura said gently. “Sit down and tell me quietly +just what happened.”</p> + +<p>Olga flung herself into a chair and told her story, but she could not +tell it quietly. She told it with eyes flashing under frowning brows and +her words were full of bitterness.</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth’s just a slave to them—worse than a servant!” she stormed. +“She never goes anywhere—<i>never</i>! They wouldn’t have let her go to the +camp if she hadn’t been sick and the doctor said she’d die if she didn’t +have a rest and change, and so Miss Grandis got her off. O Miss Laura, +can’t you do something about it? Elizabeth <i>wanted</i> so to come—she was +crying. I know how she was counting on it before we left the camp.”</p> + +<p>Laura shook her head sorrowfully. “I don’t know <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_102" id="pg_102">102</a></span>what I can do. You see +she is not yet of age, and her father has a right—a legal right, I +mean—to keep her at home.”</p> + +<p>“But it isn’t her father, it’s that woman—his wife,” Olga declared. +“She won’t even let Elizabeth call her mother—not that I should think +she’d want to—but when I asked Elizabeth why she called her Mrs. Page +she said her stepmother told her when she first came there that she +didn’t want a great girl that didn’t belong to her calling her mother.”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth is seventeen?” Laura questioned.</p> + +<p>Olga nodded. “She won’t be eighteen till next April. <i>I</i> wouldn’t stay +there till I was eighteen. I’d clear out. She could earn her own living +and not work half as hard somewhere else, and go out when she liked, +too.” She was silent for a moment, then half aloud she added, “I’ll find +a way to fix that woman yet!”</p> + +<p>“Olga,” Laura looked straight into the sombre angry eyes, “you must not +interfere in this matter. Two wrongs will never make a right. If there +is anything that can be done for Elizabeth, be sure that I will do it. +And if not—it is only seven months to April.”</p> + +<p>“Seven months!” echoed Olga passionately. “Miss Laura, how would you +live through seven months without ever getting out <i>any</i>where?”</p> + +<p>Laura shook her head. “We will hope that Elizabeth will not have to do +that,” she said gently. “But I hear some of the girls. Come.”</p> + +<p>In the wide hall were half a dozen girls who had just arrived, and Laura +led the way to a large room on the third floor. At the door of this +room, the girls broke into cries and exclamations of pleasure.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_103" id="pg_103">103</a></span>“It’s like a bit of the camp,” Mary Hastings cried, and Rose Anderson +exclaimed,</p> + +<p>“It’s just the sweetest room I ever saw!” and she sniffed delightedly +the spicy fragrance of the pines and balsam firs that stood in great +green tubs about the walls. On the floor was a grass rug of green and +wood-colour, and against the walls stood several long low settees of +brown rattan, backs and seats cushioned in cretonne of soft greens and +cream-colour, and a few chairs of like pattern were scattered about. +Curtains of cream-coloured cheesecloth, with a stencilled design of pine +cones in shaded browns, draped the windows, and in the wide fireplace a +fire was laid ready for lighting. The low mantelpiece above it held only +three brass candlesticks with bayberry candles, and above it, +beautifully lettered in sepia, were the words,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Whoso shall stand by this hearthstone,<br /> + Flame-fanned,<br /> + Shall never, never stand alone:<br /> + Whose house is dark and bare and cold,<br /> + Whose house is cold,<br /> + This is his own.’”</p> + +<p>And below this</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.’”</p> + +<p>Bessie Carroll drew a long breath as she looked about, and said +earnestly, “Miss Laura, I never, never saw any place so dear! I didn’t +think there could be such a pretty room.”</p> + +<p>Laura bent and kissed the earnest little face. “I am glad you like it so +much, dear,” she said. “I like <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_104" id="pg_104">104</a></span>it too. You remember the very first +words of our Camp Fire law—‘Seek beauty’? I thought of that when I was +furnishing this. It is our Camp Fire room, girls, and I hope we shall +have many happy times together here.”</p> + +<p>“I guess they couldn’t help being happy times in a room like this—and +with you,” returned Bessie with her shy smile, which remark was promptly +approved by the other girls—except Olga, who said nothing.</p> + +<p>“You look as glum as that old barn owl at the camp, Olga,” Louise +Johnson told her under cover of the gay clamour of talk that followed. +“For heaven’s sake, do cheer up a bit. That face of yours is enough to +curdle the milk of human kindness.”</p> + +<p>Olga’s only response was a black scowl and a savage glance, at which +Louise retreated with a shrug of her shoulders and an exasperating wink +and giggle.</p> + +<p>Within half an hour all the girls were there except Elizabeth. Olga, +glooming in a corner, thought of Elizabeth crawling off alone to her +room to cry. Torture would not have wrung tears from Olga’s great black +eyes, and she would have seen them unmoved in the eyes of any other +girl; but Elizabeth—that was another thing. She glanced scornfully at +the others laughing and chattering around Miss Laura, and vowed that she +would never come to another of the meetings unless Elizabeth could come +too. If Miss Laura, after all her talk, couldn’t do something to help +Elizabeth——But Miss Laura was standing before her now with a box of +matches in her hand.</p> + +<p>“I want you to light our fire to-night, Olga,” she said gently. +Ungraciously enough, Olga touched a match to the splinters of resinous +pine on the hearth, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_105" id="pg_105">105</a></span>and as the fire flashed into brightness, Miss +Laura, turning out the electric lights, said, “I love the fire, but I +love the candles almost as much; so at our meetings here, we will have +both.” The girls were standing now in a circle broken only by the fire. +Miss Laura set the three candlesticks with the bayberry candles on the +floor in the centre of the circle and motioned the girls to sit down. +Lightly they dropped to the floor, and Laura, touching a splinter to the +fire, handed it to Frances Chapin, a grave studious High School girl who +had not been at the camp. Rising on one knee, Frances repeated slowly,</p> + +<p>“‘I light the light of Work, for Wohelo means work,’” and lighting the +candle, she added,</p> + +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 2em;">“‘Wohelo means work.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">We glorify work, because through work we are free.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">We work to win, to conquer, to be masters. We work</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 5em;">for the joy of the working and because we are free.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 2em;"> Wohelo means work.’”</p> + +<p>As Frances stepped back into the circle, Laura beckoned to Mary +Hastings, the strongest, healthiest girl of them all, who, coming +forward, chanted slowly in her deep rich voice,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘I light the light of Health, for Wohelo means health!’”</p> + +<p>Lighting the candle, she went on,</p> + +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 2em;">“‘Wohelo means health.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">We hold on to health, because through health we</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 5em;">serve and are happy.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">In caring for the health and beauty of our persons we</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 5em;">are caring for the very shrine of the Great Spirit.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 2em;"> Wohelo means health.’”</p> + +<p>As Mary went back to her place Laura laid her hand on the shoulder of +Bessie Carroll, who was next her. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_106" id="pg_106">106</a></span>With a glance of pleased surprise +Bessie took the third taper and in her low gentle voice repeated,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘I light the light of Love, for Wohelo means love.’”</p> + +<p>The room was very still as she lighted the third candle, saying,</p> + +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 2em;">“‘Wohelo means love.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">We love love, for love is life, and light and joy and sweetness.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">And love is comradeship and motherhood, and fatherhood and all dear kinship.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 4em;">Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.</p> +<p style="margin: 0 auto 0 2em;"> Wohelo means love.’”</p> + +<p>As she spoke the last words a strain of music, so low that it was barely +audible, breathed through the room, then deepened into one clear note, +and instantly the wohelo cheer rose in a joyful chorus.</p> + +<p>After the roll-call and reports of the last meeting there was no more +ceremony. Miss Laura had set the three candles back on the mantelpiece, +where they burned steadily, sending out a faint spicy odor that mingled +with the pleasant fragrance of the firs. The fire snapped and sang and +blazed merrily, and Laura dropped down on the floor in front of it, +gathering the girls closer about her.</p> + +<p>“To-night,” she began, “I want to hear about your good times—the ‘fun’ +that every girl wants and needs. Tell me, what do you enjoy most?”</p> + +<p>“Moving pictures,” shouted Eva Bicknell, a little bundle-wrapper of +fifteen.</p> + +<p>“Dances,” cried another girl.</p> + +<p>“O yes, dances,” echoed pretty Annie Pearson, her eyes shining.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_107" id="pg_107">107</a></span>“I like the roller skating at the Arcade,” another declared.</p> + +<p>“The gym and swimming pool and tennis.” That was Mary Hastings.</p> + +<p>“Hear her, will ye?” Eva Bicknell muttered. “Great chance <i>we</i> have for +tennis and gym.!”</p> + +<p>“You could have them at the Y.W.C.A. That’s where I go for them when you +go to your dances and picture shows,” retorted Mary.</p> + +<p>“But the picture shows is great fun, ’specially when the boys take ye +in,” the other flung back.</p> + +<p>There was a laugh at that, and the little bundle-wrapper added, “an’ +finish up with a promenade on the avenue in the ’lectric lights.”</p> + +<p>Laura’s heart sank at these frank expressions of opinion. What had she +to offer that would offset picture shows, dances and “the boys” for such +girls as these? But now one of the High School girls was speaking. “We +have most of our good times at the school. There is always something +going on—lunches or concerts or socials or dances—and once a year we +get up a play. Some girl in the class generally writes the play. It’s +great fun.”</p> + +<p>Laura brightened at that. Here were three at least who cared for +something besides picture shows. For half an hour longer she let the +talk run on, and that half-hour gave her sidelights on many of the +girls. Except Olga—she had not opened her lips during the discussion.</p> + +<p>When there came a little pause, Laura spoke in a carefully careless way. +“I told you, girls, that this is our Camp Fire room and I want you to +feel that it belongs to you—every one of you owns a share in it. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_108" id="pg_108">108</a></span>We +shall have the Council meetings here every Saturday, but this room is +not to be shut up all the other evenings. We may have no moving +pictures, but you can come here and dance if you wish, or play games, or +sing—I’m going to have a piano here soon—or if you like you can bring +your sewing—your Christmas presents to make. What I want you to +understand is that this room is yours, to be used for your pleasure. You +haven’t seen all yet.”</p> + +<p>Rising, she touched a button, and as the room was flooded with light, +threw open a door. The girls, crowding after her, broke into cries of +delight and admiration; for here was a white-tiled kitchen complete in +all its appointments, even to a small white-enamelled gas range and a +tiny refrigerator. On brass hooks hung blue and white saucepans and +kettles and spoons, and a triangular corner closet with leaded doors +revealed blue and white china and glass.</p> + +<p>“All for the Camp Fire Girls,” Laura said, “and it means fudge, and +popcorn, and toasted marshmallows and bacon-bats and anything else you +like. You can come here yourselves every Wednesday evening, and if you +wish, you can bring a friend with you to share your good times.”</p> + +<p>“Boy or girl friend?” Lena Barton’s shrewd eyes twinkled as she asked +the question, with a saucy tilt to her little freckled nose.</p> + +<p>“Either,” returned Laura instantly, though until that moment she had +thought only of girls.</p> + +<p>“Gee, but you’re some Guardian, Miss Laura!” Lena replied.</p> + +<p>As the girls reluctantly tore themselves away from <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_109" id="pg_109">109</a></span>the fascinating +kitchen, two maids entered with trays of sandwiches and nutcakes, olives +and candy.</p> + +<p>“It is the first time I have had the pleasure of having you all here in +my own home,” Miss Laura said, “so we must break bread together.”</p> + +<p>“Gee! This beats the picture shows,” Lena Barton declared. “Three cheers +for our Guardian—give ’em with claps!” and both cheers and clapping +were given in generous measure.</p> + +<p>When finally there was a movement to depart, Laura gathered the girls +once more about her before the fire. “I hope,” she began, “you have all +enjoyed this evening as much as I have——”</p> + +<p>“We have! We <i>have</i>!” half a dozen voices broke in, and Lena Barton +shrilled enthusiastically, “<i>More</i>!”</p> + +<p>Laura smiled at them; then she glanced up at the words above the +mantelpiece. “The <i>joy of service</i>,” she said. “That, to me, is the +heart—the very essence—of the Camp Fire idea. And while I am planning +good times and many of them for ourselves in these coming months, I wish +that together we might do some of this loving service for some one +beside ourselves. Think it over—think hard—and at our next Council +meeting, if you are willing, we will consider what we can do, and for +whom.”</p> + +<p>“You mean mish’nary work?” questioned Eva Bicknell doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“No—at least not what you probably mean by missionary work,” Laura +answered.</p> + +<p>“Christmas trees for alley folks, and that sort of thing?” ventured +another.</p> + +<p>“I mean, something for somebody else,” Laura explained. “It may be an +old man or woman, a child <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_110" id="pg_110">110</a></span>or—or anything,” she ended hastily, +intercepting an exchange of glances between Lena and Eva. “I just want +you to think over it and have an idea to suggest at our next meeting.”</p> + +<p>“Huh! Thought the’d be nickels wanted fer somethin’,” Eva Bicknell +grumbled as she linked her bony little arm through Lena’s when they were +outside in the starlight.</p> + +<p>“Come now—you shut up!” retorted Lena. “Miss Laura’s given us a dandy +time to-night, an’ I ain’t goin’ back on her the minute I’m out of her +house. An’ I didn’t think it of you, Eva Bicknell.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s goin’ back on her?” Eva’s hot temper took fire at once. “Shut up +yourself, Lena Barton!” she flared. “I ain’t goin’ back on Miss Laura +any more than you are. Mebbe you’re so flush that you can drop pennies +an’ nickels ’round promiscuous, but me—well, I ain’t—that’s all,” and +she marched on in sulky silence.</p> + +<p>On the next Wednesday evening, some of the girls came to the Camp Fire +room, and played games, which some enjoyed and others yawned over, and +made fudge which all seemed to enjoy. On the next Wednesday they sang +for a while, Laura accompanying them on the piano, and Rose Anderson +played for them on her violin. After that they sat on the floor before +the fire and talked; but Laura was a little doubtful about these +evenings. She feared that these quiet pleasures would not hold some of +the girls against the alluring delights of dances and moving pictures +and boys.</p> + +<p>Meantime she did not forget Elizabeth, and on the first opportunity she +went to see Mrs. Page. Sadie <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_111" id="pg_111">111</a></span>opened the door, and was present at the +interview. She was evidently very conscious of the fact that her braids +were now wound about her head and adorned with a stiff white bow that +stuck out several inches on either side.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Page received her visitor coldly, understanding that she came to +intercede for Elizabeth. She said that Elizabeth’s father did not want +his daughter to go out evenings; that she had a good home and must be +contented to stay in it “as my own children do,” she ended with a glance +at Sadie, who sat on the edge of a chair with much the aspect of a +terrier watching a rat-hole. When Miss Laura asked if she might see +Elizabeth, Sadie tossed her head and coughed behind her handkerchief, as +her mother answered that Elizabeth was busy and could not leave her +work.</p> + +<p>“But wouldn’t she do her work all the better if she had a little change +now and then, and the companionship of other girls?” Laura urged gently.</p> + +<p>“She has the companionship of her sister—she must be satisfied with +that,” was the uncompromising reply.</p> + +<p>With a sigh, Laura rose to leave, but as she glanced at Sadie’s +triumphant face, she had an inspiration. The child was certainly +unattractive, but perhaps all the more for that reason she ought to have +a chance—a chance which might possibly mean a chance for Elizabeth too. +She smiled at the girl and Laura’s smile was winning enough to disarm a +worse child than Sadie.</p> + +<p>“If you do not think it best for Elizabeth to attend our Council +meetings regularly, perhaps you would be willing to let her come this +next Saturday and bring her sister. After the business is over, we are +going <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_112" id="pg_112">112</a></span>to have a fudge party. I have a little upstairs kitchen just for +the girls to use whenever they like. I think your daughter might enjoy +it—if she cared to come—with Elizabeth.”</p> + +<p>Marvellous was the effect of those few words on Sadie. Seeing a refusal +on her mother’s lips, she burst out eagerly, “O mother, I want to go—I +<i>want</i> to go! You <i>must</i> let me.”</p> + +<p>Taken entirely by surprise, Mrs. Page hesitated—and was lost. What +Sadie wanted, her mother wanted for her, and she saw that Sadie’s heart +was set on accepting this invitation. “I suppose they might go, just for +this once,” she yielded reluctantly.</p> + +<p>Laura allowed no time for reconsideration. “I shall expect both of them +then, on Saturday,” she said and turned to go. She longed to look back +towards the kitchen where she felt sure that Elizabeth must have been +wistfully listening, but Mrs. Page and Sadie following her to the door, +gave her no chance for even a backward glance.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” Sadie called after her as she went down the steps, and the +child’s small foxy face was alight with anticipation.</p> + +<p>Slamming the door after the caller, Sadie flew to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“There now, Elizabeth,” she cried, “I’m going to her house next Saturday +and you’re going—you can just thank me for that too. Mother wouldn’t +have let you go if it hadn’t been for me.”</p> + +<p>Elizabeth’s face brightened, but there was a little shadow on it too. Of +course it was better to go with Sadie than not to go at all—O, much +better—but still——</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_113" id="pg_113">113</a></span>When Saturday came Sadie was in a whirl of excitement. She even +offered—an unheard-of concession—to wipe the supper dishes so that +Elizabeth might get through her work the sooner, and she plastered a +huge white bow across the back of her head, and pulled down the skirt of +her dress to make it as long as possible. Sadie would gladly have thrown +away three years of her life so that she might be sixteen, and really +grown up that very night.</p> + +<p>Olga was waiting at the corner for them, Miss Laura having told her that +Elizabeth was to go. Her scathing glance would have had a subduing +effect on most girls, but not on Sadie! Sadie did most of the talking as +the three walked on together, but the other two did not care. It was +enough for Elizabeth to be with Olga again, and as for Olga, she was +half frightened and half glad to find a little glow of happiness deep +down in her heart. She was afraid to let herself be even a little happy.</p> + +<p>When the three entered the Camp Fire room Laura met them with an +exclamation of pleasure. “We’ve missed you so at the Councils, +Elizabeth,” she said, “but it’s good to have you here to-night, isn’t +it, Olga? And Miss Sadie is very welcome too.”</p> + +<p>Sadie smiled and executed her best bow, then drew herself up to look as +tall as “Miss” Sadie should be; but the rest of the evening her eyes and +ears were so busy that for once her tongue was silent. She vowed to +herself that she would give her mother no peace until she—Sadie—was a +really truly Camp Fire Girl like these.</p> + +<p>When in the last hour they were all gathered on the floor before the +fire, Mary Hastings asked, “Miss <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_114" id="pg_114">114</a></span>Laura, have you decided yet what our +special work is to be—the ‘service for somebody else’?” she added with +a glance at the words over the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>“That is for you girls to decide,” Laura returned. “Have you any +suggestion, Mary?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been wondering if we couldn’t help support some little +child—maybe a sick child in a hospital, or an orphan.”</p> + +<p>“Gracious! That would take a pile of money,” objected Louise Johnson, +“and I’m always dead broke a week after payday.”</p> + +<p>“There are fifteen of us—it wouldn’t be so much, divided up,” Mary +returned.</p> + +<p>“Sixteen, Mary—you aren’t going to leave me out, are you?” Miss Laura +said.</p> + +<p>“I think it would be lovely,” cried Bessie Carroll, “if we could find a +dear little girl baby and adopt her—make her a Camp Fire baby.”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” sniffed Lena Barton. “If you had half a dozen kids at home I +reckon you wouldn’t be wanting to adopt any more.”</p> + +<p>“Right you are!” added Eva Bicknell, who was the oldest of eight.</p> + +<p>“We might ‘adopt’ an old lady in some Home, and visit her and do things +for her,” suggested Frances Chapin. “There are some lonely ones in the +Old Ladies’ Home where I go sometimes.”</p> + +<p>But the idea of a pretty baby appealed more to the majority of the +girls.</p> + +<p>“O, I’d rather take a baby. We could make cute little dresses for her,” +Rose Anderson put in, “all lacey, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Say—where’s the money comin’ from for the lacey <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_115" id="pg_115">115</a></span>dresses and things +you’re talkin’ about?” demanded Lena Barton abruptly.</p> + +<p>There was an instant of silence. Then Mary threw back a counter +question. “How much did you spend for moving pictures and candy last +week, Lena Barton?”</p> + +<p>“I d’know—mebbe a quarter, mebbe two. What of it?” Lena retorted, her +red head lifted defiantly.</p> + +<p>“Well now—couldn’t you give up two picture shows a week, for the Camp +Fire baby?” Mary demanded. “If sixteen of us give ten cents a week we +shall have a dollar sixty. That would be more than six dollars a month.”</p> + +<p>“Gracious! Money talks!” put in Louise. “Think of this crowd dropping +over six dollars a month for picture shows and such. No wonder they’re +two in a block on the avenue.”</p> + +<p>“You see,” Laura said, “we could easily provide for some little child, +at least in part. Girls, I’d like to tell you about one I saw at the +Children’s Hospital yesterday. Would you care to hear about him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, do tell us,” the girls begged.</p> + +<p>“He is no blue-eyed baby, but a very plain ordinary-looking little chap, +nine years old, whose mother died a few weeks ago, leaving him entirely +alone in the world. Think of it, girls, a nine-year-old boy without any +one to care for him! He’s lame too—but he is the bravest little soul! +The nurse told me that they thought it was because he was so +homesick—or rather I suppose mother-sick—that he is not getting on as +well as he should.”</p> + +<p>“O, the poor little fellow!” Frances Chapin said softly, thinking of her +nine-year-old brother.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_116" id="pg_116">116</a></span>“Tell us more about him, Miss Laura,” Rose Anderson begged. “Did you +talk with him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I stayed with him for half an hour, and I promised to see him +again to-morrow. He wanted a book—about soldiers. I wonder if any of +you would care to go with me. You might possibly find your blue-eyed +baby there; and anyhow, the children there love to have +visitors—especially young ones.”</p> + +<p>Two of the High School girls spoke together. “I’d like to go.”</p> + +<p>“And I too,” added Alice Reynolds, the third.</p> + +<p>“I guess I’d like to, maybe—if there isn’t anything catching there.” It +was pretty little Annie Pearson who said that.</p> + +<p>“I’d love to go, but I can’t,” Elizabeth whispered to Olga, who frowned +at her and demanded,</p> + +<p>“What do you want to go for?”</p> + +<p>“I’d so love to do something for that little fellow,” Elizabeth +answered. “I’ve been lonesome too—always—till now.”</p> + +<p>“Humph!” grunted Olga, the hardness melting out of her black eyes as she +looked into Elizabeth’s wistful blue ones.</p> + +<p>It was finally agreed that the three High School girls, Frances Chapin, +Elsie Harding, and Alice Reynolds, with Mary Hastings, Annie Pearson, +and Rose, should go with Miss Laura to the hospital.</p> + +<p>“I c’n see kids enough at home any time,” Lena Barton declared airily. +“I’d rather walk down the avenue on Sunday than go to any hospital.”</p> + +<p>“I guess I’ll be excused too,” said Louise Johnson. “Hospital visiting +isn’t exactly in my line. I’ve a hunch that I’d be out of place amongst +a lot of sick <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_117" id="pg_117">117</a></span>kiddies. But I’ll agree to be satisfied with any +blue-eyed baby girl you and Miss Laura pick out for our Camp Fire Kid. +Say, girlies”—she looked around the group—“I move we make those seven +our choosing committee—Miss Laura, chairman, of course.”</p> + +<p>“But, Johnny,” one girl objected, “maybe they won’t find any girl to fit +our pattern over at the hospital.”</p> + +<p>“It is not at all likely that we shall,” Laura hastened to add, “and if +we did, it would probably be one with parents or relatives to care for +it after it leaves the hospital.”</p> + +<p>“Blue-eyed angel babies, with dimples, don’t come in every package. I +s’pose you’d want one with dimples too?” Eva Bicknell scoffed.</p> + +<p>“O, of course, dimples. Might as well have all the ear-marks of a beauty +to begin with, anyhow,” giggled Louise. “She’ll probably develop into a +homely little freckle-faced imp by the time she’s six, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“There’s worse things in the world than freckles,” snapped Lena Barton, +whose perky little nose was well spattered with them.</p> + +<p>“So there are, Lena—so there are,” Louise teased. “Yours will probably +fade out by the time you’re forty.”</p> + +<p>A cuckoo clock called the hour, and the girls reluctantly agreed that it +was time to go. But first Laura, her arms around as many as she could +gather into them, with a few gentle tender words brought their thoughts +back to the deep meaning of the thing they were planning to do—trying +to make them realize their opportunity for service, and the far-reaching +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_118" id="pg_118">118</a></span>results that must follow if a little life should come under their care +and influence.</p> + +<p>For once Louise was silent and thoughtful as she went away, and even +Lena Barton was more subdued than usual until, at last, with a shrug of +her shoulders, she flung out the vague remark,</p> + +<p>“After all, what’s the use?” and thereupon rebounded to her usual gay +slangy self.</p> + +<p>But Elizabeth went home with Miss Laura’s words echoing in her heart. “I +don’t suppose I can do much for our Camp Fire baby,” she told herself, +“but there’s Molly. Maybe I can do more for her and—and for Sadie and +the boys—perhaps.”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_119" id="pg_119">119</a></span> +<a name="JIM_3612" id="JIM_3612"></a> +<h2>IX</h2> +<h3>JIM</h3> +</div> + +<p>In the first ward of the Children’s Hospital the next afternoon, No. 20 +lay very still—strangely still for a nine-year-old boy—watching the +door. He had watched it all day, although he knew that visitors’ hours +were from two to four, and none would be admitted earlier. No. 18 in the +next cot asked him a question once, but No. 20 only shook his head +wearily. Some of the children had books and games, but they soon tired +of them, and lay idly staring about the long, sunny room, or looking out +at the sky and the trees, or watching the door. Sometimes mothers or +fathers came through that door, and if you hadn’t any of your own, at +any rate you could look at those that came to see other fellows, and +sometimes these mothers had a word or a smile for others as well as +their own boys. No. 20, however, didn’t want any other fellow’s mother +to smile down at him—no indeed, that was the last thing in the world he +wanted—yet. He wished sometimes, just for a moment, that there weren’t +any mothers to come, since the <i>one</i> could never come to him again. But +they did come and smile at him, and pat his head—these mothers of the +other boys—came drawn by the hungry longing in his eyes—and he set his +teeth and clinched his hands under the bedclothes, and when they went +away gulped down the great lump that <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_120" id="pg_120">120</a></span>always jumped into his throat, all +in a minute—but he never cried. One day when a kind-hearted nurse asked +him about his mother, he bore her questioning as long as he could, and +then he struck at her fiercely and slipped right down under the +bedclothes where nobody could see him; but he didn’t cry, though he +shook and shook for a long time after she went away.</p> + +<p>But—Miss Laura—she was different. She didn’t kiss him, nor pat him, +nor ask fool questions. She just talked to him—well, the right way. And +she’d promised to come again to-day. Maybe she’d forget though; people +did forget things they’d promised—only somehow, she didn’t look like +the forgetting kind. And she was awful pretty—most the prettiest lady +he had ever seen. But hospital hours were so dreadfully long! Seemed +like a hundred hours since breakfast. Ah! He lifted his head and looked +eagerly towards the door—somebody was coming in. O, only some other +fellow’s mother. He dropped down again, choking back an impatient groan +that had almost slipped out. When the next mother came in he turned his +back on the door, but soon he was watching it again. A half-hour dragged +wearily by; then a crowd of girls fluttered through the doorway. No. 20 +gazed at them listlessly until one behind slipped past the others; then +his eyes widened and his lips twitched as if they had almost a mind to +smile, for here was the pretty lady coming straight to him.</p> + +<p>“Jim” she said, shaking hands with him just as if he had been a man, +“I’ve brought some of my girls to see you to-day. I hope you are glad to +see us all, but you needn’t say you are if you are not.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_121" id="pg_121">121</a></span>Jim didn’t say—and Rose Anderson laughed softly. Jim flashed a glance +at her, but he saw at once that it wasn’t a mean laugh—just a girly +giggle, and he manfully ignored it.</p> + +<p>“I have to speak to Charley Smith over there,” Miss Laura went on, “but +I’ll be back in a few minutes.”</p> + +<p>As she crossed to the other cot, Frances Chapin slipped into the chair +by Jim’s—there was only one chair between each two cots. “I think you +are about nine, aren’t you, Jim?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Goin’ on ten,” Jim corrected stoutly.</p> + +<p>“I’ve a brother going on ten,” she said.</p> + +<p>Jim looked at her with quick interest. “Tell about him,” he ordered. +“What’s his name?”</p> + +<p>“David Chapin. He’s in the sixth grade——”</p> + +<p>“So’m I—I mean I was ’fore I came here,” Jim interrupted. “What else?”</p> + +<p>“—and he’s—he’s going to be a Boy Scout as soon as he’s twelve.”</p> + +<p>Jim’s plain little face brightened into keen interest. “That’s bully!” +he cried. “I’m going to be a Scout soon’s I’m big enough—if I can.” The +wistful longing in the last words brought a mist into Frances’s eyes, +but Jim did not see it. He was looking at the other girls. “Any of the +rest of you got brothers?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“I have one, but he’s a big fellow, twice as old as you are,” Alice +Reynolds said.</p> + +<p>“And I’ve six,” Mary Hastings told him. “Two of them are Scouts.”</p> + +<p>“Fine!” exulted Jim. “Say—tell me what they do, all about it,” he +pleaded, and sitting down on the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_122" id="pg_122">122</a></span>edge of his cot, Mary told him +everything she could think of about the scouting.</p> + +<p>When Miss Laura came back Jim’s face was radiant. “She’s been telling me +about her brothers—they’re Boy Scouts,” he cried eagerly, pointing a +stubby finger at Mary. “I wish,” he looked pleadingly into Mary’s eyes, +“I do wish they’d come and see me; but I guess boys don’t come to +hospitals ’thout they have to,” he ended with a sigh.</p> + +<p>“I’ll get them to come if I can,” Mary promised, “but——”</p> + +<p>“I know,” Jim nodded, “I guess they won’t have time. There’s so many +things for boys to do outdoors!”</p> + +<p>“Jim,” said Miss Laura, “there are so many things for you to do outdoors +too. You must get well as fast as you can to be at them.”</p> + +<p>Jim’s lips took on a most unchildlike set, and his eyes searched her +face with a look she could not understand. “I—I d’know——” he said +vaguely.</p> + +<p>He could not put into words his fear and dread of the time when he must +go out into some Home where he would be only one of a hundred boys and +all alone in a big lonesome world. That was the black dread that weighed +on Jim’s heart night and day. He had seen that long procession of girls +and boys from the Orphan Asylum going back from church on Sundays, the +girls all in white dresses, the boys in blue denim suits, all just alike +except for size. He had peeped through knotholes in the high fence that +surrounded the Asylum yard too, and had seen the boys playing there on +weekdays; and some not playing, but standing off by themselves looking +so awful lonesome. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_123" id="pg_123">123</a></span>Jim had always pitied those lonesome-looking ones. +More than once he had poked a stick of chewing-gum through a knothole to +one of them—a little chap with frightened blue eyes. Jim felt that he’d +almost rather die than go to the Asylum; and he’d heard the nurse tell +Charley Smith’s mother that he’d have to go there when he got well. That +was why Jim was in no hurry to get well.</p> + +<p>The girls all shook hands with him before they went off to search the +other wards for their blue-eyed baby. Miss Laura did not go with the +girls; she stayed with Jim, and somehow, before long, he was telling her +all about the Asylum boys and how he dreaded to get well and go there to +live till he was fourteen. And, unconsciously, as he told it all, his +stubby little fingers crept into Miss Laura’s hand that closed over them +with a warm pressure very comforting to Jim.</p> + +<p>And then—then a wonderful thing happened, for Miss Laura put her head +down close to his and whispered, “Jim, you shall never go to the Asylum, +I promise you that. If you will try very hard to get well, I’ll find a +home for you somewhere, and I’ll take care of you until you can take +care of yourself.”</p> + +<p>Jim caught his breath and his eyes seemed looking through hers deep into +her heart, to see if this incredible thing could be true. What little +colour there was in his face faded slowly out of it and his lips +quivered as he whispered, “You—you ain’t—jest foolin’? You mean it, +honest Injun?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jim—honest.”</p> + +<p>He struggled to a sitting posture. “Cross your heart!” he ordered +breathlessly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_124" id="pg_124">124</a></span>She made the sign that children make. “Cross my heart, Jim. You are my +boy now,” she said.</p> + +<p>With a long, happy breath Jim fell back on his pillow. His eyes began to +shine, and a spot of red burned in each thin cheek. “O gee!” he cried +exultantly, and again, “O <i>gee</i>! I’ll get well in a hurry now, Miss +Laura.” Then eagerly, “Where’ll I live?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know yet. I’ll find a place,” she promised.</p> + +<p>He nodded, happily content just then to leave that in her hands.</p> + +<p>“An’ I’ll grow big soon,” he crowed, “and I can earn a lot of money when +I’m well, carryin’ papers an’—an’ other ways. An’ you’ll let me be a +Boy Scout soon’s I’m big enough, an’ a soldier when I get over being +lame?”</p> + +<p>Laura nodded, and again Jim drew a long rapturous breath. When Laura +went away his eyes followed her, and as from the door she looked back at +him, he waved his hand to her and then settled down on his pillow to +dream happy waking dreams. He was somebody’s boy once more.</p> + +<p>Laura found the girls waiting for her in the reception room.</p> + +<p>“Did you find your blue-eyed baby?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“We found one——” Alice Reynolds began, and Rose broke in,</p> + +<p>“But, O Miss Laura, her mother was with her and she wouldn’t hear of +giving her up. I don’t wonder—such a darling as she is!”</p> + +<p>“You can try at the Orphan Asylum,” Miss Laura <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_125" id="pg_125">125</a></span>said, the words sending +her thoughts back in a flash to Jim.</p> + +<p>“Miss Laura, I wish we could have Jim. I think he’s a dear!” Mary +Hastings said as they left the hospital.</p> + +<p>“Jim’s pre-empted. He’s my boy now,” Laura answered quickly.</p> + +<p>“O Miss Laura, I wanted him too for our Camp Fire child,” Frances said. +“Are you really going to adopt him—have him live with you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, Frances, about the living. When I found that he was +fairly dying of loneliness and dread of the Orphan Asylum, I just had to +do something; so I told him he should be my boy and I would take care of +him. I know my father won’t mind the expense, but he may object to +having the boy live with us. Of course, if he does I shall find a good +home for him elsewhere.”</p> + +<p>“But, Miss Laura, why can’t we all ‘adopt’ him?” Frances pleaded. “I’d +so much rather have him than any baby. And there are always people ready +to adopt pretty blue-eyed baby girls, but they don’t want just +boys—like Jim.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” Alice Reynolds agreed. “My mother is a director at the +Orphan Asylum, and she says nine out of ten who go there for a child to +adopt, want a pretty baby girl.”</p> + +<p>“But you can find some other boy for the Camp Fire,” Miss Laura +returned.</p> + +<p>“Not another Jim. Please share him with us, anyhow, Miss Laura,” Alice +urged.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to be selfish about it,” Laura replied, “but somehow Jim +has crept into my heart and I <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_126" id="pg_126">126</a></span>thought I would take him for my own +special Camp Fire ‘service.’ And perhaps the other girls won’t be +willing to give up their pretty baby.”</p> + +<p>“I—I’d hate to, though I like Jim too,” Rose admitted.</p> + +<p>“You couldn’t make pretty lacey dresses for Jim,” Laura reminded her +with a little laugh. “Rose is hankering for a live doll to dress, girls, +so you’d better wait and see what the others say about it.”</p> + +<p>“When can Jim leave the hospital?” Alice inquired.</p> + +<p>“To judge from his face when I left him, he will get well quickly, now,” +Miss Laura answered.</p> + +<p>And he did. The next time she went to see him, he welcomed her with a +beaming smile. “I’m getting well,” he exulted. “She says I can sit up +to-morrow,” he nodded towards the nurse.</p> + +<p>“He is certainly getting better,” the nurse agreed. “He has seemed like +another boy since Sunday. How did you work such magic, Miss Haven?”</p> + +<p>Laura looked at Jim and his eyes met hers steadily. “Hasn’t he told +you?” she asked the nurse.</p> + +<p>“He has told me nothing.”</p> + +<p>Laura smiled at him as she explained, “Jim is my boy now—we agreed on +that, Sunday. When he leaves the hospital he is coming to me.”</p> + +<p>“Jim, I congratulate you. You are a lucky boy,” said the nurse, who knew +all about Judge Haven and his daughter.</p> + +<p>“I think I too am to be congratulated,” said Laura quickly, and the +nurse nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jim is a good boy,” she answered. Then she went away and left the +two together. This time Jim did not talk very much. It was enough for +him to <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_127" id="pg_127">127</a></span>have his pretty lady where he could look at her, and be sure it +was not all a dream.</p> + +<p>Not many days later, after a telephone conference with the nurse, Laura +went to the hospital again. She found the boy lying there with a look of +patient endurance in his eyes, but they widened with half-incredulous +joy when she told him that she had come to take him away.</p> + +<p>“Not—not <i>now</i>!” he cried out, with a little break in his voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes, now—just as you are. We are going to wrap you in a blanket and +put you into a carriage, and before you have time to get tired we shall +be home.”</p> + +<p>“Home!” echoed Jim, his eyes shining.</p> + +<p>“What makes you look so sober?” Miss Laura asked him as they drove away. +“You aren’t sorry to leave the hospital?”</p> + +<p>“Sorry?” Jim gave a shaky little laugh, then suddenly was grave again. +“Yes, I’m sorry, but it’s for all the other fellows that nobody’s coming +for,” he explained.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could have taken them all home with us,” Laura answered +quickly. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Jim. If you’ll get well very +fast, maybe you and I can give a little Christmas party in your ward, to +those other boys who have to stay there.”</p> + +<p>“Hang up stockin’s an’—an’ a tree an’ all?” Jim questioned +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Wouldn’t you like that?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Gee!</i>” was Jim’s rapturous comment. “You bet I’ll get well fast—if I +can,” the afterthought in a lower tone.</p> + +<p>The room Laura had prepared for the boy had been <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_128" id="pg_128">128</a></span>a nursery, and had a +frieze, representing in gay colours the old Mother Goose stories. Jim +was put on a cot beside the open fire, where he lay very still, but it +was not the dull hopeless stillness of the hospital. Now he was resting, +and his eyes travelled happily along the wall as he picked out the old +familiar characters.</p> + +<p>“Makes me feel like a little kid—seeing all those,” he said, pointing +at them.</p> + +<p>The thin white face and small figure under the bedclothes looked like a +very “little kid” still, Laura thought. The gray eyes swept over the +large sunny room and then back to Miss Laura’s face, and suddenly Jim’s +lips trembled.</p> + +<p>“I—I—I think you’re <i>bully</i>!” he broke out, and instantly turned his +face to the wall and was still again. Laura slipped quietly out of the +room. When she returned a few minutes later, she brought a supper tray.</p> + +<p>“You and I are going to have supper here to-night, Jim,” she announced +cheerfully, “because my father is away, and I should be lonesome all +alone downstairs and you might be lonesome up here. You must have a +famous appetite, you know, if you are to get well and strong for that +Christmas party at the hospital.”</p> + +<p>“I’m hungry, all right,” Jim declared, his eyes lingering on the +tempting food so daintily served; but after all he did not eat very +much.</p> + +<p>After supper he lay quietly watching the leaping flames for a long time. +Suddenly he broke the silence with a question.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be back there then?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_129" id="pg_129">129</a></span>“Back where, Jim? I don’t understand,” Miss Laura said.</p> + +<p>“At the hospital—when we have that Christmas party.”</p> + +<p>“Oh. Why, yes, of course, you and I will both be there.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but I mean—I mean——” Jim’s eyes were very anxious, “will I be +back there to stay, or where will I be stayin’?”</p> + +<p>Laura’s hand dropped softly over one of his and held it in a warm clasp. +“No, Jim, you won’t go back there to stay—ever—not if you do your best +to get well, as of course you are going to. I told you I would find a +good home for you and I will, but there’s plenty of time to think of +that before your two weeks here are over.”</p> + +<p>“You’re the—the best ever, Miss Laura,” Jim said. “I—I didn’t s’pose,” +he stumbled on, trying to put his feeling into words, “ladies like you +ever—cared about boys that get left out of things—like I have.”</p> + +<p>Laura longed to put her arms about him and hold him close, but there was +something about the sturdy little fellow that warned her, so, waiting a +moment to steady her voice, she answered, “O yes, there are many that +care and do all they can; but you see there are so very many little +fellows that—get left out, Jim.”</p> + +<p>Jim nodded, his face very sober. “I wonder why,” he said, voicing the +world-old query.</p> + +<p>When she had settled him for the night, she stood looking down at the +dark head on the pillow. “Shall I put the light out, or leave it?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“Just as you like, Miss Laura,” he said, but she thought there was a +little anxiety in his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_130" id="pg_130">130</a></span>“It makes no difference to me, of course. I want it whichever way you +like best. I know you are not afraid of the dark.”</p> + +<p>A moment’s silence, then in a very small voice, “Yes—I am—Miss Laura.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Afraid!</i>” Miss Laura caught herself up quickly.</p> + +<p>“Yes’m,” said Jim in a still smaller voice, his eyes hidden now.</p> + +<p>“O—then I’ll leave the light, of course.” But there was just a shade of +disappointment in Miss Laura’s voice and Jim caught it. “Good-night, +dear,” she added, with a light touch on the straight brown hair.</p> + +<p>“G’night,” came in a muffled voice from the pillow.</p> + +<p>Laura turned away, but before she reached the stairs the boy called her. +She went back at once.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Jim? Do you want anything?”</p> + +<p>“Yes’m, the light. I guess—you better put it out.”</p> + +<p>“Not if you are afraid in the dark, Jim.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Miss Laura, that’s why.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t understand. Can’t you tell me?” she urged gently.</p> + +<p>Jim gulped down a troublesome something in his throat before he said in +a whisper, “Put your head down close, Miss Laura.”</p> + +<p>She turned out the light and as she dropped down beside the bed, a small +arm slipped around her neck and a husky little voice whispered in her +ear, “It’s ’cause I’m ’fraid inside that I mustn’t have the light left.” +Another gulp. “Mother—she said you wasn’t a coward just ’cause you was +’fraid inside, but only when you let the ’fraid get out into the things +you <i>do</i>. She said lots of brave men were ’fraid inside sometimes. +An’—an’ she said I mustn’t ever be a coward <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_131" id="pg_131">131</a></span>nor tell lies, an’ I +promised—cross my heart—I wouldn’t. So that’s why, Miss Laura.”</p> + +<p>Again Laura longed to hug the little fellow and kiss him as his mother +would have done, but she said only,</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jim, I quite understand now, and I know you will never be a +coward. Here’s the bell, you know. You can press the button if you want +anything, and the maid sleeps in the next room. She’ll be up in a few +minutes.”</p> + +<p>“Yes’m.” A little drowsiness was creeping into Jim’s voice already.</p> + +<p>“Good-night, dear.”</p> + +<p>“Good-night,” Jim murmured and Laura went away, but she left the door +open into the lighted hall, and when she slipped back a little later the +boy was asleep.</p> + +<p>When the other Camp Fire Girls learned about “Miss Laura’s boy” they +were all interested in him, and begged that he might come to the next +Council meeting. Jim was sitting up most of the day now, and his +wheelchair was rolled into the room after all the girls had come. He was +dressed and sat up very straight, but though he was much better, his +face was still very thin and white.</p> + +<p>“All but one of my girls are here to-night, Jim,” Miss Laura told him. +“I’m going to introduce you to them and see how many of the names you +can remember.”</p> + +<p>“Why isn’t that other one here?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“She couldn’t come this time,” Laura said with a glance at Olga, sitting +grave and silent a little apart from the others.</p> + +<p>The girls gathered about the wheelchair and Jim <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_132" id="pg_132">132</a></span>held out his hand to +each one as Laura mentioned her name. His gray eyes searched each face, +but he said nothing until Lena Barton flung him a careless nod and would +have passed on, but he caught her hand and laughed up into the freckled +face with the bunch of red frizzes puffed out on each side in the +“latest moment” fashion.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Carrots,” he called in the tone of jovial good-fellowship, “I +like you, ’cause you look like a fellow I used to sit with in school. +His name was Barton too—Jo Barton. O, I say,” leaning forward eagerly, +“mebbe he’s your brother?”</p> + +<p>“You’re right, kiddie—he’s one of the bunch,” Lena answered, her face +softening as she looked down into the eager gray eyes.</p> + +<p>“Gee! Jo’s sister!” Jim repeated. “I wish Jo was here too. I s’pose,” he +glanced at Miss Laura, “you couldn’t squeeze in just one more boy?”</p> + +<p>Laura shook her head. “Not into these meetings. But you can invite +Lena’s brother to come and see you, if you like.”</p> + +<p>“O bully!” Jim cried out and turned again to Lena. “You tell him, won’t +you?”</p> + +<p>“I will, sure,” she promised, and Jim reluctantly released her hand.</p> + +<p>The girls begged that he might stay, and though Jim’s tongue was silent +his eyes pleaded too, so Miss Laura conceded, “Just for a while then, if +you’ll be very quiet so as not to get too tired,” and with a contented +smile Jim leaned back against his cushions and looked and listened. When +the girls chanted the Fire Ode his eyes widened with pleasure and he +listened with keen interest to the recital of “gentle <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_133" id="pg_133">133</a></span>deeds.” Even Olga +gave one this time. Jim’s eyes studied her grave face, his own almost as +grave, and when later she passed his chair, he caught her dress and said +very low, “Put down your head. I want to ask you something.”</p> + +<p>Olga impatiently jerked her dress from his grasp, but something in his +eyes held her against her will, and under cover of a burst of laughter +from another group, she leaned over the wheelchair and ungraciously +enough asked what he wanted. Jim’s eyes, very earnest and serious now, +were looking straight into hers.</p> + +<p>“I know what makes you keep away from the others and look +so—so—dif’rent. You’re lonesome like I was at the hospital. Is it your +mother, too?”</p> + +<p>Olga’s face went dead white and for an instant her eyes flamed so +fiercely that the boy shrank away with a little gasp of fear. But the +next moment she was looking at him with eyes full of tears—a long +silent look—then, without a word, she was gone.</p> + +<p>The first time that Jim came downstairs to dinner he was very shy and +spoke only in answer to a question. But his awe of Judge Haven and the +servants soon wore off, and his questions and comments began to interest +the judge. When one evening after dinner Laura was called to the +telephone, the judge laid aside his paper and called the boy to him. Jim +promptly limped across the room and stood at the judge’s knee, his gray +eyes looking steadily into the keen blue ones above him.</p> + +<p>“Are you having a good time here?” the judge began.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_134" id="pg_134">134</a></span>“O, splendid!”</p> + +<p>“And you are almost well, aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Almost well,” Jim assented, a little shadow of anxiety creeping into +the gray eyes.</p> + +<p>“Let me see—how many days have you been here?”</p> + +<p>Jim answered instantly, “Nine. I’ve got five more,” this last very +soberly.</p> + +<p>“Five more?” the judge questioned.</p> + +<p>Jim nodded gravely. “Miss Laura said I could stay here two weeks, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! And then what—back to the hospital?”</p> + +<p>“O no!” Jim was very positive about that. “No, I don’t know where I’ll +be after the five days. I—I kind o’ wish I did. It would be—settleder, +you know. But,” his face brightening, “but of course, it will be a nice +place, because Miss Laura said she’d find me a good home somewhere, and +she don’t ever forget her promises. And besides, I’m going to be her boy +just the same when I go away from here—she promised that too.”</p> + +<p>The judge nodded, his eyes studying the small earnest face.</p> + +<p>“Miss Laura must find that good home right away,” he said. “Of course +you want to know where you are going.”</p> + +<p>“I hope she’ll be the kind that likes boys,” Jim said after a thoughtful +pause. “Do you think she will?”</p> + +<p>“Who?”</p> + +<p>“The woman in that good home. They don’t all, you know. Some of ’em +think boys are dreadful noisy and bothering, and some think they eat too +much. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_135" id="pg_135">135</a></span>eat a lot sometimes——” he ended with an anxious frown.</p> + +<p>The judge found it necessary just then to put his hand over his eyes. He +muttered something about the light hurting them, and then Laura came in +and told Jim it was bedtime. He said good-night, holding out his small +stubby hand. The judge’s big one grasped it and held it a moment.</p> + +<p>“We had a nice talk, didn’t we?” Jim said, and with the smile that made +his homely little face radiant for a moment, he added, “It sure is nice +to talk with a <i>man</i>,” and he went off wondering what the judge was +laughing about.</p> + +<p>He was not laughing when Laura came downstairs again after tucking up +the boy in bed. She so hated to turn out the light and leave him in the +dark, but she always did it. Now she told her father what Jim had said +about that the first night.</p> + +<p>The judge made no comment, but after a moment he remarked, “The boy is +rather worried about the home you are to find for him. It ought to be +settled. Have you any place in view?”</p> + +<p>“No. To tell the truth, father, I can’t bear to have him go away. Would +you mind if I keep him here a while longer? You are so much away, and he +is company for me, and very little trouble. I shall miss him dreadfully +when he goes.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I don’t mind,” her father said. “Only, Laura, is it fair to +keep him here—fair to him, I mean? The longer he stays the harder it +will be for him to go to a strange place.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you are right,” Laura admitted with a sigh, “and I must find +the home for him at once.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_136" id="pg_136">136</a></span>“But be sure it is a good place, and with a woman who will ‘mother’ +him,” the judge added. “Poor little chap—only nine and lame, and alone +in the world. It’s hard lines.”</p> + +<p>“It would seem so,” his daughter admitted, “and yet, Jim is such a brave +honest little fellow, and he has such a gift for making friends, that +perhaps he is not so badly handicapped, after all. I shall miss him +dreadfully when he leaves us.”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_137" id="pg_137">137</a></span> +<a name="SADIE_PAGE_4187" id="SADIE_PAGE_4187"></a> +<h2>X</h2> +<h3>SADIE PAGE</h3> +</div> + +<p>But the finding of a satisfactory home for the boy proved to be no easy +task. At the end of the two weeks Laura was still carrying on the quest. +When she told Jim that he was to stay with her another week the look in +his eyes brought the tears into hers. For the first time she dared to +put her arms about him and hold him close, and Jim stayed there, his +head on her shoulder, trying his best to swallow the lump in his throat. +When he lifted his head he said in a shaky voice, “G—gee! But I’m +glad!”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit gladder than I am, Jim,” Laura said, “and now we must have a +bit of a celebration to-night. Father is dining out, so we’ll have +supper up in the nursery and we’ll invite somebody. Who shall it be?”</p> + +<p>She thought he would say Jo Barton, but instead he said, “Olga.”</p> + +<p>“Olga?” she repeated doubtfully. “I’m not at all sure that she will +come, but I’ll ask her. I’ll write a note now and send it to the place +where she works.”</p> + +<p>Jim gave a little happy skip. He ignored his lameness so absolutely that +often Laura too almost forgot it. “I guess she’ll come,” he said in the +singing voice he used when he was especially pleased.</p> + +<p>Olga was just starting for home when the note reached her. She scowled +as she read.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_138" id="pg_138">138</a></span>“<span class="smcap">Dear Olga</span>: Jim wants you to come to supper with us—just with him and +me—to-night at 6:30. I shall be very glad if you will, for, aside from +the pleasure of having you with us, I want to talk over with you +something that concerns Elizabeth. Please don’t fail us.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right; margin:0em 5em 0 auto">“Yours faithfully,<br /> </p> +<p style="text-align:right; margin:0em 1em 1em auto">”<span class="smcap">Laura E. Haven.</span>“</p> +</div> + +<p>Olga read the note twice, her eyes lingering on the words “something +that concerns Elizabeth.” But for those words she would have refused the +invitation, but she had not seen Elizabeth for some time, and did not +know whether she was sick or well. She did not want to go to supper with +Miss Laura and Jim. Jim was well enough—her face softened a little as +she thought of him, but she did not want to see him to-night. If there +was something to be done for Elizabeth, however——Reluctantly she +turned towards Wyoming Avenue.</p> + +<p>Jim was watching for her at the window and ran to open the door before +the servant could get there.</p> + +<p>“I knew you’d come!” he crowed, flashing a smile up into her sombre +face. “I told Miss Laura you would.”</p> + +<p>“What made you so sure, Jim?” she asked curiously.</p> + +<p>“O ’cause. I knew you would. I wanted you <i>hard</i>, and when you want +things hard they come—sometimes,” Jim said, the triumph dropping out of +his voice with the last word.</p> + +<p>Jim did most of the talking during supper, Laura throwing in a word now +and then, and leaving Olga to speak or be silent, as she chose. She +wondered what it <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_139" id="pg_139">139</a></span>was in Olga that attracted the boy, for he seemed +quite at ease with her, taking it for granted that she liked to be there +and was interested in what interested him; and although Olga was so +silent and grave, there was a friendly light in her eyes when she looked +at Jim, and she did not push him away when he leaned on her knee and +once even against her shoulder, as the three of them gathered about the +fire after supper. But when he had gone to bed, Olga began at once.</p> + +<p>“Miss Laura, what about Elizabeth?”</p> + +<p>“You told me,” Miss Laura returned, “that you thought Sadie had +something to do with her absence from the Council meetings.”</p> + +<p>Olga’s face hardened. “I’m sure of it. She’s a hateful little cat—that +Sadie. I’m sure she is determined that Elizabeth shall not come here +unless she comes too.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder why the child is so eager to come,” Miss Laura said +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” Olga flung out impatiently. “She’s bewitched over the Camp Fire +dresses, and headbands, and all the other toggery, and she likes to be +with older girls. She’s just set her heart on being a Camp Fire Girl and +she’s determined that if she can’t be, Elizabeth shan’t be +either—that’s all there is about it.”</p> + +<p>“Then perhaps we’d better admit her.”</p> + +<p>Olga stared in amazement and wrath. “Into <i>our</i> Camp Fire?”</p> + +<p>Miss Laura nodded.</p> + +<p>“But we don’t want her, a hateful little snake in the grass like that!” +the girl flung out angrily. “If you knew the way she treats +Elizabeth—like the dirt under her feet!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_140" id="pg_140">140</a></span>“I know. Her face shows what she is,” Laura admitted.</p> + +<p>“Well—do you want a girl like that in your Camp Fire?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Laura’s voice was very low and gentle, “yes, I want any kind of +girl—that the Camp Fire can help.”</p> + +<p>“The other girls won’t want her,” Olga declared.</p> + +<p>“They want Elizabeth, and you think they cannot have her without having +Sadie.”</p> + +<p>Olga sat staring into the fire, her black brows meeting in a moody +scowl.</p> + +<p>“Olga, what is the Camp Fire for?” Laura asked presently.</p> + +<p>“For? Why——” Olga paused, a new thought dawning in her dark eyes.</p> + +<p>Laura answered as if she had spoken it. “Yes, the Camp Fire is to help +any girl in any way possible. Not only to help weak girls to grow +strong, and timid girls to grow brave, and helpless girls to become +useful, and lonely girls to find friends and social opportunities—it is +for all these things, but for more—much more besides. It is to show +selfish, narrow-minded girls—like that poor little Sadie—the beauty of +unselfishness and generosity and thoughtful kindness to others. Don’t +you see that we have no right to refuse to give Sadie her chance just +because she doesn’t know any better than to be disagreeable?”</p> + +<p>Again Olga was silent, and the clock had ticked away full ten minutes +before Laura spoke again. “You want Elizabeth to come to our meetings?”</p> + +<p>“It’s the only pleasure she has in the world—coming to them,” Olga +returned.</p> + +<p>“I know, and I want her to come just as much as <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_141" id="pg_141">141</a></span>you do,” Miss Laura +said, “but I think you are the only one who can bring it about.”</p> + +<p>“How can I?”</p> + +<p>“There is a way—I think—but it will be a very unpleasant one for you. +It will call for a large patience, and perseverance, and determination.”</p> + +<p>Olga, searching Miss Laura’s face, cried out, “You mean—<i>Sadie</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I mean Sadie. Olga, do you care enough for Elizabeth to do this +very hard thing for her? You did so much for her at the Camp! It was you +who put hope and courage and will-power into her and helped her to find +health. But she still needs you, and she needs what the Camp Fire can +give her. She cannot have either, it seems, unless we take Sadie too, +and Sadie needs what the Camp Fire can give quite as much—in a +different way—as Elizabeth did or does. Olga, are you willing for +Elizabeth’s sake to do your utmost for Sadie—so that the other girls +will take her in? They wouldn’t do it as she is now, you know.”</p> + +<p>Olga pondered over that and Laura left her to her own thoughts. This +thing meant much to the lives of three girls—this one of the three must +not be hurried. But she studied the dark face, reading there some of the +conflicting thoughts passing through the girl’s mind. After a long time +Olga threw back her head and spoke.</p> + +<p>“I shall <i>hate</i> it, but I’ll do it.”</p> + +<p>Laura shook her head doubtfully. “Sadie is keen—sharp. If you hate her +she will know it, and you’ll make no headway with her.”</p> + +<p>“I know.” Olga gave a rueful little laugh. “She’s sharp as +needles—that’s the one good thing about her. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_142" id="pg_142">142</a></span>I shall have to start +with that and not pretend—anything. It wouldn’t be any use. I shall +tell her plainly that I’ll help her get into our Camp Fire on condition +that she treats Elizabeth as she ought and gets her out to our meetings. +I’ll make a square bargain with her. Maybe she won’t agree, but I think +she will, and if she agrees, I think she’ll do her part.”</p> + +<p>Laura drew a long breath of relief. “I am so glad, Olga—glad for +Elizabeth and for Sadie both,” and in her heart she added, “and for you +too, Olga—O, for you too!”</p> + +<p>So the very next evening Olga stood again at the door which Sadie had +slammed in her face, and as before it was Sadie who answered her ring.</p> + +<p>“You can’t see Elizabeth,” she began with a flirt, but Olga said +quietly,</p> + +<p>“I came to see you this time.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it,” Sadie flung back at her.</p> + +<p>“I want to talk with you,” Olga persisted. “Can you walk a little way +with me?”</p> + +<p>Sadie’s small black eyes seemed to bore like gimlets into the eyes of +the other girl, but curiosity got the better of suspicion after a minute +and saying, “Well, wait till I get my things, then,” she left Olga on +the steps till she returned with her coat and hat on.</p> + +<p>“Now, what is it?” she demanded as the two walked down the street.</p> + +<p>“Do you want to be a Camp Fire Girl?” Olga began.</p> + +<p>“What if I do?” Sadie returned suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“You can be if you like.”</p> + +<p>“In your Camp Fire—the Busy Corner one?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_143" id="pg_143">143</a></span>“How can I? You said I couldn’t before.”</p> + +<p>“There wasn’t any vacancy then, but one of our girls has gone to +Baltimore, so there is a chance for some one in her place.”</p> + +<p>Sadie’s breath came quickly, and the suspicion and sharpness had dropped +out of her voice as she asked eagerly, “Will Miss Laura let me +join—truly?”</p> + +<p>“Yes——”</p> + +<p>“Yes—what?” Sadie demanded, the sharpness again in evidence.</p> + +<p>Olga faced her steadily. “Sadie, I’m going to put it to you straight, +for if you join, you’ve got to understand exactly how it is.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” Sadie broke out angrily, “you’re just letting me in so’s to +get ’Lizabeth. You can’t fool me, Olga Priest.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, and I’m not trying to,” Olga answered quietly. “Now listen +to me, Sadie. <i>I</i> wouldn’t have let you join only, as you say, to get +Elizabeth. But Miss Laura wants you for yourself too.”</p> + +<p>“’D she say so?” Sadie demanded eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she said so.” Again Olga looked straight into the sharp little +suspicious face of the younger girl. “Sadie, you’re no fool. I wonder if +you’ve grit enough to listen to some very plain facts—things that you +won’t like to hear. Because you’ve got to understand and do your part, +or else you’ll get no pleasure of our Camp Fire if you do join. Are you +game, Sadie Page?”</p> + +<p>The eyes of the two met in a long look and neither wavered. Finally +Sadie said sulkily, “Yes, I’m game. Of course, it’s something hateful, +but—go ahead. I’m listening.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_144" id="pg_144">144</a></span>“No, it isn’t hateful—at least, I don’t mean it so,” and actually Olga +was astonished to find now that she no longer hated this girl. “I’m just +trying to do the best I can for you. Of course, if you come in, +Elizabeth, too, must come to all the meetings; but I’ll help you, Sadie, +just as I helped her, to win honours, and I’ll teach you to do the craft +work, and to meet the Fire Maker’s tests later. I’ll do everything I can +for you, Sadie.”</p> + +<p>“Will you show me how to make the Camp Fire dress and the bead headbands +and all that?” Sadie demanded breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Yes—all that.”</p> + +<p>“O, goody!” Sadie gave a little gleeful skip. “I know I can learn—I +<i>know</i> I can—better’n ’Lizabeth.”</p> + +<p>Then, seeing Olga’s frown, Sadie added hastily, “But ’Lizabeth can learn +to do some of them, I guess, too.”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth can learn if she has half a chance,” Olga said. “She works so +hard at home that she is too tired to learn other things quickly.”</p> + +<p>Sadie shot an angry glance at the other girl’s face, but she managed +with an effort to hold back the sharp words she plainly longed to fling +out. She was silent a moment, then she asked, “You said ‘things that I +wouldn’t like.’ What are they?”</p> + +<p>“Sadie—did you know that you can be extremely disagreeable without half +trying?” Olga asked very quietly.</p> + +<p>“I d’know what you mean.” Sadie’s face darkened, and her voice was sulky +and defiant.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if you really don’t,” Olga said, looking at her thoughtfully. +“But it’s true, Sadie. You have <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_145" id="pg_145">145</a></span>hateful little ways of speaking and +doing things. They’re only habits—you can break yourself of them, and +quick and bright as you are, you’ll find that the girls—our Camp Fire +Girls—will like you and take you right in as soon as you do drop those +ugly nagging ways. You know, Sadie, you can’t ever be really happy +yourself until you try to make other people happy——”</p> + +<p>Suddenly realising what she was saying, Olga stopped short. Sadie’s eyes +saw the change in her face, and Sadie’s sharp voice demanded instantly, +“What’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>Olga answered with a frankness that surprised herself, no less than the +younger girl, “Sadie, it just came to me that you and I are in the same +box. I’ve not been trying to make others happy any more than you +have——”</p> + +<p>“No,” Sadie broke in, “I was going to tell you that soon as I got a +chance.”</p> + +<p>Olga’s lips twisted in a wry smile as she went on, “—so you see you and +I both have something to do in ourselves. Maybe we can help each other? +What do you say? Shall we watch and help each other? I’ll remind you +when you snap and snarl, and you——”</p> + +<p>“I’ll remind you when you sulk and glower,” Sadie retorted in impish +glee. “Maybe we <i>can</i> work it that way.”</p> + +<p>“All right, it’s a bargain then?” Olga held out her hand and Sadie’s +thin nervous fingers clasped it promptly. The child’s cheeks were +flushed and her small black eyes were shining.</p> + +<p>“I can learn fast if I want to,” she boasted. “I’m going to make me a +silver bracelet like Miss Laura’s <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_146" id="pg_146">146</a></span>and a pin; and I’ll have lovely +embroidery on my Camp Fire dress. I <i>love</i> pretty things like +those—don’t you?”</p> + +<p>Olga shook her head. “No, I don’t care for them,” she returned; but as +she spoke there flashed into her mind some words Mrs. Royall had spoken +at one of the Council meetings—“Seek beauty in everything—appreciate +it, create it, for yourself and for others.” Sadie was seeking beauty, +even though for her it meant as yet merely personal adornment, and +she—Olga—deep down in her heart had been cherishing a scorn for all +such beauty. She put the thought aside for future consideration as she +said, “Then, Sadie, you and Elizabeth will be at Miss Laura’s next +Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“I rather guess we <i>will</i>!” Sadie answered emphatically.</p> + +<p>“You don’t have to ask your mother about it?”</p> + +<p>Sadie gave a scornful little flirt. “Mother! She always does what I +want. We’ll be there.” And then, with a burst of generosity, she added, +“You can see Elizabeth, for a minute, if you want to—now.”</p> + +<p>But again Olga shook her head. “Tell her I’ll stop for her and you +Saturday,” she said. “Good-bye, Sadie.”</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” Sadie echoed, turning towards her own door; but the next +minute she was clutching eagerly at Olga’s sleeve. “Say—tell Miss Laura +to be sure and have my silver ring ready for me as soon’s I join,” she +cried. “You won’t forget, Olga?”</p> + +<p>“I won’t forget,” Olga assured her.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_147" id="pg_147">147</a></span> +<a name="BOYS_AND_OLD_LADIES_4534" id="BOYS_AND_OLD_LADIES_4534"></a> +<h2>XI</h2> +<h3>BOYS AND OLD LADIES</h3> +</div> + +<p>The change into a home atmosphere and the loving care with which he was +surrounded, worked wonders in Jim, and when the judge decided that he +should remain where he was, and not be sent to any other home, the boy +grew stronger by the hour. Then Laura had her hands full to keep him +happily occupied; for after a while, in spite of auto rides and visits +to the Zoo—in spite of books and games and picture puzzles—sometimes +she thought he seemed not quite happy, and she puzzled over the problem, +wondering what she had left undone. When one day she found him watching +some boys playing in a vacant lot, the wistful longing in his eyes was a +revelation to her.</p> + +<p>“Of course, it is boys he is longing for—boys and out-of-door fun. I +ought to have known,” she said to herself, and at once she called Elsie +Harding on the telephone.</p> + +<p>“Will you ask your brother Jack if he will come here Saturday morning +and see Jim? Tell him it is a chance for his ‘one kindness,’ a kindness +that will mean a great deal to my boy.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell him,” Elsie promised. “I know he’ll be glad to go if he can.”</p> + +<p>Laura said nothing to Jim, but when Jack Harding appeared, she took him +upstairs at once. Jim was <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_148" id="pg_148">148</a></span>standing at the window, watching two boys and +a puppy in a neighbouring yard. He glanced listlessly over his shoulder +as the door opened, but at sight of a boy in Scout uniform, he hurried +across to him, crying out,</p> + +<p>“My! But it’s good to see a boy!” Then he glanced at Laura, the colour +flaming in his face. Would she mind? But she was smiling at him, and +looking almost as happy as he felt.</p> + +<p>“This is Jack Harding, Elsie’s brother,” she said, “and, Jack, this is +my boy Jim. I hope he can persuade you to stay to lunch with him.” Then +she shut the door and left the two together.</p> + +<p>When she went back at noon, she found the boys deep in the mysteries of +knots. Jim looked up, his homely little face full of pride.</p> + +<p>“Jack is learning me to tie all the different knots,” he cried, “and +he’s going to learn me [‘teach,’ corrected Jack softly]—yes, teach me +everything I’ll have to know before I can be a Scout. Jack’s a second +class Scout—see his badge? We’ve had a bully time, haven’t we, Jack?”</p> + +<p>Suddenly his head went down and his heels flew into the air as he turned +a somersault. Coming right end upwards again, he looked at Laura with a +doubtful grin. “I—I didn’t mean to do that,” he stammered. “It—just +did itself—like——”</p> + +<p>Jack’s quick laugh rang out then. “I know. You had to get it out of your +system, didn’t you?” he said with full understanding.</p> + +<p>That was a red-letter day to Jim. He kept his visitor until the last +possible moment, and stood at the window looking after him till the +straight little figure <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_149" id="pg_149">149</a></span>in khaki swung around a corner and was gone. +Then with a long happy breath he turned to Laura and said, half +apologetically, half appealingly, “You see a fellow gets kind o’ hungry +for boys, sometimes. You don’t mind, do you, Miss Laura?”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed, Jim. I get hungry for girls the same way—it’s all right,” +she assured him. But she made up her mind that Jim should not get <i>so</i> +hungry for boys again—she would see to that.</p> + +<p>After a moment he asked thoughtfully, “Why can’t boys be Scouts till +they’re twelve, Miss Laura?”</p> + +<p>“I think because younger boys could not go on the long tramps.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” Jim thought that over and finally admitted, “Yes, I guess that’s +it.” A little later he asked anxiously, “Do you s’pose they’d let a +fellow join when he’s twelve even if he is just a <i>little</i> lame?”</p> + +<p>“O, I hope so, Jim,” Laura answered quickly.</p> + +<p>“But you ain’t sure. Jack wasn’t sure, but he guessed they would.” Jim +pondered a while in silence, then he broke out again, “Seems to me the +only way is for me to get this leg cured. I can’t be shut out of things +always just ’cause of that, can I now, Miss Laura?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing can shut you out of the best things, Jim.”</p> + +<p>The boy looked up at her, tipping his round head till he reminded her of +an uncommonly wise sparrow. “I don’t <i>quite</i> know what you mean,” he +said in a doubtful tone.</p> + +<p>“You like stories of men who have done splendid brave things, don’t +you?” Laura asked.</p> + +<p>Jim nodded, his eyes searching her face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_150" id="pg_150">150</a></span>“But some of the bravest men have never been able to fight or do the +things you love to hear about.”</p> + +<p>“How did they be brave then?” Jim demanded.</p> + +<p>“They were brave because they endured very, very hard things and never +whimpered.”</p> + +<p>“What’s whimpered?”</p> + +<p>“To whimper is to cry or complain—or be sorry for yourself.”</p> + +<p>Jim studied over that; then coming close to Laura, he looked straight +into her eyes. “You mean that I mustn’t talk about that?” He touched his +lame leg.</p> + +<p>“It would be better not, if you can help it,” she said very gently.</p> + +<p>“I got to help it then, ’cause, of course, I’ve got to be brave. And +mebbe if I get strong as—as anything, they’ll let me join the Scouts +when I’m twelve even—even if I ain’t quite such a good walker as the +rest of ’em. Don’t you think they <i>might</i>, Miss Laura?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Jim, I think they might,” she agreed hastily. Who could say “No” +to such pleading eyes?</p> + +<p>Jim had been teasing to go to school, and when at the next Camp Fire +meeting, Lena Barton told him that Jo had been sent to an outdoor +school, Jim wanted to go there too.</p> + +<p>“Take him to the doctor and see what he thinks about it,” the judge +advised, and to Jim’s delight the doctor said that it was just the place +for him.</p> + +<p>“Let him sleep out of doors too for a year,” the doctor added. “It will +do him a world of good.”</p> + +<p>So the next day Miss Laura went with him to the school, Jim limping +gaily along at her side, and chuckling to himself as he thought how +“s’prised” Jo would be to see him there.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_151" id="pg_151">151</a></span>Jo undoubtedly was surprised. He was a thin little chap, freckled and +red-haired like his sister, and he welcomed his old comrade with a wide +friendly grin.</p> + +<p>Jim thought it a very queer-looking school, with teacher and pupils all +wearing warm coats, mittens, and hoods or caps, and all with their feet +hidden in big woolen bags. There was no fire, of course, and all the +windows were wide open.</p> + +<p>“But what a happy-looking crowd it is!” Laura said, and the teacher +answered,</p> + +<p>“They are the happiest children I ever taught, and they learn so easily! +They get on much faster than most of the children in other schools of +the same grade. We give them luncheon here—plain nourishing things +which the doctor orders—and,” she lowered her voice, “that means a deal +to some who come from poor homes where there is not too much to eat.”</p> + +<p>“We shall gladly pay for Jim,” Laura said quickly, “enough for him and +some of the others too.”</p> + +<p>So Jim’s outdoor life began. There was a covered porch adjoining the +old nursery, and the judge had the end boarded up to protect the boy’s +cot from snow or rain; and there, in a warm sleeping-bag, with a wool +cap over his ears, and a little fox terrier cuddled down beside him for +company, Jim slept through all the winter weather.</p> + +<p>He and the judge were great chums now. It would be hard to say which +most enjoyed the half-hour they spent together before Laura carried the +boy off to bed. And as for Laura—she often wondered how she had ever +gotten on without Jim. He filled the big house with life, and she didn’t +at all mind the noise and disorder that he brought into it. He whistled +now from <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_152" id="pg_152">152</a></span>morning till night, and his pockets were perfect catch-alls. +Sometimes they were stuck together with chewing-gum or molasses candy, +and sometimes they were soaked with wet sponges, and his hands—she +counted one Saturday, thirteen times that she sent him to wash them +between getting up and bedtime.</p> + +<p>The girls always wanted Jim at their Camp Fire meetings, for a part of +the time at least. As “Miss Laura’s boy” they felt that in a way he +belonged to them too, and Jim was very proud and happy to make one of +the company.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to be a Camp Fire boy until I’m big enough to be a Scout, if +you’ll all let me,” he told the girls one night, and they all gave him +the most cordial of welcomes.</p> + +<p>He was sitting between Olga and Elizabeth, when the girls were talking +about some of the babies they had found.</p> + +<p>“We never find one that is just right,” Rose Parsons complained. “Or if +the baby is what we would like, there is always some one that wants to +keep it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad of it,” Lena Barton flung out. “It was silly of us to think of +taking a baby, anyhow. We better just help out somewhere—maybe with +some older kid.” Her red-brown eyes flashed a glance at Jim.</p> + +<p>It was then that Frances Chapin broke in earnestly, “O girls, I do so +wish you’d take one of the old ladies at the Home! They need our help +quite as much as the babies—more, I sometimes think, for they are so +old and tired, and they’ve such a little time to—to have things done +for them. The babies have <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_153" id="pg_153">153</a></span>chances, but the chances of these old ladies +are almost over. There’s one—Mrs. Barlow—I’m sure you couldn’t help +loving her—she is so gentle and patient and uncomplaining, although she +cannot see to sew or read, and cannot go out alone. She has her board +and room at the Home of course, but clothes are not provided, and she +hasn’t any money at all. Just think of never having a dollar to buy +anything with! And the money we could give would buy so many of the +things she needs, and it would make her so happy to have us run in and +see her now and then. There are so many of us that no one would have to +go often, and she loves girls. She had two of her own once, but they +both died in one year, and her husband was killed in an accident. She +did fine sewing and embroidery as long as she could see; then an old +friend got her into the Home. I took this picture of her to show you.”</p> + +<p>She handed the picture to Laura, who passed it on with the comment, “It +is a sweet face.”</p> + +<p>The girls all agreed that it was a sweet face, and Mary Hastings, +stirred by Frances’ earnest pleading, moved that what money they could +spare should be given to Frances for Mrs. Barlow, but Frances interposed +quickly, “She needs the money, but she needs people almost more. She is +so happy when Elsie or I go in to see her even just for a minute! I +shall be delighted if we take her for our Camp Fire ‘service,’ but +please, girls, <i>if</i> we do, give her a little of your<i>selves</i>—not just +your money alone,” she pleaded.</p> + +<p>“How would I know what to say to an old woman?” Lena Barton grumbled. “I +shouldn’t have an idea how to talk to her.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_154" id="pg_154">154</a></span>“You wouldn’t need to have—she has ideas of her own a-plenty. Girls, +if you’ll only once go and see her, you won’t need to be coaxed to go +again, I’m sure,” Frances urged.</p> + +<p>“I’m in favour of having Frances’ old lady for our ‘Camp Fire baby,’” +laughed Louise Johnson. “I second Mary’s motion.”</p> + +<p>But Lena Barton’s high-pitched voice cut in, “Before we vote on that I’d +like to say a word. I’ve no doubt that Mrs. Barlow is an angel minus the +wings, but before we decide to adopt her I’d like to see some of the +other old ladies. I’ve wanted for a long time to get into one of those +Homes with a big H. How about it, Frances—would they let me in or are +working girls ruled out?”</p> + +<p>“O no, any one can go there,” Frances replied, but her face and her +voice betrayed her disappointment. When Louise spoke, Frances had +thought her cause was won.</p> + +<p>“All right—I’ll go then to-morrow, and maybe I’ll find some old lady +I’ll like better than your white-haired angel,” Lena flung out, her +red-brown eyes gleaming with sly malice and mischief.</p> + +<p>Quite unconsciously, and certainly without intention, the three High +School girls held themselves a little apart from Lena and her “crowd,” +and Lena was quite sharp enough to detect and resent this. She chuckled +as she watched Frances’ clouded face.</p> + +<p>“O never mind, Frances,” Elsie Harding whispered under cover of a brisk +discussion on old ladies, that Lena’s words had started, “Lena’s just +talking for effect. She won’t take the trouble to go to the Home.”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_155" id="pg_155">155</a></span> +<a name="NANCY_REXTREW_4797" id="NANCY_REXTREW_4797"></a> +<h2>XII</h2> +<h3>NANCY REXTREW</h3> +</div> + +<p>But that was where Elsie was mistaken. Lena did go the very next +afternoon, and dragged the reluctant Eva with her. The girls, proposing +to join the Sunday promenade on the Avenue later, were in their Sunday +best when they presented themselves at the big, old-fashioned frame +house on Capitol Hill.</p> + +<p>“Who you goin’ to ask for?” Eva questioned as Lena, lifting the old +brass knocker, dropped it sharply.</p> + +<p>“The Barlow angel, I s’pose. We don’t know the name of anybody else +here,” Lena returned with a grin.</p> + +<p>The maid who answered their summons told them to go right upstairs. They +would find Mrs. Barlow in Room 10 on the second floor. So they went up, +Lena’s eyes, as always, keen and alert, Eva scowling, and wishing +herself “out of it.”</p> + +<p>“Here’s No. 6—it must be that second door beyond,” Lena said in a low +tone; but low as it was, somebody heard, for the next door—No. 8—flew +open instantly, and a woman stepped briskly out and faced the girls.</p> + +<p>“Come right in—come right in,” she said with an imperative gesture. +“My! But I’m glad to see ye!”</p> + +<p>So compelling was her action that, with a laugh, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_156" id="pg_156">156</a></span>Lena yielded and Eva +followed her as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>The woman closed the door quickly, and pulled forward three chairs, +planting herself in the third.</p> + +<p>“My land, but it’s good to see ye sittin’ there,” she began. “What’s yer +names? Mine’s Nancy Rextrew.”</p> + +<p>Lena gave their names, and the woman repeated them lingeringly, as if +the syllables were sweet on her tongue. Then she tipped her head, pursed +her lips, and gave a little cackling laugh.</p> + +<p>“I s’pose ye was bound fer her room—Mis’ Barlow’s, eh?” she questioned.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Lena admitted, “but——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care nothin’ about it if you was!” Nancy Rextrew broke in +hastily, her little black eyes snapping and her wrinkled face all alive +with eager excitement. “I don’t care a mite if you was. Mis’ Barlow has +somebody a-comin’ to see her nigh about every day, an’ I’ve stood it +jest as long as I can. Yesterday when the Chapin girl an’ the Harding +girl stayed along of her half the afternoon I made up my mind that the +next girl that came through this corridor was a-comin’ in here—be she +who she might. I was right sure some girl or other’d come on a pretty +Sunday like this, to read the Bible or suthin’ to her, an’ I says to +myself, ‘I’ll kidnap the next one—I don’t care if it’s the daughter of +the president in the White House.’ An’ I’ve done it, an’ I’m <i>glad</i>!” +she added triumphantly, her eyes meeting Lena’s with a flash that drew +an answering flash from the girl’s.</p> + +<p>“Well, now that you’ve kidnapped us, what next?” Lena demanded with a +laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_157" id="pg_157">157</a></span>“I do’ know an’ I don’t care what next,” the woman flung out with a +gleeful reckless gesture. “Of course I can’t keep ye if ye <i>want</i> to go +in there,” with a nod towards No. 10, “but you don’t somehow look like +the pious sort. Be ye?”</p> + +<p>Lena shook her head. “I guess I’m your sort,” she said. She had never +before met an old woman at all like this one, and her heart went out to +her. In spite of wrinkles and gray hairs, the spirit of youth nodded to +her from Nancy Rextrew’s little black eyes, and something in Lena +answered as if in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>Nancy hitched her chair closer, and with her elbows on her knees, rested +her shrivelled chin on her old hands, wrinkled and swollen at the +joints. “Now tell me,” she commanded, “all about yourself. You ain’t no +High School girl, I’m thinkin’.”</p> + +<p>“You’re right—I never got above the seventh grade—I had to go to work +when I was thirteen. Eva and I both work in Wood and Lanson’s.”</p> + +<p>“What d’ye do there?” Nancy snapped out the question, fairly hugging +herself in her delight.</p> + +<p>“I’m a wrapper in the hosiery department. Eva’s in the hardware.”</p> + +<p>“I know—I know,” Nancy breathed fast as one who must accomplish much in +little time, “I’ve been all over that store. My! But I’d like to see ye +both there—’specially <i>you</i>!” Her crooked finger pointed at Lena. “I +bet you’re a good one. You could make a cow buy stockings if you took a +notion to.”</p> + +<p>Lena broke into a shout of laughter at the vision of a cow coming in to +be fitted with stockings. “I’m afraid,” she gurgled, “that we’d have to +make ’em to <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_158" id="pg_158">158</a></span>order—for a cow!” and all three joined in the laughter.</p> + +<p>But Nancy could not spare time for much merriment. She poured out eager +questions and listened to the answers of the girls with an interest that +drew forth ever more details. At last, with a furtive sidelong glance at +the clock, she said, “I s’pose now if I should go there to the store +you’d be too busy to speak to me—or mebbe you wouldn’t want to be seen +talkin’ to an old thing like me, an’ I wouldn’t blame ye, neither.”</p> + +<p>“Stuff!” retorted Lena promptly. “You come to my place next time you’re +down town and I’ll show you. We wouldn’t be shoddy enough to turn down a +friend, would we, Eva?”</p> + +<p>“I guess no,” Eva agreed, but without enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“A friend!” As Nancy repeated the word a curious quiver swept over her +old lined face. “You don’t have to call me a friend,” she said. “Old +women like me don’t expect to be called <i>friend</i>—didn’t ye know that?”</p> + +<p>“I said friend, and I meant what I said,” repeated Lena stoutly, and the +old woman swallowed once or twice before she spoke again.</p> + +<p>“You’ve told me about your work, now tell me the rest of it—the fun +part,” she begged.</p> + +<p>“O that!” said Lena. “The fun is moving pictures and roller skating and +dances and the Avenue parade—with the boys along sometimes.”</p> + +<p>“I bet ye there’s boys along where you be!” Nancy flashed an admiring +glance at the girl. “I always did admire bright hair like yours, an’ a +pinch o’ freckles is more takin’ than a dimple—if you ask me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_159" id="pg_159">159</a></span>Had Nancy been the shrewdest of mortals she could have said nothing +that would have pleased Lena more. She had been called “Carrots” and +“Redhead” all her life, and from the bottom of her soul she loathed her +fiery locks and her freckles, though never yet had she acknowledged this +to any living creature—and here was one who <i>liked</i> freckles and red +hair! Lena could have hugged the little old woman beaming at her with +such honest admiration. A wave of hot colour swept up to her forehead. +But Nancy’s thoughts had taken another turn.</p> + +<p>“Movin’ pictures. That’s the new kind of show, ain’t it? I’ve heard +about ’em, but I’ve never seen any.”</p> + +<p>“You can go for a nickel,” said Eva.</p> + +<p>“A nickel?” echoed Nancy, flashing a swift glance at her. “But nickels +don’t grow on gooseberry bushes, an’ if they did, there ain’t any +gooseberry bushes around here,” she retorted.</p> + +<p>“Say——” Lena was leaning forward, her eyes full of interest, “we’ll +take you to see the movies any time you’ll go, won’t we, Eva?”</p> + +<p>“Er—yes, I guess so,” Eva conceded reluctantly; but Nancy paid no +attention now to Eva. Her eyes, widened with incredulous joy, were fixed +on Lena’s vivid face.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean it? You ain’t foolin’?” she faltered.</p> + +<p>“Fooling? Well, I guess you don’t know me. When I invite a friend +anywhere I mean it. When can you go?”</p> + +<p>“When? Now—<i>this minute</i>!” Nancy cried, starting eagerly to her feet. +Then recollecting herself, she <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_160" id="pg_160">160</a></span>sat down again with a shamefaced little +laugh. “For the land’s sake, if I wasn’t forgettin’ all about it’s bein’ +Sunday!” she cried under her breath.</p> + +<p>“I guess you wouldn’t want to go Sunday,” Lena said. “But how about +to-morrow evening?”</p> + +<p>Old Nancy drew a long breath. “I s’pose mebbe I <i>can</i> live through the +time till then,” she returned. Then with a quick, questioning +glance—“But s’posing some of your friends should be there? I guess +mebbe—you wouldn’t care for ’em to see you with an old woman like me in +such a place.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you fret yourself about that,” Lena replied. “You just meet us at +the corner of Tenth and the Avenue. I’ll be there at half-past seven, if +I can. Anyhow, you wait there till I come.”</p> + +<p>When the girls went away Nancy Rextrew walked with them down to the +front door and stood there watching as long as she could see them, her +sharp old face full of pride and joy and hope that had long been +strangers there.</p> + +<p>“O my Lord!” she said under her breath as she went back to her room—and +again “O my Lord!”</p> + +<p>“That old woman’s going to have the time of her life to-morrow night,” +Lena said, as the two girls walked towards the Avenue.</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose she’s got a decent thing to wear,” Eva grumbled.</p> + +<p>Lena turned on her like a flash. “I don’t care if she’s got nothing but +a <i>nightgown</i> to wear, she shall have a good time for once if I can make +her!” she stormed. “Talk about your Mrs. Barlow!” And Eva subsided into +cowed silence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_161" id="pg_161">161</a></span>At quarter of eight the next evening, the two girls saw Nancy Rextrew +standing on the corner of Tenth Street and the Avenue, peering anxiously +first one way and then the other.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” groaned Eva. “Lena Barton, look at the shawl she’s got on. I bet +it’s a hundred years old—and that bonnet!”</p> + +<p>“If it’s a hundred years old it’s an antique and worth good money!” +retorted Lena. “Hurry up!”</p> + +<p>But Eva hung back. “I’d be ashamed forever if any of the boys should see +me with her,” she half whimpered.</p> + +<p>Lena stopped short and stamped her foot, heedless of interested +passers-by. “Then go back!” she cried. “And you needn’t hang around me +any more. Go <i>back</i>, I say!” Without another glance at Eva she hurried +on, and Eva sulkily followed.</p> + +<p>Rapturous relief swept the anxiety from old Nancy’s little triangle of a +face as she caught sight of the two girls.</p> + +<p>“’Fraid you’ve been waitin’ an age,” Lena greeted her breezily. “I +couldn’t get off as early as I meant to. Come on now—we won’t lose any +more time,” and slipping her arm under Nancy’s, she swept her, +breathless and beaming, towards the brilliantly-lighted show-place.</p> + +<p>“Two,” she slapped a dime down before the ticket-taker, quite ignoring +Eva, who silently laid a nickel beside the dime.</p> + +<p>The place was one of the best of its kind, well ventilated and spaced +and, though the lights were turned down, it was by no means dark within. +Lena guided the old woman into a seat and sat down beside her, and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_162" id="pg_162">162</a></span>Eva, +after a quick searching glance that revealed none of her acquaintances +present, took the next seat.</p> + +<p>For the hour that followed Nancy Rextrew was in Fairyland. With +breathless interest, her eyes glued to the pictures, her mouth half +open, she followed the quick-moving figures through scenes pathetic or +ludicrous with an absorbed attention that would not miss the smallest +detail. When that popular idol—the Imp—was performing her antics, the +old woman’s quick cackling laugh made Eva drop her head that her big hat +might hide her face. When the “Drunkard’s Family” were passing through +their harrowing experiences, tears rolled unheeded down old Nancy’s +wrinkled cheeks as she sat with her knobby fingers tight clasped.</p> + +<p>When, at last, Lena whispered in her ear, “I guess we’ll go now,” Nancy +exclaimed,</p> + +<p>“Oh! Is it over? I thought it had just begun. But it was +beautiful—beautiful! I’ll never——”</p> + +<p>A loud sharp explosion cut through her sentence and instantly the whole +place was in an uproar. Suffocating fumes filled the room with smoke as +the lights went out. Then somebody screamed, “Fire! <i>Fire</i>!” and +pandemonium reigned. Women shrieked, children wailed, and men and boys +fought savagely to get to the doors. Lena was swept on by the first mad +rush of the crowd, crazy with fear, but catching at a seat, she tried to +slip into it and climb back to Nancy and Eva. Before she could reach +them, she saw Eva thrown down in the aisle by a big woman frantic with +terror, who tried to walk over her prostrate body, but a pair of bony +hands grabbed the woman’s hair and yanked her back, holding her, it +seemed, by sheer force <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_163" id="pg_163">163</a></span>of will, for the few precious seconds that gave +Lena a chance to pull Eva up and out of the aisle.</p> + +<p>“You fools!” The old woman’s voice, shrill and cracked, but steady and +unafraid, cut through the babel of shrieks and cries, “You fools, there +ain’t no fire! If you’ll stop yellin’ an’ pushin’ and go quiet you’ll +all get out in a minute. It’s jest a step to the doors.”</p> + +<p>She was only a little old woman—a figure of fun, if they could have +seen her clearly, with her old bonnet tilted rakishly over one ear and +her shawl trailing behind her—but through the smoke, in that tumult of +fear and dread, the dauntless spirit of her loomed large, and dominated +the lesser souls craven with terror.</p> + +<p>A draught of air thinned the smoke for a moment, and as those in front +rushed out, the pressure in the main aisle lessened. Climbing over the +back of a seat, Lena caught the old woman’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Come,” she shouted in her ear, “we can get through to the side aisle +now—that’s almost clear. Come, Eva, buck up—buck up, I say, or we’ll +never get out of this!” for Eva, terrified, bruised, and half fainting, +was now hanging limp and nerveless to Lena’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you worry ’bout me. Go ahead an’ I’ll follow,” Nancy Rextrew +said, and grabbing Eva’s other arm, the two half pushed and half carried +her between them. Once outside, her blind terror suddenly left her, and +she declared herself all right.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, let’s get out of this,” and Lena’s sharp elbows forced a +passage through the crowd that was <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_164" id="pg_164">164</a></span>increasing every minute, as the +rumour of fire spread. She turned to old Nancy. “We’ll get you on a +car—My goodness, Eva, catch hold of her <i>quick</i>! We must get her into +the drug store there on the corner,” she ended as she saw the old +woman’s face.</p> + +<p>They got her into the drug store somehow, and then for the first time in +her life Nancy Rextrew fainted; and great was her mortification when she +came to herself and realised what had happened.</p> + +<p>“My soul and body!” she muttered. “I always did despise women that +didn’t know no better than to faint, an’ now I’m one of ’em. Gi’ me my +Injy shawl an’ let me get away. Yes, I be well enough to go home, too!” +She struggled to her feet, and snatching her bonnet from Eva, crammed it +on her head anyhow, fumbling with the strings while she swayed dizzily.</p> + +<p>“Here, let me tie them,” Eva said gently. “You sit down so I can reach.” +She tied the strings very slowly, pulled the old bonnet straight and +drew the India shawl over the thin shoulders, taking as much time as she +could, to give the old woman a chance to pull herself together.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take her home,” Lena said.</p> + +<p>“No, you won’t—that’s my job!” Eva spoke with unusual decision, and +Lena promptly yielded.</p> + +<p>“Well—I guess you’re right. I guess if it hadn’t been for her——”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Eva, and her look made further words unnecessary.</p> + +<p>The three walked out to the car a few minutes later. The fire in the +picture theatre had been quickly put out, and already the crowd in the +street was melting away. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_165" id="pg_165">165</a></span>Nancy looked up and down the wide avenue +brilliant with its many electric lights; then as she saw the car coming +she turned to Lena, her pale face crinkling into sudden laughter.</p> + +<p>“I don’t care—it was worth it!” she declared. “I’ve lived more to-night +than I have in twenty years before. I loved every minute of it—the +pictures an’ the fire an’ everything. But see here—” she leaned down +and whispered in the girl’s ear,—“don’t you let any feller put his arm +round you like the man did round that girl that set in front of +us—don’t you do it!”</p> + +<p>“I guess <i>not</i>!” retorted the girl sharply. “I ain’t that kind.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right, that’s right! An’—an’ do come an’ see me again some +time—do, dearie!” the old woman added over her shoulder as the +conductor pulled her up the high step of the car.</p> + +<p>Eva followed her. “I’m going to see she gets home all right,” she said, +and Lena waved her hand as the car passed on.</p> + +<p>“An’ to think her sharp old eyes saw that!” Lena thought with a chuckle +as she turned away. “An’ me all the time thinkin’ she didn’t see +anything but the pictures. Well, you never can tell. But she’s a duck, +an’ it’s her gets my nickels—angel or no angel. And to think how she +kidnapped us—the old dear,” and Lena went on laughing to herself.</p> + +<p>At the next Camp Fire meeting, Lena, with a mischievous spark in her +eyes, called out to Frances Chapin, “Say, Frances, Eva and I took one of +your old ladies to the picture show the other night.”</p> + +<p>Frances looked distinctly disapproving. “I think <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_166" id="pg_166">166</a></span>you might have made a +better use of your money,” she returned.</p> + +<p>“I don’t, then!” retorted Lena, and thereupon she told the story of +Nancy’s Sunday kidnapping, and of what had happened at the picture show. +Her graphic wording held the girls breathless with interest.</p> + +<p>“Well!” commented Louise Johnson, “I’d like to see that old lady of +yours, Lena.”</p> + +<p>“She’s worth seeing.” This from Eva.</p> + +<p>A week later Louise announced that she had seen Lena’s old lady. “Saw +her at the Home yesterday. I like her. She sure is a peach.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t she just?” Lena responded, her face lighting up. “And did you see +Frances’ angel-all-but-the-wings old lady too?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and she’s a peach also, but a different variety,” Louise answered +with a laugh. “I gave your Miss Rextrew some mint gum and she popped it +into her mouth as handily as if she’d chewed gum all her life.”</p> + +<p>Lena nodded. “She wanted to try it. She wants to try everything that is +going. She’s a live wire, that’s what she is—good old Nancy!”</p> + +<p>“We went the rounds—Annie Pearson and I,” Louise continued. “Saw all +the old ladies except one that doesn’t want any visitors. Most of ’em +do, though; and say, girlies—” Louise’s sweeping glance included all in +the room—“I reckon it won’t hurt any of us to run up there once a month +or so when it means such a lot to those old shut-ins to have us.”</p> + +<p>There was a swift exchange of amazed glances at this, <i>from Louise +Johnson</i>, and then a murmur of assent from several voices, before Mary +Hastings in her <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_167" id="pg_167">167</a></span>business-like way suggested, “Why not each of us set a +date for going? Then we won’t forget—or maybe all go on the same day.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Molly—you make out the list an’ we’ll all sign it,” Lena +said, “and, say—make it a nickel fine for any girl that forgets her +date or fails to keep it. Does that go, girls?”</p> + +<p>“Unless for some good and sufficient reason that she will give at our +next meeting,” Laura amended.</p> + +<p>Then began a new era for the old ladies at the Home. Always on Saturday +and Sunday afternoons and often on other evenings, light footsteps and +young voices were heard in the corridors and rooms of the old mansion. +Not only gentle Mrs. Barlow and eager old Nancy Rextrew, but all the +women who had drifted into this backwater of life found their dull days +wonderfully brightened by contact with these young lives. Nancy Rextrew +looked years younger than on that Sunday when she had turned kidnapper. +Naturally she was still the prime favourite with Lena and Eva, and +gloried in that fact. But there were girls “enough to go around” in more +senses than one, and most of them were faithful to their agreement, and +seldom allowed anything to keep them from the Home on the date assigned +to them.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_168" id="pg_168">168</a></span> +<a name="A_CAMP_FIRE_CHRISTMAS_5204" id="A_CAMP_FIRE_CHRISTMAS_5204"></a> +<h2>XIII</h2> +<h3>A CAMP FIRE CHRISTMAS</h3> +</div> + +<p>For over a year Olga had been working in the evening classes of the Arts +and Crafts school, and she was now doing excellent work in silver. Her +designs were so bold and original and her execution so good, that she +received from patrons of the school many orders for Christmas gifts—so +many that she gave up her other work in order to devote all her time to +this. She had now two rooms, a small bedroom and a larger room which +served as kitchen, living-room, and workroom. None of the girls had ever +been invited to these rooms, nor even Miss Laura. Elizabeth, Olga would +have welcomed there; but it was quite useless to ask her before Sadie +joined the Camp Fire. Then Olga saw her opportunity, but it was an +opportunity hampered by a very unpleasant condition, and the condition +was Sadie. Could she admit Sadie even for the sake of having Elizabeth? +Olga pondered long over that while she was teaching the girl to work +with the beads and the raffia. Sadie was an apt pupil. Those bony little +fingers of hers were deft and quick. Within a month she had made her +Camp Fire dress and her headband, and was eagerly at work over the +requirements for a Fire Maker. But, as Mary Hastings said to Rose +Anderson one day,</p> + +<p>“She’s sharp as nails—that Sadie! I believe she <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_169" id="pg_169">169</a></span>can learn anything she +sets her mind on; but she’s such a selfish little pig! I can’t endure +her.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I had her memory,” Rose answered. “How she did reel off the Fire +Ode and the Fire Maker’s desire the other night! I haven’t learned that +Ode yet so that I can say it without stumbling.”</p> + +<p>“O, Sadie can reel it off without a mistake, but she’s as blind to the +meaning of it as this sidewalk. There’s no <i>heart</i> to Sadie Page. She +can thank Elizabeth that we ever voted her in.”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth—and Olga,” Rose amended.</p> + +<p>“O, Olga—well, that was for Elizabeth too. Olga did it just for +her—got Sadie in, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“She’s—different—lately, don’t you think, Molly?”</p> + +<p>“Who—Olga?”</p> + +<p>Rose nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she’s getting more human. She’s opened her heart to Elizabeth and +she can’t quite shut it against the rest of us—not quite—though she +opens it only the tiniest crack.”</p> + +<p>“But I think it’s lovely the way she is to Sadie. You know she must hate +that kind of a girl as much as we do, or more—and yet she endures and +helps her in every way just to give Elizabeth her chance. Miss Laura +says Olga is doing lovely silver work. I’d like to see some of it, but I +don’t dare ask her to let me.”</p> + +<p>“You’d better not,” laughed Mary, “unless you are ready to be snubbed. +Nobody but Elizabeth will ever be privileged to that extent.”</p> + +<p>“And Sadie.”</p> + +<p>“Well, possibly, but not if Olga can help it.”</p> + +<p>Yet it was Sadie and not Elizabeth who was the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_170" id="pg_170">170</a></span>first of the Camp Fire +Girls to be admitted to Olga’s rooms. Sadie was wild to take up the +silver work. She wanted to make herself a complete set—bracelet, ring, +pin, and hatpin, after a design she had seen. Again and again she +brought the matter up, for, once she got an idea in her head, she clung +to it with the tenacity of a limpet to a rock.</p> + +<p>“I think you <i>might</i> teach me!” she cried out impatiently one day, +meeting Olga in the street. “You said you’d teach me all you know—you +did, Olga Priest—and now you won’t.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve taught you basket work and beadwork and embroidery, and the knots, +and the Red-Cross things, and I’m helping you to win your honours,” Olga +reminded her.</p> + +<p>“O, I know—but I want to make the silver set just awfully. I can do +it—I know I can—and you promised, Olga Priest, you <i>promised</i>!” Sadie +repeated, half crying in her eager impatience.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Olga said with a reluctance she did not try to conceal, “if you +hold me to that promise——”</p> + +<p>“I do then!” Sadie declared, her black eyes watching Olga’s lips as if +she would snatch the words from them before they were spoken.</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose I must,” Olga went on slowly. “But listen, Sadie. You +don’t seem to realise what you are asking of me. I’ve been nearly two +years learning this work, and I paid for my lessons—a good big price, +too—yet you expect me to teach you for nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you know I’ve no money to pay for lessons,” Sadie retorted +sulkily.</p> + +<p>“I know—but you see you don’t <i>have</i> to learn the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_171" id="pg_171">171</a></span>silver work. There +are plenty of other things for you to learn in handcraft.”</p> + +<p>Sadie’s narrow sharp face flushed and she stamped her foot angrily. “But +I don’t <i>want</i> the other things, and I <i>do</i> want this. I—I’ve just got +to have that silver set, Olga Priest.”</p> + +<p>Olga set her lips firmly. She must draw the line somewhere, for there +seemed no limit to Sadie’s demands. Then a thought occurred to her and +she said slowly, “I don’t feel, Sadie, that you have any right to ask +this of me. It is different from the other things. The silver work is my +trade—the way I earn my living. But I will teach you to make your set +on one condition.”</p> + +<p>“It’s something about Elizabeth, I know,” Sadie flung out with an angry +flirt.</p> + +<p>“No, not this time. Sadie, have you ever given any one a Christmas +present?”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not. I don’t have any money to buy ’em.”</p> + +<p>“Well, this is my condition. I’ll teach you to make the silver set for +yourself if you will first make something for——”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth!” broke in Sadie. “I said so.”</p> + +<p>“No, not for Elizabeth—for your mother.”</p> + +<p>Sadie stood staring, her mouth open, her eyes full of amazement.</p> + +<p>“What you want me to do that for?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“No matter why. Will you do it?”</p> + +<p>Sadie wriggled her shoulders and scowled. “I want to make my set +first—then I will.”</p> + +<p>But Olga shook her head. “No,” she replied <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_172" id="pg_172">172</a></span>firmly, “for your mother +first, or else I’ll not teach you at all.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ll have to wait so long then for mine.” Sadie was half crying +now.</p> + +<p>“That’s my offer—you can take it or leave it,” Olga said. “I must go on +now. Think it over and tell me Saturday what you decide.”</p> + +<p>“O—if I must, I must, I s’pose,” Sadie yielded ungraciously. “How long +will it take me to make mother’s?”</p> + +<p>“Depends on how quickly you learn.”</p> + +<p>“O, I’ll learn quick enough!” Sadie tossed her head as one conscious of +her powers. “When can I begin?”</p> + +<p>“Monday. Can you come right after school?”</p> + +<p>“Uh, huh,” and with a brief good-bye Sadie was gone.</p> + +<p>Olga had no easy task with her over the making of her mother’s gift. It +was to be a brass stamp box, and her only thought was to get it out of +the way so that she could begin on her own jewelry; but Olga was firm.</p> + +<p>“If you don’t make a good job of this your lessons will end right here,” +she declared, and Sadie had learned that when Olga spoke in that tone, +she must be obeyed. She gloomed and pouted, but seeing no other way to +get what she wanted she set to work in earnest. And as the work grew +under her hands, her interest in it grew. When, finally, the box was +done, it was really a creditable bit of work for the first attempt of a +girl barely fourteen, and Sadie was inordinately proud of it.</p> + +<p>It was December now and Christmas was the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_173" id="pg_173">173</a></span>absorbing interest of the +Camp Fire Girls. They were to have a tree in the Camp Fire room, but +Laura told them to make their gifts very simple and inexpensive.</p> + +<p>“We must not spoil the Great Day by giving what we cannot afford,” she +said. “The loving thought is the heart of Christmas giving—not the +money value. I’ll get our tree, but you can help me string popcorn and +cranberries to trim it, and put up the greenery.”</p> + +<p>“Me too—O Miss Laura, can’t I help too?” Jim cried anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Why, of course. We couldn’t get along without you, Jim,” half a dozen +voices assured him before Laura could answer.</p> + +<p>“I wish our old ladies could come to our tree,” Elsie Harding said to +Alice Reynolds.</p> + +<p>“They couldn’t. Most of them can’t go out evenings, you know. But we +might put gifts for them on the tree they have at the Home.”</p> + +<p>“Or have them hang up stockings,” suggested Louise Johnson. “Just +imagine forty long black stockings strung around those parlour walls. +Wouldn’t it be a sight?” she giggled.</p> + +<p>“Nancy Rextrew wouldn’t have her stocking hung on any parlour wall. It +would be in her own room or nowhere,” put in Lena.</p> + +<p>“Why not get some of those red Christmas stockings from the five cent +store, and fill one for each old lady?” Mary Hastings proposed. “We +could go late, after they’d all gone to their rooms, and hang the +stockings, full, on their doorknobs.”</p> + +<p>“Or get the superintendent to hang them early in the morning,” was +Laura’s suggestion.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we can get the stockings and the ‘fillings,’” <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_174" id="pg_174">174</a></span>Mary Hastings went +on, “and have all sent to the superintendent’s room. Then we can go +there and fill them. It won’t take long if we all go.”</p> + +<p>“And not have any tree for them?” Myra asked in a disappointed tone.</p> + +<p>“O, they always have a tree with candles and trimmings—the Board ladies +furnish that,” Frances explained.</p> + +<p>The girls lingered late that night talking over Christmas plans. The air +was heavy with secrets, there were whispered conferences in corners, and +somebody was always drawing Laura aside to ask advice or help. Only +Elizabeth had no part in these mysterious whisperings. She had blossomed +into happy friendliness with all the girls now that she came regularly +to the meetings, but the old sad silence crept over her again in these +December days. It was Olga who guessed her trouble and went with it to +Sadie, drawing her away from a group of girls who were busy over crochet +work.</p> + +<p>“Look at Elizabeth,” she began.</p> + +<p>Sadie stared at her sister sitting apart from the others, listlessly +gazing into the fire. “Well, what of her? What’s eating her?” Sadie +demanded in her most aggravating manner.</p> + +<p>Olga frowned. Sadie’s slang was a trial to her.</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth says she is not coming to the Christmas tree here.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she don’t have to, if she don’t want to,” Sadie retorted, but she +cast an uneasy glance at the silent figure by the fire.</p> + +<p>“She does want to, Sadie Page—you know she does.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_175" id="pg_175">175</a></span>“Well, then—what’s the answer?” demanded Sadie.</p> + +<p>“Would <i>you</i> come if you couldn’t give a single thing to any one?” Olga +asked quietly.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t she make things then—same’s I do?” Sadie’s tone was sullen +now.</p> + +<p>“You know why. Your mother gives you a little money——”</p> + +<p>“Mighty little,” Sadie interrupted. “I’m going to work when I’m sixteen. +Then I’ll have my own money to spend.”</p> + +<p>“And Elizabeth is nearly eighteen and can’t work for herself because she +spends all her time working for the rest of you at home,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>A startled look flashed into the sharp black eyes. Sadie had actually +never before thought of that.</p> + +<p>Olga went on, “I guess you’d miss Elizabeth at home if she should go +away to work, but she ought to do it as soon as she is eighteen. And if +she should, you’d have to do some of the kitchen work, wouldn’t you? And +maybe then you wouldn’t have a chance to go away and earn money for +yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Is she going to do that—go off to work when she’s eighteen?” Sadie +demanded, plainly disturbed at the suggestion.</p> + +<p>“Everybody would say she had a right to. Most girls would have gone long +ago—you know it, Sadie. You’d better make things easier for her at home +if you want to keep her there.”</p> + +<p>“How?” Sadie’s voice was despondent now. “Father gets so little +pay—we’re pinched all the time.”</p> + +<p>“Yet <i>you</i> have good clothes and money for your silver work——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_176" id="pg_176">176</a></span>“Well, I have to just tease it out of mother. You don’t know how I have +to tease.”</p> + +<p>Olga could imagine. “Well,” she said, “the girls all guess how it is +about Elizabeth, and, if you come to the tree and she doesn’t, I shan’t +envy you, that’s all. You are smart enough to think up some way to help +Elizabeth out.”</p> + +<p>“I d’know how!” grumbled Sadie. “I think you’re real mean, Olga +Priest—always saying things to spoil my fun, so there!” and she whirled +around and went back to the other girls.</p> + +<p>“All the same,” said Olga to herself, “I’ve set her to thinking.”</p> + +<p>The next afternoon Sadie burst tumultuously into Olga’s room crying out, +“I’ve thought what Elizabeth can do! She can make some cakes—she made +some for us last Christmas—awful nice ones, with nuts an’ citron an’ +raisins in ’em. She can put white icing over ’em an’ little blobs of red +sugar for holly berries, you know, with citron leaves. I thought that up +myself, about the icing. Won’t they be dandy?”</p> + +<p>“Fine! Good for you, Sadie!”</p> + +<p>Sadie accepted the approval as her due, and went on breathlessly, “I +thought it all out in school to-day. An’ say, Olga—I can make baskets +of green and white crêpe paper to hold three or four of the cakes, an’ +stick a bit of holly in each basket. Then they can be from me an’ +’Lizabeth both—how’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t be better,” Olga declared.</p> + +<p>“Uh huh, you see little Sadie has a head on her all right!” Sadie +exulted. But Olga could overlook her conceit since, for once, she had +taken thought for Elizabeth too.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_177" id="pg_177">177</a></span>Laura wondered if, amid all the bustle and excitement of Christmas +planning and doing, Jim would forget about the Christmas for the +Children’s Hospital, but he did not forget; and when she told him that +she was depending upon him to tell her what the boys there would like, +Jim had no trouble at all in deciding. So one Saturday Miss Laura took +him down town early before the stores were crowded and they had a +delightful time selecting books and toys.</p> + +<p>“My-ee!” Jim cried, as they were speeding up Connecticut Avenue, the car +piled with packages, “won’t this be a splendid Christmas! Ours first at +home, and the hospital Christmas and the Camp Fire one and the old +ladies’ one—it’ll be four Christmases all in one year, won’t it, Miss +Laura?” he exulted.</p> + +<p>“Besides a tree and a gift for each one in your outdoor school,” Laura +added.</p> + +<p>Jim stared at her wide-eyed. “O, who’s going to give them?” he cried. +“You?”</p> + +<p>“You and I and the judge, Jim. That is our thank-offering for all that +the school is doing for you—and for Jo.”</p> + +<p>Jim moved close and hid his face for a long moment on Laura’s shoulder. +She knew that he was afraid he might cry, but this time they would have +been tears of pure joy. He explained presently, when he was sure that +his eyes were all right.</p> + +<p>“That will be the best Christmas of all, ’cause some of the out-doorers +wouldn’t have a teeny bit of Christmas at home. Jo wouldn’t. He says +they never hang up stockings or anything like that at his house. He said +he didn’t care, but I know he did.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_178" id="pg_178">178</a></span>That evening Miss Laura asked, “How would you like to put something on +our tree for Jo?”</p> + +<p>“The Camp Fire tree—and have him come?” Jim cried eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Of course.”</p> + +<p>It took three somersaults to get that out of Jim’s system. When he came +up, flushed and joyful, Laura said, “I’m going to tell you a Christmas +secret, Jim. I am going to have each Camp Fire Girl invite her mother, +or any one else she likes, to come to our tree. We can’t have presents +for them all, of course, but there will be ice cream and cake enough for +everybody.”</p> + +<p>“O, Miss <i>Laura</i>!” Jim cried. “It’s going to be the best Christmas that +ever was in this world!”</p> + +<p>And Jim was not the only one who thought so before the Great Day was +over. The tree at the outdoor school, the day before, was a splendid +surprise to every one there except the teacher and Jim, and all the +little “out-doorers,” as Jim called them, went home with their hands +full. At the hospital the celebration was very quiet, but in spite of +pain and weariness, the boys in the first ward enjoyed their gifts as +much as Jim had hoped they would. And the Christmas stocking, full and +running over, that each old lady at the Home found hanging to her +doorknob, made those old children as happy as the young ones.</p> + +<p>Jim’s stocking could not hold half his treasures, and words failed him +utterly before he had opened the last package. But the Camp Fire +celebration was the great success. The tree was a blaze of light and +colour, and the gifts which the girls had made for <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_179" id="pg_179">179</a></span>each other were many +and varied. Some of the beadwork and basket work was really beautiful, +and there were pretty bits of crochet and some knitted slippers—all the +work of the girls themselves. Miss Laura had begged them to give her no +gift, and hers to each of them was only a little water-colour sketch +with “Love is the joy of service,” beautifully lettered, beneath it.</p> + +<p>Sadie’s baskets of crêpe paper were really very pretty, and these filled +with Elizabeth’s holly cakes were one of the “successes” of the evening. +They were praised so highly that Elizabeth was quite, quite happy and +Sadie “almost too proud to live,” as she confided to Olga in an excited +whisper.</p> + +<p>But the best of all was the pleasure of the guests of the evening—Jack +Harding and Jo Barton and David Chapin, who all came as Jim’s +guests—Louise Johnson’s brother, a big awkward boy of sixteen—Eva +Bicknell’s mother, with her bent shoulders and rough hands, and other +mothers more or less like her. The four boys helped when the cake and +ice cream were served, and Jim whispered to Jo that he could have just +as many helpings as he wanted—Miss Laura said so—and Jo wanted +several. It was by no means a quiet occasion—there was plenty of noise +and laughter, and fun, and Laura was in the heart of it all. They closed +the evening with ten minutes of Christmas carols in which everybody +joined, and then while the girls were getting on their wraps, the +mothers crowded about Laura, and the things some of them said filled her +heart with a great joy, for they told her how much the Camp Fire was +doing for their girls—making them kinder and more helpful at <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_180" id="pg_180">180</a></span>home, +keeping them off the streets, teaching them so many useful and pretty +sorts of work.</p> + +<p>“My girl is so much happier, and more contented than she used to be,” +one said.</p> + +<p>“Mine, too,” another added. “I can’t be glad enough for the Camp Fire. +Johnny’s a Scout an’ that’s a mighty good thing, too, but for girls +there’s nothing like the Camp Fire.”</p> + +<p>“Eva used to hate housework, but now she does it thinkin’ about the +beads she’s getting, and she don’t hardly ever fret over it,” Mrs. +Bicknell confided.</p> + +<p>“These things you are saying are the very best Christmas gift I could +possibly have,” Laura told them, with shining eyes.</p> + +<p>And the girls themselves, as they bade her good-night said words that +added yet more to the full cup of her Christmas joy.</p> + +<p>“O, it pays, father—this work with my girls,” she said, when all had +gone, and they two sat together before the fire. “It has been such a +beautiful, beautiful Christmas!”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_181" id="pg_181">181</a></span> +<a name="LIZETTE_5633" id="LIZETTE_5633"></a> +<h2>XIV</h2> +<h3>LIZETTE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The last night of December brought a heavy storm of sleety rain, with a +bitter north wind. Laura, reading beside the fire, heard the doorbell +ring, and presently Olga Priest appeared. The biting wind had whipped a +fresh colour into her cheeks, and her eyes were clear and shining under +her heavy brows.</p> + +<p>“You aren’t afraid of bad weather, Olga,” Laura said as she greeted the +girl.</p> + +<p>“All weather is the same to me,” Olga returned indifferently, but as she +sat down Laura cried out,</p> + +<p>“Why, child, your feet are soaking wet! Surely you did not come without +rubbers in such a storm!”</p> + +<p>“I forgot them. It’s no matter,” Olga said, drawing her wet feet under +her skirts.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be back in a moment,” Laura replied, and left the room, returning +with dry stockings and slippers.</p> + +<p>“Take off those wet things and heat your feet thoroughly—then put these +on,” she ordered in a tone that admitted of no refusal.</p> + +<p>With a frown, Olga obeyed. “But it’s nonsense—I never mind wet feet,” +she grumbled.</p> + +<p>“You ought to mind them. Your health is a gift. You have no right to +throw it away—no <i>right</i>, Olga. It is yours—only to <i>use</i>—like +everything else you have.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_182" id="pg_182">182</a></span>Olga paused, one slipper in her hand, pondering that.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you see, Olga,” Laura urged gently, “we are only stewards. +Everything we have—health, time, money, intellect—all are ours only to +use the little while we are in this world, and not to use for ourselves +alone.”</p> + +<p>“It makes life harder if you believe that,” Olga flung back defiantly. +“I want my things for myself.”</p> + +<p>“O no, it makes life easier, and O, so big and beautiful!” Laura leaned +forward, speaking earnestly. “When we really accept this idea of +service, then ‘self is forgotten.’ We give as freely as we have +received.” Olga shook her head with a gesture that put all that aside.</p> + +<p>“You said Saturday that you wanted my help——” she began.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do want your help. I’ll tell you how presently. Sadie Page is +doing very well in the craft work, isn’t she?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. She can copy anything—designing is her weak point—but she is +doing very well.”</p> + +<p>“She is improving in other ways.”</p> + +<p>“There’s room for improvement still,” Olga retorted in her grimmest +voice. Then her conscience forced her to add, “But she is more +endurable. She treats Elizabeth some better than she did.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Elizabeth seems so happy now.”</p> + +<p>Laura went on thoughtfully, “You are a Fire Maker. Olga, I want you for +a Torch Bearer.”</p> + +<p>Olga stared in blank amazement, then her face darkened. “But I don’t +want to be a Torch Bearer,” <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_183" id="pg_183">183</a></span>she cried. “A Torch Bearer is a leader. I +don’t want to be a leader.”</p> + +<p>“But I need your help, and some of the girls need you. You can be a +splendid leader, if you will. Have you any right to refuse?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see why not.”</p> + +<p>“If in our Camp Fire there are girls whom you might hold back from what +will harm them, or whom you could help to higher and happier living, +don’t you owe it to them to do this?”</p> + +<p>“Why? They do nothing for me. I don’t ask them to do anything for me.”</p> + +<p>“But that is pure selfishness. That attitude is unworthy of you, Olga.”</p> + +<p>The girl stirred restlessly. “I don’t want to be responsible for other +girls,” she impatiently cried out.</p> + +<p>“Have you any choice—you or I? We have promised to keep the law.”</p> + +<p>“What law?”</p> + +<p>“The law of love and service—have you forgotten?” Miss Laura repeated +softly, “‘I purpose to bring my strength, my ambition, my heart’s +desire, my joy, and my sorrow, to the fire of humankind. The fire that +is called the love of man for man—the love of man for God.’”</p> + +<p>Then for many minutes in the room there was silence broken only by the +crackling of the fire, and the voices of the storm without. Olga sat +motionless, the old sombre shadow brooding in her eyes. At last she +stirred impatiently, and spoke.</p> + +<p>“What do you want me to do?”</p> + +<p>“Have you noticed Lizette Stone lately?” Miss Laura asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_184" id="pg_184">184</a></span>“No. I never notice her.”</p> + +<p>“Poor girl, I’m afraid most of you feel that way about her,” Laura said, +with infinite pity in her voice. “She never looks happy, but lately +there is something in her face that troubles me. She looks as if she had +lost hope and courage, and were simply drifting. I’ve tried to win her +confidence, but she will not talk with me about herself. I thought—at +least, I hoped—that you might be able to find out what is the trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Why I, rather than any other girl?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why I feel so sure that you might succeed, but I do feel +so, Olga. She may be in great trouble. If you could find out what it is, +I might be able to help her. Will you try, Olga?”</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head. “I can’t promise, Miss Laura. I’ll think about +it,” was all she would concede.</p> + +<p>“She works in Silverstein’s,” Laura added, “and I think she has no +relatives in the city.”</p> + +<p>The talk drifted then to other matters, and when Olga glanced at the +clock, Miss Laura touched a bell, and in a few minutes a maid brought up +a cup of hot clam bouillon. “You must take it, Olga, before you go out +again in this storm,” Laura said, and reluctantly the girl obeyed.</p> + +<p>When she went away, Laura went to the door with her. The car stood +there, and before she fairly realised that it was waiting for her Olga +was inside, and the chauffeur was tucking the fur rug around her. As, +leaning back against the cushions, shielded from wet and cold, she was +borne swiftly through the storm, something hard and cold and bitter in +the girl’s heart was suddenly swept away in a strong tide of feeling +quite new to her, and strangely mingled of sweet and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_185" id="pg_185">185</a></span>bitter. It was +Miss Laura she was thinking of—Miss Laura who had furnished the +beautiful Camp Fire room for the girls and made them all so warmly +welcome there—who so plainly carried them all in her heart and made +their joys and sorrows, their cares and troubles, her own—as she was +making Lizette Stone’s now. How good she had been to Elizabeth, how +patient and gentle with that provoking Sadie, and with careless slangy +Lena Barton and Eva! And to her—Olga thought of the dry stockings and +slippers, the hot broth, and now—the car ordered out on such a night +just for her. The girl’s throat swelled, her eyes burned, and the last +vestige of bitterness was washed out of her heart in a rain of hot +tears.</p> + +<p>“If she can do so much for all of us I <i>can’t</i> be mean enough to shirk +any longer. I’ll see Lizette to-morrow,” she vowed, as the car stopped at +her door. She stood for a moment on the steps looking after it before +she went in. It had been only “common humanity” to send the girl home in +the car on that stormy night, so Miss Laura would have said. She did not +guess what it would mean to Olga and through her to other girls—many +others—before all was done.</p> + +<p>Silverstein’s was a large department store on Seventh Street. Lizette +Stone, listlessly putting away goods the next day, stopped in surprise +at sight of Olga Priest coming towards her.</p> + +<p>“Almost closing time, isn’t it?” Olga said, and added, as Lizette nodded +silently, “I want to speak to you—I’ll wait outside.”</p> + +<p>In five minutes Lizette joined her. “Do you walk home?” Olga asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_186" id="pg_186">186</a></span>“Yes, it isn’t far—Ninth Street near T.”</p> + +<p>“We’re neighbours then. I live on Eleventh.”</p> + +<p>“I know. Saw you going in there once,” Lizette replied.</p> + +<p>There was little talk between them as they walked. Lizette was +waiting—Olga wondering what she should say to this girl.</p> + +<p>“Well, here’s where I hang out.” In Lizette’s voice there was a reckless +and bitter tone.</p> + +<p>“O—here!” Olga’s quick glance took in the ugly house-front with its +soiled “Kensington” curtains—its door ajar showing worn oilcloth in the +hall.</p> + +<p>“Cheerful place—eh?” Lizette said. “Want to see the inside, or is the +outside enough?”</p> + +<p>“I want you to come home to supper with me—will you?” Olga said, half +against her will.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean it?” Lizette’s hard blue eyes searched her face. “Take it +back in a hurry if you don’t, for I’d accept an invitation from—anybody +to-night, rather than spend the evening here.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I mean it. Please come.” Olga laid a compelling hand on the +other girl’s arm and they went on down the street.</p> + +<p>“Now you are to rest while I get supper,” Olga said as she threw open +her own door. “Here—give me your things.” She took Lizette’s hat and +coat. “Now you lie down in there until I call you.”</p> + +<p>Without a word Lizette obeyed.</p> + +<p>Olga creamed some chipped beef, toasted bread, and made tea, adding a +few cakes that she had bought on the way home. When all was ready, she +stood a moment, frowning at the table. The cloth was fresh and clean, +but the dishes were cheap and ugly. She <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_187" id="pg_187">187</a></span>had never cared before. Now, +for this other girl, she wanted some touch of beauty. But Lizette found +nothing lacking.</p> + +<p>“Everything tastes so good,” she said. “You sure do know how to cook, +Olga.”</p> + +<p>“Just a few simple things. I never care much what I eat.”</p> + +<p>“You’d care if you had to eat at Miss Rankin’s table,” Lizette declared.</p> + +<p>With a question now and then, Olga drew her on to tell of her life at +Miss Rankin’s, and her work at the store. After a little she talked +freely, glad to pour the tale of her troubles into a sympathetic ear.</p> + +<p>“I <i>hate</i> it all—that boarding-house, where nothing and nobody is +really clean, and the store where only the pretty girls or the extra +smart ones ever get on. The pretty girls always have chances, but +me—I’m homely as sin, and I know it; and I’m not smart, and I know +that, too. I shall get my walking ticket the first dull spell, and +then——”</p> + +<p>“Then, what, Lizette?”</p> + +<p>“The Lord knows. It’s a hard world for girls, Olga.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve no relatives?”</p> + +<p>“Only some cousins. They’re all as poor as poverty too, and they don’t +care a pin for me.”</p> + +<p>“Is there any kind of work you would really like if you could do it?”</p> + +<p>“What’s the use of talking—I can’t do it.”</p> + +<p>“But tell me,” Olga urged.</p> + +<p>“You’ll think I’m a fool.”</p> + +<p>“No, I will not,” Olga promised.</p> + +<p>“It seems ridiculous——” Lizette hesitated, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_188" id="pg_188">188</a></span>colour rising in her +sallow cheeks, “but I’d just <i>love</i> to make beautiful white +things—lingerie, you know, like what I sell at the store. It would be +next best to having them to wear myself. I don’t care so much about the +outside things—gowns and hats—but I think it would be just heavenly to +have all the underneath things white and lacey, and lovely—don’t you +think so?”</p> + +<p>“I never thought of it. You see I don’t care about clothes,” Olga +returned. “Can you sew, Lizette?”</p> + +<p>Lizette hesitated, then, with a look half shamefaced and half proud, she +drew from her bag a bit of linen.</p> + +<p>“It was a damaged handkerchief. I got it for five cents, at a sale,” she +explained. “It will make a jabot.”</p> + +<p>“And you did this?” Olga asked.</p> + +<p>Lizette nodded. “I know it isn’t good work, but if I had time I could +learn——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you could—if you had the time and a few lessons. Are your eyes +strong?”</p> + +<p>The other nodded again. “Strong as they are ugly,” she flung out.</p> + +<p>“Leave this with me for a day or two, will you, Lizette?”</p> + +<p>“Uh-huh,” Lizette returned indifferently. “Give it to you, if you’ll +take it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh no—it’s too pretty. Lizette, you hate it so at Miss Rankin’s—why +don’t you rent a room and get your own meals as I do?”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t. I’m so dead tired most nights that I’d rather go hungry than +get my own supper. Some girls don’t seem to mind being on their feet +from <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_189" id="pg_189">189</a></span>eight to six, but I can’t stand it. Sometimes I get so tired it +seems as if I’d rather <i>die</i> than drag through another day of it! And +besides—I don’t much like the other boarders at Rankin’s, but they’re +better than nobody. To go back at night to an empty room and sit there +till bedtime with not a soul to speak to—O, I couldn’t stand it. I’d +get in a blue funk and end it all some night. I’m tempted to, as it is, +sometimes.” She added, with a miserable laugh that was half a sob, +“Nobody’d care,” and Olga heard her own voice saying earnestly,</p> + +<p>“I’d care, Lizette. You must never, <i>never</i> think a thing like that +again!”</p> + +<p>Lizette searched the other’s face with eyes in which sharp suspicion +gradually changed into half incredulous joy. “Well,” she said slowly, +“if one living soul cares even a little bit what happens to me, I’ll try +to pull through somehow. The Camp Fire’s the only thing that has made +life endurable to me this past year, and I haven’t enjoyed that so +awfully much, for nobody there seems to really care—I just hang on to +the edges.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Laura cares.”</p> + +<p>“O, in a way, because I belong to her Camp Fire—that’s all,” returned +Lizette moodily.</p> + +<p>“No, she cares—really,” Olga persisted, but Lizette answered only by an +incredulous lift of her thin, sandy brows.</p> + +<p>“I must go now,” she said, rising, and with her hands on Olga’s +shoulders she added, “You don’t know what this evening here has meant to +me. I—was about at the end of my rope.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you came,” Olga spoke heartily, “and <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_190" id="pg_190">190</a></span>you are coming again +Thursday. Maybe I’ll have something then to tell you, but if I don’t, +anyhow, we’ll have supper together and a talk after it.”</p> + +<p>To that Lizette answered nothing, but the look in her eyes sent a little +thrill of happiness through Olga’s heart.</p> + +<p>Olga carried the bit of linen to Laura the next evening, and told her +what she had learned of Lizette’s hard life.</p> + +<p>“Poor child!” Miss Laura said. “I imagined something like this. We must +find other work for her. Perhaps I can get her into Miss Bayly’s Art +Store. She would not have to be on her feet so much there, and would +have a chance to learn embroidery if she really has any aptitude for it. +I know Miss Bayly very well, and I think I can arrange it to have +Lizette work there for six months. That would be long enough to give her +a chance.”</p> + +<p>“Would she get any pay?” Olga asked.</p> + +<p>“Of course—the same she gets now,” Laura returned, but Olga was sure +that the pay would not come out of Miss Bayly’s purse.</p> + +<p>Laura went on thoughtfully, “The other matter is not so easily arranged. +Even if we get her a better boarding place, she might be just as lonely +as at Miss Rankin’s. Evidently she does not make friends easily.”</p> + +<p>“No, she is plain and unattractive and so painfully conscious of it that +she thinks nobody can want to be her friend, so she draws into herself +and—and pushes everybody away,” Olga was speaking her thought +aloud—one of her thoughts—the other that had been in her heart since +her talk with Lizette, she refused to <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_191" id="pg_191">191</a></span>consider. But it insisted upon +being considered when she went away. It was with her in her own room +where Lizette’s hopeless words seemed to echo and re-echo. Finally, in +desperation she faced it.</p> + +<p>“I <i>can’t</i> have her come here!” she cried aloud. “It would mean that I’d +never be sure of an hour alone. She’d be forever running in and out and +I’d feel I must be forever bracing her up—pumping hope and courage into +her. It’s too much to ask of me. I’m alone in the world as she is, but +I’m not whining. I stand on my own feet and other people can stand on +theirs. I can’t have that girl here and I won’t—and that ends it!” But +it didn’t end it. Lizette’s hopeless eyes, Lizette’s reckless voice, +would not be banished from her memory, and when Thursday evening the +girl herself came, Olga knew that she must yield—there was no other +way.</p> + +<p>Lizette paused on the threshold. “You can still back out,” she said, +longing and pride mingling in her eyes. “I can get back to Rankin’s in +time for my share of liver and prunes.”</p> + +<p>Olga drew her in and shut the door. “Your days at Miss Rankin’s are +numbered,” she said, “that is if you will come here. There’s a little +room across the hall you can have if you want it.”</p> + +<p>Lizette dropped into a chair, the colour slowly ebbing from her sallow +cheeks. “Don’t fool with me, Olga,” she cried, “I’m—not up to it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not fooling.”</p> + +<p>“But—I don’t understand.” The girl’s lips were quivering.</p> + +<p>Olga went on, “And your days at Silverstein’s are numbered too. I showed +your embroidery to Miss <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_192" id="pg_192">192</a></span>Laura, and she has found you a place at Bayly’s +Art Store. You can go there as soon as you can leave Silverstein’s,” she +ended. To her utter dismay Lizette dropped her head on the table and +began to cry. Olga sat looking at her in silence. She did not know what +to do. But presently Lizette lifted her blurred and tear-stained face +and smiled through her tears.</p> + +<p>“You must excuse me this once,” she cried. “I’m not tear-y as a general +thing, but—but, I hadn’t dared to hope—for anything—and it bowled me +over. I’ll promise not to do so again; but O, Olga Priest, I’ll never, +<i>never</i> forget what you’ve done, as long as I live!”</p> + +<p>“It’s not I, it’s Miss Laura. I couldn’t have got you the place.”</p> + +<p>“I know, and I’m grateful to Miss Laura, but that isn’t half as much as +your letting me come here. I—I won’t be a bother, truly I won’t. But O, +it will be so heavenly good to be in reach of somebody who <i>cares</i> even +a little bit. You shall not be sorry, Olga—I promise you that.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not sorry. I’m glad,” Olga said. “Come now and see the room.”</p> + +<p>It was a small room—the one across the hall—and rather shabby, with +its matting soiled and torn, its cheap iron bedstead and painted +washstand and chairs. Lizette however was quite content with it.</p> + +<p>“It’s lots better than the one I have at Rankin’s,” she declared.</p> + +<p>But the next day Laura came and saw the room, and then sent word to all +the girls except Lizette to come on Wednesday evening to the Camp Fire +room and bring their thimbles. And when they <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_193" id="pg_193">193</a></span>came she had some soft +curtain material to be hemmed, and some cream linen to be hemstitched. +Many fingers made light work, and all was finished that evening, and an +appointment made with two of the High School girls for the next Monday +afternoon. Then two hours of steady work transformed the bare little +room. There was fresh white matting on the floor with a new rag rug +before the white enamelled bedstead with its clean new mattress, a +chiffonier and washstand of oak, with two chairs, and a tiny round table +that could be folded to save room. The soft cream curtains that the +girls had hemmed shaded the window, and the linen covers were on the +chiffonier and washstand.</p> + +<p>“Doesn’t it look fresh and pretty!” Alice Reynolds cried, as she looked +around, when all was done.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure she’ll like it,” Elsie Harding added.</p> + +<p>“Like it?” Olga spoke from the doorway. “You can’t begin to know what it +will mean to her. You’d have to see her room at Rankin’s to understand. +But that isn’t all. Lizette will believe now that <i>somebody cares</i>.”</p> + +<p>“O!” Elsie’s eyes filled with tears. “Did she think that—that nobody +cared?”</p> + +<p>“She said she was ‘most at the end of her rope’ the first time she came +to see me.”</p> + +<p>“She shall never again feel that nobody cares,” Laura said softly.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, no!” echoed Alice, and added, “I’m going to bring down a few +books to put on that table.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll make a hanging shelf to hold them. That will be better than having +them on the table,” Elsie said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_194" id="pg_194">194</a></span>“And I’ll bring some growing plants for the window-sill,” Laura +promised.</p> + +<p>“O, I hope she’ll just <i>love</i> this room,” Elsie cried, when reluctantly +they turned away.</p> + +<p>“She will—you needn’t be afraid,” Olga assured her.</p> + +<p>But Olga was the only one privileged to see Lizette when she had her +first glimpse of the room. She stopped short inside the door and looked +around her, missing no single detail. Then she turned to Olga a face +stirred with emotion too deep for words. When she did speak it was in a +whisper. “For <i>me</i>? Olga, who did it?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Laura, Elsie, and Alice—and we all helped on the curtains and +covers.”</p> + +<p>“I just can’t believe it. I—I must be dreaming. Don’t let me wake up +till I enjoy it a little first,” she pleaded. After a moment she added, +“And this all came through the Camp Fire, and my place at Miss Bayly’s +too. Olga Priest, I’m a Camp Fire Girl heart and soul and body from now +on. I’ve been only the shell of one before, but now—now, I’ve got to +pass this on somehow. I must do things for other girls that have no one +and nothing—as they’ve done this for me.”</p> + +<p>And through Olga’s mind floated like a glad refrain, “‘Love is the joy of +service so deep that self is forgotten.’”</p> + +<p>Olga was glad—glad with all her heart—for Lizette, and yet that first +evening she sat in her own room dreading to hear the tap on her door +which she expected every moment. At nine o’clock, however, it <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_195" id="pg_195">195</a></span>had not +come, and then she went across and did the knocking herself.</p> + +<p>“Come in, come in,” Lizette cried, as she opened her door.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been expecting you over all the evening,” Olga said, “and when you +didn’t come I was afraid you were sick—or something.”</p> + +<p>Lizette looked at her with a queer little smile. “I know. You sat there +thinking that you’d never have any peace now with me so near; but you +needn’t worry. I’m not going to haunt you. I’ve got a home corner here +all my own, and I know that you are there just across the hall, and +that’s enough. It’s going to <i>be</i> enough.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t want you to feel that way,” Olga protested. “I want you to +come.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>want</i> to want me, you mean. O, I’m sharp enough, Olga, if I’m not +smart. I know—and I don’t mean that you shall ever be sorry that you +brought me here. If I get way down in the doleful dumps some night I’ll +knock at your door—perhaps. Anyhow, you’re <i>there</i>, and that means a +lot to me.”</p> + +<p>Almost every evening after that Olga heard light footsteps and voices in +the hall, and taps on Lizette’s door. Elsie and Alice were determined +she should no longer feel that “nobody cared,” so they were her first +callers, but others followed. Lizette welcomed them all with shining +eyes, and once she cried earnestly, “I just <i>love</i> every one of you +girls now! And I wish I could do something for you as lovely as what you +have done for me.”</p> + +<p>“And that’s Lizette Stone!” Lena said to Eva after <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_196" id="pg_196">196</a></span>they left. “Who +would ever have thought she’d say a thing like that?”</p> + +<p>For more than a week Olga, alone in her room, listened to the merry +voices across the hall. Then one night, she put aside her work, and went +across again.</p> + +<p>“I’ve found out that I’m lonesome,” she said as Lizette opened the door. +“May I come in?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I <i>guess</i>!” and Lizette drew her in and motioned to the bed. “You +shall have a reserved seat there with Bessie and Myra,” she cried, “and +we’re gladder than glad to have you.”</p> + +<p>For a moment sheer surprise held the others silent till Olga exclaimed, +“Don’t let me be a wet blanket. If you do I shall run straight back.”</p> + +<p>The tongues were loosened then and though Olga said little, the girls +felt the difference in her attitude. She lingered a moment after the +others left, to say, “Lizette, you mustn’t stay away any more. I really +want you to come to my room.”</p> + +<p>Lizette’s sharp eyes studied her face before she answered, “Yes, I see +you do now, and I’ll come. I’ll love to.”</p> + +<p>Back in her own room Olga turned up the gas and stood for some minutes +looking about. Clean it was, and in immaculate order, but bare, with no +touch of beauty anywhere. The contrast with the simple beauty of +Lizette’s room made her see her own in a new light. The words of the +Wood Gatherer’s “Desire” came into her mind—“Seek beauty.” She had not +done that. “Give service.” She had given it, grudgingly at first to +Elizabeth, grudgingly all this time to Sadie, grudgingly to Lizette, and +not at all to any one else. Only one part of her promise had she <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_197" id="pg_197">197</a></span>kept +faithfully—to “Glorify work.” She had done that, after a fashion. She +drew in her breath sharply. “Lizette is a long way ahead of me. She is +trying to be an all-around Camp Fire Girl. If I’m going to keep up with +her, I must get busy,” she said to herself. “Before I can be Miss +Laura’s Torch Bearer I’ve a lot to make up. Here I’ve been calling Sadie +Page a selfish little beast and all the time I’ve been as bad as she in +a different way. Well—we’ll see.”</p> + +<p>She went shopping the next morning. Her purchases did not cost much, but +they transformed the bare room. Cheesecloth curtains at the windows, a +green crex rug on the dull stained floor, two red geraniums, and on the +mantelpiece three brass candlesticks holding red candles. These and a +few pretty dishes were all, but she was amazed at the difference they +made. At six o’clock she set her door ajar, and when Lizette came, +called her in.</p> + +<p>“You are to have supper with me to-night,” she said.</p> + +<p>“But I’ve had my supper. I——” Lizette began—then stopped short with a +little cry, “O, how pretty! Why, your room is lovely now, Olga.”</p> + +<p>“You see the influence of example,” replied Olga. “Yours is so pretty +that I couldn’t stand the bareness of mine any longer.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad.” Lizette spoke earnestly. “Isn’t it splendid—the way the +Camp Fire ideas grow and spread? They are making me over, Olga.”</p> + +<p>Olga nodded. “Take off your things. I’ll have supper ready in two +minutes. Did you get yours at the Cafeteria?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_198" id="pg_198">198</a></span>“Yes, I’m getting all my meals there—ten cents apiece.”</p> + +<p>“Ten cents. I know you don’t get enough—for that, Lizette Stone.”</p> + +<p>Lizette laughed. “It’s all I can afford,” she said “out of six dollars a +week. When I earn more——”</p> + +<p>“You can’t cook for yourself as I do—you haven’t room. Lizette, why +can’t we co-operate?”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” breathlessly Lizette questioned.</p> + +<p>“I mean, take our meals together and share the expense. It won’t cost +you more than thirty cents a day, and you’ll have enough then.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t cook—I don’t know how,” Lizette objected.</p> + +<p>“I’ll teach you. And you’ve got to learn before you can be a Fire Maker, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—I know,” said Lizette slowly, “and I’d like it, but you—Olga, +you’d get sick of it. You’re used to being alone. You wouldn’t want any +one around every day—you know you wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“It would be better for me than eating alone, and better for you than +the Cafeteria. Come, Lizette, say ‘yes.’”</p> + +<p>“Yes, then,” Lizette answered. “At least—I’ll try it for a month, if +you’ll promise to tell me frankly at the end of the month if you’d +rather not keep on.”</p> + +<p>“Agreed,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“My! But it will be good to have a change from the Cafeteria!” Lizette +admitted.</p> + +<p>And now, having opened her heart to the sunshine of love, Olga began to +find many pleasant things springing up there. She no longer held Miss +Laura <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_199" id="pg_199">199</a></span>and the girls at arm’s length. They were all friends, even Lena +Barton and Eva Bicknell, whom until now she had regarded with scornful +indifference, and Sadie Page, whom she had barely tolerated for +Elizabeth’s sake—even these she counted now as friends; and Laura, +noting the growing comradeship—seeing week by week the strengthening of +the bond between the girls, said to herself, joyfully,</p> + +<p>“It was in Olga’s heart that the fire of love burst into flame, and it +has leaped from heart to heart until now I believe in all my girls it is +burning—‘The love of man to man—the love of man to God.’”</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_200" id="pg_200">200</a></span> +<a name="AN_OPEN_DOOR_FOR_ELIZABETH_6257" id="AN_OPEN_DOOR_FOR_ELIZABETH_6257"></a> +<h2>XV</h2> +<h3>AN OPEN DOOR FOR ELIZABETH</h3> +</div> + +<p>Sadie Page burst tumultuously into Olga’s room one afternoon and hardly +waited to get inside the door before she cried out, “I’ve thought of +something Elizabeth can do—something splendid.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Olga drily, “if it is something splendid for Elizabeth, +I’ll excuse you for coming in without knocking.”</p> + +<p>“All right, please excuse me, I forgot,” Sadie responded with unusual +good nature, “I was in such a hurry to tell you. It’s a way Elizabeth +can earn money at home——Now, Olga Priest, I think you’re real mean to +look so!” she ended with a scowl.</p> + +<p>“Look how?” Olga laughed.</p> + +<p>“You know. As if—as if I was just thinking of keeping Elizabeth at +home.”</p> + +<p>“But weren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“No, I <i>wasn’t</i>!” Sadie retorted. “At any rate—I was thinking of +Elizabeth too. I was, honest, Olga.”</p> + +<p>“Well, tell me,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“Why, you know those Christmas cakes she made?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she can make them and other kinds to sell in one of the big +groceries. I saw some homemade <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_201" id="pg_201">201</a></span>cakes in Council’s to-day that didn’t +look half as nice as Elizabeth’s and they charged a lot for them.”</p> + +<p>Olga nodded thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t wonder if you’d hit upon a good +plan, Sadie. But if she does that, you’ll have to help her with the work +at home, for she has all she can do now.”</p> + +<p>Sadie scowled. She hated housework. “Guess I have plenty to do myself,” +she grumbled, “with school and my silver work and all.”</p> + +<p>“But your silver work is just for yourself,” Olga reminded her, “and +Elizabeth has no time to do anything for herself.”</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow, if she makes lots of cakes she’ll have money for +herself.”</p> + +<p>“And she’s got to have money for herself,” Olga said decidedly. “I’ve +been thinking about that.” Sadie wriggled uneasily. She had been +thinking about it too, and that Elizabeth would be eighteen soon, and +free to go out and earn her own living, if she chose.</p> + +<p>“Well, I must go and tell her,” she said and left abruptly.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth listened in silence to Sadie’s eager plans, but the colour +came and went in her face and her blue eyes were full of longing.</p> + +<p>“O, if I could only do it—if I only <i>could</i>!” she breathed. “But I—I +couldn’t go around to the stores and ask them to sell for me. I never +could do that!”</p> + +<p>“Well, you don’t have to. I’d do that for you. I wouldn’t mind it,” +Sadie declared. “You just make up some of those spicy Christmas cakes +and some others, a few, you know, just for samples, and I’ll take ’em +out for you. I know they’ll sell.”</p> + +<p>“I—I’m not so sure,” Elizabeth faltered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_202" id="pg_202">202</a></span>Sadie’s brows met in a black frown. “You’re a regular ’fraid-cat, +’Lizabeth Page!” she exclaimed, stamping her foot. “How do you ever +expect to do <i>any</i>thing if you’re scared to try! To-morrow’s Sat’-day. +Can’t you get up early an’ make some?”</p> + +<p>It was settled that she should. There was little sleep for Elizabeth +that night, so eager and excited was she, and very early in the morning +she crept down to the kitchen and set to work. Before her usual rising +time, Sadie ran downstairs, buttoning her dress as she went.</p> + +<p>“Have you made ’em?” she demanded, her black eyes snapping.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Elizabeth glanced at the clock, “I’m just going to take them +out.” She opened the oven door, then she gasped and her face whitened as +she drew out the pans.</p> + +<p>“My <i>goodness</i>!” cried Sadie. “Elizabeth Page—what ails ’em?”</p> + +<p>“O—<i>O</i>!” wailed Elizabeth, “I must have left out the baking powder—and +I never did before in all my life!”</p> + +<p>“<i>Well!</i>” Sadie exploded. “If this is the way you’re going to——” Then +the misery in Elizabeth’s face was too much for her. She stopped short, +biting her tongue to keep back the bitter words.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth crouched beside the oven, her tears dropping on the cakes.</p> + +<p>“O, come now—no need to cry all over ’em—they’re flat enough without +any extra wetting,” Sadie exclaimed after a moment’s silence. “You just +fling them out an’ make some more after breakfast. I bet you’ll never +leave out the baking powder again.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_203" id="pg_203">203</a></span>“I never, never <i>could</i> again,” sobbed Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>“O, forget it, an’ come on in to breakfast,” Sadie said with more +sympathy in her heart than in her words.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want any—I couldn’t eat a mouthful. You take in the coffee, +Sadie—everything else is on the table.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you just make more cakes then. They’ll be all right—the next +ones—I know they will,” and coffee-pot in hand, Sadie whisked into the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>And the next cakes were all right. Sadie gloated over them as Elizabeth +spread the icing, and added the fancy touches with pink sugar and +citron.</p> + +<p>When she had gone away with the cakes Elizabeth cooked and cleaned, +washed dishes, and swept, but all the time her thoughts followed Sadie. +She dared not let herself hope, and yet the time seemed endless. But at +last the front door slammed, there were flying feet in the hall, and +Sadie burst into the kitchen, flushed and triumphant.</p> + +<p>“O—O Sadie—did you—will they——?” Elizabeth stumbled over the words, +her breath catching in her throat.</p> + +<p>Sadie tossed her basket on the table and bounced into the nearest chair. +“Did I, and will they?” she taunted gaily. “Well, I guess I <i>did</i> and +they <i>will</i>, Elizabeth Page!”</p> + +<p>“O, do tell me, Sadie—quick!” Elizabeth begged, and she listened with +absorbed attention to the story of Sadie’s experiences, and could hardly +believe that Mr. Burchell had really agreed to sell for her.</p> + +<p>“I bet Miss Laura had been talking to him,” Sadie <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_204" id="pg_204">204</a></span>ended, “for he asked +me if I knew her and then said right away he’d take your cakes every +Wednesday and Saturday. <i>Now</i> what you got to say?”</p> + +<p>“N-n-nothing,” cried Elizabeth, “only—if I can really, <i>really</i> sell +them, I’ll be most too happy to live!”</p> + +<p>All that day Elizabeth went around with a song in her heart. The first +consignment of cakes sold promptly, and then orders began to come in. It +meant extra work for her, but if only she could keep on selling she +would not mind that. And as the weeks slipped away, every Saturday she +added to the little store of bills in her bureau drawer. Even when she +had paid for her materials and Mr. Burchell’s commission, and for a girl +who helped her with the Saturday work, there was so much left that she +counted it and recounted it with almost incredulous joy. All this her +very own—she who never before had had even one dollar of her own! O, it +was a lovely world after all, Elizabeth told herself joyfully.</p> + +<p>But after a while she noticed a change in Sadie. She was still +interested in the cake-making, but now it seemed a cold critical +interest, lacking the warm sympathy and delight in it which she had +shown at first. Elizabeth longed to ask what was wrong but she had not +the courage, so she only questioned with her eyes. Maybe by-and-by Sadie +would tell her. If not—with a long sigh Elizabeth would leave it there, +wistfully hoping. So April came and Elizabeth was eighteen years old, +though still she looked two years younger. She did not suppose that any +one but herself would remember her birthday—no one ever had through all +the years. Sadie’s glance seemed sharper and colder than usual that +morning, and Elizabeth <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_205" id="pg_205">205</a></span>sorrowfully wondered why. The postman came just +as Sadie was starting for school. He handed her an envelope addressed to +Elizabeth, and she carried it to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“For <i>me?</i>” Elizabeth cried, hastily taking her hands from the +dish-water. She drew from the envelope a birthday card in water-colour +with Laura’s initials in one corner.</p> + +<p>“O, isn’t it lovely!” she cried. “I never had a +birthday—anything—before. Isn’t it beautiful, Sadie?”</p> + +<p>“Uh-huh,” was all Sadie’s response, but her lack of enthusiasm could not +spoil Elizabeth’s pleasure in the gift. Somebody remembered—Miss Laura +remembered and made that just for her, and joy sang in her heart all +day. And in the evening Olga came bringing a little silver pin. +Elizabeth looked at it with incredulous delight.</p> + +<p>“For <i>me</i>!” she said again. “O Olga, did you really make this for me?”</p> + +<p>Olga laughed. “Why not?”</p> + +<p>“I—I can’t find anything to say—I want to say so much,” Elizabeth +cried, her lips quivering.</p> + +<p>Olga leaned over and kissed her. “I just enjoyed making it—for you,” +she said.</p> + +<p>She was almost startled at the radiance in Elizabeth’s eyes then. “It +has been the loveliest day of all my life!” she whispered. “I——”</p> + +<p>They were in Elizabeth’s little room, and now hurried footsteps sounded +on the stairs, and Sadie pushed open the door.</p> + +<p>“That yours?” she demanded, her sharp eyes on the pin.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_206" id="pg_206">206</a></span>Elizabeth held it towards her with a happy smile. “Olga made it for me. +Isn’t it lovely?”</p> + +<p>Sadie did not answer, but plumped herself down on the narrow cot. When +Olga had gone, Sadie still sat there, her black eyes cold and +unfriendly. “Don’t see why you lugged Olga up here,” she began.</p> + +<p>“She asked me to.”</p> + +<p>“Humph!” Sadie grunted.</p> + +<p>“Sadie,” Elizabeth said, gently, “what is the matter? Have I done +anything you don’t like?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say so.”</p> + +<p>“No, but you’ve been different to me lately, and I don’t know why. You +were so nice a few weeks ago—you don’t know how glad it made me. I +hoped we were going to be real sisters, but now,” she drew a long +sorrowful breath, “it is as it used to be.”</p> + +<p>Sadie, swinging one foot, gnawed at a fingernail. Finally, “I helped you +start the cake-making,” she reminded.</p> + +<p>“I know—I never forget it,” Elizabeth said warmly.</p> + +<p>“You’ve made a lot of money——”</p> + +<p>“It seems a lot to me—forty-seven dollars—just think of it! I haven’t +spent any except for materials.”</p> + +<p>“And you’ll make more.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but Mr. Burchell says cakes don’t sell after it gets hot. He won’t +want any after May.”</p> + +<p>“That’s four or five weeks longer. You’ll have enough to get you heaps +of fine clothes,” Sadie flung out enviously, with one of her +needle-sharp glances.</p> + +<p>“O—clothes!” returned Elizabeth slightingly. “I suppose I must have a +few—shoes, and a plain hat and a blue serge skirt, and some +blouses—they won’t cost much.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_207" id="pg_207">207</a></span>“Then what <i>are</i> you going to do with all that money?” Sadie blurted +out the question impatiently.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth smiled into the frowning face—a beautiful happy smile—as she +answered gently, “I’ll tell you, Sadie. I’ve been longing to tell you +only—only you’ve held me off so lately. I’m going to send two girls to +Camp Nepahwin for three weeks in August. I’m one of the girls and—you +are the other.”</p> + +<p>For once in her life Sadie Page was genuinely astonished and genuinely +ashamed. For a long moment she sat quite still, the colour slowly +mounting in her face until it flamed. Then, all the sharpness gone from +her voice, she stammered, “I—I—Elizabeth, I never <i>thought</i> of such a +thing as you paying for me. I—think you’re real good!” and she was +gone.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth looked after her with a smile, all the shadows gone from her +blue eyes.</p> + +<p>One hot evening a week later, Elizabeth and Sadie met Lizette at Olga’s +door. She silently led the way to her own room.</p> + +<p>“Olga’s sick,” she said, dropping wearily down on the bed.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” Sadie demanded before Elizabeth could speak.</p> + +<p>“It’s a fever. The doctor can’t tell yet whether it’s typhoid or +malarial, but she’s very sick. The doctor has sent a nurse to take care +of her.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could help take care of her,” Elizabeth said earnestly.</p> + +<p>“Well, you can’t!” Sadie snapped out. “And, anyhow, she doesn’t need you +if she has a nurse.”</p> + +<p>“But the nurse must sleep sometimes—I could help <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_208" id="pg_208">208</a></span>then. O Lizette, ask +Olga to let me,” Elizabeth pleaded.</p> + +<p>“She won’t.” Lizette shook her head. “Much as ever she’ll let me do +anything. I get the meals for the nurse—Olga takes only milk. The nurse +says she can do with only four hours’ sleep, and I can see to Olga that +little time.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Elizabeth said decidedly, “no, Lizette, you have your work at the +shop and the cooking. You mustn’t do more than that. I can come after +supper—at eight o’clock—and stay till twelve——”</p> + +<p>“You couldn’t go home all alone at midnight—you know you couldn’t,” +Sadie interrupted.</p> + +<p>“I needn’t to. I could sleep in a chair till morning.”</p> + +<p>“As to that, you could sleep on the nurse’s cot, I guess,” Lizette +admitted. “Well, if Olga will let you—I’ll ask her.”</p> + +<p>But as she started up Elizabeth gently pushed her back. “No, don’t ask +her. I’ll just come to-morrow night, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Let it go so, then,” Lizette answered. “Maybe it will be best, for I’m +pretty well tired out myself with the heat, and worrying over Olga, and +all. I knew she was overworking but I couldn’t help it.”</p> + +<p>On the way home Elizabeth was silent until Sadie broke out gloomily, “I +s’pose if she don’t get better you won’t go to the camp, ’Lizabeth.”</p> + +<p>“O, <i>no</i>, I couldn’t go away and leave her sick—of course, I couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Huh!” growled Sadie. “You don’t think about <i>me</i>, only just about Olga, +and she isn’t your sister.”</p> + +<p>At another time Elizabeth would have smiled at this belated claim of +relationship, but now she said only, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_209" id="pg_209">209</a></span>“Olga has been so good to me, +Sadie—I never can forget it—and now when I have a chance to do a +little for her, I’m so <i>glad</i> to do it! I couldn’t enjoy the camp if I +left her here sick, but it won’t make any difference to you. You can go +just the same.”</p> + +<p>Sadie’s face cleared at that. “We-ell,” she agreed, “I might just as +well go. I couldn’t do anything much for Olga if I stayed; and maybe, +anyhow, she’ll get well before the tenth. I’m most sure she will.”</p> + +<p>“O, I hope so,” Elizabeth sighed, but she was not thinking of the camp.</p> + +<p>Anxious weeks followed, for Olga was very sick. Day after day the fever +held her in restless misery, and when at last it yielded to the +treatment, it left her weak and worn—the shadow of her former self.</p> + +<p>Then one morning Miss Laura came, and carried her and the nurse off to +the yacht, and there followed quiet, restful, beautiful days for +Olga—such days as she had never dreamed of. Judge Haven and Jim, and Jo +Barton were on the yacht, but she saw little of any one except Miss +Laura and the nurse, and day by day strength came back to her body as +the joy of life flooded her soul.</p> + +<p>One night sitting on deck in the moonlight, she said suddenly, “Miss +Laura, I’m glad of this sickness.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“Because I’ve learned a big lesson. I’ve learned why Camp Fire Girls +must ‘Hold on to health.’ I didn’t know before, else I would not have +been so careless—so wicked. I see now that it was all my own fault. I +should not have been sick if I had taken care of myself—if I had held +on to my health as you tried so hard to make me do.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_210" id="pg_210">210</a></span>“Yes, dear, you had to have a hard lesson because you had always had +such splendid health that you didn’t know what it would mean to lose +it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Olga agreed, “I didn’t believe that I could get sick—I was so +strong. And down in my heart I really half believed that people need not +be sick—that it was mostly imagination. I shall not be so uncharitable +after this.”</p> + +<p>“Girls need not be sick many times when they are,” Laura said, “if they +would be more careful and reasonable.”</p> + +<p>“I know. I won’t go with wet feet any more,” Olga promised, “and I won’t +work fourteen hours a day and go without eating, as I’ve been doing this +summer. You see, Miss Laura, when I got the order for all that silver +work, I knew that if I could fill it satisfactorily, it would mean many +other orders. And I did—I finished the last piece the day I was taken +sick. But now the money I got for it will go to the doctor and the +nurse, and I’ve lost all this time and other work. And that isn’t all. +My sickness made it harder for Lizette and Elizabeth. I can’t forgive +myself for that. They were so good to me, and so were all the Camp Fire +Girls! Every single one of them came to see me, some of them many times, +and they brought so many things, and all wanted to stay and help—O, +they are the dearest girls!”</p> + +<p>Laura’s eyes searched the eyes of the other in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>“Olga, are you happy?” she asked softly.</p> + +<p>Olga caught her breath and for a moment was silent. When she spoke there +was wonder and a great joy in her voice. “O, I am—I am!” she said. +“And—and I <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_211" id="pg_211">211</a></span>believe I have been for a long time, but I never realised +it till this minute. I didn’t <i>want</i> to be happy—I didn’t mean to +be—after mother died. I shut my heart tight and wouldn’t see anything +pleasant or happy in all my world. It was so when I went to the camp +last year. I went just to please Miss Grandis because she had gotten me +into the Arts and Crafts work, and though I wanted to refuse, I +couldn’t, when she asked me to go. But I’m so glad now that I went—so +<i>glad</i>! Just think if I had not gone, and had never known you and +Elizabeth, and Lizette, and the others! Miss Laura, I can’t ever be half +glad enough for all that the Camp Fire has done for me.”</p> + +<p>“You will pay it all back—to others, Olga,” Laura said gently, her eyes +shining. “When I made you my Torch Bearer, you did not realise the +importance of holding on to health, nor the duty as well as privilege of +being happy. Now you do.”</p> + +<p>“O, I do—I <i>do</i>!” the girl cried earnestly.</p> + +<p>“So now my Torch Bearer is ready to lead others.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be glad to do it now. I want to ‘pass on’ all that you and the +girls have done for me. It will take a lifetime to do it, though. +And—I’m not half good enough for a Torch Bearer, Miss Laura.”</p> + +<p>“If you thought you were good enough I shouldn’t want you to be one,” +Laura answered.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_212" id="pg_212">212</a></span> +<a name="CAMP_FIRE_GIRLS_AND_THE_FLAG_6669" id="CAMP_FIRE_GIRLS_AND_THE_FLAG_6669"></a> +<h2>XVI</h2> +<h3>CAMP FIRE GIRLS AND THE FLAG</h3> +</div> + +<p>Miss Laura’s girls had been at the camp a few days when Sadie Page one +morning raced breathlessly up to a group of them, crying out, “There’s a +big white yacht coming—I saw it from the Lookout. Do you s’pose it’s +Judge Haven’s?”</p> + +<p>“Won’t it be splendid if it is—if it’s bringing Miss Laura and Olga!” +Frances Chapin cried. “Could you see the name, Sadie?”</p> + +<p>“No, it was too far off.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s borrow Miss Anne’s glass,” cried two or three voices, and Frances +ran off in search of Anne Wentworth. When she returned with the glass, +they all rushed over to the Lookout. The yacht was just dropping anchor +as they turned the glass upon it and Frances cried out,</p> + +<p>“O, it is—it is! I can read the name easily. Here, look!” she +surrendered the glass to Elsie.</p> + +<p>“It <i>is</i> the Sea Gull,” Elsie confirmed her, “and they are lowering a +boat already.”</p> + +<p>“O, tell us if Miss Laura gets into it, and Olga,” cried Lizette.</p> + +<p>“Two men—sailors, I suppose, two girls, and two boys,” Elsie announced.</p> + +<p>“Then it’s Miss Laura and Olga and Jim and Jo Barton,” Frances cried +joyfully.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:551px"> +<a name="illus-006" id="illus-006"></a> +<img src="images/illus-212.png" alt="A favorite rendezvous at the camp" title="" width="551" /><br /> +<span class="caption">A favorite rendezvous at the camp</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_213" id="pg_213">213</a></span>“Let’s hurry down to the landing to meet them,” Mary Hastings proposed, +and instantly the whole group turned and raced back to camp to leave the +glass, with the joyous announcement, “Miss Laura’s coming, and Olga. +We’re going to the landing to meet them.” And waiting for no response +they sped through the pines to the landing-steps, Elsie snatching up a +flag as she passed her own tent.</p> + +<p>“Let’s all go,” one of the other girls cried, but Miss Anne said,</p> + +<p>“No, let Miss Laura’s girls have the first greeting—they all love her +so! But we might go to the Lookout and wave her a welcome from there.”</p> + +<p>“What shall we wave?” some one asked, and another cried, “O, towels, +handkerchiefs—anything. But <i>hurry</i>!” and they did, reaching the +Lookout breathless and laughing, to see the yacht resting like a great +bird on the blue water, and the small boat already nearing the point.</p> + +<p>“Get your breath, girls, then—the wohelo cheer,” said Miss Anne.</p> + +<p>Two score young voices followed her lead, and as they chanted, the white +banners fluttered in the breeze. Instantly there came a response from +the boat in fluttering handkerchiefs and waving caps, while the girls +below on the landing echoed back the wohelo greeting.</p> + +<p>But when the boat rounded the point the voices of those on the landing +wavered into silence. They were too glad to sing as they saw Laura and +Olga coming back to them—they could only wait in silence. Lizette’s +lips were quivering nervously and Elizabeth’s blue eyes were full of +happy tears. Even Sadie for once was silent, but she waved her +handkerchief <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_214" id="pg_214">214</a></span>frantically to the two boys who were gaily swinging their +caps. When the boat reached the landing, however, and the girls crowded +about Laura and Olga, tongues were loosened, and everybody talked.</p> + +<p>“How well Olga looks!” Mary cried.</p> + +<p>“Doesn’t she? I’m so proud of her for gaining so fast!” Laura laughed.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t help gaining with all she has done for me,” Olga said with a +grateful glance.</p> + +<p>“And you’ve come to stay? Do say you have, Miss Laura,” the girls +begged.</p> + +<p>“Of course, we’re going to stay—we’ve been homesick for the camp,” +Laura answered.</p> + +<p>“That’s splendid. We’ve missed you so!” they cried.</p> + +<p>“The camp’s fine. I’m having the time of my life!” Sadie declared, and +added, “Elizabeth, you haven’t said one word.”</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t need to,” Olga put in quickly, her hand on Elizabeth’s +shoulder.</p> + +<p>They were climbing the steps now, and at the camp they were greeted with +another song of welcome from the Guardians and the rest of the girls, +and then Laura put Olga into the most comfortable hammock to rest and, +leaving Elizabeth beside her, carried the others off for a talk.</p> + +<p>That night the supper was a festival. The girls had gathered masses of +purple asters with which they had filled every available dish to +decorate the tables, the mantelpiece, and even the tents where the +newcomers were to sleep. Miss Anne had brought to camp a big box of tiny +tapers, and these stuck in yellow apples made a glow of light along the +tables.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_215" id="pg_215">215</a></span>Nobody appreciated all this more than Jim. With his hands in his +pockets he stood looking about admiringly, and finally expressed his +opinion thus: “Gee, but it’s pretty! Camp Fire Girls beat the Scouts +some ways, if they ain’t so patriotic.”</p> + +<p>Instantly there was an outburst of reproach and denial from Miss Laura’s +girls.</p> + +<p>“O, come, Jim, that’s not fair!”</p> + +<p>“We’re <i>just</i> as patriotic as the Scouts!”</p> + +<p>“Boy Scouts can’t hold a candle to Camp Fire Girls <i>any</i> way!”</p> + +<p>“We’ll put you out if you go back on Camp Fire Girls, Jim.”</p> + +<p>Jim, flushed and a little bewildered at the storm he had raised, +instinctively sidled towards Laura, while Jo, close behind him, +chuckled, “Started a hornets’ nest that time, ol’ feller.”</p> + +<p>Laura, her arm about the boy’s shoulders, quickly interposed. “We’ll let +Jim explain another time. I know he thinks Camp Fire Girls are the +nicest girls there are, don’t you, Jim?”</p> + +<p>“Sure!” Jim assented hastily, and peace was restored—for the time.</p> + +<p>But the girls did not forget nor allow Jim to. The next night after +supper they swooped down on him.</p> + +<p>“Now tell us, Jim,” Lena Barton began, “why you think Boy Scoots are +more patriotic than we are.”</p> + +<p>“’Tisn’t Boy <i>Scoots</i>—you know it isn’t,” Jim countered, flushing.</p> + +<p>“O, excuse me.” Lena bowed politely. “I only had one letter wrong, and, +anyhow, they do scoot, don’t they? Well, Boy Scouts then, if you like +that better.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_216" id="pg_216">216</a></span>“They love the flag better’n you do—<i>lots</i> better!” Jim declared with +conviction.</p> + +<p>“Prove it! Prove it!” cried half a dozen voices.</p> + +<p>“Er—er——” Jim choked and stammered, searching desperately for words. +“You’ve got an awful nice Camp Fire room at Miss Laura’s, but you +haven’t even a little teeny flag in it, and Scouts <i>always</i> have a flag +in their rooms—don’t they, Jo?” he ended in triumph.</p> + +<p>“You bet they do!” Jo stoutly supported his friend.</p> + +<p>“Ho! That doesn’t prove anything. Besides, we’ll <i>have</i> a flag when we +go back,” Lena asserted promptly.</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow, girls an’ women can’t fight for the flag, so of course, +they <i>can’t</i> be so patriotic,” Jim declared.</p> + +<p>“Can’t, eh? How about the women that go to nurse the wounded men?” said +Mary.</p> + +<p>“And the women that send their husbands and sons to fight?” added Elsie.</p> + +<p>“And how about——” began another girl, but Laura’s hand falling lightly +on her lips, cut short the question, and then Laura dropped down on the +grass pulling Jim down beside her. Holding his hand in both hers, and +softly patting it, she said, “Sit down, girls, and we’ll talk this +matter over. Jim’s hardly big enough or old enough to face you all at +once. But, honestly, don’t you think there is some truth in what he +says? As Camp Fire Girls, do we think as much about patriotism as the +Scouts do? Elsie, you have a Scout brother, what do you think about it?”</p> + +<p>Elsie laughed but flushed a little too as she answered, “I hate to admit +it, but I don’t think we do.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_217" id="pg_217">217</a></span>“Time we did then. We can’t have any Boy Scouts getting ahead of us,” +Lena declared emphatically.</p> + +<p>Jim, gathering courage from Miss Laura’s championship, looked up with a +mischievous smile. “Bet you can’t tell about the stars and stripes in +the flag,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Can you? How many can?” Miss Laura looked about the group. “Elsie, +Frances—and Mary—I see you can, and nobody else is sure. How does it +happen?” There was a twinkle now in her eyes. “Is there any special +reason for you three being better posted than the others?”</p> + +<p>The three girls exchanged smiling glances, and Elsie admitted +reluctantly, “I think there is—a Boy Scout reason—isn’t there, Mary?” +and as Mary Hastings nodded, Elsie went on, “You know my brother Jack is +the most loyal of Scouts, and before he was old enough to be one, he had +learned all the things that a boy has to know to join—and to describe +the flag is one of those things. He discovered one day that I didn’t +know how many stars there are on it and how they are arranged, and he +was so dreadfully distressed and mortified at my ignorance that I had to +take a flag lesson from him on the spot—and it was a thorough one.”</p> + +<p>“Uh huh!” Jim triumphed under his breath, but the girls heard and there +was a shout of laughter. Over the boy’s head Laura’s laughing eyes swept +the group.</p> + +<p>“Jim,” she said, “will you ask Miss Anne to lend us her flag for a few +minutes?”</p> + +<p>“Won’t ours do? Jo’n’ I’ve got one,” Jim cried instantly, and as Miss +Laura nodded, he scampered off.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_218" id="pg_218">218</a></span>“I think Jim has won, girls,” she said, and then the laughter dying out +of her eyes, added gravely, “Really I quite agree with him. I think +we—I mean our own Camp Fire—have not given as much thought to +patriotism as we ought. There have been so many things for us to talk +about and work for! But we’ll learn the flag to-day, and when we go +home, it may be well for us to arrange a sort of ‘course’ in patriotism +for the coming year. Of all girls in America, those who live in +Washington ought to be the most interested in their own country. We will +all be more patriotic—better Americans—a year from now.”</p> + +<p>Jim came running back with a small silk flag. He held it up proudly for +the inspection of the girls, and it was safe to say that they would all +remember that brief object lesson. It was Lena whose eyes lingered +longest on the boy’s eager face as he looked at the flag.</p> + +<p>“He does—he really <i>loves</i> it,” she said wonderingly to Elsie standing +beside her. “He’s right. We girls don’t care for it that way—honest we +don’t.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe not just for the flag,” Elsie admitted, “but we care just as much +as boys do for our country. Don’t you think we do, Miss Laura?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not sure, Elsie. You see many boys look forward to a soldier’s +life, and most of them feel that they may some time have to fight for +their flag—their country—and so perhaps they think more about it than +girls do. And patriotism is made prominent among the Scouts.”</p> + +<p>“They always salute the flag wherever they see it,” Mary said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_219" id="pg_219">219</a></span>“Must keep ’em busy in Washington,” Lena observed.</p> + +<p>“It does. Jim is forever saluting it when he is out with me,” Laura +replied, “but he never seems to tire of it, and I like to see him do +it.”</p> + +<p>“The girls salute it in the schools—you know we have Flag Day every +year,” Frances added.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and it is a good thing. There is no danger of any of us caring too +much for our country or the flag that represents it. When I catch sight +of our flag in a foreign land I always want to kiss it.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t we have one in our Camp Fire room when we go back?” Lena asked.</p> + +<p>“We surely will. I’m really quite ashamed of myself for not having one +long ago. We owe something—do we not?—to a going-to-be Boy Scout for +reminding us?” Laura said.</p> + +<p>They admitted that they did. “But, anyhow,” Frances Chapin added, “even +if they do think more about the <i>flag</i>, I won’t admit that Scouts love +their country any more than we Camp Fire Girls do. We are <i>quite</i> as +patriotic as any Boy Scouts.”</p> + +<p>“And that’s right!” Lena flung out as the group separated.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_220" id="pg_220">220</a></span> +<a name="SONIA_6938" id="SONIA_6938"></a> +<h2>XVII</h2> +<h3>SONIA</h3> +</div> + +<p>“O dear, I did hope it wouldn’t be awfully hot when we got back, but it +is,” Lizette Stone sighed on the day they returned from camp. “Just +think of the breeze on the Lookout this very minute!”</p> + +<p>Olga glanced over her shoulder with a smile as she threw open her door. +“Let’s pretend it’s cool here too,” she said. “I’m so thankful to be +well and strong again that I’m determined to be satisfied with things as +they are. The camp was lovely and Miss Laura and the girls were dear, +but this is home, and my work is waiting for me, and I’m <i>able to do +it</i>. And you have your lovely work too, Lizette, and your home corner +across the hall.”</p> + +<p>Lizette looked at her half wondering, half envious, as she slowly pulled +out her hatpins. “I never knew a fever to change a girl as that one +changed you, Olga Priest,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Is the change for the better?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is, but——”</p> + +<p>“But what?” Olga questioned, half laughing, yet a little curious too.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:349px"> +<a name="illus-007" id="illus-007"></a> +<img src="images/illus-220.png" alt="“Just think of the Lookout this very minute!”" title="" width="349" /><br /> +<span class="caption">“Just think of the Lookout this very minute!”</span> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_221" id="pg_221">221</a></span>“Well—all is, I can’t keep up with you,” Lizette dropped unconsciously +into one of her country phrasings. “I can’t help getting into the +doleful dumps sometimes, and I can’t—I just <i>can’t</i> be happy and +contented with the mercury at ninety-three. I guess it’s easier for some +folks to stand the heat than it is for others.”</p> + +<p>“I think it is,” Olga admitted. “Give me your hat. Now take that fan and +sit there by the window till I come back. I’m not so tired as you are, +and I must get something for our supper.”</p> + +<p>While she was gone Lizette sat thinking of the Camp with its shady woods +and blue water and wishing herself back there. She had had three weeks +there, but a hateful little imp was whispering in her ear that some of +the girls were staying four or five weeks, and it wasn’t fair—it wasn’t +<i>fair</i>! Of course it was better to earn her living doing embroidery than +in Goldstein’s store, but still, some girls didn’t have to earn their +living at all, and——</p> + +<p>The door opened and Olga came breezily in, her hands full of bundles. “I +really ought to have taken a basket,” she said. “There’s the nicest +little home bakery opened just around the corner—I got bread there.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not a bit hungry,” Lizette said listlessly, then started up, crying +out, “Well, I am ashamed of myself! I meant to have the table set when +you came back, and I forgot all about it.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind—I’ll have it ready in a minute. Sit still, Lizette.”</p> + +<p>But Lizette insisted upon helping, and her face brightened as Olga set +forth fresh bread, nut cakes, ice cold milk, and a dish of sliced +peaches.</p> + +<p>“Weren’t you mistaken?” Olga asked with a laugh. “Aren’t you a little +bit hungry?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_222" id="pg_222">222</a></span>“Yes, I am. How good that bread looks—and the peaches.”</p> + +<p>“After all it is rather nice to be back here at our own little table, +isn’t it?” Olga asked as they lingered over the meal.</p> + +<p>Lizette looked at her curiously. “Olga Priest, what makes you so happy +to-night?” she demanded. “I never saw you so before.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe not quite so happy, but wasn’t I happy all the time at camp? +Wasn’t I, Lizette?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—yes, you were, only I didn’t notice it so much there with all the +girls, and something always going on. You never were so here before. +Sometimes you wouldn’t smile for days at a time.”</p> + +<p>“I know. I hadn’t realised then that I could be happy if I’d let myself +be—and that I had no right not to.”</p> + +<p>“No <i>right</i> not to,” Lizette echoed with a puzzled frown. “I don’t see +<i>that</i>. I should think anybody might have the privilege of being blue if +she likes.”</p> + +<p>“No.” Olga shook her head with decision. “No, not when she has health, +and work that she likes, and friends. A girl has no right to be unhappy +under those conditions—and I’ve found it out at last. I’m going to keep +my Camp Fire promises now as I never have done.”</p> + +<p>After a little silence she went on, “I’ve such beautiful plans for our +Camp Fire this year! One of them is to learn all we can about our +country. We can’t have Jim,” laughter flashed into her eyes as she +thought of him, “thinking us less patriotic than his beloved Scouts. And +we can see and learn so much right here in Washington! I’m ashamed to +think how little I <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_223" id="pg_223">223</a></span>know about this beautiful city where I’ve lived all +my life. I mean to ‘know my Washington’ thoroughly before I’m a year +older.”</p> + +<p>Lizette did not seem much interested in patriotism, but she laughed over +the remembrance of the indignation of the girls at Jim’s remark about +their lack of it. “He did look so plucky, facing us all that day, didn’t +he!” she said. “And he was scared too at the rumpus he had raised; but +all the same he didn’t back down.”</p> + +<p>“No, Jim wouldn’t back down if he thought he was right no matter how +scared he might be inside.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” Lizette yawned, “I’m so sleepy I can hardly hold my eyes open. +Let’s wash the dishes and then I’m going straight to bed.”</p> + +<p>She came in to breakfast the next morning in a different mood.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t we have a glorious rain in the night!” she cried gaily. “And it +left a lovely cool breeze behind it. Last night I felt like a wet rag, +but this morning I’m a different creature. It <i>is</i> good to be ‘home’ +again, Olga, and I don’t mind going back to the shop.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good!” Olga’s eyes were shining as they had shone the night +before.</p> + +<p>The two set off together after breakfast, and wished each other good +luck as they parted at the door of Miss Bayly’s shop. Lizette came back +at night jubilant. “I got my good luck, Olga,” she cried. “I’m to have +eight a week now. Isn’t that fine?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed it is—congratulations, Lizette. And I had my good luck +too—better than I dared hope for—two splendid orders. Now we can both +settle down to work and get a nice start before the next Camp Fire +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_224" id="pg_224">224</a></span>meeting. I’m going to try to keep half a day a week free for our +‘learning Washington’ trips.”</p> + +<p>“Personally conducted?” Lizette laughed.</p> + +<p>“Personally conducted. Your company is solicited, Miss Stone, whenever +your other engagements will permit.”</p> + +<p>Over the tea-table they talked of work and Camp Fire plans, and then +Lizette went off to her own “corner” and Olga took up a book. She had +been reading for an hour when her quick ears caught the sound of +hesitating steps outside her door—steps that seemed to linger +uncertainly. Thinking that some stranger might have wandered in from the +street, she rose and quietly slipped her bolt. As she did so there came +a knock at the door. She stood still, listening intently. No one ever +came to her door except the landlady or the Camp Fire Girls, and none of +them would knock in this hesitating fashion. She was not in the least +timid, and when the knock was repeated she opened the door. She found +herself facing a woman, young, in a soiled and wrinkled dress and shabby +hat, and carrying a baby in her arms.</p> + +<p>“Olga—it is Olga?” the woman exclaimed half doubtfully.</p> + +<p>Olga did not answer. She stood staring into the woman’s face and +suddenly her own whitened and her eyes widened with dismay.</p> + +<p>“You?” she said under her breath. “<i>You!</i>”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I—Sonia. Aren’t you going to let me in?”</p> + +<p>For an instant Olga hesitated, then she stood aside, but in that moment +all the happy hopefulness seemed to melt out of her heart. It was as if +a black shadow <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_225" id="pg_225">225</a></span>of disaster had entered the quiet room at the heels of +the draggled woman and her child.</p> + +<p>“This is a warm welcome, I must say, to your own sister,” Sonia said in +a querulous tone, as she dropped into the easiest chair and laid the +child across her knees. It made no sound, but lay as it was placed, its +eyes half closed and its tiny face pinched and colourless.</p> + +<p>“I—I can’t realise that it is really—you,” Olga said. “Where did you +come from, and how did you find me?”</p> + +<p>“I came from—many places. As to finding you—that was easy. You are not +so far from the old neighbourhood where I left you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—you left me,” Olga echoed slowly, her face dark with the old +sombre gloom. “You left me, a child of thirteen, with no money, and +mother—dying!”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it was rather hard on you, but you were always a plucky one, +and I knew well enough you would pull through somehow. As to mother, of +course I didn’t know—she’d been ailing so long,” Sonia defended +herself, “and Dick wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I <i>had</i> to go with +him.”</p> + +<p>Olga was silent, but in her heart a fierce battle was raging. She knew +her sister—knew her selfish disregard of the rights or wishes of +others, and she realised that much might depend on what was said now.</p> + +<p>“Well?” Sonia questioned, breaking the silence abruptly.</p> + +<p>Olga drew a long weary breath. “I—I can’t think, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_226" id="pg_226">226</a></span>Sonia,” she said. +“You have taken me so by surprise. I don’t know what to say.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’re not going to turn us into the street to-night—the +baby and me?”</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” Olga answered, and added, “Is the baby sick?”</p> + +<p>Sonia’s eyes rested for a moment on the small pallid face, but there was +no softening in them when she looked up again. “She’s never been well. +The first one died—the boy. This one cried day and night for weeks +after she came. Dick couldn’t stand it, and no wonder. That’s the reason +he cleared out—one reason.”</p> + +<p>“His own child!” cried Olga indignantly, and as she looked at the +pitiful white face her heart warmed towards the little creature, She +held out her hands. “Let me take her.”</p> + +<p>Sonia promptly transferred the baby to her sister’s arms, and rising, +crossed to the small sleeping-room.</p> + +<p>“You’re pretty well fixed here, with two rooms,” she remarked.</p> + +<p>“It’s hardly more than one—the bedroom is so small.”</p> + +<p>“What do you do for a living?” Sonia demanded.</p> + +<p>Olga told her.</p> + +<p>“Hm. Any money in it?”</p> + +<p>“I make a living, but I had a long sickness last summer and it took all +I had and more to pay the bills.”</p> + +<p>“O well,” replied Sonia carelessly, “you’ll earn more. You look well +enough now.” She stretched her arms and yawned. “I’m dead tired. How +about sleeping? That single bed won’t hold the three of us.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_227" id="pg_227">227</a></span>“You can sleep there—I’ll sleep on the floor to-night. There’s no +other way,” Olga answered.</p> + +<p>“All right then. I’ll get to bed in a hurry,” and taking the child from +her sister, Sonia undressed it as carelessly as if it had been a doll. +The baby half opened its heavy eyes and whimpered a little, but did not +really awaken.</p> + +<p>When Sonia and the child were in bed, Olga went across to Lizette’s +room. Lizette’s welcoming smile vanished at sight of the stern set face, +and she drew Olga quickly in and shut the door.</p> + +<p>“O, what is it? What has happened, Olga?” she cried anxiously.</p> + +<p>“My sister has come with her baby. I don’t know how long she will stay.” +Olga spoke in a dull lifeless voice. “I came to tell you, so that you +could get your breakfast somewhere else. You wouldn’t enjoy having it +with me—now.”</p> + +<p>“O Olga, I’m so sorry—so <i>sorry</i>!” Lizette cried, her hands on her +friend’s shoulders, her voice full of warm sympathy.</p> + +<p>“I know, Lizette,” Olga answered, a quivering smile stirring for an +instant the old hard line of her set lips. Then she turned away, +forgetting to say good-night. When the door closed behind her, Lizette’s +eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>“O, it’s a shame—a shame!” she said aloud. “To think how happy she was +only last night, and now—now she looks as she did a year ago before +Elizabeth went to the camp. O, I wonder why that sister had to come +back!”</p> + +<p>Lizette lay awake long that night, her heart full of sympathy for her +friend, and Olga, lying on her <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_228" id="pg_228">228</a></span>hard bed on the floor, did not sleep at +all. She went out early to the market, and coming back, prepared +breakfast, but when she called her sister, Sonia answered drowsily:</p> + +<p>“I’m too tired to get up, Olga. Bring me some coffee and toast here, +will you?”</p> + +<p>Olga carried her a tray, and Sonia ate and drank and then turned over +and went to sleep again, and Olga, having washed the dishes, went off to +the school. All day she worked steadily, forcing back the thoughts that +crowded continually into her mind; but when she turned homewards the +dark thoughts swooped down upon her like a flock of ravens, blotting out +all her happy hopes and joyous plans, for she knew—only too well she +knew—what she had to expect if Sonia remained.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ve come at last!” was her sister’s greeting. “I hope you’ve +brought something nice for supper. I’m nearly starved. And you didn’t +leave half enough milk for the baby.”</p> + +<p>“I left plenty for your dinner,” Olga answered, “and I thought you could +get more milk for the baby if you wanted it.”</p> + +<p>“Get more! How could I get it without money? And you didn’t leave me a +penny,” Sonia complained.</p> + +<p>Olga brought out a bottle of malted milk. “That will do for to-night, +won’t it?” she said, trying to speak cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know anything about this stuff.” Sonia was reading the label +with a scowl. “You’ll have to fix it; and do hurry, for she’s been +fretting for an hour.”</p> + +<p>Without a word, Olga prepared the food and handed <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_229" id="pg_229">229</a></span>it to her sister; +then she set about getting supper; but when it was ready she felt +suddenly too tired to eat. Sonia ate heartily, however, remarking with a +glance at Olga’s empty plate, “I suppose you got a good dinner down +town.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t eaten a mouthful since breakfast,” Olga told her wearily.</p> + +<p>“O well,” Sonia returned, “some folks don’t need much food, but I do. If +I don’t have three solid meals a day I’m not fit for anything.” Then +looking at the baby lying on a pillow in a chair beside her, she added, +“Really she seems to like that malted stuff. You’d better bring back +another bottle to-morrow. There isn’t much left in this one.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that my dress you have on?” Olga asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I had to have something fresh—mine was so mussed and dirty,” +Sonia replied lightly. “Lucky for me we’re about the same size.”</p> + +<p>“But not lucky for me,” was Olga’s thought.</p> + +<p>For a week things went on so—Sonia occasionally offering to wash the +dishes, but leaving her sister to do everything else. Then one night +Olga found her best suit in a heap on the closet floor. Picking it up +she spoke sharply. “Sonia, have you been wearing this suit of mine?”</p> + +<p>“Well, what if I have? You needn’t look so savage about it!” Sonia +retorted. “I have to have something decent to wear on the street, don’t +I?”</p> + +<p>“Not if you have nothing decent of your own,” Olga flashed back. “Sonia, +you have no <i>right</i> to wear my things so—without asking!”</p> + +<p>With a provoking smile Sonia responded, “I knew <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_230" id="pg_230">230</a></span>better than to ask. I +knew you’d make a fuss about it. If you don’t want me to wear your +clothes why don’t you give me money to buy something decent for myself? +Then I wouldn’t need to borrow.”</p> + +<p>Olga’s thoughts were in such an angry whirl that for a moment she dared +not trust herself to speak. She shook out the suit and hung it up, then +she went slowly across the room and sat down facing her sister.</p> + +<p>“Sonia,” she began, “we can’t go on in this way—I cannot endure it. Now +let us have a plain understanding. You came here of your own choice—not +on my invitation. What are your plans? Do you mean to stay on here +indefinitely?”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course. Where else should I stay?”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Olga decidedly, “you must help pay our expenses. You are +well and strong. Why should you expect me to support you?”</p> + +<p>“Why? Because you have a trade and I have not, for one reason. And +besides, there’s the baby—I can’t leave her to go out to work.” There +was a note of triumph in Sonia’s voice.</p> + +<p>“You could get work to do at home—sewing, embroidery, knitting—or +something.”</p> + +<p>“‘Or something!’” There was fretful impatience now in Sonia’s tone. “I +hate sewing—any kind of sewing. You know I always did.”</p> + +<p>“Then what will you do?”</p> + +<p>Sonia sat looking down in sulky silence at the baby.</p> + +<p>Olga went on, “If there is no work you can do at home, you must find +something outside. You can go into a store as you did before you were +married.”</p> + +<p>“And I guess,” Sonia broke out angrily, “if you’d ever stood behind a +counter from eight in the morning <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_231" id="pg_231">231</a></span>to six at night, you’d know how nice +<i>that</i> is! You earn enough. I think it’s real mean and stingy of you to +grudge a share of it to this poor sick baby—and me. I do so!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t grudge anything to the baby, Sonia, though I do think it is +your business to provide for her, not mine. But I say again it is not +right for me to have to support you, and I am not willing to do it. It +is best to speak plainly once for all.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I should say you <i>were</i> speaking plainly,” Sonia flung out with +an unpleasant smile. She rocked with a quick motion, her brows drawn +into a frown. “How can I go into a store, even if I could get a place? I +couldn’t take the baby with me,” she muttered.</p> + +<p>“I could bring my work home—most of it—and you could leave the baby +with me.”</p> + +<p>“Ah ha! I knew it. I knew you could do your work here if you wanted to,” +Sonia triumphed, pointing to the bench in the corner. “You just don’t +want to stay here with me.” Olga made no denial and her sister went on +in a complaining tone, “Anyhow I’d like to know how I’m going to get a +place anywhere when I’ve no decent clothes. You know it makes all the +difference how one is dressed.”</p> + +<p>“That is true,” Olga admitted, “but, Sonia, I cannot buy you a suit. I +haven’t the money.”</p> + +<p>“You could borrow it.”</p> + +<p>Olga’s face flushed. “I’ve never borrowed a cent in my life or bought +<i>any</i>thing on credit, except—mother’s coffin,” she said passionately. +“And I did night work till I paid for that. I cannot run in debt. I +<i>will</i> not!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_232" id="pg_232">232</a></span>Sonia shrugged her shoulders. “Well then, if you want me to get a +place, you’ll just have to let me wear that suit of yours that you are +so choice of.”</p> + +<p>Olga was silent. It was true that Sonia’s chance of securing employment +would be small if she sought it in the shabby clothes which she had. But +Olga needed that suit. The money which would have bought a new one had +paid her doctor’s bill. Still—the important thing was to get Sonia to +work. “I suppose,” she said slowly, “I shall have to let you wear it, +but, Sonia, you <i>must</i> realise how it is, and do your best to find a +place soon. Will you do that?”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course,” returned Sonia with the light laugh that always +irritated her sister. “You don’t suppose I like being dependent on you, +do you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you’d mind, if I would give you money whenever you want +it.”</p> + +<p>Again Sonia laughed. “But that’s not imaginable, you know,” she answered +airily. “It’s like drawing eyeteeth to get a dollar out of you. You’re a +perfect miser, Olga Priest.”</p> + +<p>Olga let that pass. “I had intended to keep my suit in Lizette’s closet +after this, but I will leave it here if you will promise to begin +to-morrow to look for work. Will you promise?”</p> + +<p>“You certainly are the limit!” Sonia cried impatiently. “I believe you +grudge me every mouthful I eat, and the baby her milk too—poor little +soul!” She caught up the baby and kissed it.</p> + +<p>“Will you promise, Sonia?” Olga repeated.</p> + +<p>Sonia dropped the baby on her lap again. “Of <i>course</i> I promise. I told +you so before. Now for pity’s sake give me a little peace!” she +exclaimed.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_233" id="pg_233">233</a></span> +<a name="THE_TORCH_UPLIFTED_7383" id="THE_TORCH_UPLIFTED_7383"></a> +<h2>XVIII</h2> +<h3>THE TORCH UPLIFTED</h3> +</div> + +<p>So the next day Olga brought home her work, and Sonia, wearing not only +her sister’s best suit but her hat, shoes, and gloves as well, set off +down town. She departed with a distinctly holiday air, tossing from the +doorway a kiss to the baby and a good-bye to Olga. But Olga cherished +small hope of her success. She felt no confidence in her sister’s +sincerity, and did not believe that she really wanted to find work.</p> + +<p>For once the baby was awake—usually she seemed half asleep, lying where +she was put, and only stirring occasionally with weak whimpering cries. +But this morning the blue eyes were open, and Olga stopped beside the +chair in which the baby was lying and looked down at the small face, so +pathetically grave and quiet.</p> + +<p>“You poor little mortal,” she said, “I wonder what life holds for +you—if you live. I almost hope you won’t, for it doesn’t seem as if +there’s much chance for you.”</p> + +<p>The solemn blue eyes stared up at her as if the baby too were wondering +what chance there was for her. Olga laid her face for a moment against +one little white cheek; then pulling out her bench she set to work.</p> + +<p>At twelve o’clock Sonia came back. “O dear!” <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_234" id="pg_234">234</a></span>she exclaimed with a swift +glance around the room, “I hoped you’d have dinner ready, Olga. I’m +tired to death.”</p> + +<p>Without a word Olga put aside her work and went to the gas stove. Sonia +pulled off her shoes—Olga’s shoes—and took off Olga’s hat, and rocked +until the meal was ready.</p> + +<p>“What luck did you have?” Olga inquired when they were at the table.</p> + +<p>“Not a bit. I tell you, Olga, you’re a mighty lucky girl to have that +work to do.” She nodded towards the bench.</p> + +<p>Olga ignored that. “Where did you try?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Well, I tried at Woodward & Lothrop’s.” Sonia’s tone was distinctly +sulky. “They hadn’t any vacancy—or anyhow they said so.”</p> + +<p>“They always have a long waiting-list, I know. Did you leave your name?”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t. What was the use with scores ahead of me?”</p> + +<p>“And where else did you try?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t try <i>any</i>where else!” Sonia said with a defiant lift of her +chin. “You needn’t think, Olga, that you can drive me like a slave just +because I am staying with you. I’m going to take my time about this +business, and don’t you forget it!”</p> + +<p>Olga waited until she could speak quietly; then she said, “Sonia, there +is one thing you’ve got to understand. I <i>must</i> have peace. I cannot do +my work if there is to be discord and friction all the time between you +and me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_235" id="pg_235">235</a></span>“It’s your own fault,” Sonia retorted. “I’m peaceful enough if I’m let +alone. I let you alone.”</p> + +<p>“But, Sonia, don’t you see that we can’t go on this way?” Olga pleaded. +“Don’t you feel that you ought to pay half our expenses if you stay with +me?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t. Why should I pay half?” Sonia demanded. “Your rent is no +higher because I am here.”</p> + +<p>“No, but I have to sleep on the floor, and it is not very restful as you +would find if you tried it once.”</p> + +<p>“Well, why don’t you buy a cot then? You could get one for two dollars.”</p> + +<p>“I need the two dollars for other things,” Olga answered wearily. “Do +you mean, Sonia, that you are not going to look for a place anywhere +else?”</p> + +<p>“O, I’ll look—but I won’t be hurried about it,” Sonia declared moodily.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Olga spoke with deliberation, “if that is your attitude, there +is but one thing for me to do, and that is to go away from here.”</p> + +<p>“Olga! You couldn’t be that <i>mean</i>!” Sonia sat up straight and stared +with startled eyes at the grave face opposite her.</p> + +<p>“Think, Sonia,” said Olga in a low voice, though her heart was beating +furiously, “how it would seem to you if I should refuse to work and +expect you to support me.”</p> + +<p>“That’s different,” Sonia muttered sullenly.</p> + +<p>“How is it different?”</p> + +<p>“Because you’ve got your work—I haven’t any.”</p> + +<p>“But you might have if you would.”</p> + +<p>“Much you know about it! Did you ever try to find a place in a store?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_236" id="pg_236">236</a></span>“When I was thirteen and you left mother and me”—Olga’s voice was very +low now, but it thrilled with bitter memories—“I walked the streets for +three long days hunting for work, and I found it at last in a laundry +where I stood from seven in the morning till six at night, with only +fifteen minutes at noon. And I stayed there while mother lived, going +back to her to care for her through those long dreadful nights of +misery. That is what I know about hard work, Sonia!”</p> + +<p>It was Sonia’s turn now to be silent. There was something in Olga’s +white face and blazing eyes that stilled even her flippant tongue. For a +moment her thoughts drifted back, and perhaps for the first time she +fully realised what her going then had meant to the little sister upon +whose shoulders she had left the heavy burden. But she banished these +unpleasant memories with a shrug. “O well, all that’s past and gone—no +use in raking it up again,” she declared.</p> + +<p>“No, no use,” Olga admitted. “But, Sonia, I want you to realise that I +mean just what I say. You have come here of your own accord. If you stay +you must share our expenses. If you will not, I surely shall go away, +and leave you to pay all yourself.”</p> + +<p>Seeing that her sister was determined, Sonia suddenly melted into weak +tears. “You are so hard, Olga!” she sobbed. “I don’t believe you have +any heart at all.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe not,” was the grim response. “I’ve thought sometimes it was +broken—or frozen—five years ago.”</p> + +<p>“You keep harking back to that!” Sonia moaned. “I’m not the first girl +that has gone away with the <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_237" id="pg_237">237</a></span>man she loved. You have no sympathy—you +make no allowances. And I didn’t realise how sick mother was. If I +had——”</p> + +<p>“If you had,” Olga interrupted, “you would have done exactly the same. +But let that pass. Are you going to give me the promise that I ask?”</p> + +<p>“What do you want me to promise?” Sonia evaded.</p> + +<p>“I want you to promise that you will go out every week day and look for +work—that you will keep trying until you do find it. Will you?”</p> + +<p>“It seems I can’t help myself.” Sonia’s voice was still sulky.</p> + +<p>“Will you? I must have your promise,” Olga insisted, and finally Sonia +flung out an angry,</p> + +<p>“Yes!”</p> + +<p>Thereafter Olga worked at home and her sister went out morning or +afternoon—sometimes both; but she found no position.</p> + +<p>“They all want younger girls—chits of sixteen or seventeen,” she +complained, “or else those who have had large experience. They won’t +give me a chance.”</p> + +<p>Olga crowded down her doubts. Perhaps it was all true—perhaps Sonia +really had honestly tried, but the doubts would return, for she felt +that her sister was quite content to let things remain as they were as +long as Olga made no further protest. But others were not content with +things as they were. Elizabeth was not, nor Lizette. Laura met Lizette +on the street one day and learned all that the girl could tell her of +Olga’s trouble.</p> + +<p>“She’s so changed!” Lizette said, her eyes filling. “When we came home +she was so happy, and so full of plans for Camp Fire work, and now—now +she takes <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_238" id="pg_238">238</a></span>no interest in it at all. She won’t talk about it, or hardly +listen when I talk.”</p> + +<p>“I must see her,” Laura said. “I’ll take you home now,” and when they +reached the house, Lizette ran eagerly up the stairs to give Miss +Laura’s message.</p> + +<p>“I’ve come to invite you to another tea party—with Jim and me,” Laura +said when Olga appeared. “You will come—to-morrow night?”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, but I can’t,” the girl answered gravely.</p> + +<p>“Why can’t you, Olga? I want you very much,” Laura urged.</p> + +<p>“My sister is with me now. I cannot leave her.”</p> + +<p>“But just this once—please, Olga.”</p> + +<p>Laura’s eyes—warm, loving, compelling—looked into Olga’s, dark, +sombre, and miserable; and suddenly with a little gasping sob the girl +yielded because she knew if she stood there another minute she would +break down.</p> + +<p>“I’ll—come,” she promised, and without another word turned and hurried +back into the house.</p> + +<p>Laura was half afraid that she would not keep her promise, but at six +o’clock she appeared. Jim fell upon her with a gleeful welcome, and she +tried to answer gaily, but the effort with which she did it was evident, +and earlier than usual Laura took the boy off to bed.</p> + +<p>“Something is troubling Olga,” she whispered as she tucked him in, “and +I’m going to try to find a way to help her.”</p> + +<p>“You will,” he said confidently. “You’re the best ever for helping +folks,” and he pulled her face down to give one of his rare kisses.</p> + +<p>Laura, going back to the other room, drew the girl <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_239" id="pg_239">239</a></span>down beside her. +“Now, child,” she said, her voice full of tenderest persuasion, “let us +talk over your problems and find the way out.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the old proud reserve held the girl, but it melted under +the tender sympathy in the eyes looking into hers. She drew a long +breath. “It seems somehow wrong to talk about it even to you,” she said. +“Sonia is my sister.”</p> + +<p>“I know, dear, but sisters are not always—sisters,” Laura replied, “and +you are very much alone in the world. I am more truly your sister—am I +not, Olga—your elder sister who loves you and wants to help?”</p> + +<p>“O yes, yes!” the girl cried. “But I’ve felt I must not tell <i>any</i> +one—even you—and I’ve crowded it all down in my heart until——”</p> + +<p>“Until you are worn out with the strain of it all,” Laura said as Olga +paused. “Now tell me the whole just as if I were your sister in very +fact.”</p> + +<p>And Olga told it all, from Sonia’s unexpected arrival that September +night to the present—of the failure of her efforts to get her sister to +do some kind of work, and of Sonia’s constant demands for money and +clothes.</p> + +<p>“Do you think she has really tried to get a place in a store, Olga?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. She says she has, but I can’t feel that she really wants +to do anything, or that she will ever find a place as long as I let her +stay on with me. Of course I could support her, though it would not be +easy, for she is hard on clothes. She doesn’t take care of them and she +wears them out much faster than I do. She has almost worn out my best +shoes already, and my gloves, as well as my hat and suit, and she <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_240" id="pg_240">240</a></span>uses +my handkerchiefs and—and everything, just as if they were her own. I +can’t earn enough to clothe her and keep myself decent.” She glanced +down at the old serge skirt she wore. “Miss Laura, tell me—what shall I +do? Would it be right for me to leave her? The continual fret and worry +of it all are wearing me out.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, dear—that is why I felt you must come and talk it all over +with me.”</p> + +<p>Olga went on, “It isn’t only a matter of money—and clothes, but I have +<i>nothing</i> left. If I go out evenings—even across to Lizette’s room—she +wants to go too, or else she goes off somewhere as soon as I am out of +sight, and leaves the baby shut up all alone. That’s why I can’t go +anywhere—not even to the Camp Fire meetings. And, O Miss Laura, I was +so happy when I came back from camp—I had so many lovely plans for Camp +Fire work! I did mean to be a good Torch Bearer—I <i>did</i>!”</p> + +<p>“I know you did.”</p> + +<p>“And now it’s all spoilt. I can’t do a single bit of Camp Fire work,” +she ended sadly.</p> + +<p>“Olga,” Laura’s arm was around the girl’s shoulders, her voice very low +and tender, “you say that now you cannot do a single bit of Camp Fire +work?”</p> + +<p>Olga looked up in surprise. “How can I—when I can’t be with the girls +at all, nor attend the meetings?”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what I think is the best Camp Fire service the girls have +done? It is the work in their own homes. Mrs. Bicknell says that Eva is +getting to be a real comfort to her. She helps with the housework and +the younger children as she never used to do, <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_241" id="pg_241">241</a></span>and her influence is +making the younger ones so much easier to manage.”</p> + +<p>“But, Miss Laura, I don’t see how that is <i>Camp Fire</i> work,” Olga said.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you?” Very softly Laura repeated, “‘Love is the <i>joy of service</i> +so deep that self is forgotten.’ And isn’t the home the place above all +others where Camp Fire Girls should render service?”</p> + +<p>“I—never—thought of it—that way,” Olga said very slowly.</p> + +<p>“But isn’t it so?” Laura persisted. “Think now.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—of course it is so. Miss Laura, it will—it <i>will</i> make it easier +to think of it as Camp Fire service, for I did so hate to be out of it +all—all the Camp Fire work, I mean. I’ll try to think of it that way +after this. And—and I guess there isn’t any way out. I suppose I ought +not to long so for a way out, if I am going to be a faithful Torch +Bearer.” She made a brave attempt to smile.</p> + +<p>“There is a way out—I am sure of it, but we may not find it just at +once. Meantime you have a great opportunity, Olga. Don’t you see? It is +easy to be happy as you were in August at the camp, when you were +growing stronger every day, and had just begun to realise what Camp Fire +might mean to you in your service for and with the girls, and their love +for you. Once you had opened your heart, you could not help being happy. +But now it is different. Now you must be happy not because of, but in +spite of, circumstances. And so if you keep the law of the Camp Fire to +give service—a service that it is very hard for you to give—and to be +happy in spite of the trying things in your life—don’t you see how much +more your happiness will <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_242" id="pg_242">242</a></span>mean—how much deeper and stronger and finer +it will be?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I see.”</p> + +<p>“And the girls will see too, Olga. You know how quick they are. You +could not deceive them if you tried—Lena, Sadie, Louise Johnson—they +will all be watching you—weighing you; and if they see that, in spite +of the hard things, you are really and truly happy—that you have really +found the ‘joy in service so deep that <i>self is forgotten</i>’—don’t you +see how much stronger your influence over them will be—how immensely +stronger?”</p> + +<p>Slowly, thoughtfully, Olga nodded, her eyes on the glowing embers in the +fireplace.</p> + +<p>“So all these things that are making your life now so hard, are your +great opportunity, dear,” the low voice went on. “If in spite of all, +you can hold high the torch of love and happiness, every girl in our +Camp Fire will gladly follow her Torch Bearer.”</p> + +<p>Olga looked up, and now her eyes were shining. “<i>You</i> are the real Torch +Bearer, Miss Laura!” she cried. “You have shown me the light to-night +when I didn’t think there was any.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve shown you how to keep your torch burning—that is all. Now you +must hold it high to light the way for others; for you know, dear, there +are others in our Camp Fire who are stumbling in dark and stony +pathways, and we—you and I—must help them too, to find the lighted +way.”</p> + +<p>“O, I’ll try, Miss Laura, I will,” Olga promised, and in her voice now +there was determination as well as humility.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_243" id="pg_243">243</a></span> +<a name="CLEAR_SHINING_AFTER_DARKNESS_7721" id="CLEAR_SHINING_AFTER_DARKNESS_7721"></a> +<h2>XIX</h2> +<h3>CLEAR SHINING AFTER DARKNESS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Sonia was an adept in thinking up remarks that carried a taunt or a +sting, and she had one ready to greet her sister that night on her +return; but as she looked up, she saw in Olga’s face something that held +back the provoking words trembling on her tongue. Instead she said, half +enviously, “You look as if you’d had a fine time. What you been doing?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing but having a firelight talk with Miss Laura. That always does +me good.”</p> + +<p>“Hm!” returned Sonia. She wondered what kind of a talk it could have +been to drive away the sullen gloom that had darkened her sister’s face +for days, and bring that strange shining look into her eyes. Sonia +shrugged her shoulders. At least, Olga wouldn’t hound her about finding +work—not while she had that look in her eyes—and, with a mind at ease, +Sonia went off to bed.</p> + +<p>She went out the next morning, but came back in the middle of the +afternoon in a gay mood. “I didn’t find any place,” she announced, “but +I had a good dinner for once. I met—an old friend.”</p> + +<p>Something in her voice and her heightened colour awakened an indefinite +suspicion in Olga’s mind. “Who was it? Any one I know?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Sonia made no reply. She had gone into the bedroom <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_244" id="pg_244">244</a></span>to put away her hat +and jacket. When she came back she spoke of something else, but all that +evening there was a curious air of repressed excitement about her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I forgot—the postman gave me a letter for you. It’s in my bag,” +she exclaimed later, and bringing it from the other room, tossed it +carelessly into her sister’s lap.</p> + +<p>Olga read it and handed it back. “It concerns you. O, I do hope you’ll +get the place,” she said.</p> + +<p>The note was from Miss Laura to say that the manager of one of the large +department stores had promised to employ Sonia if she applied at once.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that fine!” Olga cried.</p> + +<p>“O—perhaps,” Sonia returned with a chilling lack of enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“O Sonia, don’t act so about it,” Olga pleaded. “You know you must get +something to do. You will go to-morrow and see the manager, won’t +you—after Miss Laura has taken so much trouble for you?”</p> + +<p>“For <i>me</i>!” There was a sneer in Sonia’s voice. “Much she cares for me. +She did it for you—you know she did. You needn’t pretend anything +else.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t pretend—anything,” Olga said, the brightness dying out of her +face.</p> + +<p>In the morning she watched her sister with intense anxiety, but she +dared not urge her further, and Sonia seemed possessed by some imp of +perversity to do everything in her power to prolong Olga’s suspense. She +stayed in bed till the last minute, dawdled over her breakfast, insisted +upon giving the baby her bath—a task which she usually left to her +sister—and when at last she was ready to go out it was nearly noon.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_245" id="pg_245">245</a></span>“You’ll have to give me money to get something to eat down town, Olga,” +she said then. “It will be noon by the time I get to that store, and I +can’t talk business on an empty stomach. I’d be sure to make a bad +impression if I did. Half a dollar will do.”</p> + +<p>With a sigh Olga handed her the money. Sonia took it with a mocking +little laugh, and was gone at last.</p> + +<p>“O, I wonder—I <i>wonder</i> if she will really try to get the place,” Olga +said to herself as the door closed. She set to work then, but her +restless anxiety affected her nerves and the work did not go well. The +baby too fretted and required more attention than usual. As the day wore +on Olga began to worry about the baby—her small face was so pinched, +and the blue shadows under her eyes were more noticeable than usual; so +it was with an exclamation of relief that, opening the door in response +to a knock in the late afternoon, she saw the nurse who had taken care +of her in the summer.</p> + +<p>“O, I’m so glad it’s you, Miss Kennan!” she cried. “Do come in and tell +me what ails this baby.”</p> + +<p>“A <i>baby</i>! Whose is it?” the nurse asked; but as she looked at the +child, she forgot her question. “The poor little soul!” she exclaimed. +Then with a quick sharp glance at the girl, “What have you been giving +it?”</p> + +<p>“Giving it?” Olga echoed. “Why, nothing except her food.”</p> + +<p>“What kind of food—milk?”</p> + +<p>“Milk, and this.” Olga brought a bottle of the malted food.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_246" id="pg_246">246</a></span>“That’s all right. Let me see some of the milk,” the nurse ordered.</p> + +<p>She looked at the milk, smelt it, tasted it. “That seems all right too,” +she declared. “And you’ve put nothing—no medicine of any sort—in her +food?”</p> + +<p>“Why, of course not.”</p> + +<p>“Do you prepare her food always?”</p> + +<p>“Not always. Her mother—my sister—fixes it some times.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said the nurse.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Miss Kennan? What is the matter with the baby?”</p> + +<p>“She’s been doped,” answered the nurse shortly. “Soothing syrup or +something probably, to keep her quiet. Sleeps a lot, doesn’t she?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. She never seems really awake. O Miss Kennan, I never knew——”</p> + +<p>“I see. Well, you’ll have to know now. Find out what has been given her, +and fix all her food after this, yourself. Can you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I’ll try to.”</p> + +<p>“If you don’t, she won’t need food much longer,” said the nurse.</p> + +<p>“O, how can any one be so wicked!” cried Olga.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t wickedness—it’s ignorance mostly—laziness sometimes, when a +mother doesn’t want to be troubled with the care of a baby. Probably +this one had an overdose this morning.”</p> + +<p>Olga stood silently thinking. Yes, Sonia had given the baby her bottle +that morning, and always gave it to her at night. She went into the +bedroom and searched the closet and the bed. Sonia usually made the bed. +Under the pillow Olga found a bottle which <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_247" id="pg_247">247</a></span>she handed without a word, +to the nurse. Miss Kennan nodded.</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” she said briefly.</p> + +<p>Opening the window Olga flung the bottle passionately into the street.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you do anything to—to counteract it?” she questioned, her face +as white as the child’s.</p> + +<p>“I’ll bring you something,” the nurse said, “and now you must stop +worrying. You can’t take proper care of this baby if you are in a white +heat—she’ll feel the mental atmosphere. I wish I could take her home +with me to-night.”</p> + +<p>“You can. I wish you would. I’d feel safer about her,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“And her mother?” the nurse questioned with a searching look.</p> + +<p>“I won’t tell her where you live. You can bring the baby back in the +morning if she’s better—if not, keep her till she is. I’ll pay +you—when I can.”</p> + +<p>“This isn’t a pay-case,” the nurse said in her crisp way, “it’s a case +of life-saving. Then I’ll take her away now, before—anybody—comes to +interfere.”</p> + +<p>An hour later Sonia came home. In her absorption over the baby, Olga had +quite forgotten about Laura’s note, and she asked no questions. That +puzzled Sonia.</p> + +<p>“What’s happened?” she demanded abruptly. “You look as if you’d seen a +ghost.”</p> + +<p>“I feel as if I had,” Olga answered gravely.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, Olga?”</p> + +<p>“The baby is sick.”</p> + +<p>“The baby?” Sonia cast a swift glance about, then hurried to the +bedroom. “Where is she? What have you done with her?” she cried.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_248" id="pg_248">248</a></span>“Sonia, a nurse came here this afternoon, and she said some one had +been poisoning the baby with soothing syrup.”</p> + +<p>“Poisoning her!” Sonia echoed under her breath.</p> + +<p>“She had had an overdose,” said Olga. “O Sonia, how <i>could</i> you give her +that dangerous stuff?”</p> + +<p>“How’d I know it was dangerous? An old nurse told me it was harmless,” +Sonia defended herself, but the colour had faded out of her face and her +eyes were full of terror.</p> + +<p>Olga told her what the nurse had said. “I asked her to take the baby +home with her to-night. I knew that she would take better care of her +than we could,” she ended.</p> + +<p>Sonia was too frightened to object. “I didn’t know. Of course I wouldn’t +have given her the stuff if I had known,” she said again and again, and +finally to turn her thoughts to something else, Olga asked about the +place.</p> + +<p>“Yes, they took me. I am to begin Monday,” Sonia answered briefly.</p> + +<p>Neither of them slept much that night, and immediately after breakfast +Olga hurried over to Miss Kennan’s. The nurse met her with a smile.</p> + +<p>“She’s better—she’ll pull through—and she’s a darling of a baby, +Olga,” she said. “But you’ll have to watch her closely for a while. That +deadly stuff has weakened her so!”</p> + +<p>“O, I will, I will!” Olga promised. A great love for the little creature +filled her heart, as she stooped to kiss her.</p> + +<p>For a month after this, things went better. Sonia <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_249" id="pg_249">249</a></span>was at the store from +eight to six, and Olga in her quiet rooms, worked steadily except when +the baby claimed her attention. The baby wanted more and more attention +as the days went by. She no longer lay limp and half unconscious, but +awoke from sleep, laughing and crowing, to stretch and roll and kick +like any healthy baby. She took many precious moments of Olga’s time, +but Olga did not grudge them. In that one day of fear and dread, the +baby had established herself once for all in the girl’s heart. If things +could only go on as they were—if Sonia would earn her own clothes even, +and be content to stay on and leave the baby to her care, Olga felt that +she could be quite happy. But she had her misgivings in regard to Sonia. +There was about her at times an air of mystery and of suppressed +excitement that puzzled her sister. She spent many evenings out—with +friends, she said, but she never told who the friends were. Still Olga +was happy. Her work, her baby (she thought of it always now as hers), +and the Camp Fire friends—these filled her days, and she put aside +resolutely her misgivings in regard to her sister, worked doubly hard to +pay the extra bills, and endured without complaint the discomfort of her +crowded rooms where Sonia claimed and kept the most and best of +everything. There was a cheery old lady in the room below—an old lady +who dearly loved to get hold of a baby, and with her Olga left her +little niece on Camp Fire nights, and when she went to market or to the +school. The girls began to drop in again evenings, now that Sonia was so +seldom there, and Olga welcomed them with shining eyes. The baby soon +had all the girls at her feet. They called her <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_250" id="pg_250">250</a></span>“The Camp Fire Baby” and +would have adopted her forthwith, but Olga would not agree to that.</p> + +<p>“You can play with her and love her as much as you like, but she’s my +very own,” she told them.</p> + +<p>But with her delight in the child was always mingled a haunting fear +that Sonia would some day snatch her up and disappear with her as +suddenly as she had come.</p> + +<p>It was in December that the blow fell. Sonia had not come back to +supper, and Olga left the baby with old Mrs. Morris, and set off with +Lizette for the Camp Fire meeting. It was a delightful meeting, and Olga +enjoyed every minute of it, and the walk home with Elizabeth afterwards, +while Sadie followed with Lizette.</p> + +<p>“Come down soon and see my baby—and me,” she said, as Elizabeth and +Sadie turned off at their own corner, and she went on with Lizette.</p> + +<p>Before she could knock at Mrs. Morris’s door, it was opened by the old +lady. “I’ve been watching for you——” she began, and instantly Olga +read the truth in her troubled face.</p> + +<p>“My—baby——” she gasped.</p> + +<p>“She’s gone, dearie—her mother took her away,” the old lady said, her +arms about the girl. “I tried to make her wait till you came, but she +wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Gone—for good, you mean?” It was Lizette who questioned.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Mrs. Morris, “she said so. She said you’d find a note +upstairs. Here’s your key. I’m so sorry for you, child—O, so sorry!”</p> + +<p>Olga made no reply—she could not find words then. She went slowly up +the stairs, Lizette following. <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_251" id="pg_251">251</a></span>Lighting the gas, she flashed a swift +glance about the room. The note lay on her workbench. She snatched it up +and read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“I’m going with Dick—he came back a month ago. He says he’s turned over +a new leaf, and he’s got a job in New York. I’ve always wanted to live +in New York. Good-bye, Olga—be good to yourself. Baby sends bye-bye to +auntie.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right; margin-right:1em;">“<span class="smcap">Sonia.</span>”</p> +</div> + +<p>She handed the note to Lizette, who read it with a scowl. “Well, of all +the——” she began, but a glance from Olga stopped her. “Isn’t there +<i>any</i>thing I can do?” she begged, her eyes full of tears.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, thank you. I’ll—I’ll brace up as—as soon as I can, Lizette. +Good-night,” Olga said gently, and Lizette went away, her honest heart +aching with sympathy for her friend, and Olga was alone in the place +that seemed so appallingly empty because a little child had gone out of +it.</p> + +<p>But the next morning when Lizette came in Olga met her with a smile.</p> + +<p>“I’m all right,” she said. “I miss my baby every minute, but, Lizette, I +mean to be happy in spite of it, and I know you’ll help me. Breakfast is +ready—you won’t leave me to eat it alone?” Her brave smile brought a +lump into Lizette’s throat.</p> + +<p>So they dropped back into their old pleasant companionship, and the +girls came more often than before evenings, and Olga threw herself +whole-heartedly into Camp Fire work, seeking opportunities for service. +And the days slipped away and it was Christmas Eve again. Olga had spent +the evening in the Camp Fire room helping to put up greens and trim the +tree. She <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_252" id="pg_252">252</a></span>had a smile and a helping hand for every one, and Laura, +watching her, said to herself, “She is holding her torch high—the dear +child.”</p> + +<p>But it had not been easy—holding the torch high. On the way home the +reaction came, and Olga was silent. In the merry crowd, however, only +Elizabeth and Lizette noticed her silence, for Laura had sent them all +home in the car, and the swift flight through the snowy streets was +exciting and exhilarating. The others called gay greetings and farewells +as they rolled away, leaving Olga and Lizette on the steps in the +moonlight.</p> + +<p>At Lizette’s door Olga said good-night and went across to her own room. +Closing the door behind her she dropped into a chair by the window, and +suddenly she realised that she was very tired and O, so lonely! She +longed for the pressure of a little head on her arm—for tiny fingers +curling about hers—she wanted her baby.</p> + +<p>“O, why couldn’t I keep her? Sonia doesn’t care for her—she doesn’t! +And I do. I want my baby!” she cried into the night.</p> + +<p>But again after a little she caught back her courage. “I’m +ashamed—ashamed!” she said aloud. “I’m not playing fair. I’ve got to be +happy if I can’t have my baby, and I will. But, O, if I were only sure +that she is cared for!”</p> + +<p>At that moment there came a low rap on her door. Going to it, she +called, “Who is it? Who is there?” but she did not open the door.</p> + +<p>There was no reply, only the sound of soft retreating footsteps.</p> + +<p>“Somebody going by,” she said, turning away, but as <span class="pagenum"><a name="pg_253" id="pg_253">253</a></span>she did so she +thought she heard a little whimpering cry outside. Instantly she flung +the door open, and there in a basket lay her baby.</p> + +<p>“It—it <i>can’t</i> be!” Olga cried out, incredulous. Then she caught up the +baby and hugged her till the little thing whimpered again, half afraid. +“O, it is—it <i>is</i>!” Olga cried. “You blessed darling—if I could only +keep you forever!” Still holding the child close, she snatched up the +basket, shut the door, and lit the gas. In the basket she found a note +from her sister.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“I’m sending back the baby [it read]; I only took her to scare you—just +to pay you off for nagging me so about work. You can have her now for +keeps. Dick doesn’t care for children and they are an awful bother, and +you’ve spoiled this one anyhow, fussing so over her. I reckon you and I +aren’t exactly congenial, and I shan’t trouble you any more unless Dick +goes back on me again, and I don’t think he will.</p> + +<p style="text-align:right; margin-right:1em;">“<span class="smcap">Sonia.</span>”</p> +</div> + +<p>Through the still night air came the sound of bells—Christmas bells +ringing in the Great Day. To Olga they seemed to call softly:</p> + +<p>“‘Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.’”</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top:4em; font-size: x-small">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> + +<hr class="dashed" /> + +<p style="margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em; font-size:larger; text-align:center;">FICTION, JUVENILE, Etc.</p> + +<p style="font-style:italic; text-decoration:underline">CLARA E. LAUGHLIN</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><b>“Everybody’s Lonesome”</b> <span class="smcap">A True Fairy Story</span>.</p> + +<p>Illustrated by A. I. Keller, 12mo, cloth, net 75c.</p> + +<p>Every new story by the author of “Evolution of a Girl’s Ideal” may be +truthfully called her best work. No one who feels the charm of her +latest, will question the assertion. Old and young alike will feel its +enchantment and in unfolding her secret to our heroine the god-mother +invariably proves a fairy god-mother to those who read.</p> + +<p style="font-style:italic; text-decoration:underline">ROBERT E. KNOWLES</p> + +<p style="margin-left:2em;"><b>The Handicap</b></p> + +<p>12mo, cloth, net $1.20.</p> + +<p>A story of a life noble in spite of environment and heredity, and a +struggle against odds which will appeal to all who love the elements of +strength in life. The handicap is the weight which both the appealing +heroine and hero of this story bear up under, and, carrying which, they +win.</p> + +<p style="font-style:italic; text-decoration:underline">WINIFRED HESTON, M. 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T. Thurston + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Torch Bearer + A Camp Fire Girls' Story + + +Author: I. T. Thurston + + + +Release Date: December 23, 2007 [eBook #23987] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TORCH BEARER*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 23987-h.htm or 23987-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/9/8/23987/23987-h/23987-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/9/8/23987/23987-h.zip) + + + + + +THE TORCH BEARER + + * * * * * * + +BY I. T. THURSTON + +The Torch Bearer + A Camp Fire Girls' Story. Illustrated, 12mo, net $1.00. + +The author of "The Bishop's Shadow" and "The Scout Master of Troop 5" +has scored another conspicuous success in this new story of girl life. +She shows conclusively that she knows how to reach the heart of a girl +as well as that of a boy. + +The Scout Master of Troop 5 + By author of "The Bishop's Shadow." Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, + net $1.00. + +"The daily life of the city boys from whom the scouts are recruited +is related, and the succession of experiences afterward coming +delightfully to them--country hikes, camp life, exploring +expeditions, and the finding of real hidden treasure. The depiction +of boy nature is unusually true to life, and there are many +realistic scenes and complications to try out traits of +character."--_N. Y. Sun_. + +The Big Brother of Sabin Street + Containing the story of Theodore Bryan (The Bishop's Shadow). + Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00. + +"This volume is the sequel to the Story of Theodore Bryan, 'The +Bishop's Shadow,' which came into prominence as a classic among +boys' books and was written to supply the urgent demand for a story +continuing the account of Theodore's work among the +boys."--_Western Recorder_. + +The Bishop's Shadow + Illustrated, cloth, net $1.00. + +"A captivating story of dear Phillips Brooks and a little street +gamin of Boston. The book sets forth the almost matchless character +of the Christlike bishop in most loving and lovely lines."--_The +Interior_. + + + * * * * * * + + +THE TORCH BEARER + +A Camp Fire Girls' Story + +by + +I. T. THURSTON + +Author of "The Bishop's Shadow," "The Scout Master of Troop 5," +Etc., Etc. + +Illustrated + + + + + + + +[Illustration: The Torch Bearer] + + + +New York--Chicago--Toronto +Fleming H. Revell Company +London and Edinburgh + +Copyright, 1913, by +Fleming H. Revell Company +New York: 158 Fifth Avenue +Chicago: 125 N. Wabash Ave. +Toronto: 25 Richmond St., W. +London: 21 Paternoster Square +Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street + + + + +To +M. N. T. + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +The Torch Bearer Frontispiece + +"At last a tiny puff of smoke arose" 14 + +"Soon the flames began to blaze and crackle, + filling the air with a spicy fragrance" 20 + +A group of girls busy over beadwork 34 + +"We pull long, we pull strong" 78 + +"Wood had been gathered earlier in the day" 90 + +A favourite rendezvous at the camp 212 + +"Just think of the Lookout at this very minute!" 220 + + + +CONTENTS + + I. The Camp in the Forest 11 + II. Introducing the Problem 24 + III. The Camp Coward Dares 31 + IV. The Poor Thing 44 + V. Wind and Weather 65 + VI. A Water Cure 77 + VII. Honours Won 88 + VIII. Elizabeth at Home 98 + IX. Jim 119 + X. Sadie Page 137 + XI. Boys and Old Ladies 147 + XII. Nancy Rextrew 155 + XIII. A Camp Fire Christmas 168 + XIV. Lizette 181 + XV. An Open Door for Elizabeth 200 + XVI. Camp Fire Girls and the Flag 212 + XVII. Sonia 220 + XVIII. The Torch Uplifted 233 + XIX. Clear Shining After Darkness 243 + + + + +I + +THE CAMP IN THE FOREST + + +"Wohelo--wohelo--wo-_he_-lo!" + +The clear, musical call, rising from the green tangle of the forest that +fringed the bay, seemed to float lingeringly above the treetops and out +over the wide stretch of gleaming water, to a girl in a green canoe, who +listened intently until the last faint echo died away, then began +paddling rapidly towards the wooded slope. The sun, just dropping below +the horizon, flooded the western sky with a blaze of colour that turned +the wide waters into a sea of gold, through which the little craft +glided swiftly, scattering from its slender prow showers of shining +drops. + +"I'm going to find out what that means," the girl said under her breath. +"It sounds like an Indian call, but I'm sure those were not Indian +voices." + +On and on, steadily, swiftly, swept the green canoe, until, rounding a +wooded point, it slipped suddenly into a beautiful little cove where +there was a floating dock with a small fleet of canoes and rowboats +surrounding it, and steps leading up the slope. The girl smiled as she +stepped lightly out on the dock, and fastened her canoe to one of the +rings. + +"A girls' camp it surely is," she said to herself. "I'm going to get a +glimpse of it anyhow." + +Running up the steps, she followed a well-trodden path through a pine +grove, and in a few minutes, through the trees, she caught the gleam of +white tents and stopped to reconnoitre. A dozen or more tents were set +irregularly around an open space; also there was a large frame building +with canvas instead of boarding on two sides, and adjoining this a small +frame shack, evidently a kitchen--and girls were everywhere. + +"O, I'm hungry for girls!" breathed the one peering through the green +branches. "I wonder if I dare venture----" She broke off abruptly, +staring in surprise at a group approaching her. Then she ran forward +crying out, "Why, Anne Wentworth--to think of finding you here!" + +"To think of finding _you_ here, Laura Haven! Where did you drop from?" +cried the other. The two were holding each other's hands and looking +into each other's faces with eyes full of glad surprise. + +"I? I didn't drop--I climbed--up the steps from the landing," Laura +laughed. "I was out on the bay in my canoe--we came up yesterday in the +yacht--and I heard that beautiful Indian call, and I just _had_ to find +out where it came from, and what it meant. I suspected a girls' camp, +but of course I never dreamed of finding you here. Do tell me all about +it. It is a camp, isn't it?" + +"Yes, we are Camp Fire Girls," Anne Wentworth replied. She glanced +behind her, but the others had disappeared. "They vanished for fear they +might be in the way," she said. "O Laura, I'm so glad you're here, for +this is the night for our Council Fire. You can stay to it, can't +you--I'm sure you would be interested." + +"Stay--how long? It's after sunset now." + +"O, stay all night with me, and all day to-morrow. You must stay to the +Council Fire to-night, anyhow." + +"I'd love to dearly, but father won't know where I am." Laura's voice +was full of regret. + +"Why can't you go back and tell him? I'll go with you," Anne suggested. + +"Will there be time before your Council Fire?" + +"Yes, if we hurry--wait one minute." Anne called to the nearest girl, +gave her a brief message, and turned again to her friend. "Come on, +we've no time to lose, but I know how you can make a canoe fly," she +said, and hand-in-hand the two went scurrying through the grove and down +to the landing. Then while the canoe swept swiftly over the water, Anne +Wentworth answered the eager questions of her friend. + +"It's a new organisation--the Camp Fire Girls," she explained. "It is +something like the Boy Scouts only, I think, planned on broader lines +and with higher and finer ideals--at any rate it is better suited for +girls. It aims to help them to be healthy, useful, trustworthy, and +happy. Health--work--love--as shown in service--these are the ideals on +which we try to build. We have three grades. First a girl becomes a Wood +Gatherer; then after passing certain tests, a Fire Maker, then a Torch +Bearer." + +"And which are you?" Laura asked. + +"I'm a Guardian--that is, I am the head of one of our city Camp Fires. +Mrs. Royall is our Chief Guardian." She went on to explain about the +work and play, the tests and rewards, ending with, "But you'll +understand it all so much better after our Council Fire to-night." + +Laura nodded. "What kind of girls is it for--poor girls--working +girls?" she asked. + +"It is for any kind of girls--just girls, you know. Of course we can't +admit any bad ones, nothing else matters. Dorothy Groves is one of my +twelve, and I've two dear little High School girls; all the rest are +working girls. They can stay here at the camp only two weeks--some of +them only ten days--the working girls, I mean, and it would make your +heart ache to see how much those ten days mean to them, and how +intensely they enjoy even the commonest pleasures of camping out." + +"Who pays for them?" Laura demanded. + +"They pay for themselves. It's no charity, and the charges are very low. +They wouldn't come if it were charity." + +Laura shook her head half impatiently. "It's so hard to get a chance +really to help the ones who need help most," she said. + +"Yes, it surely is," Anne agreed; and then they were alongside the big +white yacht with its shining brass, and Judge Haven was helping them up +the steps. + +Fifteen minutes later they were on their way back to the camp, but this +time in a boat rowed by two of the crew. The last golden gleam of the +afterglow was fading slowly in the West as the two girls came again +through the pines into the open space between the tents. Mrs. Royall met +them and made Laura cordially welcome. + +"She's just the right one--a real camp mother," Anne said, as she led +her friend over to a group gathered on the grass before one of the +tents. "And these are my own girls," she added, introducing each by +name. + +[Illustration: "At last a tiny puff of smoke arose"] + +"You've got to take me right in," Laura told them. "I can't help it if +I am an odd number--I'm going to belong to this particular Camp Fire +to-night." + +"Of course we'll take you in, and love to. Aren't you Miss Anne's +friend?" said one, as she snuggled down on the grass beside Laura. "It's +so nice you came on our Council Fire night!" + +Laura's eyes swept the group. "It must be nice--you all look so happy," +she answered. + +Anne Wentworth excused herself for a few minutes, and Laura settled back +against a tree with a little sigh of content. "I've been abroad for a +year," she said, "and it seems so good to be with girls again--American +girls! Please, won't you forget that I am here and talk just as if I +were not? I want to sit still and enjoy the place and you +and--everything, for a bit, before your Council begins." + +With ready courtesy they took her at her word, and chatted of camp plans +and happenings until the talk was interrupted by a clear musical call +that floated softly out of the gathering dusk. + +"How beautiful! What is it?" Laura asked as all the girls started up. + +"It's the bugle call to the Council," one explained, "and here comes +Miss Anne." + +Laura glanced curiously at her friend's dress. It was a long loose +garment of dark brown, fringed at the bottom and the sleeves. A band of +beadwork was fastened over her forehead, and she wore a long necklace of +bright-coloured beads. + +"What is it--a robe of state?" Laura inquired. + +"Yes, the ceremonial dress," Anne told her, "but you can't see in this +light how pretty it is. Come on, we must join the procession." + +"What has become of your girls?" Laura asked. "They were here a moment +ago." + +"They have gone to get their necklaces," Anne returned. "My girls are +all Wood Gatherers as yet--we've not been organised long, you know; but +they've been working hard for honours, and for every honour they are +entitled to add a bead to their necklaces." + +"Yours then must represent a great many honours." + +"Yes," Anne replied. "You see it incites the girls to work for honours +when they see that their Guardians have worked and won them. The red +beads show that the wearer has won health honours by keeping free from +colds, headaches, etc., for a number of months, or by sleeping out of +doors, or doing some sort of athletics--walking, swimming, rowing, and +the like. The blue ones are for nature study, the black and gold for +business, and so on. Each bead has a meaning for the girl--it tells a +story--and the more she wins, the finer her record, of course." + +"What a splendid idea! And how the girls will prize their necklaces +by-and-by, and enjoy recalling the stories connected with them!" + +"Yes," Anne agreed, "they will hand them down to their daughters as a +new kind of heirloom, but----" with a laugh she added, "that's looking a +long way ahead, isn't it?" + +By this time the two were in the midst of a merry procession of girls +from twelve to twenty, perhaps a third of them wearing the ceremonial +dress. + +"What a gay company they are!" Laura commented, as the procession +followed a winding path through the woods, a few carrying lanterns. "Is +there anything in the world, Anne, lovelier than a crowd of happy +girls?" + +"Nothing," her friend assented in a low tone. "And, Laura, if you could +only see the difference a few days here make in some of the girls who +have had all work and no play--like some of mine! It is so delightful to +see them grow merry and glad day by day. But here we are. This is our +Council Chamber." + +"I want as many eyes as a spider so that I can look every way at once," +Laura cried as the girls arranged themselves in a large circle. "What +are those girls over there doing?" + +"They are the Fire Makers. They were Wood Gatherers for over three +months, and have met the requirements for the second class. Some of the +others are to be made Fire Makers to-night. Watch Mary Walsh--the one +rubbing two sticks. She will make fire without matches--or at least she +will try to." + +The girl, with one knee on the ground, was rubbing one stick briskly +back and forth in the groove of another. A little group beside her +watched her with eager interest, two of them holding lanterns, and Mrs. +Royall stood near her, watch in hand. The talk and laughter had ceased +as the circle formed, and now in silence, all eyes were centred on the +girl. Faster and faster her hands moved to the accompaniment of a +whining, scraping sound that rose at intervals to a shrill squeak. At +last a tiny puff of smoke arose, and the girl blew carefully until she +had a glowing spark, which she fed with tiny shreds of wood, until +suddenly it blazed up brightly. Then, springing lightly to her feet, +she stood erect, the flaming wood in her outstretched hand distinctly +revealing her happy, triumphant face against the dark background of the +pines. + +There was a quick clamour of applause as Mrs. Royall announced, "Thirty +seconds within the time limit, Mary. Well done! Now light the Council +Fire." + +The girl stepped forward and touched her flaming brand to the wood that +had been made ready by the other Fire Makers, and soon the flames began +to blaze and crackle, filling the air with a spicy fragrance, and +sending a vivid glow across the circle of intent young faces. Laura +caught her breath as she looked around the circle. + +"What a picture!" she whispered. "It is lovely--lovely!" + +At a signal from Mrs. Royall the girls now gathered closer about the +fire and began to chant all together, + + "'Wohelo--wohelo--wohelo. + Wohelo means love. + We love love, for love is the heart of life. + It is light and joy and sweetness, + Comradeship and all dear kinship. + Love is the joy of service so deep + That self is forgotten. + Wohelo means love.'" + +Then louder swelled the chorus, + + "'Wohelo for aye, + Wohelo for aye, + Wohelo, wohelo, wohelo for aye.'" + +The last note was followed by a moment of utter silence; then one side +of the circle chanted, + + "'Wohelo for work!'" + +and the opposite side flung back, + + "'Wohelo for health!'" + +and all together they chorused exultantly, + + "'Wohelo, wohelo, wohelo for love!'" + +Then in unison, led by Anne Wentworth, the beautiful Fire Ode was +repeated, + + "'O Fire! + Long years ago when our fathers fought with great + animals you were their great protection. + When they fought the cold of the cruel winter you + saved them. + When they needed food you changed the flesh of beasts + into savoury meat for them. + During all the ages your mysterious flame has been + a symbol to them for Spirit. + So, to-night, we light our fire in grateful remembrance + of the Great Spirit who gave you to us.'" + +In a few clear-cut sentences Mrs. Royall spoke of the Camp Fire +symbolism--of fire as the living, renewing, all-pervading element--"Our +brother the fire, bright and pleasant, and very mighty and strong," as +being the underlying spirit--the heart of this new order of the girls of +America, as the hearth-fire is the heart of the home. She spoke of the +brown chevron with the crossed sticks, the symbol of the Wood Gatherer, +the blue and orange symbol of the Fire Maker, and the complete insignia +combining both of these with the touch of white representing smoke from +the flame, worn by the Torch Bearer, trying to make clear and vivid the +beautiful meaning of it all. + +When the roll-call was read, each girl, as she answered to her name, +gave also the number of honours she had earned since the last meeting. +It was then that Laura, watching the absorbed faces, shook her head with +a sigh as her eyes met Anne's; and Anne nodded with quick understanding. + +"Yes," she whispered, "there is some rivalry. It isn't all love and +harmony--yet. But we are working that way all the time." + +There was a report of the last Council, written in rather limping rhyme, +and then each girl told of some kind or gentle deed she had seen or +heard of since the last meeting--things ranging all the way from hunting +for a lost glove to going for the doctor at midnight when a girl was +taken suddenly ill in camp. Only one had no kindness to tell. And when +she reported "Nothing" it was as if a shadow fell for a moment over all +the young faces turned towards her. + +"Who is that? Her voice sounds so unhappy!" Laura said, and her friend +answered, "I'll tell you about her afterwards. Her name is Olga Priest. +There's a new member to be received to-night. Here she comes." + +Laura watched the new member as she stepped out of the circle, and +crossed over to the Chief Guardian. + +[Illustration: "Soon the flames began to blaze and crackle, filling the +air with a spicy fragrance"] + +"What is your desire?" Mrs. Royall asked, and the girl answered, + +"I desire to become a Camp Fire Girl and to obey the law of the Camp +Fire, which is to + + "Seek beauty, + Give service, + Pursue knowledge, + Hold on to health, + Glorify work, + Be happy.' + +This law of the Camp Fire I will strive to follow." + +Slowly and impressively, Mrs. Royall explained to her the law, phrase by +phrase, and as she ceased speaking, the candidate repeated her promise +to keep it, and instantly every girl in the circle, placing her right +hand over her heart, chanted slowly, + + "'This law of the fire I will strive to follow + With all the strength and endurance of my body, + The power of my will, + The keenness of my mind, + The warmth of my heart, + And the sincerity of my spirit.'" + +And again after the last words--like a full stop in music--came the few +seconds of utter silence. + +It was broken by the Chief Guardian. "With this sign you become a Wood +Gatherer," and she laid the fingers of her right hand across those of +her left. The candidate made the same sign; then she held out her hand, +and Mrs. Royall slipped on her finger the silver ring, which all Camp +Fire Girls are entitled to wear, and as she did so she said, + + "'As fagots are brought from the forest + Firmly held by the sinews which bind them, + So cleave to these others, your sisters, + Whenever, wherever you find them. + + Be strong as the fagots are sturdy; + Be pure in your deepest desire; + Be true to the truth that is in you; + And--follow the law of the fire.'" + +The girl returned to her place in the circle, and at a sign from Anne +Wentworth, four of her girls followed her as she moved forward and stood +before Mrs. Royall. From a paper in her hand she read the names of the +four girls, and declared that they had all met the tests for the second +grade. + +The Chief Guardian turned to the four. + +"What is your desire?" she asked, and together they repeated, + + "'As fuel is brought to the fire + So I purpose to bring + My strength, + My ambition, + My heart's desire, + My joy, + And my sorrow + To the fire + Of humankind. + For I will tend + As my fathers have tended, + And my father's fathers + Since time began, + The fire that is called + The love of man for man, + The love of man for God.'" + +As the young earnest voices repeated the beautiful words, Laura Haven's +heart thrilled again with the solemn beauty of it all, and tears crowded +to her eyes in the silence that followed--a silence broken only by the +whispering of the night wind high in the treetops. + +Then Mrs. Royall lifted her hand and soft and low the young voices +chanted, + + "'Lay me to sleep in sheltering flame, + O Master of the Hidden Fire; + Wash pure my heart, and cleanse for me + My soul's desire. + + In flame of service bathe my mind, + O Master of the Hidden Fire, + That when I wake clear-eyed may be + My soul's desire.'" + +It was over, and the circle broke again into laughing, chattering +groups. Lanterns were lighted, every spark of the Council Fire carefully +extinguished, and then back through the woods the procession wound, +laughing, talking, sometimes breaking into snatches of song, the +lanterns throwing strange wavering patches of light into the dense +darkness of the woods on either side. + + + + +II + +INTRODUCING THE PROBLEM + + +"You did enjoy it, didn't you?" Anne said as the two walked back through +the woods-path to camp. + +"I loved every bit of it," was the enthusiastic response. "It's so +different from anything else--so fresh and picturesque and full of +interest! I should think girls would be wild to belong." + +"They are. Camp Fires are being organised all over the country. The +trouble is that there are not yet enough older girls trained for +Guardians." + +"Where can they get the training?" + +"In New York there is a regular training class, and there will soon be +others in other cities," Anne returned, and then, with a laugh, "I +believe you've caught the fever already, Laura." + +"I have--hard. You know, Anne, all the time we were abroad I was trying +to decide what kind of work I could take up, among girls, and this +appeals to me as nothing else has done. It seems to me there are great +possibilities in it. I'd like to be a Guardian. Do you think I'm fit?" + +"Of course you're fit, dear. O Laura, I'm so glad. We can work together +when we go home." + +"But, Anne, I want to stay right here in this camp now. Do you suppose +Mrs. Royall will be willing? Of course I'll pay anything she says----" + +"She'll be delighted. She needs more helpers, and I can teach you all I +learned before I took charge of my girls. But will your father be +willing?" + +"I'm sure he will. He knows you, and everybody in Washington knows and +honours Mrs. Royall. Father is going to Alaska on a business trip and +I've been trying to decide where I would stay while he is gone. This +will solve my problem beautifully." + +"Come then--we'll see Mrs. Royall right now and arrange it," Anne +returned, turning back. + +Mrs. Royall was more than willing to accede to Laura's proposal. "Stay +at the camp as long as you like," she said, "and if you really want to +be a Guardian, I will send your name to the Board which has the +appointing power." + +"She is lovely, isn't she?" Laura said as they left the Chief Guardian. +"I don't wonder you call her the Camp Mother." + +Something in the tone reminded Anne that her friend had long been +motherless, and she slipped her arm affectionately around Laura's waist +as she answered, "She is the most motherly woman I ever met. She seems +to have room in her big, warm heart for every girl that wants mothering, +no matter who or what she is." They were back at the camp now, and she +added, "But we must get to bed quickly--there's the curfew," as a bugle +sounded a few clear notes. + +"O dear, I've a hundred and one questions to ask you," sighed Laura. + +"They'll keep till morning," replied the other. "It's so hard for the +girls to stop chattering after the curfew sounds! We Guardians have to +set them a good example." + +The cots in the sleeping tents were placed on wooden platforms raised +three or four inches from the ground, and on clear nights the sides of +the tents were rolled up. Laura, too interested and excited to sleep at +once, lay in her cot looking out across the open space now flooded with +light from the late-risen moon, and thought of the girls sleeping around +her. Herself an only child, she had a great desire--almost a +passion--for girls; girls who were lonely like herself--girls who had to +struggle with ill-health, poverty, and hard work as she did not. + +Suddenly she started up in bed, her eyes wide with half-startled +surprise. Reaching over to the adjoining cot, she touched her friend, +whispering, "Anne, Anne, look!" and as Anne opened drowsy eyes, Laura +pointed to the moonlit space. + +Anne stared for a moment, then she laughed softly and whispered back, +"It's a ghost dance, Laura. Some of those irrepressible girls couldn't +resist this moonlight. They're doing an Indian folk dance." + +"Isn't it weird--in the moonlight and in utter silence!" Laura said +under her breath. "I should think somebody would giggle and spoil the +effect." + +"That would be a signal for Mrs. Royall to 'discover' them and send them +back to bed," Anne returned. "So long as they do it in utter silence so +as to disturb no one else, the Guardians wink at it. It is pretty, isn't +it?" + +"Lovely!" + +Anne turned over and went to sleep again, but Laura watched the slender +graceful figures in their loose white garments till suddenly they melted +into the shadows and were gone. Then she too slept till a shaft of +sunlight, touching her eyelids, awakened her to a new day. She looked +across at her friend, who smiled back at her. "I feel so well and so +happy!" she exclaimed. + +"It is sleeping in the open air," Anne replied. "Almost everybody wakes +happy here--except the Problem." + +"The Problem?" Laura echoed. + +"I mean Olga Priest, the girl you asked about last night. We Guardians +call her the Problem because no one has yet been able to do anything for +her." + +"Tell me about her," Laura begged, as, dropping the sides of the tent, +Anne began to dress. + +"Wait till we are outside--there are too many sharp young ears about us +here," Anne cautioned. "There'll be time for a walk or a row before +breakfast and we can talk then." + +"Good--let's have a walk," Laura said, and made quick work of her +dressing. + +"Now tell me about the Problem," she urged, when they were seated on a +rocky point overlooking the blue waters of the bay. + +"Poor Olga," Anne said. "I wonder sometimes if she has ever had a really +happy day in the eighteen years of her life. Her mother was a Russian of +good family and well educated. She married an American who made life +bitter for her until he drank himself to death. There were three +children older than Olga--two sons who went to the bad, following their +father's example. The older girl married a worthless fellow and +disappeared, and there was no one left but Olga to support the sick +mother and herself, and Olga was only thirteen then! She supported them, +somehow, but of course she had to leave her mother alone all day, and +one night when she went home she found her gone. She had died all +alone." + +"_O!_" cried Laura. + +"Yes, it was pitiful. I suppose the child was as nearly heartbroken as +any one could be, for her mother was everything to her. Of course there +were many who would have been glad to help had they known, but Olga's +pride is something terrible, and it seems as if she hates everybody +because her father and her brothers and sister neglected her mother, and +she was left to die alone. I don't believe there is a single person in +the world whom she likes even a little." + +"O, the poor thing!" sighed Laura. "Not even Mrs. Royall?" + +"No, not even Mrs. Royall, who has been heavenly kind to her." + +"Is she in your Camp Fire?" + +"No, Ellen Grandis is her Guardian, but Ellen is to be married next +month and will live in New York, so that Camp Fire will have to have a +new Guardian." + +"What about the other girls in it?" + +"All but three are working girls--salesgirls in stores, I think, most of +them." + +"How did Olga happen to join the Camp Fire?" + +"I don't know. I've wondered about that myself. She doesn't make friends +with any of the girls, nor join in any of the games; but work--she has a +perfect passion for work, and it seems as if she can do anything. She +has won twice as many honours as any other girl since she came, but she +cares nothing for them--except to win them." + +"She must be a strange character, but she interests me," Laura said +thoughtfully. "Anne, maybe I can take Miss Grandis' place when she +leaves." + +Anne gave her friend a searching look. "Are you sure you would like it? +Wouldn't you rather have a different class of girls?" she asked. + +Laura answered gravely, "I want the girls I can help most--those that +need me most--and from what you say, I should think Olga needed--some +one--as much as any girl could." + +"As much perhaps, but hardly more than some of the others. There's that +little Annie Pearson who thinks of nothing but her pretty face and 'good +times,' and Myra Karr who is afraid of her own shadow and always +clinging to the person she happens to be with. The Camp Fire is a +splendid organisation, Laura, and it will do a deal for the girls, but +still almost every one of them is some sort of 'problem' that we have to +study and watch and labour over with heart and head and hands if we hope +really to accomplish any permanent good. But come, we must go back or we +shall be late for breakfast." + +"Then let's hurry, for this air has given me a famous appetite," Laura +replied. But she did not find it easy to keep up with her friend's +steady stride. + +"You'll have to get in training for tramps if you are going to be a Camp +Fire Girl," Anne taunted gaily. + +Laura's eyes brightened as she entered the big dining-room with its +canvas sides rolled high. + +"Just in time," Anne said, as she pulled out a chair for Laura and +slipped into the next one herself. + +The meal was cheerful, almost hilarious. "Mrs. Royall believes in +laughter. She never checks the girls unless it's really necessary," +Anne explained under cover of the merry chatter. "She----" + +But Laura interrupted her. "O Anne, that must be Olga--the dark still +girl, at the end of the next table, isn't it?" + +"Yes, and Myra Karr is next to her. All at that table belong to the Busy +Corner Camp Fire." + +After breakfast Laura again paddled off to the yacht with Anne. It did +not require much coaxing to secure her father's permission for her to +spend a month at the camp with Anne Wentworth and Mrs. Royall. He kept +the girls on the yacht for luncheon, and after that they went back to +camp, a couple of sailors following in another boat with Laura's +luggage. + +"How still it is--I don't hear a sound," Laura said wonderingly, as she +and her friend approached the camp through the pines. + +Anne listened, looking a little perplexed, as they came out into the +camp and found it quite deserted--not a girl anywhere in sight. + +"I'll go and find out where everybody is," she said. "I see some one +moving in the kitchen. The cook must be there." + +She came back laughing. "They've all gone berrying. That's one of the +charms of this camp--the spontaneous fashion in which things are done. +Probably some one said, 'There are blueberries over yonder--loads of +them,' and somebody else exclaimed, 'Let's go get some,' and +behold"--she waved her hand--"a deserted camp." + + + + +III + +THE CAMP COWARD DARES + + +Each girl at the camp was expected to make her own bed and keep her +belongings in order. Each one also served her turn in setting tables, +washing dishes, etc. Beyond this there were no obligatory tasks, but all +the girls were working for honours, and most of them were trying to meet +the requirements for higher rank. Some were making their official +dresses. Girls who were skilful with the needle could secure beautiful +and effective results with silks and beads, and of course every girl +wanted a headband of beadwork and a necklace--all except Olga Priest. +Olga was working on a basket of raffia, making it from a design of her +own, when Ellen Grandis, her Guardian, came to her just after Anne +Wentworth and Laura had left the camp. + +"I've come to ask your help, Olga," Miss Grandis began. + +The girl dropped the basket in her lap, and waited. + +Miss Grandis went on, "It is something that will require much patience +and kindness----" + +"Then you'd better ask some one else, Miss Grandis. You know that I do +not pretend to be kind," Olga interrupted, not rudely but with finality. + +"But you are very patient and persevering, and--I don't know why, but I +have a feeling that you could do more for this one girl than any one +else here could. She is coming to take the only vacant place in our +Camp Fire. Shall I tell you about her, Olga?" + +"If you like." The girl's tone was politely indifferent. + +With a little sigh Miss Grandis went on, "Her name is Elizabeth Page. +She is about a year younger than you, and she has had a very hard life." + +Olga's lips tightened and a shadow swept across her dark eyes. + +Miss Grandis continued, "You have superb health--this girl has perhaps +never been really well for a single day. You have a brain and hands that +enable you to accomplish almost what you will. Poor Elizabeth can do so +few things well that she has no confidence in herself: yet I believe she +might do many things if only she could be made to believe in herself a +little. She needs--O, everything that the Camp Fire can do for a girl. +Olga, won't you help us to help her?" + +"How can I?" There was no trace of sympathy in the cold voice, and +suddenly the eager hopefulness faded out of Miss Grandis' face. + +"How can you indeed, if you do not care. I am afraid I made a mistake in +coming to you, after all," she said sadly. "I'm sorry, Olga--sorry even +more on your account than on Elizabeth's." + +With that she rose and went away, and Olga looked after her thoughtfully +for a moment before she took up her work again. + +A little later Myra Karr stood looking down at her with a curious +expression in her wide blue eyes. + +"I'm--I'm going to walk to Kent's Corners," she announced, with a little +nervous catch in her voice. + +"Well, what of it? You've been there before, haven't you?" Olga +retorted. + +"Yes, but this time I'm going all _alone_!" + +Olga's only reply was a swift mocking smile. + +"I _am_--Olga Priest!" repeated Myra, stamping her foot angrily. "You +all think me a coward--I'll just show you!" and with that she whirled +around and marched off, her chin up and her cheeks flushed. + +As she passed a group of girls busy over beadwork, one of them called +out, "What's the matter, Bunny?" + +Myra paused and faced them. "I'm going to walk to Kent's Corners +_alone_!" she cried defiantly. + +A shout of incredulous laughter greeted that. + +"Better give it up before you start, Bunny," said one. + +Another, with a mischievous laugh, whisked out her handkerchief and in a +flash had twisted it into a rabbit with flopping ears. "Bunny, bunny, +bunny!" she called, making the rabbit hop across her lap. + +Myra's blue eyes filled with angry tears. "You're horrid, Louise +Johnson!" she cried out. "You're _all_ horrid. But I'll show you!" and +with a glance that swept the whole laughing group, she threw back her +head and marched on. + +The girls looked after her and then at each other. + +"Believe she'll really do it?" one questioned doubtfully. + +"Not she. Maybe she'll get as far as the village," replied another. + +"She'd never dare pass Slabtown alone--never in the world," a third +declared with decision. + +"Poor Myra, I'm sorry for her. It must be awful to be scared at +everything as she is!" This from Mary Hastings, a big blonde who did not +know what fear was. + +"Bunny certainly is the scariest girl in this camp," laughed Louise +Johnson carelessly. "She's afraid of her own shadow." + +"Then she ought to have more credit than the rest of us when she does do +a brave thing," put in little Bess Carroll in her gentle way. + +"We'll give her credit all right _if_ she goes to Kent's Corners," +retorted Louise. + +Just then another girl ran up to the group and announced that a +blueberry picnic had been arranged. Somebody had discovered a pasture +where the bushes were loaded with luscious fruit. They would carry +lunch, and bring back enough for a regular blueberry festival. + +"All who want to go, get baskets or pails and come on," the girl ended. + +In an instant the others were on their feet, work thrown aside, and five +minutes later there was no one but the cook left in the camp. + +[Illustration: A group of girls busy over beadwork] + +By that time Myra Karr was tramping steadily on towards Kent's Corners. +Scarcely another girl in the camp would have minded that walk, but never +before had she dared to take it alone; now in spite of her nervous +fears, she felt a little thrill of incredulous pride in herself. So many +times she had planned to do this thing, but always before her courage +had failed. Now, now she was really doing it! And if she went all the +way perhaps--O, perhaps the girls would stop calling her Bunny. How she +hated that name! She hurried on, her heart beating hard, her hands +tight-clenched, her eyes fearfully searching the long sunny road before +her and the woods or fields that bordered it. It was not so bad the +first part of the way--the mile and a half to the little village of East +Bassett. To be sure, she had never before been even that far alone, but +she had been many times with other girls. She passed slowly and +lingeringly through the village. Should she turn back now? Before her +flashed the face of Olga with that little cold mocking smile, and she +saw again Louise Johnson hopping her handkerchief rabbit across her lap. +The incredulous laughter with which the others had greeted her +announcement rang still in her ears. She was walking very very slowly, +but--but no, she wouldn't--she _couldn't_ turn back. She forced her +unwilling feet to go on--to go faster, faster until she was almost +running. She was beyond the village now and another mile and a half +would bring her to Slabtown. _Slabtown!_ She had forgotten Slabtown. The +colour died swiftly out of her face as she remembered it now. Even with +a crowd of girls she had never passed the place without a fearful +shrinking, and now alone--_could_ she pass those ugly cabins swarming +with rough, dirty men and slovenly women and rude, staring children? Her +knees trembled under her even at the thought, and her newborn courage +melted like wax. It was no use. She could not do it. She wavered, +stopped, and turned slowly around. As she did so a grey rabbit with a +white tail scurried across the road before her, his ears flattened +against his head and his eyes bulging with terror. The sight of him +suddenly steadied the girl. She stood still looking after the tiny grey +streak flying across a wide green pasture, and a queer crooked smile +was on her trembling lips. + +"A bunny--_another_ bunny," she said under her breath, "and just as +scared as I am--at nothing. I won't be a bunny any longer! I won't be +the camp coward--I won't, won't, _won't_!" she cried aloud, and turning, +went on again swiftly with her head lifted. A bit of colour drifted back +to her white cheeks, and her heart stopped its heavy thumping as she +drew a long deep breath. She would not let herself think of Slabtown. +She counted the trees she passed, named the birds that wheeled and +circled about her, even repeated the multiplication table--anything to +keep Slabtown out of her thoughts; but all the while the black dread of +it was there in the back of her mind. When she caught sight of the +sawmill where the Slabtown men earned their bread, her feet began to +drag again. + +"I can't--O, I can't!" she sobbed out, two big tears rolling down her +cheeks. Then across her mind flashed a vision of the little cottontail +streaking madly across the road before her, and again some strange new +power within urged her on. She went on slowly, reluctantly, with +dragging feet, but still she went on. There were no men about the place +at this hour--they were at work--but untidy women sat on their doorsteps +or rocked at the windows, and a horde of ragged barefooted children +catching sight of the girl swarmed out into the road to stare at her. +Some begged for pennies, and getting none, yelled after her and threw +stones till she took to her heels and ran "just like the other bunny!" +she told herself in miserable scorn, when once she was safely past the +settlement. Well, there was no other such place to pass, but--she +shivered as she remembered that she must pass this one again on the way +back. + +She went on swiftly now with only occasionally a fearful glance on +either side when the road cut through the woods. Once a farmer going by +offered her a ride; but she shook her head and plodded on. It was +half-past eleven when, with a great throb of relief and joy, she came in +sight of the Corners. A few minutes more and she was in the village +street with its homey-looking white houses and flower gardens. She +longed to stop and rest on one of the vine-shaded porches, but she was +too shy to ask permission. At the store she did stop, and rested a few +minutes in one of the battered wooden chairs on the little porch, but it +was sunny and hot there. Now for the first time she thought of lunch, +but she had not a penny with her; she must go hungry until she got back +to camp. A boy came up the steps munching a red apple, his pockets +bulging with others. The storekeeper's little girl ran out on the porch +with a big molasses cooky just out of the oven, and the warm spicy odour +of it made Myra realise how hungry she was. She looked so longingly at +the cooky that the child, seeming to read her thoughts, crowded it all +hastily into her own mouth. Myra laughed a bit at that, and after a +little rest, set off on her return. She was tired and hungry, but a +strange new joy was throbbing at her heart. She had come all the way to +Kent's Corners alone--they _could not call her a coward now_! That +thought more than balanced her weariness and hunger. She had to walk all +the way back--she had to pass Slabtown again. Yes, but now she was not +afraid--_not afraid_! She drew herself up to her slender height, threw +back her head, and laughed aloud in the joy of her deliverance from the +fear that had held her in bondage all her life. She didn't understand in +the least how it had happened, but she knew that at last she was +free--_free_--like the other girls whom she had envied; and dimly she +began to realise that this was a big thing--something that would make +all her life different. She walked as if she were treading on air. The +loneliness of the woods, of the long stretch of empty road, no longer +filled her with trembling terror. + +As for the second time she approached Slabtown, her heart began to beat +a little faster, but the newborn courage did not fail her now. She found +herself whistling a gay tune and laughed. Whistling to keep her courage +up? Was that what she was doing? Never mind--the courage _was_ up. The +women still sat on their doorsteps or stared from their windows, but +this time the children did not swarm around her. They stood by the +roadside and stared, but none called after her or followed her. She did +not realise how great was the difference between the girl who now walked +by with shining eyes and lifted head, and the white-faced trembling +little creature with terror writ large in every line of her face and +figure that had scurried by earlier in the day. But the children +realised it. Instinctively now they knew her unafraid, and they did not +venture to badger her. She even smiled and waved her hand to them as she +went by, and at that a youngster of a dozen years suddenly broke out, +"Three cheers fer the girl--now, fellers!" And with the echo of the +shrill response ringing in her ears, Myra passed on, proud and happy as +never before in her life. + +All the rest of the way she went with the new happy consciousness making +music in her heart--the consciousness of victory won. The last mile or +two her feet dragged, but it was from weariness and lack of food. As she +drew near the camp her steps quickened, her head went up again, and her +eyes began to shine; but when she came to the white tents, she stood +looking about in blank amazement. There was not a girl anywhere in +sight; even the cook was missing. + +Myra stood for a moment wondering where they had all gone; then she +walked slowly across the camp to a hammock swung behind a clump of +low-growing pines. Dropping into the hammock, she tucked a cushion under +her head and, with a long sigh of delicious content and restfulness her +eyes closed and in two minutes she was sound asleep--so sound asleep +that when, an hour later, the girls came straggling back with pails and +baskets full of big luscious berries, the gay cries and laughter and +chatter of many voices did not arouse her. + +The girls trooped over to the kitchen and delivered up their spoil to +the cook. + +"Now, Katie," cried one, "you must make us some blueberry flapjacks for +supper--lots and lots of 'em, too!" + +"And blueberry gingerbread," added another. + +"And pies--fat juicy pies," called a third. + +"_And_ rolypoly--blueberry rolypoly!" shouted yet another. + +The cook, her arms on her hips, stood laughing into the sun-browned +young faces before her. + +"Sure ye're not askin' me to make all them things fer ye _to-night_!" +she protested gaily. + +"We-ell, not all maybe. We can wait till to-morrow for some of them. But +heaps and heaps of flapjacks, Katie dear, if you love us, and you know +you do," coaxed Louise Johnson. + +"Love ye? _Love_ ye, did ye say?" laughed the cook. "Be off wid ye now +an' lave me in pace or ye'll not get a smirch of a flapjack to yer +supper. Shoo!" and she waved them off with her apron. + +As the laughing girls turned away from the kitchen, Mary Hastings came +towards them from the other side of the camp. + +"What's the matter, Molly? You look as sober as an owl!" cried Louise +who never looked sober. + +"It's Myra--she isn't here. Miss Grandis and I have hunted all over the +camp for her," Mary answered. "You know she started for Kent's Corners +before we went berrying." + +"So she did," cried another girl, the merriment dying out of her eyes. +"You don't suppose she really went there?" + +"Myra Karr--alone--to Kent's Corners? Never in the world," Louise flung +out carelessly. "She's somewhere about. Let's call her." She lifted her +voice and called aloud, "Myra, Myra, My-raa!" + +At the call Mrs. Royall came hastily towards them. "Where is Myra? +Didn't she go berrying with us?" she inquired. + +"No," Louise explained lightly. "Bunny got her back up this morning and +said she was going alone to Kent's Corners, but of course she didn't. +She's started that stunt half a dozen times and always backed out. +She's just around somewhere." + +But Mrs. Royall still looked troubled. "She must be found," she said +with quick decision. "Get the megaphone, Louise, and call her with +that." + +Still laughing, Louise obeyed. Her clear voice carried well, and many +keen young ears were strained for the response that did not come. In the +silence that followed a second call, Mrs. Royall spoke to another girl. + +"Edith, get your bugle and sound the recall. If that does not bring her, +two of you must hurry over to the farm and harness Billy into the buggy; +and I will drive to Kent's Corners at once." + +The girls were no longer laughing. "You don't think anything could have +happened to Myra, Mrs. Royall?" one of them questioned anxiously. +"Almost all of us have walked over there. I went alone and so did Mary." + +"I know, but Myra is such a timid little thing. She cannot do what most +of you can." + +Edith Rue came running back with her bugle, and in a moment the notes of +the recall floated out on the still summer air. It was a rigid rule of +the camp that the recall should be promptly answered by any girl within +hearing, so when, in the silence that followed, no response was heard, +Mrs. Royall sent the two girls for the horse and buggy. + +"Have them here as quickly as possible," she called after them. + +Before the messengers were out of sight, however, there was an outcry +behind them. + +"Why, there she is! There's Myra now!" and every face turned towards +the small figure coming from the clump of evergreens, her eyes still +half-dazed with sleep. + +With an exclamation of relief, Mrs. Royall hurried to meet her. + +"Where were you, child? Didn't you hear us calling you?" she asked. + +"I--I--no. I heard the recall, and I came--I guess I was asleep," +stammered Myra bewildered by something tense in the atmosphere, and the +eyes all centred on her. + +"Asleep!" echoed Louise Johnson with a chuckle. "What did I tell you, +girls?" + +But Mrs. Royall saw that Myra looked pale and tired, and she noticed the +change that came over her face as Louise spoke. A quick wave of colour +swept the pale cheeks and the small head was lifted with an air that was +new and strange--in Myra Karr. Mrs. Royall spoke again, laying her hand +gently on the girl's shoulder. + +"Myra, how long have you been asleep? How long have you been back in +camp?" + +And Myra answered quietly, but with that new pride in her voice, "It was +quarter of four by the kitchen clock when I came. There was nobody +here--not even Katie----" + +"I'd just run out a bit to see if anny of ye was comin'," put in the +cook from the kitchen door where she stood, as much interested as any +one else in what was going on. + +"And did you go to Kent's Corners, my dear?" Mrs. Royall questioned +gently. + +It was Myra's hour of triumph. She forgot Louise Johnson's mocking +laugh--forgot everything but her beautiful new freedom. + +"O, I did--I did, Mrs. Royall!" she cried out. "I was awfully frightened +at first, but coming home I wasn't _one bit afraid_, and, please, you +won't let them call me Bunny any more, will you?" + +"No, my child, no. You've won a new name and you shall have it at the +next Council Fire. I'm so glad, Myra!" Mrs. Royall's face was almost as +radiant as the girl's. + +It was Louise Johnson who called out, "Three cheers for Myra Karr! She's +a _trump_!" + +The cheers were given with a will. Tears filled Myra's eyes, but they +were happy tears, as the girls crowded around her with questions and +exclamations, and Miss Grandis stood with a hand on her shoulder. + +"That's what Camp Fire has done for one girl," Mrs. Royall said in a low +tone to Laura Haven. "That child was afraid of the dark, afraid of the +water, afraid to be alone a minute, when she came. It is a great triumph +for her--a great victory." + +"Yes," returned Laura thoughtfully, and Anne added, + +"You've no idea how lonesome the camp looked when Laura and I came back +and found you all gone. It was so still it seemed almost uncanny. Myra +never would have dared to stay alone here before." + + + + +IV + +THE POOR THING + + +A week later Miss Grandis was called home by illness in her family, and +she asked Laura to drive to the station with her. + +"I wanted the chance to talk with you," she explained, as they drove +along the quiet country road. "You know I should not have been able to +stay here much longer anyhow, and now I shall not come back, and I want +you to take charge of my girls. Will you?" + +"O, I can't yet--I haven't had half enough training," Laura protested. + +"I know, but you've put so much into the time you have had in camp, and +I know that Mrs. Royall will be glad to have you in my place. You can +keep on with your training just the same. I want to tell you about the +girls." She told something of the environment of each one--enough to +help Laura to understand their needs. "And there's Elizabeth Page, who +is coming to-morrow," she went on. "I always think of her as the Poor +Thing. O, I do so hope the Camp Fire will do a great deal for her--she's +had so pitifully little in her life thus far. Her mother died when she +was a baby, and she has been just a drudge for her stepmother and the +younger children, and she's not strong enough for such hard work. She's +never had anything for herself. The camp will seem like paradise to her +if she can only get in touch with things--I'm sure it will." + +"I'll do my best for her," Laura promised. + +"I know you will. And you'll meet her when she comes, to-morrow?" + +"Of course," Laura returned. + +There was no time to spare when they reached the station, but Miss +Grandis' last word was of Elizabeth and her great need. + +Laura was at the station early the next day, and would have recognised +the Poor Thing even if she had not been the only girl leaving the train +at that place. Elizabeth was seventeen, but she might have been taken +for fourteen until one looked into her eyes--they seemed to mirror the +pain and privation of half a century. Laura's heart went out to her in a +wave of pitying tenderness, but the girl drew back as if frightened by +the warm friendliness of her greeting. + +All the way back to camp she sat silent, answering a direct question +with a nod or shake of the head, but never speaking; and when, at the +camp, a crowd of girls came to meet the newcomer, she looked wildly +around as if for refuge from all these strangers. Seeing this, Laura, +with a whispered word, sent the girls away, and introduced Elizabeth +only to Mrs. Royall and Anne Wentworth. + +"Another scared rabbit?" giggled Louise Johnson. + +"Don't call her that, Louise," said Bessie Carroll. "I'm awfully sorry +for the poor thing." + +Laura, overhearing the low-spoken words, said to herself, "There it +is--Poor Thing. That name is bound to cling to her, it fits so exactly." + +It did fit exactly, and within two days Elizabeth was the Poor Thing to +every girl in the camp. Laura kept the child with her most of the first +day; she was quiet and still as a ghost, did as she was told, and +watched all that went on, but she spoke to no one and never asked a +question. At night she was given a cot next to Olga's. When Laura showed +her her place at bedtime, she pointed to the adjoining tent. + +"I sleep right there, Elizabeth," she said, "and if you want anything in +the night, just speak, and I shall hear you. But I hope you will sleep +so soundly that you won't know anything till morning. It's lovely +sleeping out of doors like this!" + +Elizabeth said nothing, but she shivered as she cast a fearful glance +into the shadowy spaces beyond the tents, and Laura hastened to add, +"You needn't be a bit afraid. Nothing but birds and squirrels ever come +around here." + +Elizabeth went early to bed, and was apparently sound asleep when the +other girls went to their cots. But after all was still and the camp +lights out, she lay trembling, and staring wide-eyed into the darkness. +A thousand strange small sounds beat on her strained ears, and when +suddenly the hoot of an owl rang out from a nearby treetop, Elizabeth +sprang up with a frightened cry and clutched wildly at the girl in the +nearest cot. + +Olga's cold voice answered her cry. "It's nothing but an owl, you goose! +Go back to your bed!" + +But Elizabeth was on her knees, clinging desperately to Olga's hand. + +"O, I'm afraid, I'm afraid!" she moaned. "Please _please_ let me stay +here with you. I never was in a p-place like this before." + +Olga jerked her hand away from the clinging fingers. "Get back to your +bed!" she ordered under her breath. "Anybody'd think you were a _baby_." + +"I don't care _what_ anybody'd think if you'll only let me stay. I--I +must touch s-somebody," wailed the Poor Thing in a choked voice. + +"Well, it won't be me you'll touch," retorted Olga. "And if you don't +keep still I'll report you in the morning. You'll have every girl in the +camp awake presently." + +"O, I don't care," sobbed Elizabeth under her breath. "I--I want to go +home. I'd rather die than stay here!" + +"Well, die if you like, but leave the rest of us to sleep in peace," +muttered Olga, and turning her face away from the wretched little +creature crouching at her side, she went calmly to sleep. + +When she awoke she gave a casual glance at the next cot. It was empty, +but on the floor was a small huddled figure, one hand still clutching +Olga's blanket. Olga started to yank the blanket away, but the look of +suffering in the white face stayed her impatient hand. She touched the +thin shoulder of Elizabeth, and for once her touch was almost gentle. +Elizabeth opened her eyes with a start as Olga whispered, "Get back to +your bed. There's an hour before rising time." + +Elizabeth crawled slowly back to her own cot, but she did not sleep +again. Neither did Olga, and she was uncomfortably aware that a pair of +timid blue eyes were on her face until she turned her back on them. + +At ten o'clock that morning the girls all trooped down to the water. +Some in full knickerbockers and middy blouses were going to row or +paddle, but most wore bathing suits. With some difficulty Laura +persuaded Elizabeth to put on a bathing suit that Miss Grandis had left +for her, but no urging or coaxing could induce her to go into the water +even to wade, though other girls were swimming and splashing and +frolicking like mermaids. Elizabeth sat on the sand, her eyes following +Olga's dark head as the girl swept through the water like a +fish--swimming, floating, diving--she seemed as much at home in the +water as on land. + +"You can do all those things too, Elizabeth, if you will," Laura told +her. "Look at Myra, there--she has always been afraid to try to swim, +but she's learning to-day, and see how she is enjoying it." + +Elizabeth drew further into her shell of silence. She cast a fleeting +glance at Myra Karr, nervously trying to obey Mary Hastings' directions +and "act like a frog"--then her eyes searched again for Olga, now far +out in the bay. + +When she could not distinguish the dark head, anxiety at last conquered +her timidity, and she turned to Laura: + +"O, is she drowned?" she cried under her breath. "Olga--is she?" + +Anne Wentworth laughed out at the question. "Why, Elizabeth," she said, +leaning towards her, "Olga's a perfect fish in the water. She's the best +swimmer in camp. Look--there she comes now." + +She came swimming on her side, one strong brown arm cutting swiftly and +steadily through the water. When presently she walked up on the beach, a +pale smile glimmered over Elizabeth's face, but it vanished at Olga's +glance as she passed with the scornful fling--"Haven't even wet your +feet--_baby_!" + +Elizabeth's face flushed and she drew her bare feet under her. + +"Never mind, you'll wet them to-morrow, won't you, Elizabeth?" Laura +said; but the Poor Thing made no reply; she only gulped down a sob as +she looked after the straight young figure in the dripping bathing suit +marching down the beach. + +"She notices no one but Olga," Laura said as she walked back to camp +with her friend. "If Olga would only take an interest in _her_!" + +"If only she would!" Anne agreed. "But she seems to have no more feeling +than a fish!" + +Many of the girls did their best to draw the Poor Thing out of her shell +of scared silence, but they all failed. And Olga would do nothing. Yet +Elizabeth followed Olga like her shadow day after day. Olga's impatient +rebuffs--even her angry commands--only made the Poor Thing hang back a +little. + +When things had gone on so for a week, Laura asked Olga to go with her +to the village. She went, but they were no sooner on the road than she +began abruptly, "I know what you want of me, Miss Haven, but it's no +use. I can't be bothered with that Poor Thing--she makes me sick--always +hanging around and wanting to get her hands on me. I can't stand that +sort of thing, and I won't--that's all there is about it. I'll go home +first." + +When Laura answered nothing, Olga glanced at her grave face and went on +sulkily, "Nobody ought to expect me to put up with an everlasting +trailer like that girl." + +Still Laura was silent until Olga flung out, "You might as well say it. +I know what you are thinking of me." + +"I wasn't thinking of you, Olga. I was thinking of Elizabeth. If you saw +her drowning you'd plunge in and save her without a moment's +hesitation." + +"Of course I would--but I wouldn't have her hanging on to me like a +leech after I'd saved her." + +"I suppose you have not realised that in 'hanging on' to you--as you +express it--she is simply fighting for her life." + +"What do you mean, Miss Haven?" + +"I mean that Elizabeth is--starving. Not food starvation, but a worse +kind. Olga, this is the first time in her life that she has ever spent a +day away from home--she told me that--or ever had any one try to make +her happy. Is it any wonder that she doesn't know how to _be_ happy or +make friends? It seems strange that, from among so many who would gladly +be her friends here, she should have chosen you who are not willing to +be a friend to any one--strange, and a great pity, it seems. It throws +an immense responsibility upon you." + +"I don't want any such responsibility. I don't think any of you ought to +put it on me," Olga flung out sulkily. + +"We are not putting it on you," returned Laura gently. + +Olga twitched her shoulder with an impatient gesture, and the two walked +some distance before she spoke again. Then it was to say, "What are you +asking me to do, anyhow?" + +"_I_ am not asking you to do anything," Laura answered. "It is for you +to ask yourself what you are going to do. I believe it is in your power +to make over that poor girl mind and body--I might almost say, soul too. +She thinks she can do nothing but household drudgery. She is afraid of +everything. When I think of what you could do for her in the next +month--Olga, I wonder that you can let such a wonderful opportunity pass +you by." + +They went the rest of the way mostly in silence. When they returned to +the camp, Elizabeth was watching for them, but the glance Olga gave her +was so repellent that she shrank away, and went off alone to the +Lookout. Later Laura tried to interest Elizabeth in the making of a +headband of beadwork, but though she evidently liked to handle the +bright-coloured beads, she would not try to do the work herself. + +"I can't. I can't do things like that," she said with gentle +indifference, her eyes wandering off in search of Olga. + +The next day, however, Laura came to Anne Wentworth, her eyes shining. +"O Anne, what _do_ you think?" she cried. "Olga had Elizabeth in wading +this morning. Isn't that fine?" + +"Fine indeed--for a beginning. It shows what Olga might do with her if +she would." + +"Yes, for she was so cross with her! I wondered that Elizabeth did not +go away and leave her. No other girl in camp would let Olga speak to her +as she speaks to that Poor Thing." + +"No, the others are not Poor Things, you see--that makes all the +difference. But that Olga should take the trouble to make Elizabeth do +anything is a big step in advance--for Olga." + +"There is splendid material in Olga, Anne--I am sure of it," Laura +returned. + +There was splendid persistence in her, anyhow. She had undertaken to +overcome Elizabeth's fear of the water, but it was a harder task than +she had imagined. She did make the Poor Thing wade--clinging tightly to +Olga's fingers all the time--but further than that she could not lead +her. Day after day Elizabeth would stand shivering and trembling in +water up to her knees, her cheeks so white and her lips so blue that +Olga dared not compel her to go further. Yet day after day Olga made her +wade in that far at least; not once would she allow her to omit it. + +One day she sat for a long time looking gravely at the Poor Thing, who +flushed and paled nervously under that steady silent scrutiny. At last +Olga said abruptly, "What do you like best, Elizabeth?" + +"Like--best----" Elizabeth faltered uncertainly. + +Olga frowned and repeated her question. + +Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "I--I like Molly. And the other +children--a little." + +"You mean your brothers and sisters?" + +Elizabeth nodded. + +"Which is Molly?" + +"The littlest one. She's four, and she's real pretty," Elizabeth +declared proudly. "She's prettier than Annie Pearson." + +"Yes, but what do you yourself like?" Olga persisted. "What would you +like to have--pretty dresses, ribbons--what?" + +"I--I never thought," was the vague reply. + +Again Olga's brows met in a frown that made the Poor Thing shrink and +tremble. She brought out her necklace and tossed it into the other +girl's lap. + +"Think that's pretty?" she asked. + +"O _yes_!" Elizabeth breathed softly. She did not touch the necklace, +but gazed admiringly at the bright-coloured beads as they lay in her +lap. + +"You can have one like it if you want," Olga told her. + +"O no! Who'd give me one?" + +"Nobody. But you can get it for yourself. See here--I got all those blue +beads by learning about the wild flowers that grow right around here, +the weeds and stones and animals and birds. You can get as many in a few +days. I got that green one for making a little bit of a basket, +that--for making my washstand there out of a soap box--that, for +trimming my hat. Every bead on that necklace is there because of some +little thing I did or made--all things that you can do too." + +The Poor Thing shook her head. "O _no_," she stammered in her weak +gentle voice, "I can't do anything. I--I ain't like other girls." + +"You can be if you want to," Olga flung out at her impatiently. +"Say--what _can_ you do? You can do something." + +"No--nothing." The Poor Thing's blue eyes filled slowly with big tears, +and she looked through them beseechingly at the other. Olga drew a long +exasperated breath. She wanted to take hold of the girl's thin shoulders +and shake the limpness out of her once for all. + +"What did you do at home?" she demanded with harsh abruptness. + +"N--nothing," Elizabeth answered with a miserable gulp. + +"You did too! Of course you did something," Olga flamed. "You didn't sit +and stare at Molly and the others all day the way you stare at me, did +you? _What_ did you do, I say?" + +Elizabeth gave her a swift scared glance as she stammered, "I didn't do +anything but cook and sweep and wash and iron and take care of the +children--truly I didn't." + +Olga's face brightened. "Good heavens--if you aren't the limit!" she +shrugged. Then she sprang up and got pencil and paper. "What can you +cook?" she demanded, and proceeded to put Elizabeth through a rapid-fire +examination on marketing, plain cooking, washing, ironing, sweeping, +bed-making, and care of babies. At last she had found some things that +even the Poor Thing could do. With flying fingers she scribbled down the +girl's answers. Finally she cried excitingly, "_There!_ See what a goose +you were to say you couldn't do anything! Why, there are lots of girls +here who couldn't do half these things. Elizabeth Page, listen. You've +got twelve orange beads like those," she pointed to the +necklace--"already, for a beginning. That's more than I have of that +colour. I don't know anything about taking care of babies, nor half what +you do about cooking and marketing." + +Elizabeth stared, her mouth half open, her eyes widened in incredulous +wonder. "But--but," she faltered, "I guess there's some mistake. Just +housework and things like that ain't anything to get beads for--are +they?" + +"They are _that_! I tell you Mrs. Royall will give you twelve honours +and twelve yellow beads at the next Council Fire, and if you half try +you can win some blue and brown and red ones too before that, and you've +just _got to do it_. Do you understand?" + +The other nodded, her eyes full of dumb misery. Then she began to +whimper, "I--I--can't ever do things like you and the rest do," she +moaned. + +"Why not? You can walk, can't you?" + +"W--walk?" + +"Yes--_walk_! Didn't hurt you to walk to the village yesterday, did it?" + +"No--but I couldn't go--alone." + +"Who said anything about going alone? You'll walk to Slabtown and back +with me to-morrow." + +"O, I'd like that--with you," said the Poor Thing, brightening. + +Olga gave an impatient sniff. Sometimes she almost hated +Elizabeth--almost but not quite. + +"You'll go with me to-morrow," she declared, "but next day you'll go +with some other girl." + +Elizabeth shrank into herself, shaking her head. + +Olga eyed her sternly. "Very well--if you won't go with some other girl, +you can't go with me to-morrow," she declared. + +But the next day after breakfast the two set off for Slabtown. Halfway +there, Elizabeth suddenly crumpled up and dropped in a limp heap by the +roadside. + +"What's the matter?" Olga demanded, standing over her. + +Elizabeth lifted tired eyes. "I don't know. You walked so--fast," she +panted. + +"Fast!" echoed Olga scornfully; but she sat on a stone wall and waited +until a little colour had crept back into the other girl's thin cheeks, +and went at a slower pace afterwards. + +"There! Do that every day for a week and you'll have one of your red +beads," was her comment when they were back at camp. "And now go lie in +that hammock." + +When from the kitchen she brought a glass of milk and some crackers, she +found Elizabeth sitting on the ground. + +"Why didn't you get into the hammock as I told you?" she demanded, and +the Poor Thing answered vaguely that she "thought maybe they wouldn't +want" her to. + +Olga poked the milk at her. "Drink it!" she ordered, "and eat those +crackers," and when Elizabeth had obeyed, added, "Now get into that +hammock and lie there till dinner-time," and meekly Elizabeth did so. + +When, later in the day, some of the younger girls started a game of +blindman's buff, Olga seized Elizabeth's hand. "Come," she said, "we're +going to play too." + +"O, I can't! I--I never did," cried the Poor Thing, hanging back. + +"I never did either, but I'm going to now and so are you. Come!" and +Elizabeth yielded to the imperative command. + +The other girls stared in amazement as the two joined them. It was +little Bess Carroll who smiled a welcome as Louise Johnson cried out, + +"Wonders will never cease-_-Olga Priest playing a game!_" + +She spoke to Mary Hastings, who answered hastily, "Bless her +heart--she's doing it just to get that Poor Thing to play. Let's take +them right in, girls." + +The girls were quick to respond. Olga was the next one caught, and when +she was blinded she couldn't help catching Elizabeth, who stood still, +never thinking of getting out of the way. Elizabeth didn't want the +handkerchief tied over her eyes, but she submitted meekly, at a look +from Olga. Half a dozen girls flung themselves in her way, and the one +on whom her limp grasp fell ignored the fact that Elizabeth could not +name her, and gaily held up the handkerchief to be tied over her own +eyes in turn. Nobody caught Olga again. She was as quick as a flash and +as slippery as an eel. Elizabeth's eyes followed her constantly, and a +little glimmer of a smile touched her lips as Olga slipped safely out of +reach of one catcher after another. + +When she pulled Elizabeth out of the noisy merry circle, Olga glanced at +the clock in the dining-room and made a swift calculation. +"Three-quarters of an hour--blindman's buff." + +"We've got to play at some game every day, Elizabeth," she announced, +with grim determination. She hated games, but Elizabeth must win her red +beads and the red blood for which they stood. She had undertaken to make +something out of this jellyfish of a girl and she did not mean to fail. +That was all there was about it. So every day she led forth the +reluctant Elizabeth and patiently stood over her while she blundered +through a game of basket-ball, hockey, prisoner's base, or whatever the +girls were playing. But Elizabeth made small progress. Always she barely +stumbled through her part, helped in every way by Olga and often by +other girls who helped her for Olga's sake. + +It was Mary Hastings who broke out earnestly one day, looking after the +two going down the road, "I say, girls, we're just a lot of selfish pigs +to leave that Poor Thing on Olga's hands all the time. It must be misery +to her to have Elizabeth hanging on to her as she does--a dead weight." + +"Right you are! I should think she'd hate the Poor Thing--I should. I +should take her down to the dock some night and drown her," said Louise +Johnson with her inevitable giggle. + +"I think Olga deserves all the honours there are for the way she endures +that--jellyfish," said Edith Rue. + +"I never saw any one thaw out the way Olga has lately though. She really +deigns to speak amiably now--sometimes," Annie Pearson put in with a +sniff. + +"She 'deigns' to do anything under the sun that will help that Poor +Thing to be a bit like other girls," cried Mary. "Olga is splendid, +girls! She makes me ashamed of myself twenty times a day. Do you realise +what it means? She is trying to make that Poor Thing _live_. She just +exists now. O, we must help her--we must--every single one of us!" + +"But how, Molly? We're willing enough to help, but we don't know how. +Elizabeth turns her back on every one of us except Olga--you know she +does." + +"I know," Mary admitted, "but if we really try we can find ways to +help." + +When, compelled by Olga's unyielding determination, the Poor Thing had +taken a three-mile tramp every day for a week, she began to enjoy it, +and did not object when another mile was added. She was always happy +when she was with Olga, but at other times--when they were not +walking--her content was marred by the consciousness that Olga was not +really pleased with her because she could not do so many things that the +others wanted her to do--like beadwork and basketwork, and above all, +swimming. But Olga was pleased with her when she went willingly on these +daily tramps. + +The Poor Thing seemed to find something particularly attractive about +the Slabtown settlement, and liked better to go in that direction than +any other. She would often stop and watch the dirty half-naked babies +playing in the bare yards; and as she watched them there would come into +her face a look that Olga could not understand--Olga, who had never had +a baby sister to love and cuddle. + +One day when the two approached the little settlement, they saw half a +dozen boys and girls walking along the top of a stone-wall that bordered +the road. A baby girl--not yet three--was begging the others to help her +up, but they refused. + +"You can't get up here, Polly John--you're too little!" the boys shouted +at her. But evidently Polly John had a will of her own, for she made +such an outcry that at last her sister exclaimed, "We've got to take her +up--she'll yell till we do," and to the baby she cried, "Now you hush +up, Polly, an' ketch hold o' my hand." + +The baby held up her hand and with a jerk she was pulled to the top of +the wall, but by no means did she "hush up." She writhed and twisted and +screamed, but there was a difference now--a note of pain and terror in +the shrill cries. + +"What ails her? What's she yellin' for now?" one boy demanded, and +another shouted, "Take her down, Peggy. You get down with her." + +"I won't, either!" Peggy retorted angrily, but she was sitting on the +wall now, holding the baby half impatiently, half anxiously. + +"Look at her arm. What makes her stick it out like that?" one boy +questioned. + +The big sister took hold of the small arm, but at her touch the baby's +cries redoubled, and a woman put her head out of a window and sharply +demanded what they were doing to that child anyhow. + +It was then that the Poor Thing suddenly darted across the road and +caught the wailing child from the arms of her astonished sister. + +"O, don't touch her arm!" Elizabeth cried. "Don't you see? It's hurting +her dreadfully. You slipped it out of joint when you pulled her up +there." + +"I didn't, either! Much you know about it!" the older girl flashed back, +sticking out her tongue. But the fear in her eyes belied her impudence. + +"Where's her mother?" Elizabeth demanded. + +"She ain't got none," chorused all the children. + +Several women now came hurrying out to see what was the matter. One of +them held out her arms to the child, but she hid her face on Elizabeth's +shoulder, and still kept up her frightened wailing. + +"How d'ye know her arm's out o' joint?" one of the women demanded when +Peggy had repeated what Elizabeth had said. + +"I do know because I pulled my little sister's arm out just that way +once, lifting her over a crossing. O, I _wish_ I knew how to slip it in +again! It wouldn't take a minute if we only knew how. Now we must get +her to a doctor--quick. It is hurting her dreadfully, you know--that's +why she keeps crying so!" + +"A doctor! Ain't no doctor nearer'n East Bassett," one woman said. + +"East Bassett! Then we must take her there," Elizabeth said to Olga, who +for once stood by silent and helpless. + +"We can get her there in twenty minutes--maybe fifteen if we walk fast," +she said. + +"Then"--Elizabeth questioned the women--"can any of you take her there?" + +The women exchanged glances. "It's 'most dinner time--my man will be +home," said one. The others all had excuses; no one offered to take the +child to East Bassett. No one really believed in the necessity. What did +this white-faced slip of a girl know about children, anyhow? + +"Then I'll take her myself," the Poor Thing declared. "I guess I can +carry her that far." + +"An' who'll bring her back?" demanded the child's sister gloomily. + +"You must come with me and bring her back," Elizabeth answered with +decision. "Come quick! I tell you it's hurting her awfully. Don't you +see how white she is?" + +Peggy looked at the little face all white and drawn with pain, and +surrendered. + +"I'll go," she said meekly, and without more words, Elizabeth set off +with the child in her arms. Olga followed in silence, and Peggy trailed +along in the rear, but as she went she turned and shouted back to one +of the boys, "Jimmy, you come along too with the wagon to bring her home +in," and presently a freckled-faced boy, with straw-coloured hair, had +joined the procession. The wagon he drew was a soapbox fitted with a +pair of wheels from a go-cart. + +"Let me carry her, Elizabeth--she's too heavy for you," Olga said after +a few minutes; but the child clung to Elizabeth, refusing to be +transferred, and at the pressure of the little yellow head against her +shoulder, Elizabeth smiled. + +"I can carry her," she said. "She's not so very heavy. She makes me +think of little Molly." + +So Elizabeth carried the child all the way, and held her still when they +reached East Bassett and by rare good luck found the doctor at home. He +was an old man, and over his glasses he looked up with a twinkle of +amusement as the party of five trailed into his office. But the next +instant he demanded abruptly, + +"What ails that child?" + +"It's her arm--see?" Elizabeth said. "It's out of joint." + +"Yes!" The doctor snapped out the word. Then his hands were on the +baby's shoulder, there was a quick skilful twist, a shriek of pain and +terror from the baby, and the bone slipped into place. + +"There, that's all right. She's crying now only because she's +frightened," the doctor said, snapping his fingers at the child. "How +did it happen?" + +Elizabeth explained. + +"Well, I guess you'll know better than to lift a baby by the arm another +time," the doctor said, with a kindly smile into Elizabeth's tired face. +"Is it your sister?" + +"No--hers." Elizabeth indicated Peggy, who twisted her bare feet +nervously one over the other as the doctor looked her over. "They live +at Slabtown," Elizabeth added. + +"O--at Slabtown. And where do you live?" + +"I'm--we," Elizabeth's gesture included Olga, "we are at the camp." + +"And how came you mixed up in this business?" The doctor meant to know +all about the affair now. When Elizabeth had told him, he looked at her +curiously. "And so you lugged that heavy child all the way down here?" +he said. + +"Olga wanted to carry her, but the baby wouldn't let her--and she was +crying, so----" Elizabeth's voice trailed off into silence. + +The doctor smiled at her again. Then suddenly he inquired in a gruff +voice, "Well now, who's going to pay me for this job--you?" + +"_O!_" cried Elizabeth, her eyes suddenly very anxious. "I--I never +thought of that. It was hurting her so--and she's so little--I just +thought--thought----" Again she left her sentence unfinished. + +"What's her name? Who's her father?" the doctor demanded. + +Peggy answered, "Father's Jim Johnson. I guess mebbe he'll pay +you--sometime." + +The doctor's face changed. He remembered when Jim Johnson's wife died a +year before--he remembered the three children now. + +"There's nothing to pay," he said kindly, "only be careful how you pull +your little sister around by the arms after this. Some children can +stand that sort of handling, but she can't." + +"O, thank you!" Elizabeth's eyes full of gratitude were lifted to the +old doctor's face as she spoke. He rose, and looking down at her, laid a +kindly hand on her shoulder. + +"That camp's a good place for you. Stay there as long as you can," he +said. "But don't lug a three-year-old a mile and a half again. You are +hardly strong enough yet for that kind of athletics." + +They all filed out then, and Elizabeth put little Polly John into the +soapbox wagon, kissed the small face, dirty and tear-stained as it was, +and stood for a moment looking after the three children as they set off +towards Slabtown. + +As they went on to the camp, Olga kept glancing at Elizabeth in silent +wonder. Was this really the Poor Thing who could not do anything--who +would barely answer "yes" or "no" when any one spoke to her? Olga +watched her in puzzled silence. + + + + +V + +WIND AND WEATHER + + +Olga, sitting under a big oak, was embroidering her ceremonial dress, +and, as usual, Elizabeth sat near, watching her as she worked. Olga did +it as she did most things, with taste and skill, but she listened +indifferently when Laura Haven, stopping beside her, spoke admiringly of +the work. + +"I wouldn't waste time over it if I hadn't promised Miss Grandis to +embroider it. She gave us all the stuff, you know," Olga explained. + +"It isn't wasting time to make things beautiful," Laura replied. "That +is part of our law, you know, to seek beauty, and wherever possible, +create it." She looked at Elizabeth and added, "You'll be learning +by-and-by to do such work." + +There was no response from the Poor Thing, only the usual shrinking +gesture and eyes down-dropped. Acting on a sudden impulse, Laura spoke +again. "Elizabeth, the cook is short of helpers this morning, and I've +volunteered to shell peas. There's a big lot of them to do. I wonder if +you would be willing to help me." + +To her surprise Elizabeth rose at once with a nod. "Olga will be glad to +have her away for a little while," Laura was thinking as they went over +to the kitchen. + +It certainly was a big lot of peas. Forty girls, living and sleeping in +the open, develop famous appetites, and the "telephone" peas were +delicious. But as the two worked, the great pile of pods grew steadily +smaller, and finally Laura looked at Elizabeth with a laugh. "I've been +trying my best, but I can't keep up with you," she said. "How do you +shell them so fast, Elizabeth?" + +A wee ghost of a smile--the first Laura had ever seen there--fluttered +over the girl's face. "I'm used to this kind of work. You have to do it +fast when you're cookin' for eight," she explained simply. + +"And you have cooked for eight?" Laura questioned, and added to herself, +"No wonder you look like a ghost of a girl." + +Elizabeth nodded. Laura could not induce her to talk, but still she felt +that somehow she had penetrated a little way into the shell of silence +and reserve. As they went back across the camp, she dropped her arm over +Elizabeth's shoulders, and said, + +"You're a splendid helper, Elizabeth. May I call on you the next time I +need any one?" + +Another silent nod, and then the girl slipped back into her place beside +Olga. + +"Then I will--and thank you," Laura returned as she passed on. Olga +glanced after her with something odd and inscrutable in her dark eyes, +and there was a question in the look with which she searched the face of +Elizabeth. But she did not put the question into words. + +Afterwards Laura spoke to her friend of the Poor Thing with a new +hopefulness, telling how willingly she had helped with the peas. + +"You know I've tried in vain to get her to do other things, but this +time she was so quick to respond! I'm almost afraid to hope, but maybe +I've had an inspiration. I must try the child again though before I can +feel at all sure." + +She made her second trial the next day, when she sent Bessie Carroll to +ask Elizabeth to help her with the dishes. "It's my day to work in the +kitchen," Bessie told her, "and Miss Laura thought you might be willing +to help me. Most of the girls, you know, hate the kitchen work. You +don't, do you?" + +"I _like_ to help," replied Elizabeth promptly. + +"I like Elizabeth!" Bessie confided to Laura that night. "Before, I've +tried to get her into things because she seemed so lonesome and 'out of +it,' don't you know? But I like her now, she was so willing to help me +to-day. I thought she was awfully slow, but she was quick as anybody +with the dishes." + +Then Laura felt sure she had found the key. "Elizabeth loves to help," +she told Anne Wentworth. + +"'Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten,'" she +quoted. "Anne, I believe that that spirit is in the Poor Thing--deep +down in the starved little heart of her--while Olga--with Olga it is the +other. She 'glorifies work' because 'through work she is free.' She +works 'to win, to conquer, to be master.' She works 'for the joy of the +working.' That's the difference." + +Anne nodded gravely. "I am sure you are right about Olga. It has always +seemed to me that to her 'Wohelo means work' and only that." + +"And to Elizabeth it means--or will mean--service and that means, +underneath--love," said Laura, her voice full of deep feeling. "O Anne, +I so _long_ to help that poor child to get some of the beauty and joy +of life into her little neglected soul!" + +"If she has love, she has the best thing in life already," Anne +reminded. "The rest will come--in time." + +A day or two later Laura found another excuse for asking Elizabeth's +help, and as before, the response was quick, and again Olga's busy +fingers paused as she looked after the two, and quite unconsciously her +dark brows came together in a frown. Elizabeth had gone with scarcely a +glance at her. A week--two weeks earlier, she would have hung back and +refused. Olga shook her head impatiently as she resumed her work, and +wondered why she was dissatisfied with Elizabeth for going so willingly. +Of course she must do what her Guardian asked. Nevertheless----Olga left +it there. + +It was an hour before Elizabeth came back, and this time there was in +her face something half shy, half exultant, and she did not say a word +about what Miss Laura had wanted her for. Olga made a mental note of +that, but she was far too proud to make any inquiries. + +The next morning after breakfast Elizabeth disappeared again, and this +time too it was fully an hour before she returned, and as before she +came back with a shining something in her eyes--a something that changed +slowly to troubled brooding when Olga did not look at her or speak to +her all the rest of the morning. + +When the third day it was the same, Olga faced the situation in stony +silence. She would not ask why Elizabeth went or where, but she silently +resented her going, and Elizabeth, sensitively conscious of her +resentment, after that, slipped away each time with a wistful backward +glance; and when she returned, there was no shining radiance in her +eyes, but only that wistful pleading which Olga coldly ignored. So it +went on day after day. Olga always knew where Elizabeth was except for +that one hour in the morning, which was never mentioned between them. +The other times she was always helping some one--darning stockings for +Louise Johnson--Elizabeth knew how to darn stockings--or helping little +Bessie Carroll hunt for some of her belongings, which she was always +losing, or helping Katie the cook, who declared that nobody in camp +could pare potatoes and apples, or peel tomatoes or pick over berries so +fast as the Poor Thing. There was not a day now that some one did not +call on Elizabeth for something like this, for the girls had found out +that she was always willing. She seemed to take it quite as a matter of +course that she should be at the service of everybody. But Laura noted +the fact that she never asked anybody to help her. + +Then came a night when Mrs. Royall detained the girls for a moment after +supper in the dining-room. + +"I think we are going to have a heavy storm," she said, "and we must be +prepared for it. Put all your belongings under cover where they will be +secure from wind and rain. I should advise you to sleep in your +gymnasium suits--you will be none too warm in this northeast wind--and +have your rubber blankets and overshoes handy. Guardians will examine +all tent-pins and ropes and see that everything is secure. No tent-sides +up to-night, of course. I shall have a fire here, and lanterns burning +all night; so if anything is needed you can come right here. Now +remember, girls, there is nothing to be afraid of--and Camp Fire Girls, +of course, are never afraid. That is all, but attend to these things at +once, and as it is too chilly to stay out, we will all spend the evening +here." + +The girls scattered, and the next half-hour was spent in making +everything ready for stormy weather. Only Louise Johnson, her mouth full +of mint gum, gaily protested that it was all nonsense. It might rain, of +course, but she didn't believe there was going to be any heavy storm--in +August---- + +"If the rest of you want to bundle up in your gym. suits you can, but +excuse _me_!" she said. "And I can't put all my duds under cover." + +"All right, Johnny, you'll have nobody but yourself to blame if you find +your things soaked, or blown into the bay before morning," Mary Hastings +told her. "I'm going to obey orders," and she hurried over to her own +tent. + +The evening began merrily in the big dining-room. The canvas sides had +been securely fastened down, and a splendid wood fire blazed in the wide +fireplace. Tables were piled at one side of the room, and the girls +played games, and danced to the music of two violins. At bedtime Mrs. +Royall served hot chocolate and wafers, and then the girls went to their +tents. By that time the sky was covered with a murk of black clouds, and +a penetrating wind was blowing up the bay and whistling through the +grove. Extra blankets had been put over the cots and rubber blankets +over all, and the girls were quite willing to pull their flannel gym. +suits over their night clothes, and found them none too warm. Even +Louise Johnson followed the example of the others. "Gee!" she exclaimed +as she tucked the extra blanket closely around her shoulders, "camping +out isn't all it's cracked up to be--not in this weather. Isn't that +thunder?" + +It was thunder, and some of the more timid girls heard it with quaking +hearts. But it was distant, low growling thunder, and after a little it +died away. The girls, under their wool coverings, were warm and +comfortable, and their laughter and chatter ceased as they dropped off +to sleep. + +It seemed as if the storm spirits had maliciously waited that their +onset might be the more effective, for when all was quiet, and everybody +in camp asleep, the muttering of the thunder grew louder, lightning +began to zigzag across the black cloud masses, and the whistling of the +wind deepened to a steady ominous growl. Tent ropes creaked under the +strain of the heavy blasts; trees writhed and twisted, and the rain came +in gusts, swift, spiteful, and icy cold. In the dining-room Mrs. Royall +awoke from a light doze and piled fresh logs on the fire. Anne and +Laura, whom she had kept with her in case their help might be needed, +peered anxiously out of the windows. + +"Can't see a thing but black night except when the flashes come," Anne +said, "but this uproar is bound to awaken the girls." + +"And some of them are sure to be frightened," added Mrs. Royall. + +"It is enough to frighten them--all this tumult," Laura said. "I wish we +could get them all in here." + +"I'd have kept them all here and made a big field bed on the floor if I +had thought we were going to have such a storm as this," Mrs. Royall +said anxiously. "If it doesn't lessen soon, I shall take a lantern and +go the round of the tents to see if all is right." + +As she spoke there came a loud rattling peal of thunder, followed +immediately by a blinding flash of lightning that zigzagged across the +sky, making the dense darkness yet blacker by contrast. + +It was then that Mary Hastings, sitting up in bed, caught a glimpse, in +the glare of the lightning, of Annie Pearson's white terrified face in +the next cot. + +"O Mary, I'm sc--scared to d--death!" Annie whimpered, her teeth +chattering with cold and terror. + +"We are all right if only our tent doesn't blow over," returned Mary, +and her steady voice quieted Annie for the moment. "If it does, we must +make a dive for the dining-room. Got your raincoats and rubbers handy, +girls?" + +"I'm putting mine on," Olga's voice was as cool and undisturbed as +Mary's. She turned towards the next cot and added, "Elizabeth, you've no +raincoat. Wrap yourself in your rubber blanket if the tent goes." + +"Ye--es," returned Elizabeth, with a little frightened gasp. + +Under the bedclothes Annie Pearson was sobbing and moaning, "O, I wish I +was home! I wish I was home!" + +Mary Hastings spoke sternly. "Annie Pearson, if you don't stop that +whimpering I'll shake you!" + +Annie subsided into sniffling silence. Outside there was a lull, and +after a moment, Mary added hopefully, "There, I guess the worst is over, +and we're all right." + +While the words were yet on her lips, the storm leaped up like a giant +refreshed. Rain came down in a deluge, beating through tent-canvas and +spraying, with fine mist, the faces of the girls. Another vivid glare of +lightning was followed by a long, loud rattling peal ending in a +terrific crash that seemed fairly to rend the heavens, while the wind +shook the tents as if giant hands were trying to wrest them from their +fastenings. Then from all over the camp arose frightened shrieks and +wails and cries, but Annie Pearson now was too terrified to utter a +word. The next moment there was a loud, ripping tearing sound, and as +fresh cries broke out, Mrs. Royall's voice, clear and steady, rose above +the tumult. + +"Be quiet, girls," she called. "One tent has gone over, but nobody's +hurt. Mary Hastings, slip on your coat and rubbers, and come and help +us--quick!" + +"I'm coming," called Mary instantly, and directly she was out in the +storm. Where the next tent had been, nothing but the wooden flooring, +the iron cots, and four wooden boxes remained, and over these the rain +was pouring in heavy, blinding sheets. Mrs. Royall, as wet as if she had +just come out of the bay, was holding up a lantern, by the light of +which Mary caught a fleeting glimpse of four figures in dripping +raincoats scudding towards the dining-room, while two others followed +them with arms full of wet bedding. + +Mrs. Royall told Mary to gather up the bedding from a third cot and +carry that to the dining-room, "And you take the rest of it," she added +to another girl, who had followed Mary. "And stay in the +dining-room--both of you. Don't come out again. Miss Anne will tell you +what to do there." + +She held the lantern high until the girls reached the dining-room, then +she hurried to another tent, from which came a hubbub of frightened +cries. Pushing aside the canvas curtain she stepped inside the tent, and +holding up her lantern, looked about her. The cries and excited +exclamations ceased at the sight of her, though one girl could not +control her nervous sobbing. + +"What is the matter here? Your tent hasn't blown over. What are you +crying about, Rose?" Mrs. Royall demanded. + +Rose Anderson, an excitable little creature of fifteen, lifted a face +white as chalk. "O," she sobbed, "something came in--right up on my bed. +It was big and--and furry--and _wet_! O Mrs. Royall, I never was so +scared in my life!" She ended with a burst of hysterical sobbing. + +Mrs. Royall cast a swift searching glance around the tent, then--wet and +cold and worried as she was, her face crinkled into sudden laughter. + +"Look, Rose--over there on that box. That must be the wet, furry _big_ +intruder that scared you so!" + +Four pairs of round frightened eyes followed her pointing finger; and on +the box they saw a half-grown rabbit, with eyes bulging like marbles as +the little creature crouched there in deadly terror. One glance, and +three of the girls broke into shrieks of nervous laughter in which, +after a moment, Rose joined. And having begun to laugh the girls kept +on, until those in the other tents began to wonder if somebody had gone +crazy. Mrs. Royall finally had to speak sternly to put an end to the +hysterical chorus. + +"There, there, girls, that will do--now be quiet! Listen, the thunder is +fainter now, and the lightning less sharp. I think the wind is going +down too. Are any of you wet?" + +"Only--only Rose, where the _big_ furry thing----" began one, and at +that a fresh peal of laughter rang out. But Mrs. Royall's grave face +silenced it quickly. + +"Listen, girls," she repeated, "you are keeping me here when I am needed +to look after others. I cannot go until you are quiet. I'll take this +half-drowned rabbit"--she reached over and picked up the trembling +little creature--"with me; and now I think you can go to sleep. I am +sure the worst of the storm is over." + +"We will be quiet, Mrs. Royall," Edith Rue promised, her lips twitching +again as she looked at the shivering rabbit. + +"And I hope now _you_ can get some rest," another added, and then Mrs. +Royall dropped the curtain and went out again into the rain, which was +still falling heavily. All the other tents had withstood the gale, and +when Mrs. Royall had looked into each one, answered the eager questions +of the girls, and assured them that no one was hurt and the worst of the +storm was over, she hurried back to the dining-room. There she found +that Anne and Laura had warmed and dried the girls, who had been turned +out of their tent, given them hot milk, and made up dry beds for them on +the floor. + +"They are warm as toast," Anne assured her. + +"And now you and I will get back to bed, Elizabeth," Mary Hastings said, +again slipping on her raincoat, while Laura quietly threw her own over +the other girl's shoulders. + +"Wait a minute," Mrs. Royall ordered, and brought them two sandbags hot +from the kitchen oven. "You must not go to sleep with cold feet. And +thank you both for your help," she added. "I'll hold the lantern here at +the door so you can see your way." But Laura quietly took the lantern +from her, and held it till Mary called, "All right!" + +"Is that you, Mary?" Olga's quiet voice questioned, as the girls entered +the tent. + +"Yes--Elizabeth and I. The excitement is all over and the storm will be +soon. Let's all get to sleep as fast as we can." + +"Elizabeth!" Olga repeated to herself. She had not known that Elizabeth +had left her cot. "Why did you go?" she asked in a low tone, as +Elizabeth crept under the blankets. + +"Why--to help," the Poor Thing answered, squeezing the hand that touched +hers in the darkness. + +The storm surely was lessening now. The lightning came at longer +intervals and the thunder lagged farther and farther behind it. The rain +still fell, but not so heavily, and the roar of the wind had died down +to a sullen growl. In ten minutes the other three girls were sound +asleep, but Olga lay long awake, her eyes searching the darkness, as her +thoughts searched her own soul, finding there some things that greatly +astonished her. + + + + +VI + +A WATER CURE + + +There were some pale cheeks and heavy eyes the next morning, but no one +had taken cold from the exposure of the night, and most of the girls +were as fresh and full of life as ever. The camp, however, was strewn +with leaves and broken branches, and one tree was uprooted. Mrs. +Royall's face was grave as she thought of what might have been, had that +tree fallen across any of the tents. It was a heavy responsibility that +she carried with these forty girls under her charge, and never had she +felt it more deeply than now. + +The baby bunny was evidently somebody's stray pet, for it submitted to +handling as if used to it, showed no desire to get away, and contentedly +nibbled the lettuce leaves and carrots which the girls begged of Katie. + +"He fairly _purrs_ when I scratch his head," Louise Johnson declared +gaily. "Girls, we must keep him for the camp mascot." + +"Looks as if we should have to keep him unless a claimant appears," Mary +Hastings said. "I've almost stepped on him twice already. I don't +believe we could drive him away with a club." + +"Nobody wants to drive him away," retorted Louise, lifting him by his +long ears, "unless maybe Rose," she added, with a teasing glance over +her shoulder. "You know Rose doesn't care for _big_ furry things." + +"Well, I guess," protested Rose, "if he had flopped into your face all +dripping wet, in the dark, as he did into mine last night, you wouldn't +have stopped to measure him before you yelled, any more than I did. He +_felt_ as big as--a wildcat, so there!" and Rose turned away with +flushed cheeks, followed by shouts of teasing laughter. + +"It's--too bad. I'd have been scared too," said a low voice, and Rose, +turning, stared in amazement at the Poor Thing--the _Poor Thing_--for +almost the first time since she came to camp, volunteering a remark. + +"Why--why, you Po--_Elizabeth_!" Rose stammered, and then suddenly she +slipped her arm around Elizabeth's waist and drew her off to the hammock +behind the pines. "Come," she said, "I want to tell you about it. The +girls are all laughing at me--especially Louise Johnson--but it wasn't +any laughing matter to me last night. I was scared stiff--truly I was!" +She poured the story of her experiences into the other girl's ears. The +fact that Elizabeth said nothing made no difference to Rose. She felt +the silent sympathy and was comforted. When she had talked herself out, +Elizabeth slipped away and sought Olga, but Olga was nowhere to be +found--not in the camp nor on the beach, but one of the boats was +missing, and at last a girl told Elizabeth that she had seen Olga go off +alone in it. That meant an age of anxious watching and waiting for the +Poor Thing. She never could get over her horror of the treacherous blue +water. To her it was a great restless monster forever reaching out after +some living thing to clutch and drag down into its cruel bosom. It was +agony to her to see Olga swim and dive; hardly less agony to see her go +off in a boat or canoe. Always Elizabeth was sure that _this_ time she +would not come back. + +[Illustration: +We pull long, we pull strong, A dip now--a foaming prow +We pull keen and true; Through waters so blue + We sing to the king of the great black rocks + Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox] + +She had put on her bathing suit, for Olga still made her wade every +morning, and she wandered forlornly along the beach, and finally +ventured a little way into the water. It was horrible to do even that +alone, but she had promised, and she must do it even if Olga was not +there to know. A troop of girls in bathing suits came racing down to the +beach, Anne and Laura following them. + +"What--who is that standing out in the water all alone?" demanded Anne +Wentworth, who was a little near-sighted. + +Annie Pearson broke into a peal of laughter. "It's that Poor Thing," she +cried. "Did you ever see such a forlorn figure!" + +"Looks like a sick penguin," laughed Louise Johnson. + +"Why in the world is she standing there all alone?" cried Laura, and +hurried on ahead, calling, "Elizabeth--Elizabeth, come here. I want +you." + +Elizabeth, standing in water up to her ankles, hesitated for a moment, +swept the wide stretch of blue with a wistful searching glance, and then +obeyed the summons. + +"Why were you standing there, dear?" Laura questioned gently, leading +her away from the laughing curious girls. + +Elizabeth lifted earnest eyes to the kind face bending towards her. + +"I promised Olga I'd wade every day--so I had to." Then she broke out, +"O Miss Laura, do you think she'll come back? She went all alone, and +she isn't anywhere in sight." + +Laura drew the shivering little figure close to her side. "Why, of +course she'll come back, Elizabeth. Why shouldn't she? She's been out so +scores of times, just as I have. What makes you worry so, child?" + +Elizabeth drew a long shuddering breath. "I can't help it," she sighed. +"The water always makes me _so_ afraid, Miss Laura!" + +She lifted such a white miserable face that Laura saw it was really +true--she was in the grip of a deadly terror. She drew the trembling +girl down beside her on the warm sand. "Let's sit here a little while," +she said, and for a few minutes they sat in silence, while further up +the beach girls were wading and swimming and splashing each other, their +shouts of laughter making a merry din. Some were diving from the pier, +and one stood on a high springboard. Suddenly this one flung out her +arms and sprang off, her slim body seeming to float between sky and +water, as she swept downward in a graceful curving line. + +Laura caught her breath nervously as her eyes followed the slender +figure that looked so very small outstretched between sky and water, and +Elizabeth covered her eyes with a little moan. + +"O, I wish she wouldn't do that--I do wish she wouldn't!" she said under +her breath. + +Laura spoke cheerfully. "She is all right. See, Elizabeth, how fast she +is swimming now." + +But Elizabeth shook her head and would not look. Laura put her arm +across the narrow shrinking shoulders and after a moment spoke again, +slowly. "Elizabeth, you love Olga, don't you?" + +Elizabeth looked up quickly. She did not answer--or need to. + +"Yes, I know you do," Laura went on, answering the look. "But do you +love her enough to do something very hard--for her?" + +"Yes, Miss Laura. Tell me what. She won't ever let me do anything for +her." + +"It will be very, very hard for you," Laura warned her. + +The girl looked at her silently, and waited. + +"Elizabeth, I don't think you could do anything else that would please +her so much as to conquer your fear of the water _for her sake_. Can you +do such a hard thing as that--for Olga?" + +A look of positive agony swept over Elizabeth's face. "_Any_thing but +just that," she moaned. "O Miss Laura, you don't know--you _can't_ know +how I hate it--that deep black water!" + +"But can't you--even for Olga?" Laura questioned very gently. + +Elizabeth shook her head and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. "I +would if I could. I'd do anything, anything else for her; but that--I +_can't_!" she moaned. + +Laura put her hand under the trembling chin, and lifting the girl's face +looked deep into the blue eyes swimming with tears. + +"Elizabeth," she said slowly, a world of love and sympathy in her voice, +"Elizabeth, you _can_!" + +In that long deep look the dread and horror and misery died slowly out +of Elizabeth's eyes, and a faint incredulous hope began to grow in +them. It was as if she literally drew courage and determination from the +eyes looking into hers, and who can tell what subtle spirit message +really passed from the strong soul into the weaker one? + +"I never, never could," Elizabeth faltered; but Laura caught the note of +wavering hope in the low-spoken words. + +"Elizabeth, you can. I _know_ you can," she repeated. + +"How?" questioned Elizabeth, and Laura smiled and drew her closer. + +"You are afraid of the water," she said, "and your fear is like a cord +that binds your will just as your arms might be bound to your sides with +a scarf. But you can break the cord, and when you do, you will not be +afraid of the water any more. Myra Karr was afraid just as you +are--afraid of almost everything, but one wonderful day she conquered +her fear. Ask her and she will tell you about it, and how much happier +she has been ever since, as you will be when you have broken your cords. +And just think how it will please Olga!" + +There was a little silence; then suddenly Elizabeth leaned forward, +eagerly pointing off over the water. "Is it--is she coming?" she +whispered. + +"Yes, she is coming. Now just think how you have suffered worrying over +her this morning, and all for nothing." + +Elizabeth drew a long happy breath. "I don't care now she's coming," she +said, and it was as if she sang the words. + +Laura went on, "Have you noticed, Elizabeth, how different Olga is from +the other girls? She never laughs and frolics. She never really enjoys +any of the games. She cares for nothing but work. She hasn't a single +friend in the camp--she won't have one. I don't think she is happy, do +you?" + +Elizabeth considered that in silence. She had known these things, but +she had never thought of them before. + +"It's so," she admitted finally, her eyes on the approaching boat. + +"Elizabeth, I think you are the only one who can really help Olga." + +"I?" Elizabeth lifted wondering eyes. Then she added hastily, "You +mean--going in the water?" She shuddered at the thought. + +"Yes, dear, if you will let Olga help you to get rid of your fear of the +water, it will mean more to her even than to you. Olga needs you, child, +more than you need her, for you have many friends now in the camp, and +she has only you." + +"I like her the best of all," Elizabeth declared loyally. + +"Yes, but you must prove it to her before you can really help her," +Laura replied. "See, she is almost in now, and I won't keep you any +longer." + +Olga secured her boat to a ring and ran lightly up the steps. In a few +minutes she came back in her bathing suit. As she ran down the beach, +she swept a swift searching glance over the few girls sitting or lying +on the sand; then her eyes rested on a little shrinking figure standing +like a small blue post, knee deep in the water. It was Elizabeth, her +cheeks colourless, her eyes fixed beseechingly, imploringly, on Olga's +face. In a flash Olga was beside her, crying out sharply, + +"What made you come in alone?" + +"I p-promised you----" Elizabeth replied, her teeth chattering. + +"Well, you've done it," said Olga. "Cut out now and get dressed." + +But Elizabeth stood still and shook her head. "No," though her lips +trembled, her voice was determined, "no, Olga, I'm going up to my--my +neck to-day," and she held out her hands. + +"You are not--you're coming out!" Olga declared. "You're in a blue funk +this minute." + +"I--know it," gasped Elizabeth, "but I'm going in--_alone_--if you won't +go with me. Quick, Olga, quick!" she implored. + +Some instinct stilled the remonstrance on Olga's lips. She grasped +Elizabeth by her shoulders and walking backward herself, drew the other +girl steadily on until the water rose to her neck. Elizabeth gasped, and +deadly fear looked out of her straining eyes, but she made no sound. The +next instant Olga had turned and was pulling her swiftly back to the +beach. + +"There! You see it didn't hurt you," she said brusquely, but never +before had she looked at Elizabeth as she looked at her then. "Now run +to the bathhouse and rub yourself hard before you dress," she ordered. + +But Elizabeth had turned again towards the water, and Olga followed, +amazed and protesting. + +"Go back," cried Elizabeth over her shoulder, "go back. I'm going in +alone this time." + +And alone she went until once more the water surged and rippled about +her neck. Only an instant--then she swayed and her eyes closed; but +before she could lose her footing Olga's hands were on her shoulders and +pushing her swiftly back to the beach. This time, however, she did not +stop there, but swept the small figure over to the bathhouse. There she +gave Elizabeth a brisk rubdown that set the blood dancing in her veins. + +"Now get into your clothes in a hurry!" she commanded. + +"I'm--n-not c-cold, Olga," Elizabeth protested with a pallid smile, +"truly I'm not. I'm just n-nervous, I guess." + +"You're just a _brick_, Elizabeth Page!" cried Olga, and she slammed the +door and vanished, leaving Elizabeth glowing with delight. + +Each day after that Elizabeth insisted on venturing a little more. Olga +could guess what it cost her--her blue lips and the terror in her eyes +told that--but day after day she fought her battle over and would not be +worsted. She learned to float, to tread water, and then, very, very +slowly, she learned to swim a little. Laura, looking on, rejoiced over +both the girls. Everybody was interested in this marvellous achievement +of the Poor Thing--they spoke of her less often by that name now--but +only Laura realised how much it meant to Olga too. The day that +Elizabeth succeeded in swimming a few yards, Olga for the first time +took her out on the water at sunset; she had never been willing to go +before. Even now she stepped into the boat shrinkingly, the colour +coming and going in her cheeks, but when she was seated, and the boat +floating gently on the rose-tinted water, the tense lines faded slowly +from her face, and at last she even smiled a little. + +"Well," said Olga, "are you still scared?" + +"A little--but not much. If I wasn't any afraid it would be lovely--like +rocking in a big, big beautiful cradle," she ended dreamily. + +A swift glance assured Olga that they had drifted away from the other +boats--there was no one within hearing. She leaned forward and looked +straight into the eyes of the other girl. "Now I want to know what made +you get over your fear of the water," she said. + +"Maybe I've not got over it--quite," Elizabeth parried. + +"What made you? Tell me!" Olga's tone was peremptory. + +"You," said Elizabeth. + +"I? But I didn't--I couldn't. I'd done my best, but I couldn't drag you +into water above your knees--you know I couldn't. Somebody else did it," +Olga declared, a spark flickering in her eyes. + +"Miss Laura talked to me that day you were off so long in the boat," +Elizabeth admitted. "She told me I could get over being afraid. I didn't +think I _could_ before--truly, Olga. I honestly thought I'd die if ever +the water came up to my neck. I don't know how she did it--Miss +Laura--but she made me see that I could get over being so awfully +afraid--and I did." + +"You said _I_ did it," there was reproach as well as jealousy now in +Olga's voice, "and it was Miss Laura." + +"O no, it was you really," Elizabeth cried hastily, "because I did it +for you. I never could have--never in this world!--only Miss Laura said +it would please you. I did it for you, Olga." + +"Hm," was Olga's only response, but now there was in her eyes something +that the Poor Thing had never seen there before--a warm human +friendliness that made Elizabeth radiantly happy. + +"There comes the war canoe," Olga cried a moment later. + +"How fast it comes--and how pretty the singing sounds!" Elizabeth +returned. + +They watched the big canoe as it flashed by, the many paddles rising and +falling as one, while a dozen young voices sang gaily, + + "'We pull long, we pull strong, + We pull keen and true. + We sing to the king of the great black rocks, + Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox.'" + +"Next year," said Olga, "I'm going to teach you to paddle, Elizabeth." + + + + +VII + +HONOURS WON + + +The camp was to break up in a few days, and the Guardians had planned to +make the last Council Fire as picturesque and effective as +possible--something for the girls to hold as a beautiful memory through +the months to come. It fell on a lovely evening, a cool breeze blowing +from the water, and a young moon adding a golden gleam to the silvery +shining of the stars. Most of the girls had finished their ceremonial +dresses and all were to be worn to-night. + +"I'm ridiculously excited, Anne," Laura said, as she looked down at her +woods-brown robe with its fringes and embroideries. "I don't feel a bit +as if I were prosaic Laura Haven. I'm really one of the nut-brown Indian +maids that roamed these woods in ages past." + +"If any of those nut-brown maids were as pretty as you are to-night, +they must have had all the braves at their feet," returned Anne, with an +admiring glance at her friend. "What splendid thick braids you have, +Laura!" + +"I'm acquainted with the braids," Laura answered, flinging them +carelessly over her shoulders, "but this beautiful bead headband I've +never worn before. Is it on right?" + +"All right," Anne replied. "The Busy Corner girls will be proud of +their Guardian to-night." + +Laura scarcely heard, her thoughts were so full of her girls--the girls +she had already learned to love. She turned eagerly as the bugle notes +of the Council call rang out in silvery sweetness. "O, come. Don't let +them start without us," she urged. + +"No danger--they will want their Guardians to lead the procession." + +In a moment Mrs. Royall appeared, and quickly the girls fell into line +behind her. First, the four Guardians; then two Torch Bearers, each +holding aloft in her right hand a lighted lantern. Flaming torches would +have been more picturesque, but also more dangerous in the woods, and +all risk of fire must be avoided. After the Torch Bearers came the Fire +Makers, and last of all the Wood Gatherers, with Katie the cook wearing +a gorgeous robe that some of the girls had embroidered for her. Katie's +unfailing good nature had made her a general favourite in camp. + +As the procession wound through the irregular woods-path Laura gave a +little cry of delight. + +"O, do look back, Anne--it is so pretty," she said. "If it wasn't that I +want to be a part of it, I'd run ahead so I could see it all better." + +Mrs. Royall began to sing and the girls instantly caught up the strain, +and in and out among the trees the procession wound to the music of the +young voices, the lanterns throwing flashes of light on either side, +while the shadows seemed to slip out of the woods and follow "like a +procession of black-robed nuns," Laura said to herself. + +The Council chamber was a high open space, surrounded on every side but +one by tall pines. The open side faced the bay, and across the water +glimmered a tiny golden pathway from the moon in the western sky, where +a golden glow from the sunset yet lingered. + +The girls formed the semicircle, with the Guardians in the open space. +Wood had been gathered earlier in the day, and now the Wood Gatherers, +each taking a stick, laid it where the fire was to be. As the last stick +was brought, the Fire Makers moved forward and swiftly and skilfully set +the wood ready for lighting. On this occasion, to save time, the rubbing +sticks were dispensed with, and Mrs. Royall signed to Laura to light the +fire with a match. + +The usual order of exercises followed, the songs and chants echoing with +a solemn sweetness among the tall pines in whose tops the night wind +played a soft accompaniment. + +To-night the interest of the girls centred in the awarding of honours. +All of the Busy Corner girls had won more or less, and as Laura read +each name and announced the honours, the girl came forward and received +her beads from the Chief Guardian. Mrs. Royall had a smile and a +pleasant word for each one; but when Myra Karr stood before her, she +laid her hand very kindly on the girl's shoulder and turned to the +listening circle. + +"Camp Fire Girls," she said, "here is one who is to receive special +honour at our hands to-night, for she has won a great victory. You all +know how fearful and timid she was, for you yourselves called +her--Bunny. Now she has fought and conquered her great dragon--Fear--and +you have dropped that name, and she must never again be called by it." + +[Illustration: "Wood had been gathered earlier in the day"] + +With a pencil, on a bit of birch back, she wrote the name and dropped +the bark into the heart of the glowing fire. "It is gone forever," she +said, her hand again on Myra's shoulder. "Now what shall be the new Camp +Fire name of our comrade?" + +Several names were suggested, and finally Watewin, the Indian word for +one who conquers, was chosen. Myra stood with radiant eyes looking about +the circle until Mrs. Royall said, "Myra, we give you to-night your new +name. You are Watewin, for you have conquered fear," and the girl walked +back to her place, joy shining in her eyes. + +Then Mrs. Royall spoke again, her glance sweeping the circle of intent +faces. "There is another who has conquered the dragon--Fear--and who +deserves high honour--Elizabeth Page." + +Elizabeth, absorbed in watching Myra's radiant face, had absolutely +forgotten herself, and did not even notice when her own name was spoken. +Olga had to tell her and give her a little push forward before she +realised that Mrs. Royall was waiting for her. For a second she drew +back; then, catching her breath, she went gravely forward. The voice and +eyes of the Chief Guardian were very tender as she looked down into the +shy blue eyes lifted to hers. + +"You too, Elizabeth," she said, "have fought and conquered, not once, +but many times, and to you also we give to-night a new name." She did +not repeat the old one, but writing it on a bit of bark as she had +written Myra's, she told the girl to drop it into the fire. Elizabeth +obeyed--she had never known what the girls had christened her and now +she did not care. Breathlessly she listened as Mrs. Royall went on, +"Camp Fire Girls, what shall be her new name?" + +It was Laura who answered after a little silence, "Adawana, the brave +and faithful." + +"Adawana, the brave and faithful," Mrs. Royall repeated. "Is that right? +Is it the right name for Elizabeth, Camp Fire Girls?" + +"Yes, yes, _yes_!" came the response from two score eager voices. + +"You are Adawana, the brave and faithful," said Mrs. Royall, looking +down again into the blue eyes, full now of wonder and shy joy. + +"Now listen to the honours that Adawana has won." + +As Laura read the long list a murmur of surprise ran round the circle. +The girls had known that Elizabeth would have some honours, for they all +knew how Olga had compelled her to do things, but no one had imagined +that there would be anything like this long list--least of all had +Elizabeth herself imagined it. Perplexity and dismay were in her eyes as +she listened, and as Laura finished the reading, Elizabeth whispered +quickly, + +"O Miss Laura, there's some mistake. I couldn't have all those--not half +so many!" + +"It's all right, dear," Laura assured her, and in a louder tone she +added, "There is no mistake. The record has been carefully kept and +verified; but you see Elizabeth was not working for honours, and had no +idea how many she had won." + +Elizabeth looked fairly dazed as Mrs. Royall threw over her head the +necklace with its red and blue and orange beads. Turning, she hurried +back to her place next Olga. + +"It was all you--you did it. You ought to have the honours instead of +me," she whispered, half crying. + +"It's all right. Don't be a _baby_!" Olga flung at her savagely, to +forestall the tears. + +Then somebody nudged her and whispered, "Olga Priest, don't you hear +Mrs. Royall calling you?" + +Wondering, Olga obeyed the summons. She had reported no honours won, and +had no idea why she was called. Laura, standing beside Mrs. Royall, +smiled happily at the girl as she stopped, and stood, her dark brows +drawn together in a frown of perplexity. + +"Olga," Mrs. Royall said, "it has been a great joy to us to bestow upon +Adawana the symbols which represent the honours she has won. We are sure +that she will wear them worthily, and that her life will be better and +happier because of that for which they stand. We recognise the fact, +however, that but for you she could not have won these honours. You have +worked harder than she has to secure them for her; therefore to you +belongs the greater honour----" + +"No! _No!_" cried Olga under her breath, but with a smile Mrs. Royall +went on, "We know that to you the symbols of honours won--beads and +ornaments--have little value--but we have for you something that we hope +you will value because we all have a share in it, every one in the camp; +and we ask you to wear this because you have shown us what one Camp Fire +Girl can do for another. The work is all Elizabeth's. The rest of us +only gave the beads, and your Guardian taught Elizabeth how to use +them." + +She held out a headband, beautiful in design and colouring. Olga stared +at it, at first too utterly amazed for any words. Finally she stammered, +"Why, I--I--didn't know--Elizabeth----" and then to her own utter +consternation came a rush of tears. _Tears!_ And she had lived dry-eyed +through four years of lonely misery. Choked, blinded, and unable to +speak even a word of thanks, she took the headband and turned hastily +away, and as she went the watching circle chanted very low, + + "'Wohelo means love. + Love is the joy of service so deep that self is + forgotten--that self is forgotten.'" + +With shining eyes--yet half afraid--Elizabeth waited as Olga came back +to her. She knew Olga's scorn for honours and ornaments. Would she be +scornful now--or would she be glad? Elizabeth felt that she never, never +could endure it if Olga were scornful or angry now--if this, her great +secret, her long, hard labour of love--should be only a great +disappointment after all. + +But it was not. She knew that it was not as soon as Olga was near enough +to see the look in her eyes. She knew then that it was all right; and +the poor little hungry heart of her sang for joy when Olga placed the +band over her forehead and bent her proud head for Elizabeth to fasten +it in place. Elizabeth did it with fingers trembling with happy +excitement. The coldness that had so often chilled her was all gone now +from the dark eyes. Olga understood. Elizabeth had no more voice than a +duckling, but she felt just then as if she could sing like a song +sparrow from sheer happiness. It was such a wonderful thing to be happy! +Elizabeth had never before known the joy of it. + +But Mrs. Royall was speaking again. "Wohelo means work and health and +love," she said, "you all know that--the three best things in all this +beautiful world. Which of the three is best of all?" + +Softly Anne Wentworth sang, + + "'Wohelo means love," + +and instantly the girls took up the refrain, + + "'Wohelo means love, + Wohelo means love. + Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten. + Wohelo means love.'" + +Laura's eyes, watching the young, earnest faces, filled with quick tears +as the refrain was repeated softly and lingeringly, again and yet again. +Mrs. Royall stood motionless until the last low note died into silence. +Then she went on: + +"Work is splendid for mind and body. Some of you have worked for honours +and that is well. Some have worked for the love of the work--that is +better. Some have worked--or fought--for conquest over weakness, and +that is better yet. But two of our number have worked and conquered, not +for honour, not for love of labour, not even for self-conquest--but for +unselfish love of another. That is the highest form of service, dear +Camp Fire Girls--the service that is done in forgetfulness of self. +That is the thought I leave with you to-night." + +She stepped back, and instantly each girl placed her right hand over her +heart and all together repeated slowly, + + "'This Law of the Fire + I will strive to follow + With all the strength + And endurance of my body, + The power of my will, + The keenness of my mind, + The warmth of my heart, + And the sincerity of my spirit.'" + +The fire had died down to glowing coals. At a sign from the Chief +Guardian two of the Fire Makers extinguished the embers, pouring water +over them till not a spark remained. The lanterns were relighted, the +procession formed again, and the girls marched back, singing as they +went. + +"O dear, I can't bear to think that we shall not have another Council +Fire like this for months--even if we come here next summer," Mary +Hastings said when they were back in camp. + +"And wasn't this the very dearest one!" cried Bessie Carroll. "With +Myra's honours and Elizabeth's, and Olga's headband--_wasn't_ she +surprised, though!" + +"First time I ever saw Olga Priest dumfounded," laughed Louise. "But, +say, girls--that Poor Thing is a duck after all--she is really." + +Bessie's plump hand covered Louise's lips. "Hush, hush!" she cried in a +tone of real distress, for she loved Elizabeth. "That name is burnt up." + +"So it is--beg everybody's pardon," yawned Louise. "But Elizabeth +couldn't hear way over there with Olga and Miss Laura. I say, girls," +she added with her usual giggle, "I feel as if I'd been wound up to +concert pitch and I've got to let down somehow. Get out your fiddle, +Rose, and play us a jig. I've got to get some of this seriousness out of +my system before I go to bed." + +Rose ran for her violin, and two minutes later the girls were dancing +gaily in the moonlight. + +"I wish they hadn't," Laura whispered to Anne. "I wanted to keep the +impression of that lovely soft chanting for the last." + +"You can't do it--not with Louise Johnson around," returned Anne. "But +never mind, Laura, they won't forget this meeting, even if they do have +to 'react' a bit. I'm sure that even Louise will keep the memory of this +last Council tucked away in some corner of her harum-scarum mind." + + + + +VIII + +ELIZABETH AT HOME + + +In a tiny hall bedroom in one of the small brick houses that cover many +blocks in certain sections of Washington, Elizabeth Page was standing a +week later, trying to screw up her courage to a deed of daring; and +because it was for herself it seemed almost impossible for her to do it. +With her white face, her anxious eyes, and trembling hands, she seemed +again the Poor Thing who had shrunk from every one those first days at +the camp--every one but Olga. + +Three times Elizabeth started to go downstairs and three times her +courage failed and she drew back. So long as she waited there was a +chance--a very faint one, but still a chance--that the thing she so +desired might come true. But the minutes were slipping away, and +finally, setting her lips desperately, she fairly ran down the stairs. + +Her stepmother glanced up with a frown as the girl stood before her. + +"Well, what now?" she demanded, in the sharp, fretful tone of one whose +nerves are all a-jangle. + +"I've done everything--all the supper work, and fixed everything in the +kitchen ready for morning," Elizabeth said, her words tumbling over each +other in her excitement, "and O, please may I go this evening--to Miss +Laura's? It's the Camp Fire meeting, and one of the girls is going to +stop here for me, and--and O, I'll do _anything_ if only I may go!" + +The frown on the woman's face deepened as Elizabeth stumbled on, and her +answer was swift and sharp. + +"You are not going one step out of this house to-night--you can make up +your mind to that--not one step. I knew when I let you go off to that +camp that it would be just this way. Girls like you are never satisfied. +You want the earth. Here you've had a month--a whole month--off in the +country while I stood in that hot kitchen and did your work for you, and +now you are teasing to go stringing off again. You are _not going_." + +"But," pleaded Elizabeth desperately, "I've worked so hard to-day--every +minute since five o'clock--and I washed and ironed Sadie's white dress +before supper. If there was any work I had to do it would be different. +And--and even servant girls have an afternoon and evening off every +week, and I never do. And I'm only asking now to go out one evening in a +month--just _one_!" + +"There it is again!" Mrs. Page flung out. "Not this one evening, but an +evening every month; and if I agreed to that, next thing you'd be +wanting to go every week. I tell you--_no_. Now let that end it." + +The tears welled up in Elizabeth's eyes as she turned slowly away; and +the sight of those tears awakened a tumult in another quarter. +Four-year-old Molly had been rocking her Teddy Bear to sleep when +Elizabeth came downstairs, and had listened, wide-eyed and wondering, to +all that passed. But tears in Elizabeth's eyes were too much. The Teddy +Bear tumbled unheeded to the floor as Molly rushed across to Elizabeth +and, clinging to her skirts, turned a small flushed face to her mother. + +"Naughty, naughty mamma--make 'Lizbet' _ky_!" she cried out, stamping +her small foot angrily. "Molly love 'Lizbet' _hard_!" + +Elizabeth caught up the child and turned to go, but a sharp command +stopped her. "Put that child down. I won't have you setting her against +her own mother!" + +Elizabeth unclasped the little clinging arms and put the child down, but +Molly still clutched her dress, sobbing now and hiding her face from her +mother. The tinkle of the doorbell cut the tense silence that followed +Mrs. Page's last command. Sadie, an older girl, ran to open it, flashing +a triumphant glance at Elizabeth as she passed her. + +As Sadie flung open the door, Elizabeth saw Olga on the step, and Olga's +quick eyes took in the scene--the frowning woman, Elizabeth's wet eyes +and drooping mouth, and little Molly clinging to her skirts as she +looked over her shoulder to see who had come. Sadie stared pertly at +Olga and waited for her to speak. + +"I've come for Elizabeth. I'm Olga----" + +"Elizabeth can't go. Mother won't let her," interrupted Sadie with +ill-concealed satisfaction in her narrow eyes. + +Elizabeth started towards the door. "O Olga, please tell Miss Laura----" +she was beginning when Sadie unceremoniously slammed the door and +marched back with a victorious air to her mother's side. + +Olga was left staring at the outside of the door, and if a look could +have demolished it and annihilated Miss Sadie, both these things might +have happened then and there. But the door stood firm, and there was no +reason to think that anything untoward had happened to Sadie; so after a +moment Olga turned, flew down the steps, and hurrying over to the +car-line, hailed the first car that appeared. Fifteen minutes later she +was ringing the bell at the door of Judge Haven's big stone house on +Wyoming Avenue. The servants in that house never turned away any girl +asking for Miss Laura, so this one was promptly shown into the library. +Laura rose to meet her with a cordial greeting, but Olga neither heard +nor heeded. + +"She can't come. Elizabeth can't come!" she cried out. "They wouldn't +even let me speak to her, though she was right there in the hall--nor +let her give me a message for you. Her sister slammed the door in my +face. Miss Laura, I'd like to _kill_ that girl and her mother!" + +"Hush, hush, my dear!" Laura said gently. "Sit down and tell me quietly +just what happened." + +Olga flung herself into a chair and told her story, but she could not +tell it quietly. She told it with eyes flashing under frowning brows and +her words were full of bitterness. + +"Elizabeth's just a slave to them--worse than a servant!" she stormed. +"She never goes anywhere--_never_! They wouldn't have let her go to the +camp if she hadn't been sick and the doctor said she'd die if she didn't +have a rest and change, and so Miss Grandis got her off. O Miss Laura, +can't you do something about it? Elizabeth _wanted_ so to come--she was +crying. I know how she was counting on it before we left the camp." + +Laura shook her head sorrowfully. "I don't know what I can do. You see +she is not yet of age, and her father has a right--a legal right, I +mean--to keep her at home." + +"But it isn't her father, it's that woman--his wife," Olga declared. +"She won't even let Elizabeth call her mother--not that I should think +she'd want to--but when I asked Elizabeth why she called her Mrs. Page +she said her stepmother told her when she first came there that she +didn't want a great girl that didn't belong to her calling her mother." + +"Elizabeth is seventeen?" Laura questioned. + +Olga nodded. "She won't be eighteen till next April. _I_ wouldn't stay +there till I was eighteen. I'd clear out. She could earn her own living +and not work half as hard somewhere else, and go out when she liked, +too." She was silent for a moment, then half aloud she added, "I'll find +a way to fix that woman yet!" + +"Olga," Laura looked straight into the sombre angry eyes, "you must not +interfere in this matter. Two wrongs will never make a right. If there +is anything that can be done for Elizabeth, be sure that I will do it. +And if not--it is only seven months to April." + +"Seven months!" echoed Olga passionately. "Miss Laura, how would you +live through seven months without ever getting out _any_where?" + +Laura shook her head. "We will hope that Elizabeth will not have to do +that," she said gently. "But I hear some of the girls. Come." + +In the wide hall were half a dozen girls who had just arrived, and Laura +led the way to a large room on the third floor. At the door of this +room, the girls broke into cries and exclamations of pleasure. + +"It's like a bit of the camp," Mary Hastings cried, and Rose Anderson +exclaimed, + +"It's just the sweetest room I ever saw!" and she sniffed delightedly +the spicy fragrance of the pines and balsam firs that stood in great +green tubs about the walls. On the floor was a grass rug of green and +wood-colour, and against the walls stood several long low settees of +brown rattan, backs and seats cushioned in cretonne of soft greens and +cream-colour, and a few chairs of like pattern were scattered about. +Curtains of cream-coloured cheesecloth, with a stencilled design of pine +cones in shaded browns, draped the windows, and in the wide fireplace a +fire was laid ready for lighting. The low mantelpiece above it held only +three brass candlesticks with bayberry candles, and above it, +beautifully lettered in sepia, were the words, + + "'Whoso shall stand by this hearthstone, + Flame-fanned, + Shall never, never stand alone: + Whose house is dark and bare and cold, + Whose house is cold, + This is his own.'" + +And below this + + "'Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.'" + +Bessie Carroll drew a long breath as she looked about, and said +earnestly, "Miss Laura, I never, never saw any place so dear! I didn't +think there could be such a pretty room." + +Laura bent and kissed the earnest little face. "I am glad you like it so +much, dear," she said. "I like it too. You remember the very first +words of our Camp Fire law--'Seek beauty'? I thought of that when I was +furnishing this. It is our Camp Fire room, girls, and I hope we shall +have many happy times together here." + +"I guess they couldn't help being happy times in a room like this--and +with you," returned Bessie with her shy smile, which remark was promptly +approved by the other girls--except Olga, who said nothing. + +"You look as glum as that old barn owl at the camp, Olga," Louise +Johnson told her under cover of the gay clamour of talk that followed. +"For heaven's sake, do cheer up a bit. That face of yours is enough to +curdle the milk of human kindness." + +Olga's only response was a black scowl and a savage glance, at which +Louise retreated with a shrug of her shoulders and an exasperating wink +and giggle. + +Within half an hour all the girls were there except Elizabeth. Olga, +glooming in a corner, thought of Elizabeth crawling off alone to her +room to cry. Torture would not have wrung tears from Olga's great black +eyes, and she would have seen them unmoved in the eyes of any other +girl; but Elizabeth--that was another thing. She glanced scornfully at +the others laughing and chattering around Miss Laura, and vowed that she +would never come to another of the meetings unless Elizabeth could come +too. If Miss Laura, after all her talk, couldn't do something to help +Elizabeth----But Miss Laura was standing before her now with a box of +matches in her hand. + +"I want you to light our fire to-night, Olga," she said gently. +Ungraciously enough, Olga touched a match to the splinters of resinous +pine on the hearth, and as the fire flashed into brightness, Miss +Laura, turning out the electric lights, said, "I love the fire, but I +love the candles almost as much; so at our meetings here, we will have +both." The girls were standing now in a circle broken only by the fire. +Miss Laura set the three candlesticks with the bayberry candles on the +floor in the centre of the circle and motioned the girls to sit down. +Lightly they dropped to the floor, and Laura, touching a splinter to the +fire, handed it to Frances Chapin, a grave studious High School girl who +had not been at the camp. Rising on one knee, Frances repeated slowly, + +"'I light the light of Work, for Wohelo means work,'" and lighting the +candle, she added, + + "'Wohelo means work. + We glorify work, because through work we are free. + We work to win, to conquer, to be masters. We work + for the joy of the working and because we are free. + Wohelo means work.'" + +As Frances stepped back into the circle, Laura beckoned to Mary +Hastings, the strongest, healthiest girl of them all, who, coming +forward, chanted slowly in her deep rich voice, + + "'I light the light of Health, for Wohelo means health!'" + +Lighting the candle, she went on, + + "'Wohelo means health. + We hold on to health, because through health we serve + and are happy. + In caring for the health and beauty of our persons we + are caring for the very shrine of the Great Spirit. + Wohelo means health.'" + +As Mary went back to her place Laura laid her hand on the shoulder of +Bessie Carroll, who was next her. With a glance of pleased surprise +Bessie took the third taper and in her low gentle voice repeated, + + "'I light the light of Love, for Wohelo means love.'" + +The room was very still as she lighted the third candle, saying, + + "'Wohelo means love. + We love love, for love is life, and light and joy and + sweetness. + And love is comradeship and motherhood, and fatherhood and all + dear kinship. + Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten. + Wohelo means love.'" + +As she spoke the last words a strain of music, so low that it was barely +audible, breathed through the room, then deepened into one clear note, +and instantly the wohelo cheer rose in a joyful chorus. + +After the roll-call and reports of the last meeting there was no more +ceremony. Miss Laura had set the three candles back on the mantelpiece, +where they burned steadily, sending out a faint spicy odor that mingled +with the pleasant fragrance of the firs. The fire snapped and sang and +blazed merrily, and Laura dropped down on the floor in front of it, +gathering the girls closer about her. + +"To-night," she began, "I want to hear about your good times--the 'fun' +that every girl wants and needs. Tell me, what do you enjoy most?" + +"Moving pictures," shouted Eva Bicknell, a little bundle-wrapper of +fifteen. + +"Dances," cried another girl. + +"O yes, dances," echoed pretty Annie Pearson, her eyes shining. + +"I like the roller skating at the Arcade," another declared. + +"The gym and swimming pool and tennis." That was Mary Hastings. + +"Hear her, will ye?" Eva Bicknell muttered. "Great chance _we_ have for +tennis and gym.!" + +"You could have them at the Y.W.C.A. That's where I go for them when you +go to your dances and picture shows," retorted Mary. + +"But the picture shows is great fun, 'specially when the boys take ye +in," the other flung back. + +There was a laugh at that, and the little bundle-wrapper added, "an' +finish up with a promenade on the avenue in the 'lectric lights." + +Laura's heart sank at these frank expressions of opinion. What had she +to offer that would offset picture shows, dances and "the boys" for such +girls as these? But now one of the High School girls was speaking. "We +have most of our good times at the school. There is always something +going on--lunches or concerts or socials or dances--and once a year we +get up a play. Some girl in the class generally writes the play. It's +great fun." + +Laura brightened at that. Here were three at least who cared for +something besides picture shows. For half an hour longer she let the +talk run on, and that half-hour gave her sidelights on many of the +girls. Except Olga--she had not opened her lips during the discussion. + +When there came a little pause, Laura spoke in a carefully careless way. +"I told you, girls, that this is our Camp Fire room and I want you to +feel that it belongs to you--every one of you owns a share in it. We +shall have the Council meetings here every Saturday, but this room is +not to be shut up all the other evenings. We may have no moving +pictures, but you can come here and dance if you wish, or play games, or +sing--I'm going to have a piano here soon--or if you like you can bring +your sewing--your Christmas presents to make. What I want you to +understand is that this room is yours, to be used for your pleasure. You +haven't seen all yet." + +Rising, she touched a button, and as the room was flooded with light, +threw open a door. The girls, crowding after her, broke into cries of +delight and admiration; for here was a white-tiled kitchen complete in +all its appointments, even to a small white-enamelled gas range and a +tiny refrigerator. On brass hooks hung blue and white saucepans and +kettles and spoons, and a triangular corner closet with leaded doors +revealed blue and white china and glass. + +"All for the Camp Fire Girls," Laura said, "and it means fudge, and +popcorn, and toasted marshmallows and bacon-bats and anything else you +like. You can come here yourselves every Wednesday evening, and if you +wish, you can bring a friend with you to share your good times." + +"Boy or girl friend?" Lena Barton's shrewd eyes twinkled as she asked +the question, with a saucy tilt to her little freckled nose. + +"Either," returned Laura instantly, though until that moment she had +thought only of girls. + +"Gee, but you're some Guardian, Miss Laura!" Lena replied. + +As the girls reluctantly tore themselves away from the fascinating +kitchen, two maids entered with trays of sandwiches and nutcakes, olives +and candy. + +"It is the first time I have had the pleasure of having you all here in +my own home," Miss Laura said, "so we must break bread together." + +"Gee! This beats the picture shows," Lena Barton declared. "Three cheers +for our Guardian--give 'em with claps!" and both cheers and clapping +were given in generous measure. + +When finally there was a movement to depart, Laura gathered the girls +once more about her before the fire. "I hope," she began, "you have all +enjoyed this evening as much as I have----" + +"We have! We _have_!" half a dozen voices broke in, and Lena Barton +shrilled enthusiastically, "_More_!" + +Laura smiled at them; then she glanced up at the words above the +mantelpiece. "The _joy of service_," she said. "That, to me, is the +heart--the very essence--of the Camp Fire idea. And while I am planning +good times and many of them for ourselves in these coming months, I wish +that together we might do some of this loving service for some one +beside ourselves. Think it over--think hard--and at our next Council +meeting, if you are willing, we will consider what we can do, and for +whom." + +"You mean mish'nary work?" questioned Eva Bicknell doubtfully. + +"No--at least not what you probably mean by missionary work," Laura +answered. + +"Christmas trees for alley folks, and that sort of thing?" ventured +another. + +"I mean, something for somebody else," Laura explained. "It may be an +old man or woman, a child or--or anything," she ended hastily, +intercepting an exchange of glances between Lena and Eva. "I just want +you to think over it and have an idea to suggest at our next meeting." + +"Huh! Thought the'd be nickels wanted fer somethin'," Eva Bicknell +grumbled as she linked her bony little arm through Lena's when they were +outside in the starlight. + +"Come now--you shut up!" retorted Lena. "Miss Laura's given us a dandy +time to-night, an' I ain't goin' back on her the minute I'm out of her +house. An' I didn't think it of you, Eva Bicknell." + +"Who's goin' back on her?" Eva's hot temper took fire at once. "Shut up +yourself, Lena Barton!" she flared. "I ain't goin' back on Miss Laura +any more than you are. Mebbe you're so flush that you can drop pennies +an' nickels 'round promiscuous, but me--well, I ain't--that's all," and +she marched on in sulky silence. + +On the next Wednesday evening, some of the girls came to the Camp Fire +room, and played games, which some enjoyed and others yawned over, and +made fudge which all seemed to enjoy. On the next Wednesday they sang +for a while, Laura accompanying them on the piano, and Rose Anderson +played for them on her violin. After that they sat on the floor before +the fire and talked; but Laura was a little doubtful about these +evenings. She feared that these quiet pleasures would not hold some of +the girls against the alluring delights of dances and moving pictures +and boys. + +Meantime she did not forget Elizabeth, and on the first opportunity she +went to see Mrs. Page. Sadie opened the door, and was present at the +interview. She was evidently very conscious of the fact that her braids +were now wound about her head and adorned with a stiff white bow that +stuck out several inches on either side. + +Mrs. Page received her visitor coldly, understanding that she came to +intercede for Elizabeth. She said that Elizabeth's father did not want +his daughter to go out evenings; that she had a good home and must be +contented to stay in it "as my own children do," she ended with a glance +at Sadie, who sat on the edge of a chair with much the aspect of a +terrier watching a rat-hole. When Miss Laura asked if she might see +Elizabeth, Sadie tossed her head and coughed behind her handkerchief, as +her mother answered that Elizabeth was busy and could not leave her +work. + +"But wouldn't she do her work all the better if she had a little change +now and then, and the companionship of other girls?" Laura urged gently. + +"She has the companionship of her sister--she must be satisfied with +that," was the uncompromising reply. + +With a sigh, Laura rose to leave, but as she glanced at Sadie's +triumphant face, she had an inspiration. The child was certainly +unattractive, but perhaps all the more for that reason she ought to have +a chance--a chance which might possibly mean a chance for Elizabeth too. +She smiled at the girl and Laura's smile was winning enough to disarm a +worse child than Sadie. + +"If you do not think it best for Elizabeth to attend our Council +meetings regularly, perhaps you would be willing to let her come this +next Saturday and bring her sister. After the business is over, we are +going to have a fudge party. I have a little upstairs kitchen just for +the girls to use whenever they like. I think your daughter might enjoy +it--if she cared to come--with Elizabeth." + +Marvellous was the effect of those few words on Sadie. Seeing a refusal +on her mother's lips, she burst out eagerly, "O mother, I want to go--I +_want_ to go! You _must_ let me." + +Taken entirely by surprise, Mrs. Page hesitated--and was lost. What +Sadie wanted, her mother wanted for her, and she saw that Sadie's heart +was set on accepting this invitation. "I suppose they might go, just for +this once," she yielded reluctantly. + +Laura allowed no time for reconsideration. "I shall expect both of them +then, on Saturday," she said and turned to go. She longed to look back +towards the kitchen where she felt sure that Elizabeth must have been +wistfully listening, but Mrs. Page and Sadie following her to the door, +gave her no chance for even a backward glance. + +"Good-bye," Sadie called after her as she went down the steps, and the +child's small foxy face was alight with anticipation. + +Slamming the door after the caller, Sadie flew to the kitchen. + +"There now, Elizabeth," she cried, "I'm going to her house next Saturday +and you're going--you can just thank me for that too. Mother wouldn't +have let you go if it hadn't been for me." + +Elizabeth's face brightened, but there was a little shadow on it too. Of +course it was better to go with Sadie than not to go at all--O, much +better--but still---- + +When Saturday came Sadie was in a whirl of excitement. She even +offered--an unheard-of concession--to wipe the supper dishes so that +Elizabeth might get through her work the sooner, and she plastered a +huge white bow across the back of her head, and pulled down the skirt of +her dress to make it as long as possible. Sadie would gladly have thrown +away three years of her life so that she might be sixteen, and really +grown up that very night. + +Olga was waiting at the corner for them, Miss Laura having told her that +Elizabeth was to go. Her scathing glance would have had a subduing +effect on most girls, but not on Sadie! Sadie did most of the talking as +the three walked on together, but the other two did not care. It was +enough for Elizabeth to be with Olga again, and as for Olga, she was +half frightened and half glad to find a little glow of happiness deep +down in her heart. She was afraid to let herself be even a little happy. + +When the three entered the Camp Fire room Laura met them with an +exclamation of pleasure. "We've missed you so at the Councils, +Elizabeth," she said, "but it's good to have you here to-night, isn't +it, Olga? And Miss Sadie is very welcome too." + +Sadie smiled and executed her best bow, then drew herself up to look as +tall as "Miss" Sadie should be; but the rest of the evening her eyes and +ears were so busy that for once her tongue was silent. She vowed to +herself that she would give her mother no peace until she--Sadie--was a +really truly Camp Fire Girl like these. + +When in the last hour they were all gathered on the floor before the +fire, Mary Hastings asked, "Miss Laura, have you decided yet what our +special work is to be--the 'service for somebody else'?" she added with +a glance at the words over the mantelpiece. + +"That is for you girls to decide," Laura returned. "Have you any +suggestion, Mary?" + +"I've been wondering if we couldn't help support some little +child--maybe a sick child in a hospital, or an orphan." + +"Gracious! That would take a pile of money," objected Louise Johnson, +"and I'm always dead broke a week after payday." + +"There are fifteen of us--it wouldn't be so much, divided up," Mary +returned. + +"Sixteen, Mary--you aren't going to leave me out, are you?" Miss Laura +said. + +"I think it would be lovely," cried Bessie Carroll, "if we could find a +dear little girl baby and adopt her--make her a Camp Fire baby." + +"Huh!" sniffed Lena Barton. "If you had half a dozen kids at home I +reckon you wouldn't be wanting to adopt any more." + +"Right you are!" added Eva Bicknell, who was the oldest of eight. + +"We might 'adopt' an old lady in some Home, and visit her and do things +for her," suggested Frances Chapin. "There are some lonely ones in the +Old Ladies' Home where I go sometimes." + +But the idea of a pretty baby appealed more to the majority of the +girls. + +"O, I'd rather take a baby. We could make cute little dresses for her," +Rose Anderson put in, "all lacey, you know." + +"Say--where's the money comin' from for the lacey dresses and things +you're talkin' about?" demanded Lena Barton abruptly. + +There was an instant of silence. Then Mary threw back a counter +question. "How much did you spend for moving pictures and candy last +week, Lena Barton?" + +"I d'know--mebbe a quarter, mebbe two. What of it?" Lena retorted, her +red head lifted defiantly. + +"Well now--couldn't you give up two picture shows a week, for the Camp +Fire baby?" Mary demanded. "If sixteen of us give ten cents a week we +shall have a dollar sixty. That would be more than six dollars a month." + +"Gracious! Money talks!" put in Louise. "Think of this crowd dropping +over six dollars a month for picture shows and such. No wonder they're +two in a block on the avenue." + +"You see," Laura said, "we could easily provide for some little child, +at least in part. Girls, I'd like to tell you about one I saw at the +Children's Hospital yesterday. Would you care to hear about him?" + +"Yes, yes, do tell us," the girls begged. + +"He is no blue-eyed baby, but a very plain ordinary-looking little chap, +nine years old, whose mother died a few weeks ago, leaving him entirely +alone in the world. Think of it, girls, a nine-year-old boy without any +one to care for him! He's lame too--but he is the bravest little soul! +The nurse told me that they thought it was because he was so +homesick--or rather I suppose mother-sick--that he is not getting on as +well as he should." + +"O, the poor little fellow!" Frances Chapin said softly, thinking of her +nine-year-old brother. + +"Tell us more about him, Miss Laura," Rose Anderson begged. "Did you +talk with him?" + +"Yes, I stayed with him for half an hour, and I promised to see him +again to-morrow. He wanted a book--about soldiers. I wonder if any of +you would care to go with me. You might possibly find your blue-eyed +baby there; and anyhow, the children there love to have +visitors--especially young ones." + +Two of the High School girls spoke together. "I'd like to go." + +"And I too," added Alice Reynolds, the third. + +"I guess I'd like to, maybe--if there isn't anything catching there." It +was pretty little Annie Pearson who said that. + +"I'd love to go, but I can't," Elizabeth whispered to Olga, who frowned +at her and demanded, + +"What do you want to go for?" + +"I'd so love to do something for that little fellow," Elizabeth +answered. "I've been lonesome too--always--till now." + +"Humph!" grunted Olga, the hardness melting out of her black eyes as she +looked into Elizabeth's wistful blue ones. + +It was finally agreed that the three High School girls, Frances Chapin, +Elsie Harding, and Alice Reynolds, with Mary Hastings, Annie Pearson, +and Rose, should go with Miss Laura to the hospital. + +"I c'n see kids enough at home any time," Lena Barton declared airily. +"I'd rather walk down the avenue on Sunday than go to any hospital." + +"I guess I'll be excused too," said Louise Johnson. "Hospital visiting +isn't exactly in my line. I've a hunch that I'd be out of place amongst +a lot of sick kiddies. But I'll agree to be satisfied with any +blue-eyed baby girl you and Miss Laura pick out for our Camp Fire Kid. +Say, girlies"--she looked around the group--"I move we make those seven +our choosing committee--Miss Laura, chairman, of course." + +"But, Johnny," one girl objected, "maybe they won't find any girl to fit +our pattern over at the hospital." + +"It is not at all likely that we shall," Laura hastened to add, "and if +we did, it would probably be one with parents or relatives to care for +it after it leaves the hospital." + +"Blue-eyed angel babies, with dimples, don't come in every package. I +s'pose you'd want one with dimples too?" Eva Bicknell scoffed. + +"O, of course, dimples. Might as well have all the ear-marks of a beauty +to begin with, anyhow," giggled Louise. "She'll probably develop into a +homely little freckle-faced imp by the time she's six, anyhow." + +"There's worse things in the world than freckles," snapped Lena Barton, +whose perky little nose was well spattered with them. + +"So there are, Lena--so there are," Louise teased. "Yours will probably +fade out by the time you're forty." + +A cuckoo clock called the hour, and the girls reluctantly agreed that it +was time to go. But first Laura, her arms around as many as she could +gather into them, with a few gentle tender words brought their thoughts +back to the deep meaning of the thing they were planning to do--trying +to make them realize their opportunity for service, and the far-reaching +results that must follow if a little life should come under their care +and influence. + +For once Louise was silent and thoughtful as she went away, and even +Lena Barton was more subdued than usual until, at last, with a shrug of +her shoulders, she flung out the vague remark, + +"After all, what's the use?" and thereupon rebounded to her usual gay +slangy self. + +But Elizabeth went home with Miss Laura's words echoing in her heart. "I +don't suppose I can do much for our Camp Fire baby," she told herself, +"but there's Molly. Maybe I can do more for her and--and for Sadie and +the boys--perhaps." + + + + +IX + +JIM + + +In the first ward of the Children's Hospital the next afternoon, No. 20 +lay very still--strangely still for a nine-year-old boy--watching the +door. He had watched it all day, although he knew that visitors' hours +were from two to four, and none would be admitted earlier. No. 18 in the +next cot asked him a question once, but No. 20 only shook his head +wearily. Some of the children had books and games, but they soon tired +of them, and lay idly staring about the long, sunny room, or looking out +at the sky and the trees, or watching the door. Sometimes mothers or +fathers came through that door, and if you hadn't any of your own, at +any rate you could look at those that came to see other fellows, and +sometimes these mothers had a word or a smile for others as well as +their own boys. No. 20, however, didn't want any other fellow's mother +to smile down at him--no indeed, that was the last thing in the world he +wanted--yet. He wished sometimes, just for a moment, that there weren't +any mothers to come, since the _one_ could never come to him again. But +they did come and smile at him, and pat his head--these mothers of the +other boys--came drawn by the hungry longing in his eyes--and he set his +teeth and clinched his hands under the bedclothes, and when they went +away gulped down the great lump that always jumped into his throat, all +in a minute--but he never cried. One day when a kind-hearted nurse asked +him about his mother, he bore her questioning as long as he could, and +then he struck at her fiercely and slipped right down under the +bedclothes where nobody could see him; but he didn't cry, though he +shook and shook for a long time after she went away. + +But--Miss Laura--she was different. She didn't kiss him, nor pat him, +nor ask fool questions. She just talked to him--well, the right way. And +she'd promised to come again to-day. Maybe she'd forget though; people +did forget things they'd promised--only somehow, she didn't look like +the forgetting kind. And she was awful pretty--most the prettiest lady +he had ever seen. But hospital hours were so dreadfully long! Seemed +like a hundred hours since breakfast. Ah! He lifted his head and looked +eagerly towards the door--somebody was coming in. O, only some other +fellow's mother. He dropped down again, choking back an impatient groan +that had almost slipped out. When the next mother came in he turned his +back on the door, but soon he was watching it again. A half-hour dragged +wearily by; then a crowd of girls fluttered through the doorway. No. 20 +gazed at them listlessly until one behind slipped past the others; then +his eyes widened and his lips twitched as if they had almost a mind to +smile, for here was the pretty lady coming straight to him. + +"Jim" she said, shaking hands with him just as if he had been a man, +"I've brought some of my girls to see you to-day. I hope you are glad to +see us all, but you needn't say you are if you are not." + +Jim didn't say--and Rose Anderson laughed softly. Jim flashed a glance +at her, but he saw at once that it wasn't a mean laugh--just a girly +giggle, and he manfully ignored it. + +"I have to speak to Charley Smith over there," Miss Laura went on, "but +I'll be back in a few minutes." + +As she crossed to the other cot, Frances Chapin slipped into the chair +by Jim's--there was only one chair between each two cots. "I think you +are about nine, aren't you, Jim?" she asked. + +"Goin' on ten," Jim corrected stoutly. + +"I've a brother going on ten," she said. + +Jim looked at her with quick interest. "Tell about him," he ordered. +"What's his name?" + +"David Chapin. He's in the sixth grade----" + +"So'm I--I mean I was 'fore I came here," Jim interrupted. "What else?" + +"--and he's--he's going to be a Boy Scout as soon as he's twelve." + +Jim's plain little face brightened into keen interest. "That's bully!" +he cried. "I'm going to be a Scout soon's I'm big enough--if I can." The +wistful longing in the last words brought a mist into Frances's eyes, +but Jim did not see it. He was looking at the other girls. "Any of the +rest of you got brothers?" he demanded. + +"I have one, but he's a big fellow, twice as old as you are," Alice +Reynolds said. + +"And I've six," Mary Hastings told him. "Two of them are Scouts." + +"Fine!" exulted Jim. "Say--tell me what they do, all about it," he +pleaded, and sitting down on the edge of his cot, Mary told him +everything she could think of about the scouting. + +When Miss Laura came back Jim's face was radiant. "She's been telling me +about her brothers--they're Boy Scouts," he cried eagerly, pointing a +stubby finger at Mary. "I wish," he looked pleadingly into Mary's eyes, +"I do wish they'd come and see me; but I guess boys don't come to +hospitals 'thout they have to," he ended with a sigh. + +"I'll get them to come if I can," Mary promised, "but----" + +"I know," Jim nodded, "I guess they won't have time. There's so many +things for boys to do outdoors!" + +"Jim," said Miss Laura, "there are so many things for you to do outdoors +too. You must get well as fast as you can to be at them." + +Jim's lips took on a most unchildlike set, and his eyes searched her +face with a look she could not understand. "I--I d'know----" he said +vaguely. + +He could not put into words his fear and dread of the time when he must +go out into some Home where he would be only one of a hundred boys and +all alone in a big lonesome world. That was the black dread that weighed +on Jim's heart night and day. He had seen that long procession of girls +and boys from the Orphan Asylum going back from church on Sundays, the +girls all in white dresses, the boys in blue denim suits, all just alike +except for size. He had peeped through knotholes in the high fence that +surrounded the Asylum yard too, and had seen the boys playing there on +weekdays; and some not playing, but standing off by themselves looking +so awful lonesome. Jim had always pitied those lonesome-looking ones. +More than once he had poked a stick of chewing-gum through a knothole to +one of them--a little chap with frightened blue eyes. Jim felt that he'd +almost rather die than go to the Asylum; and he'd heard the nurse tell +Charley Smith's mother that he'd have to go there when he got well. That +was why Jim was in no hurry to get well. + +The girls all shook hands with him before they went off to search the +other wards for their blue-eyed baby. Miss Laura did not go with the +girls; she stayed with Jim, and somehow, before long, he was telling her +all about the Asylum boys and how he dreaded to get well and go there to +live till he was fourteen. And, unconsciously, as he told it all, his +stubby little fingers crept into Miss Laura's hand that closed over them +with a warm pressure very comforting to Jim. + +And then--then a wonderful thing happened, for Miss Laura put her head +down close to his and whispered, "Jim, you shall never go to the Asylum, +I promise you that. If you will try very hard to get well, I'll find a +home for you somewhere, and I'll take care of you until you can take +care of yourself." + +Jim caught his breath and his eyes seemed looking through hers deep into +her heart, to see if this incredible thing could be true. What little +colour there was in his face faded slowly out of it and his lips +quivered as he whispered, "You--you ain't--jest foolin'? You mean it, +honest Injun?" + +"Yes, Jim--honest." + +He struggled to a sitting posture. "Cross your heart!" he ordered +breathlessly. + +She made the sign that children make. "Cross my heart, Jim. You are my +boy now," she said. + +With a long, happy breath Jim fell back on his pillow. His eyes began to +shine, and a spot of red burned in each thin cheek. "O gee!" he cried +exultantly, and again, "O _gee_! I'll get well in a hurry now, Miss +Laura." Then eagerly, "Where'll I live?" + +"I don't know yet. I'll find a place," she promised. + +He nodded, happily content just then to leave that in her hands. + +"An' I'll grow big soon," he crowed, "and I can earn a lot of money when +I'm well, carryin' papers an'--an' other ways. An' you'll let me be a +Boy Scout soon's I'm big enough, an' a soldier when I get over being +lame?" + +Laura nodded, and again Jim drew a long rapturous breath. When Laura +went away his eyes followed her, and as from the door she looked back at +him, he waved his hand to her and then settled down on his pillow to +dream happy waking dreams. He was somebody's boy once more. + +Laura found the girls waiting for her in the reception room. + +"Did you find your blue-eyed baby?" she asked. + +"We found one----" Alice Reynolds began, and Rose broke in, + +"But, O Miss Laura, her mother was with her and she wouldn't hear of +giving her up. I don't wonder--such a darling as she is!" + +"You can try at the Orphan Asylum," Miss Laura said, the words sending +her thoughts back in a flash to Jim. + +"Miss Laura, I wish we could have Jim. I think he's a dear!" Mary +Hastings said as they left the hospital. + +"Jim's pre-empted. He's my boy now," Laura answered quickly. + +"O Miss Laura, I wanted him too for our Camp Fire child," Frances said. +"Are you really going to adopt him--have him live with you?" + +"I don't know, Frances, about the living. When I found that he was +fairly dying of loneliness and dread of the Orphan Asylum, I just had to +do something; so I told him he should be my boy and I would take care of +him. I know my father won't mind the expense, but he may object to +having the boy live with us. Of course, if he does I shall find a good +home for him elsewhere." + +"But, Miss Laura, why can't we all 'adopt' him?" Frances pleaded. "I'd +so much rather have him than any baby. And there are always people ready +to adopt pretty blue-eyed baby girls, but they don't want just +boys--like Jim." + +"That's true," Alice Reynolds agreed. "My mother is a director at the +Orphan Asylum, and she says nine out of ten who go there for a child to +adopt, want a pretty baby girl." + +"But you can find some other boy for the Camp Fire," Miss Laura +returned. + +"Not another Jim. Please share him with us, anyhow, Miss Laura," Alice +urged. + +"I don't want to be selfish about it," Laura replied, "but somehow Jim +has crept into my heart and I thought I would take him for my own +special Camp Fire 'service.' And perhaps the other girls won't be +willing to give up their pretty baby." + +"I--I'd hate to, though I like Jim too," Rose admitted. + +"You couldn't make pretty lacey dresses for Jim," Laura reminded her +with a little laugh. "Rose is hankering for a live doll to dress, girls, +so you'd better wait and see what the others say about it." + +"When can Jim leave the hospital?" Alice inquired. + +"To judge from his face when I left him, he will get well quickly, now," +Miss Laura answered. + +And he did. The next time she went to see him, he welcomed her with a +beaming smile. "I'm getting well," he exulted. "She says I can sit up +to-morrow," he nodded towards the nurse. + +"He is certainly getting better," the nurse agreed. "He has seemed like +another boy since Sunday. How did you work such magic, Miss Haven?" + +Laura looked at Jim and his eyes met hers steadily. "Hasn't he told +you?" she asked the nurse. + +"He has told me nothing." + +Laura smiled at him as she explained, "Jim is my boy now--we agreed on +that, Sunday. When he leaves the hospital he is coming to me." + +"Jim, I congratulate you. You are a lucky boy," said the nurse, who knew +all about Judge Haven and his daughter. + +"I think I too am to be congratulated," said Laura quickly, and the +nurse nodded. + +"Yes, Jim is a good boy," she answered. Then she went away and left the +two together. This time Jim did not talk very much. It was enough for +him to have his pretty lady where he could look at her, and be sure it +was not all a dream. + +Not many days later, after a telephone conference with the nurse, Laura +went to the hospital again. She found the boy lying there with a look of +patient endurance in his eyes, but they widened with half-incredulous +joy when she told him that she had come to take him away. + +"Not--not _now_!" he cried out, with a little break in his voice. + +"Yes, now--just as you are. We are going to wrap you in a blanket and +put you into a carriage, and before you have time to get tired we shall +be home." + +"Home!" echoed Jim, his eyes shining. + +"What makes you look so sober?" Miss Laura asked him as they drove away. +"You aren't sorry to leave the hospital?" + +"Sorry?" Jim gave a shaky little laugh, then suddenly was grave again. +"Yes, I'm sorry, but it's for all the other fellows that nobody's coming +for," he explained. + +"I wish I could have taken them all home with us," Laura answered +quickly. "I'll tell you what we'll do, Jim. If you'll get well very +fast, maybe you and I can give a little Christmas party in your ward, to +those other boys who have to stay there." + +"Hang up stockin's an'--an' a tree an' all?" Jim questioned +breathlessly. + +"Yes. Wouldn't you like that?" + +"_Gee!_" was Jim's rapturous comment. "You bet I'll get well fast--if I +can," the afterthought in a lower tone. + +The room Laura had prepared for the boy had been a nursery, and had a +frieze, representing in gay colours the old Mother Goose stories. Jim +was put on a cot beside the open fire, where he lay very still, but it +was not the dull hopeless stillness of the hospital. Now he was resting, +and his eyes travelled happily along the wall as he picked out the old +familiar characters. + +"Makes me feel like a little kid--seeing all those," he said, pointing +at them. + +The thin white face and small figure under the bedclothes looked like a +very "little kid" still, Laura thought. The gray eyes swept over the +large sunny room and then back to Miss Laura's face, and suddenly Jim's +lips trembled. + +"I--I--I think you're _bully_!" he broke out, and instantly turned his +face to the wall and was still again. Laura slipped quietly out of the +room. When she returned a few minutes later, she brought a supper tray. + +"You and I are going to have supper here to-night, Jim," she announced +cheerfully, "because my father is away, and I should be lonesome all +alone downstairs and you might be lonesome up here. You must have a +famous appetite, you know, if you are to get well and strong for that +Christmas party at the hospital." + +"I'm hungry, all right," Jim declared, his eyes lingering on the +tempting food so daintily served; but after all he did not eat very +much. + +After supper he lay quietly watching the leaping flames for a long time. +Suddenly he broke the silence with a question. + +"I'll be back there then?" + +"Back where, Jim? I don't understand," Miss Laura said. + +"At the hospital--when we have that Christmas party." + +"Oh. Why, yes, of course, you and I will both be there." + +"Yes, but I mean--I mean----" Jim's eyes were very anxious, "will I be +back there to stay, or where will I be stayin'?" + +Laura's hand dropped softly over one of his and held it in a warm clasp. +"No, Jim, you won't go back there to stay--ever--not if you do your best +to get well, as of course you are going to. I told you I would find a +good home for you and I will, but there's plenty of time to think of +that before your two weeks here are over." + +"You're the--the best ever, Miss Laura," Jim said. "I--I didn't s'pose," +he stumbled on, trying to put his feeling into words, "ladies like you +ever--cared about boys that get left out of things--like I have." + +Laura longed to put her arms about him and hold him close, but there was +something about the sturdy little fellow that warned her, so, waiting a +moment to steady her voice, she answered, "O yes, there are many that +care and do all they can; but you see there are so very many little +fellows that--get left out, Jim." + +Jim nodded, his face very sober. "I wonder why," he said, voicing the +world-old query. + +When she had settled him for the night, she stood looking down at the +dark head on the pillow. "Shall I put the light out, or leave it?" she +asked. + +"Just as you like, Miss Laura," he said, but she thought there was a +little anxiety in his eyes. + +"It makes no difference to me, of course. I want it whichever way you +like best. I know you are not afraid of the dark." + +A moment's silence, then in a very small voice, "Yes--I am--Miss Laura." + +"_Afraid!_" Miss Laura caught herself up quickly. + +"Yes'm," said Jim in a still smaller voice, his eyes hidden now. + +"O--then I'll leave the light, of course." But there was just a shade of +disappointment in Miss Laura's voice and Jim caught it. "Good-night, +dear," she added, with a light touch on the straight brown hair. + +"G'night," came in a muffled voice from the pillow. + +Laura turned away, but before she reached the stairs the boy called her. +She went back at once. + +"What is it, Jim? Do you want anything?" + +"Yes'm, the light. I guess--you better put it out." + +"Not if you are afraid in the dark, Jim." + +"Yes, Miss Laura, that's why." + +"But I don't understand. Can't you tell me?" she urged gently. + +Jim gulped down a troublesome something in his throat before he said in +a whisper, "Put your head down close, Miss Laura." + +She turned out the light and as she dropped down beside the bed, a small +arm slipped around her neck and a husky little voice whispered in her +ear, "It's 'cause I'm 'fraid inside that I mustn't have the light left." +Another gulp. "Mother--she said you wasn't a coward just 'cause you was +'fraid inside, but only when you let the 'fraid get out into the things +you _do_. She said lots of brave men were 'fraid inside sometimes. +An'--an' she said I mustn't ever be a coward nor tell lies, an' I +promised--cross my heart--I wouldn't. So that's why, Miss Laura." + +Again Laura longed to hug the little fellow and kiss him as his mother +would have done, but she said only, + +"Yes, Jim, I quite understand now, and I know you will never be a +coward. Here's the bell, you know. You can press the button if you want +anything, and the maid sleeps in the next room. She'll be up in a few +minutes." + +"Yes'm." A little drowsiness was creeping into Jim's voice already. + +"Good-night, dear." + +"Good-night," Jim murmured and Laura went away, but she left the door +open into the lighted hall, and when she slipped back a little later the +boy was asleep. + +When the other Camp Fire Girls learned about "Miss Laura's boy" they +were all interested in him, and begged that he might come to the next +Council meeting. Jim was sitting up most of the day now, and his +wheelchair was rolled into the room after all the girls had come. He was +dressed and sat up very straight, but though he was much better, his +face was still very thin and white. + +"All but one of my girls are here to-night, Jim," Miss Laura told him. +"I'm going to introduce you to them and see how many of the names you +can remember." + +"Why isn't that other one here?" he demanded. + +"She couldn't come this time," Laura said with a glance at Olga, sitting +grave and silent a little apart from the others. + +The girls gathered about the wheelchair and Jim held out his hand to +each one as Laura mentioned her name. His gray eyes searched each face, +but he said nothing until Lena Barton flung him a careless nod and would +have passed on, but he caught her hand and laughed up into the freckled +face with the bunch of red frizzes puffed out on each side in the +"latest moment" fashion. + +"Hello, Carrots," he called in the tone of jovial good-fellowship, "I +like you, 'cause you look like a fellow I used to sit with in school. +His name was Barton too--Jo Barton. O, I say," leaning forward eagerly, +"mebbe he's your brother?" + +"You're right, kiddie--he's one of the bunch," Lena answered, her face +softening as she looked down into the eager gray eyes. + +"Gee! Jo's sister!" Jim repeated. "I wish Jo was here too. I s'pose," he +glanced at Miss Laura, "you couldn't squeeze in just one more boy?" + +Laura shook her head. "Not into these meetings. But you can invite +Lena's brother to come and see you, if you like." + +"O bully!" Jim cried out and turned again to Lena. "You tell him, won't +you?" + +"I will, sure," she promised, and Jim reluctantly released her hand. + +The girls begged that he might stay, and though Jim's tongue was silent +his eyes pleaded too, so Miss Laura conceded, "Just for a while then, if +you'll be very quiet so as not to get too tired," and with a contented +smile Jim leaned back against his cushions and looked and listened. When +the girls chanted the Fire Ode his eyes widened with pleasure and he +listened with keen interest to the recital of "gentle deeds." Even Olga +gave one this time. Jim's eyes studied her grave face, his own almost as +grave, and when later she passed his chair, he caught her dress and said +very low, "Put down your head. I want to ask you something." + +Olga impatiently jerked her dress from his grasp, but something in his +eyes held her against her will, and under cover of a burst of laughter +from another group, she leaned over the wheelchair and ungraciously +enough asked what he wanted. Jim's eyes, very earnest and serious now, +were looking straight into hers. + +"I know what makes you keep away from the others and look +so--so--dif'rent. You're lonesome like I was at the hospital. Is it your +mother, too?" + +Olga's face went dead white and for an instant her eyes flamed so +fiercely that the boy shrank away with a little gasp of fear. But the +next moment she was looking at him with eyes full of tears--a long +silent look--then, without a word, she was gone. + +The first time that Jim came downstairs to dinner he was very shy and +spoke only in answer to a question. But his awe of Judge Haven and the +servants soon wore off, and his questions and comments began to interest +the judge. When one evening after dinner Laura was called to the +telephone, the judge laid aside his paper and called the boy to him. Jim +promptly limped across the room and stood at the judge's knee, his gray +eyes looking steadily into the keen blue ones above him. + +"Are you having a good time here?" the judge began. + +"O, splendid!" + +"And you are almost well, aren't you?" + +"Almost well," Jim assented, a little shadow of anxiety creeping into +the gray eyes. + +"Let me see--how many days have you been here?" + +Jim answered instantly, "Nine. I've got five more," this last very +soberly. + +"Five more?" the judge questioned. + +Jim nodded gravely. "Miss Laura said I could stay here two weeks, you +know." + +"Oh! And then what--back to the hospital?" + +"O no!" Jim was very positive about that. "No, I don't know where I'll +be after the five days. I--I kind o' wish I did. It would be--settleder, +you know. But," his face brightening, "but of course, it will be a nice +place, because Miss Laura said she'd find me a good home somewhere, and +she don't ever forget her promises. And besides, I'm going to be her boy +just the same when I go away from here--she promised that too." + +The judge nodded, his eyes studying the small earnest face. + +"Miss Laura must find that good home right away," he said. "Of course +you want to know where you are going." + +"I hope she'll be the kind that likes boys," Jim said after a thoughtful +pause. "Do you think she will?" + +"Who?" + +"The woman in that good home. They don't all, you know. Some of 'em +think boys are dreadful noisy and bothering, and some think they eat too +much. I eat a lot sometimes----" he ended with an anxious frown. + +The judge found it necessary just then to put his hand over his eyes. He +muttered something about the light hurting them, and then Laura came in +and told Jim it was bedtime. He said good-night, holding out his small +stubby hand. The judge's big one grasped it and held it a moment. + +"We had a nice talk, didn't we?" Jim said, and with the smile that made +his homely little face radiant for a moment, he added, "It sure is nice +to talk with a _man_," and he went off wondering what the judge was +laughing about. + +He was not laughing when Laura came downstairs again after tucking up +the boy in bed. She so hated to turn out the light and leave him in the +dark, but she always did it. Now she told her father what Jim had said +about that the first night. + +The judge made no comment, but after a moment he remarked, "The boy is +rather worried about the home you are to find for him. It ought to be +settled. Have you any place in view?" + +"No. To tell the truth, father, I can't bear to have him go away. Would +you mind if I keep him here a while longer? You are so much away, and he +is company for me, and very little trouble. I shall miss him dreadfully +when he goes." + +"Of course I don't mind," her father said. "Only, Laura, is it fair to +keep him here--fair to him, I mean? The longer he stays the harder it +will be for him to go to a strange place." + +"I suppose you are right," Laura admitted with a sigh, "and I must find +the home for him at once." + +"But be sure it is a good place, and with a woman who will 'mother' +him," the judge added. "Poor little chap--only nine and lame, and alone +in the world. It's hard lines." + +"It would seem so," his daughter admitted, "and yet, Jim is such a brave +honest little fellow, and he has such a gift for making friends, that +perhaps he is not so badly handicapped, after all. I shall miss him +dreadfully when he leaves us." + + + + +X + +SADIE PAGE + + +But the finding of a satisfactory home for the boy proved to be no easy +task. At the end of the two weeks Laura was still carrying on the quest. +When she told Jim that he was to stay with her another week the look in +his eyes brought the tears into hers. For the first time she dared to +put her arms about him and hold him close, and Jim stayed there, his +head on her shoulder, trying his best to swallow the lump in his throat. +When he lifted his head he said in a shaky voice, "G--gee! But I'm +glad!" + +"Not a bit gladder than I am, Jim," Laura said, "and now we must have a +bit of a celebration to-night. Father is dining out, so we'll have +supper up in the nursery and we'll invite somebody. Who shall it be?" + +She thought he would say Jo Barton, but instead he said, "Olga." + +"Olga?" she repeated doubtfully. "I'm not at all sure that she will +come, but I'll ask her. I'll write a note now and send it to the place +where she works." + +Jim gave a little happy skip. He ignored his lameness so absolutely that +often Laura too almost forgot it. "I guess she'll come," he said in the +singing voice he used when he was especially pleased. + +Olga was just starting for home when the note reached her. She scowled +as she read. + + "Dear Olga: Jim wants you to come to supper with us--just with + him and me--to-night at 6:30. I shall be very glad if you will, + for, aside from the pleasure of having you with us, I want to + talk over with you something that concerns Elizabeth. Please + don't fail us. + + "Yours faithfully, + + "Laura E. Haven." + +Olga read the note twice, her eyes lingering on the words "something +that concerns Elizabeth." But for those words she would have refused the +invitation, but she had not seen Elizabeth for some time, and did not +know whether she was sick or well. She did not want to go to supper with +Miss Laura and Jim. Jim was well enough--her face softened a little as +she thought of him, but she did not want to see him to-night. If there +was something to be done for Elizabeth, however----Reluctantly she +turned towards Wyoming Avenue. + +Jim was watching for her at the window and ran to open the door before +the servant could get there. + +"I knew you'd come!" he crowed, flashing a smile up into her sombre +face. "I told Miss Laura you would." + +"What made you so sure, Jim?" she asked curiously. + +"O 'cause. I knew you would. I wanted you _hard_, and when you want +things hard they come--sometimes," Jim said, the triumph dropping out of +his voice with the last word. + +Jim did most of the talking during supper, Laura throwing in a word now +and then, and leaving Olga to speak or be silent, as she chose. She +wondered what it was in Olga that attracted the boy, for he seemed +quite at ease with her, taking it for granted that she liked to be there +and was interested in what interested him; and although Olga was so +silent and grave, there was a friendly light in her eyes when she looked +at Jim, and she did not push him away when he leaned on her knee and +once even against her shoulder, as the three of them gathered about the +fire after supper. But when he had gone to bed, Olga began at once. + +"Miss Laura, what about Elizabeth?" + +"You told me," Miss Laura returned, "that you thought Sadie had +something to do with her absence from the Council meetings." + +Olga's face hardened. "I'm sure of it. She's a hateful little cat--that +Sadie. I'm sure she is determined that Elizabeth shall not come here +unless she comes too." + +"I wonder why the child is so eager to come," Miss Laura said +thoughtfully. + +"Oh!" Olga flung out impatiently. "She's bewitched over the Camp Fire +dresses, and headbands, and all the other toggery, and she likes to be +with older girls. She's just set her heart on being a Camp Fire Girl and +she's determined that if she can't be, Elizabeth shan't be +either--that's all there is about it." + +"Then perhaps we'd better admit her." + +Olga stared in amazement and wrath. "Into _our_ Camp Fire?" + +Miss Laura nodded. + +"But we don't want her, a hateful little snake in the grass like that!" +the girl flung out angrily. "If you knew the way she treats +Elizabeth--like the dirt under her feet!" + +"I know. Her face shows what she is," Laura admitted. + +"Well--do you want a girl like that in your Camp Fire?" + +"Yes," Laura's voice was very low and gentle, "yes, I want any kind of +girl--that the Camp Fire can help." + +"The other girls won't want her," Olga declared. + +"They want Elizabeth, and you think they cannot have her without having +Sadie." + +Olga sat staring into the fire, her black brows meeting in a moody +scowl. + +"Olga, what is the Camp Fire for?" Laura asked presently. + +"For? Why----" Olga paused, a new thought dawning in her dark eyes. + +Laura answered as if she had spoken it. "Yes, the Camp Fire is to help +any girl in any way possible. Not only to help weak girls to grow +strong, and timid girls to grow brave, and helpless girls to become +useful, and lonely girls to find friends and social opportunities--it is +for all these things, but for more--much more besides. It is to show +selfish, narrow-minded girls--like that poor little Sadie--the beauty of +unselfishness and generosity and thoughtful kindness to others. Don't +you see that we have no right to refuse to give Sadie her chance just +because she doesn't know any better than to be disagreeable?" + +Again Olga was silent, and the clock had ticked away full ten minutes +before Laura spoke again. "You want Elizabeth to come to our meetings?" + +"It's the only pleasure she has in the world--coming to them," Olga +returned. + +"I know, and I want her to come just as much as you do," Miss Laura +said, "but I think you are the only one who can bring it about." + +"How can I?" + +"There is a way--I think--but it will be a very unpleasant one for you. +It will call for a large patience, and perseverance, and determination." + +Olga, searching Miss Laura's face, cried out, "You mean--_Sadie_!" + +"Yes, I mean Sadie. Olga, do you care enough for Elizabeth to do this +very hard thing for her? You did so much for her at the Camp! It was you +who put hope and courage and will-power into her and helped her to find +health. But she still needs you, and she needs what the Camp Fire can +give her. She cannot have either, it seems, unless we take Sadie too, +and Sadie needs what the Camp Fire can give quite as much--in a +different way--as Elizabeth did or does. Olga, are you willing for +Elizabeth's sake to do your utmost for Sadie--so that the other girls +will take her in? They wouldn't do it as she is now, you know." + +Olga pondered over that and Laura left her to her own thoughts. This +thing meant much to the lives of three girls--this one of the three must +not be hurried. But she studied the dark face, reading there some of the +conflicting thoughts passing through the girl's mind. After a long time +Olga threw back her head and spoke. + +"I shall _hate_ it, but I'll do it." + +Laura shook her head doubtfully. "Sadie is keen--sharp. If you hate her +she will know it, and you'll make no headway with her." + +"I know." Olga gave a rueful little laugh. "She's sharp as +needles--that's the one good thing about her. I shall have to start +with that and not pretend--anything. It wouldn't be any use. I shall +tell her plainly that I'll help her get into our Camp Fire on condition +that she treats Elizabeth as she ought and gets her out to our meetings. +I'll make a square bargain with her. Maybe she won't agree, but I think +she will, and if she agrees, I think she'll do her part." + +Laura drew a long breath of relief. "I am so glad, Olga--glad for +Elizabeth and for Sadie both," and in her heart she added, "and for you +too, Olga--O, for you too!" + +So the very next evening Olga stood again at the door which Sadie had +slammed in her face, and as before it was Sadie who answered her ring. + +"You can't see Elizabeth," she began with a flirt, but Olga said +quietly, + +"I came to see you this time." + +"I don't believe it," Sadie flung back at her. + +"I want to talk with you," Olga persisted. "Can you walk a little way +with me?" + +Sadie's small black eyes seemed to bore like gimlets into the eyes of +the other girl, but curiosity got the better of suspicion after a minute +and saying, "Well, wait till I get my things, then," she left Olga on +the steps till she returned with her coat and hat on. + +"Now, what is it?" she demanded as the two walked down the street. + +"Do you want to be a Camp Fire Girl?" Olga began. + +"What if I do?" Sadie returned suspiciously. + +"You can be if you like." + +"In your Camp Fire--the Busy Corner one?" + +"Yes." + +"How can I? You said I couldn't before." + +"There wasn't any vacancy then, but one of our girls has gone to +Baltimore, so there is a chance for some one in her place." + +Sadie's breath came quickly, and the suspicion and sharpness had dropped +out of her voice as she asked eagerly, "Will Miss Laura let me +join--truly?" + +"Yes----" + +"Yes--what?" Sadie demanded, the sharpness again in evidence. + +Olga faced her steadily. "Sadie, I'm going to put it to you straight, +for if you join, you've got to understand exactly how it is." + +"I know," Sadie broke out angrily, "you're just letting me in so's to +get 'Lizabeth. You can't fool me, Olga Priest." + +"I know it, and I'm not trying to," Olga answered quietly. "Now listen +to me, Sadie. _I_ wouldn't have let you join only, as you say, to get +Elizabeth. But Miss Laura wants you for yourself too." + +"'D she say so?" Sadie demanded eagerly. + +"Yes, she said so." Again Olga looked straight into the sharp little +suspicious face of the younger girl. "Sadie, you're no fool. I wonder if +you've grit enough to listen to some very plain facts--things that you +won't like to hear. Because you've got to understand and do your part, +or else you'll get no pleasure of our Camp Fire if you do join. Are you +game, Sadie Page?" + +The eyes of the two met in a long look and neither wavered. Finally +Sadie said sulkily, "Yes, I'm game. Of course, it's something hateful, +but--go ahead. I'm listening." + +"No, it isn't hateful--at least, I don't mean it so," and actually Olga +was astonished to find now that she no longer hated this girl. "I'm just +trying to do the best I can for you. Of course, if you come in, +Elizabeth, too, must come to all the meetings; but I'll help you, Sadie, +just as I helped her, to win honours, and I'll teach you to do the craft +work, and to meet the Fire Maker's tests later. I'll do everything I can +for you, Sadie." + +"Will you show me how to make the Camp Fire dress and the bead headbands +and all that?" Sadie demanded breathlessly. + +"Yes--all that." + +"O, goody!" Sadie gave a little gleeful skip. "I know I can learn--I +_know_ I can--better'n 'Lizabeth." + +Then, seeing Olga's frown, Sadie added hastily, "But 'Lizabeth can learn +to do some of them, I guess, too." + +"Elizabeth can learn if she has half a chance," Olga said. "She works so +hard at home that she is too tired to learn other things quickly." + +Sadie shot an angry glance at the other girl's face, but she managed +with an effort to hold back the sharp words she plainly longed to fling +out. She was silent a moment, then she asked, "You said 'things that I +wouldn't like.' What are they?" + +"Sadie--did you know that you can be extremely disagreeable without half +trying?" Olga asked very quietly. + +"I d'know what you mean." Sadie's face darkened, and her voice was sulky +and defiant. + +"I wonder if you really don't," Olga said, looking at her thoughtfully. +"But it's true, Sadie. You have hateful little ways of speaking and +doing things. They're only habits--you can break yourself of them, and +quick and bright as you are, you'll find that the girls--our Camp Fire +Girls--will like you and take you right in as soon as you do drop those +ugly nagging ways. You know, Sadie, you can't ever be really happy +yourself until you try to make other people happy----" + +Suddenly realising what she was saying, Olga stopped short. Sadie's eyes +saw the change in her face, and Sadie's sharp voice demanded instantly, +"What's the matter?" + +Olga answered with a frankness that surprised herself, no less than the +younger girl, "Sadie, it just came to me that you and I are in the same +box. I've not been trying to make others happy any more than you +have----" + +"No," Sadie broke in, "I was going to tell you that soon as I got a +chance." + +Olga's lips twisted in a wry smile as she went on, "--so you see you and +I both have something to do in ourselves. Maybe we can help each other? +What do you say? Shall we watch and help each other? I'll remind you +when you snap and snarl, and you----" + +"I'll remind you when you sulk and glower," Sadie retorted in impish +glee. "Maybe we _can_ work it that way." + +"All right, it's a bargain then?" Olga held out her hand and Sadie's +thin nervous fingers clasped it promptly. The child's cheeks were +flushed and her small black eyes were shining. + +"I can learn fast if I want to," she boasted. "I'm going to make me a +silver bracelet like Miss Laura's and a pin; and I'll have lovely +embroidery on my Camp Fire dress. I _love_ pretty things like +those--don't you?" + +Olga shook her head. "No, I don't care for them," she returned; but as +she spoke there flashed into her mind some words Mrs. Royall had spoken +at one of the Council meetings--"Seek beauty in everything--appreciate +it, create it, for yourself and for others." Sadie was seeking beauty, +even though for her it meant as yet merely personal adornment, and +she--Olga--deep down in her heart had been cherishing a scorn for all +such beauty. She put the thought aside for future consideration as she +said, "Then, Sadie, you and Elizabeth will be at Miss Laura's next +Saturday?" + +"I rather guess we _will_!" Sadie answered emphatically. + +"You don't have to ask your mother about it?" + +Sadie gave a scornful little flirt. "Mother! She always does what I +want. We'll be there." And then, with a burst of generosity, she added, +"You can see Elizabeth, for a minute, if you want to--now." + +But again Olga shook her head. "Tell her I'll stop for her and you +Saturday," she said. "Good-bye, Sadie." + +"Good-bye," Sadie echoed, turning towards her own door; but the next +minute she was clutching eagerly at Olga's sleeve. "Say--tell Miss Laura +to be sure and have my silver ring ready for me as soon's I join," she +cried. "You won't forget, Olga?" + +"I won't forget," Olga assured her. + + + + +XI + +BOYS AND OLD LADIES + + +The change into a home atmosphere and the loving care with which he was +surrounded, worked wonders in Jim, and when the judge decided that he +should remain where he was, and not be sent to any other home, the boy +grew stronger by the hour. Then Laura had her hands full to keep him +happily occupied; for after a while, in spite of auto rides and visits +to the Zoo--in spite of books and games and picture puzzles--sometimes +she thought he seemed not quite happy, and she puzzled over the problem, +wondering what she had left undone. When one day she found him watching +some boys playing in a vacant lot, the wistful longing in his eyes was a +revelation to her. + +"Of course, it is boys he is longing for--boys and out-of-door fun. I +ought to have known," she said to herself, and at once she called Elsie +Harding on the telephone. + +"Will you ask your brother Jack if he will come here Saturday morning +and see Jim? Tell him it is a chance for his 'one kindness,' a kindness +that will mean a great deal to my boy." + +"I'll tell him," Elsie promised. "I know he'll be glad to go if he can." + +Laura said nothing to Jim, but when Jack Harding appeared, she took him +upstairs at once. Jim was standing at the window, watching two boys and +a puppy in a neighbouring yard. He glanced listlessly over his shoulder +as the door opened, but at sight of a boy in Scout uniform, he hurried +across to him, crying out, + +"My! But it's good to see a boy!" Then he glanced at Laura, the colour +flaming in his face. Would she mind? But she was smiling at him, and +looking almost as happy as he felt. + +"This is Jack Harding, Elsie's brother," she said, "and, Jack, this is +my boy Jim. I hope he can persuade you to stay to lunch with him." Then +she shut the door and left the two together. + +When she went back at noon, she found the boys deep in the mysteries of +knots. Jim looked up, his homely little face full of pride. + +"Jack is learning me to tie all the different knots," he cried, "and +he's going to learn me ['teach,' corrected Jack softly]--yes, teach me +everything I'll have to know before I can be a Scout. Jack's a second +class Scout--see his badge? We've had a bully time, haven't we, Jack?" + +Suddenly his head went down and his heels flew into the air as he turned +a somersault. Coming right end upwards again, he looked at Laura with a +doubtful grin. "I--I didn't mean to do that," he stammered. "It--just +did itself--like----" + +Jack's quick laugh rang out then. "I know. You had to get it out of your +system, didn't you?" he said with full understanding. + +That was a red-letter day to Jim. He kept his visitor until the last +possible moment, and stood at the window looking after him till the +straight little figure in khaki swung around a corner and was gone. +Then with a long happy breath he turned to Laura and said, half +apologetically, half appealingly, "You see a fellow gets kind o' hungry +for boys, sometimes. You don't mind, do you, Miss Laura?" + +"No, indeed, Jim. I get hungry for girls the same way--it's all right," +she assured him. But she made up her mind that Jim should not get _so_ +hungry for boys again--she would see to that. + +After a moment he asked thoughtfully, "Why can't boys be Scouts till +they're twelve, Miss Laura?" + +"I think because younger boys could not go on the long tramps." + +"Oh!" Jim thought that over and finally admitted, "Yes, I guess that's +it." A little later he asked anxiously, "Do you s'pose they'd let a +fellow join when he's twelve even if he is just a _little_ lame?" + +"O, I hope so, Jim," Laura answered quickly. + +"But you ain't sure. Jack wasn't sure, but he guessed they would." Jim +pondered a while in silence, then he broke out again, "Seems to me the +only way is for me to get this leg cured. I can't be shut out of things +always just 'cause of that, can I now, Miss Laura?" + +"Nothing can shut you out of the best things, Jim." + +The boy looked up at her, tipping his round head till he reminded her of +an uncommonly wise sparrow. "I don't _quite_ know what you mean," he +said in a doubtful tone. + +"You like stories of men who have done splendid brave things, don't +you?" Laura asked. + +Jim nodded, his eyes searching her face. + +"But some of the bravest men have never been able to fight or do the +things you love to hear about." + +"How did they be brave then?" Jim demanded. + +"They were brave because they endured very, very hard things and never +whimpered." + +"What's whimpered?" + +"To whimper is to cry or complain--or be sorry for yourself." + +Jim studied over that; then coming close to Laura, he looked straight +into her eyes. "You mean that I mustn't talk about that?" He touched his +lame leg. + +"It would be better not, if you can help it," she said very gently. + +"I got to help it then, 'cause, of course, I've got to be brave. And +mebbe if I get strong as--as anything, they'll let me join the Scouts +when I'm twelve even--even if I ain't quite such a good walker as the +rest of 'em. Don't you think they _might_, Miss Laura?" + +"Yes, Jim, I think they might," she agreed hastily. Who could say "No" +to such pleading eyes? + +Jim had been teasing to go to school, and when at the next Camp Fire +meeting, Lena Barton told him that Jo had been sent to an outdoor +school, Jim wanted to go there too. + +"Take him to the doctor and see what he thinks about it," the judge +advised, and to Jim's delight the doctor said that it was just the place +for him. + +"Let him sleep out of doors too for a year," the doctor added. "It will +do him a world of good." + +So the next day Miss Laura went with him to the school, Jim limping +gaily along at her side, and chuckling to himself as he thought how +"s'prised" Jo would be to see him there. + +Jo undoubtedly was surprised. He was a thin little chap, freckled and +red-haired like his sister, and he welcomed his old comrade with a wide +friendly grin. + +Jim thought it a very queer-looking school, with teacher and pupils all +wearing warm coats, mittens, and hoods or caps, and all with their feet +hidden in big woolen bags. There was no fire, of course, and all the +windows were wide open. + +"But what a happy-looking crowd it is!" Laura said, and the teacher +answered, + +"They are the happiest children I ever taught, and they learn so easily! +They get on much faster than most of the children in other schools of +the same grade. We give them luncheon here--plain nourishing things +which the doctor orders--and," she lowered her voice, "that means a deal +to some who come from poor homes where there is not too much to eat." + +"We shall gladly pay for Jim," Laura said quickly, "enough for him and +some of the others too." + +So Jim's outdoor life began. There was a covered porch adjoining the +old nursery, and the judge had the end boarded up to protect the boy's +cot from snow or rain; and there, in a warm sleeping-bag, with a wool +cap over his ears, and a little fox terrier cuddled down beside him for +company, Jim slept through all the winter weather. + +He and the judge were great chums now. It would be hard to say which +most enjoyed the half-hour they spent together before Laura carried the +boy off to bed. And as for Laura--she often wondered how she had ever +gotten on without Jim. He filled the big house with life, and she didn't +at all mind the noise and disorder that he brought into it. He whistled +now from morning till night, and his pockets were perfect catch-alls. +Sometimes they were stuck together with chewing-gum or molasses candy, +and sometimes they were soaked with wet sponges, and his hands--she +counted one Saturday, thirteen times that she sent him to wash them +between getting up and bedtime. + +The girls always wanted Jim at their Camp Fire meetings, for a part of +the time at least. As "Miss Laura's boy" they felt that in a way he +belonged to them too, and Jim was very proud and happy to make one of +the company. + +"I'm going to be a Camp Fire boy until I'm big enough to be a Scout, if +you'll all let me," he told the girls one night, and they all gave him +the most cordial of welcomes. + +He was sitting between Olga and Elizabeth, when the girls were talking +about some of the babies they had found. + +"We never find one that is just right," Rose Parsons complained. "Or if +the baby is what we would like, there is always some one that wants to +keep it." + +"I'm glad of it," Lena Barton flung out. "It was silly of us to think of +taking a baby, anyhow. We better just help out somewhere--maybe with +some older kid." Her red-brown eyes flashed a glance at Jim. + +It was then that Frances Chapin broke in earnestly, "O girls, I do so +wish you'd take one of the old ladies at the Home! They need our help +quite as much as the babies--more, I sometimes think, for they are so +old and tired, and they've such a little time to--to have things done +for them. The babies have chances, but the chances of these old ladies +are almost over. There's one--Mrs. Barlow--I'm sure you couldn't help +loving her--she is so gentle and patient and uncomplaining, although she +cannot see to sew or read, and cannot go out alone. She has her board +and room at the Home of course, but clothes are not provided, and she +hasn't any money at all. Just think of never having a dollar to buy +anything with! And the money we could give would buy so many of the +things she needs, and it would make her so happy to have us run in and +see her now and then. There are so many of us that no one would have to +go often, and she loves girls. She had two of her own once, but they +both died in one year, and her husband was killed in an accident. She +did fine sewing and embroidery as long as she could see; then an old +friend got her into the Home. I took this picture of her to show you." + +She handed the picture to Laura, who passed it on with the comment, "It +is a sweet face." + +The girls all agreed that it was a sweet face, and Mary Hastings, +stirred by Frances' earnest pleading, moved that what money they could +spare should be given to Frances for Mrs. Barlow, but Frances interposed +quickly, "She needs the money, but she needs people almost more. She is +so happy when Elsie or I go in to see her even just for a minute! I +shall be delighted if we take her for our Camp Fire 'service,' but +please, girls, _if_ we do, give her a little of your_selves_--not just +your money alone," she pleaded. + +"How would I know what to say to an old woman?" Lena Barton grumbled. "I +shouldn't have an idea how to talk to her." + +"You wouldn't need to have--she has ideas of her own a-plenty. Girls, +if you'll only once go and see her, you won't need to be coaxed to go +again, I'm sure," Frances urged. + +"I'm in favour of having Frances' old lady for our 'Camp Fire baby,'" +laughed Louise Johnson. "I second Mary's motion." + +But Lena Barton's high-pitched voice cut in, "Before we vote on that I'd +like to say a word. I've no doubt that Mrs. Barlow is an angel minus the +wings, but before we decide to adopt her I'd like to see some of the +other old ladies. I've wanted for a long time to get into one of those +Homes with a big H. How about it, Frances--would they let me in or are +working girls ruled out?" + +"O no, any one can go there," Frances replied, but her face and her +voice betrayed her disappointment. When Louise spoke, Frances had +thought her cause was won. + +"All right--I'll go then to-morrow, and maybe I'll find some old lady +I'll like better than your white-haired angel," Lena flung out, her +red-brown eyes gleaming with sly malice and mischief. + +Quite unconsciously, and certainly without intention, the three High +School girls held themselves a little apart from Lena and her "crowd," +and Lena was quite sharp enough to detect and resent this. She chuckled +as she watched Frances' clouded face. + +"O never mind, Frances," Elsie Harding whispered under cover of a brisk +discussion on old ladies, that Lena's words had started, "Lena's just +talking for effect. She won't take the trouble to go to the Home." + + + + +XII + +NANCY REXTREW + + +But that was where Elsie was mistaken. Lena did go the very next +afternoon, and dragged the reluctant Eva with her. The girls, proposing +to join the Sunday promenade on the Avenue later, were in their Sunday +best when they presented themselves at the big, old-fashioned frame +house on Capitol Hill. + +"Who you goin' to ask for?" Eva questioned as Lena, lifting the old +brass knocker, dropped it sharply. + +"The Barlow angel, I s'pose. We don't know the name of anybody else +here," Lena returned with a grin. + +The maid who answered their summons told them to go right upstairs. They +would find Mrs. Barlow in Room 10 on the second floor. So they went up, +Lena's eyes, as always, keen and alert, Eva scowling, and wishing +herself "out of it." + +"Here's No. 6--it must be that second door beyond," Lena said in a low +tone; but low as it was, somebody heard, for the next door--No. 8--flew +open instantly, and a woman stepped briskly out and faced the girls. + +"Come right in--come right in," she said with an imperative gesture. +"My! But I'm glad to see ye!" + +So compelling was her action that, with a laugh, Lena yielded and Eva +followed her as a matter of course. + +The woman closed the door quickly, and pulled forward three chairs, +planting herself in the third. + +"My land, but it's good to see ye sittin' there," she began. "What's yer +names? Mine's Nancy Rextrew." + +Lena gave their names, and the woman repeated them lingeringly, as if +the syllables were sweet on her tongue. Then she tipped her head, pursed +her lips, and gave a little cackling laugh. + +"I s'pose ye was bound fer her room--Mis' Barlow's, eh?" she questioned. + +"Yes," Lena admitted, "but----" + +"I don't care nothin' about it if you was!" Nancy Rextrew broke in +hastily, her little black eyes snapping and her wrinkled face all alive +with eager excitement. "I don't care a mite if you was. Mis' Barlow has +somebody a-comin' to see her nigh about every day, an' I've stood it +jest as long as I can. Yesterday when the Chapin girl an' the Harding +girl stayed along of her half the afternoon I made up my mind that the +next girl that came through this corridor was a-comin' in here--be she +who she might. I was right sure some girl or other'd come on a pretty +Sunday like this, to read the Bible or suthin' to her, an' I says to +myself, 'I'll kidnap the next one--I don't care if it's the daughter of +the president in the White House.' An' I've done it, an' I'm _glad_!" +she added triumphantly, her eyes meeting Lena's with a flash that drew +an answering flash from the girl's. + +"Well, now that you've kidnapped us, what next?" Lena demanded with a +laugh. + +"I do' know an' I don't care what next," the woman flung out with a +gleeful reckless gesture. "Of course I can't keep ye if ye _want_ to go +in there," with a nod towards No. 10, "but you don't somehow look like +the pious sort. Be ye?" + +Lena shook her head. "I guess I'm your sort," she said. She had never +before met an old woman at all like this one, and her heart went out to +her. In spite of wrinkles and gray hairs, the spirit of youth nodded to +her from Nancy Rextrew's little black eyes, and something in Lena +answered as if in spite of herself. + +Nancy hitched her chair closer, and with her elbows on her knees, rested +her shrivelled chin on her old hands, wrinkled and swollen at the +joints. "Now tell me," she commanded, "all about yourself. You ain't no +High School girl, I'm thinkin'." + +"You're right--I never got above the seventh grade--I had to go to work +when I was thirteen. Eva and I both work in Wood and Lanson's." + +"What d'ye do there?" Nancy snapped out the question, fairly hugging +herself in her delight. + +"I'm a wrapper in the hosiery department. Eva's in the hardware." + +"I know--I know," Nancy breathed fast as one who must accomplish much in +little time, "I've been all over that store. My! But I'd like to see ye +both there--'specially _you_!" Her crooked finger pointed at Lena. "I +bet you're a good one. You could make a cow buy stockings if you took a +notion to." + +Lena broke into a shout of laughter at the vision of a cow coming in to +be fitted with stockings. "I'm afraid," she gurgled, "that we'd have to +make 'em to order--for a cow!" and all three joined in the laughter. + +But Nancy could not spare time for much merriment. She poured out eager +questions and listened to the answers of the girls with an interest that +drew forth ever more details. At last, with a furtive sidelong glance at +the clock, she said, "I s'pose now if I should go there to the store +you'd be too busy to speak to me--or mebbe you wouldn't want to be seen +talkin' to an old thing like me, an' I wouldn't blame ye, neither." + +"Stuff!" retorted Lena promptly. "You come to my place next time you're +down town and I'll show you. We wouldn't be shoddy enough to turn down a +friend, would we, Eva?" + +"I guess no," Eva agreed, but without enthusiasm. + +"A friend!" As Nancy repeated the word a curious quiver swept over her +old lined face. "You don't have to call me a friend," she said. "Old +women like me don't expect to be called _friend_--didn't ye know that?" + +"I said friend, and I meant what I said," repeated Lena stoutly, and the +old woman swallowed once or twice before she spoke again. + +"You've told me about your work, now tell me the rest of it--the fun +part," she begged. + +"O that!" said Lena. "The fun is moving pictures and roller skating and +dances and the Avenue parade--with the boys along sometimes." + +"I bet ye there's boys along where you be!" Nancy flashed an admiring +glance at the girl. "I always did admire bright hair like yours, an' a +pinch o' freckles is more takin' than a dimple--if you ask me." + +Had Nancy been the shrewdest of mortals she could have said nothing +that would have pleased Lena more. She had been called "Carrots" and +"Redhead" all her life, and from the bottom of her soul she loathed her +fiery locks and her freckles, though never yet had she acknowledged this +to any living creature--and here was one who _liked_ freckles and red +hair! Lena could have hugged the little old woman beaming at her with +such honest admiration. A wave of hot colour swept up to her forehead. +But Nancy's thoughts had taken another turn. + +"Movin' pictures. That's the new kind of show, ain't it? I've heard +about 'em, but I've never seen any." + +"You can go for a nickel," said Eva. + +"A nickel?" echoed Nancy, flashing a swift glance at her. "But nickels +don't grow on gooseberry bushes, an' if they did, there ain't any +gooseberry bushes around here," she retorted. + +"Say----" Lena was leaning forward, her eyes full of interest, "we'll +take you to see the movies any time you'll go, won't we, Eva?" + +"Er--yes, I guess so," Eva conceded reluctantly; but Nancy paid no +attention now to Eva. Her eyes, widened with incredulous joy, were fixed +on Lena's vivid face. + +"Do you mean it? You ain't foolin'?" she faltered. + +"Fooling? Well, I guess you don't know me. When I invite a friend +anywhere I mean it. When can you go?" + +"When? Now--_this minute_!" Nancy cried, starting eagerly to her feet. +Then recollecting herself, she sat down again with a shamefaced little +laugh. "For the land's sake, if I wasn't forgettin' all about it's bein' +Sunday!" she cried under her breath. + +"I guess you wouldn't want to go Sunday," Lena said. "But how about +to-morrow evening?" + +Old Nancy drew a long breath. "I s'pose mebbe I _can_ live through the +time till then," she returned. Then with a quick, questioning +glance--"But s'posing some of your friends should be there? I guess +mebbe--you wouldn't care for 'em to see you with an old woman like me in +such a place." + +"Don't you fret yourself about that," Lena replied. "You just meet us at +the corner of Tenth and the Avenue. I'll be there at half-past seven, if +I can. Anyhow, you wait there till I come." + +When the girls went away Nancy Rextrew walked with them down to the +front door and stood there watching as long as she could see them, her +sharp old face full of pride and joy and hope that had long been +strangers there. + +"O my Lord!" she said under her breath as she went back to her room--and +again "O my Lord!" + +"That old woman's going to have the time of her life to-morrow night," +Lena said, as the two girls walked towards the Avenue. + +"I don't suppose she's got a decent thing to wear," Eva grumbled. + +Lena turned on her like a flash. "I don't care if she's got nothing but +a _nightgown_ to wear, she shall have a good time for once if I can make +her!" she stormed. "Talk about your Mrs. Barlow!" And Eva subsided into +cowed silence. + +At quarter of eight the next evening, the two girls saw Nancy Rextrew +standing on the corner of Tenth Street and the Avenue, peering anxiously +first one way and then the other. + +"Oh!" groaned Eva. "Lena Barton, look at the shawl she's got on. I bet +it's a hundred years old--and that bonnet!" + +"If it's a hundred years old it's an antique and worth good money!" +retorted Lena. "Hurry up!" + +But Eva hung back. "I'd be ashamed forever if any of the boys should see +me with her," she half whimpered. + +Lena stopped short and stamped her foot, heedless of interested +passers-by. "Then go back!" she cried. "And you needn't hang around me +any more. Go _back_, I say!" Without another glance at Eva she hurried +on, and Eva sulkily followed. + +Rapturous relief swept the anxiety from old Nancy's little triangle of a +face as she caught sight of the two girls. + +"'Fraid you've been waitin' an age," Lena greeted her breezily. "I +couldn't get off as early as I meant to. Come on now--we won't lose any +more time," and slipping her arm under Nancy's, she swept her, +breathless and beaming, towards the brilliantly-lighted show-place. + +"Two," she slapped a dime down before the ticket-taker, quite ignoring +Eva, who silently laid a nickel beside the dime. + +The place was one of the best of its kind, well ventilated and spaced +and, though the lights were turned down, it was by no means dark within. +Lena guided the old woman into a seat and sat down beside her, and Eva, +after a quick searching glance that revealed none of her acquaintances +present, took the next seat. + +For the hour that followed Nancy Rextrew was in Fairyland. With +breathless interest, her eyes glued to the pictures, her mouth half +open, she followed the quick-moving figures through scenes pathetic or +ludicrous with an absorbed attention that would not miss the smallest +detail. When that popular idol--the Imp--was performing her antics, the +old woman's quick cackling laugh made Eva drop her head that her big hat +might hide her face. When the "Drunkard's Family" were passing through +their harrowing experiences, tears rolled unheeded down old Nancy's +wrinkled cheeks as she sat with her knobby fingers tight clasped. + +When, at last, Lena whispered in her ear, "I guess we'll go now," Nancy +exclaimed, + +"Oh! Is it over? I thought it had just begun. But it was +beautiful--beautiful! I'll never----" + +A loud sharp explosion cut through her sentence and instantly the whole +place was in an uproar. Suffocating fumes filled the room with smoke as +the lights went out. Then somebody screamed, "Fire! _Fire_!" and +pandemonium reigned. Women shrieked, children wailed, and men and boys +fought savagely to get to the doors. Lena was swept on by the first mad +rush of the crowd, crazy with fear, but catching at a seat, she tried to +slip into it and climb back to Nancy and Eva. Before she could reach +them, she saw Eva thrown down in the aisle by a big woman frantic with +terror, who tried to walk over her prostrate body, but a pair of bony +hands grabbed the woman's hair and yanked her back, holding her, it +seemed, by sheer force of will, for the few precious seconds that gave +Lena a chance to pull Eva up and out of the aisle. + +"You fools!" The old woman's voice, shrill and cracked, but steady and +unafraid, cut through the babel of shrieks and cries, "You fools, there +ain't no fire! If you'll stop yellin' an' pushin' and go quiet you'll +all get out in a minute. It's jest a step to the doors." + +She was only a little old woman--a figure of fun, if they could have +seen her clearly, with her old bonnet tilted rakishly over one ear and +her shawl trailing behind her--but through the smoke, in that tumult of +fear and dread, the dauntless spirit of her loomed large, and dominated +the lesser souls craven with terror. + +A draught of air thinned the smoke for a moment, and as those in front +rushed out, the pressure in the main aisle lessened. Climbing over the +back of a seat, Lena caught the old woman's arm. + +"Come," she shouted in her ear, "we can get through to the side aisle +now--that's almost clear. Come, Eva, buck up--buck up, I say, or we'll +never get out of this!" for Eva, terrified, bruised, and half fainting, +was now hanging limp and nerveless to Lena's arm. + +"Don't you worry 'bout me. Go ahead an' I'll follow," Nancy Rextrew +said, and grabbing Eva's other arm, the two half pushed and half carried +her between them. Once outside, her blind terror suddenly left her, and +she declared herself all right. + +"Well, then, let's get out of this," and Lena's sharp elbows forced a +passage through the crowd that was increasing every minute, as the +rumour of fire spread. She turned to old Nancy. "We'll get you on a +car--My goodness, Eva, catch hold of her _quick_! We must get her into +the drug store there on the corner," she ended as she saw the old +woman's face. + +They got her into the drug store somehow, and then for the first time in +her life Nancy Rextrew fainted; and great was her mortification when she +came to herself and realised what had happened. + +"My soul and body!" she muttered. "I always did despise women that +didn't know no better than to faint, an' now I'm one of 'em. Gi' me my +Injy shawl an' let me get away. Yes, I be well enough to go home, too!" +She struggled to her feet, and snatching her bonnet from Eva, crammed it +on her head anyhow, fumbling with the strings while she swayed dizzily. + +"Here, let me tie them," Eva said gently. "You sit down so I can reach." +She tied the strings very slowly, pulled the old bonnet straight and +drew the India shawl over the thin shoulders, taking as much time as she +could, to give the old woman a chance to pull herself together. + +"I'll take her home," Lena said. + +"No, you won't--that's my job!" Eva spoke with unusual decision, and +Lena promptly yielded. + +"Well--I guess you're right. I guess if it hadn't been for her----" + +"Yes," said Eva, and her look made further words unnecessary. + +The three walked out to the car a few minutes later. The fire in the +picture theatre had been quickly put out, and already the crowd in the +street was melting away. Nancy looked up and down the wide avenue +brilliant with its many electric lights; then as she saw the car coming +she turned to Lena, her pale face crinkling into sudden laughter. + +"I don't care--it was worth it!" she declared. "I've lived more to-night +than I have in twenty years before. I loved every minute of it--the +pictures an' the fire an' everything. But see here--" she leaned down +and whispered in the girl's ear,--"don't you let any feller put his arm +round you like the man did round that girl that set in front of +us--don't you do it!" + +"I guess _not_!" retorted the girl sharply. "I ain't that kind." + +"That's right, that's right! An'--an' do come an' see me again some +time--do, dearie!" the old woman added over her shoulder as the +conductor pulled her up the high step of the car. + +Eva followed her. "I'm going to see she gets home all right," she said, +and Lena waved her hand as the car passed on. + +"An' to think her sharp old eyes saw that!" Lena thought with a chuckle +as she turned away. "An' me all the time thinkin' she didn't see +anything but the pictures. Well, you never can tell. But she's a duck, +an' it's her gets my nickels--angel or no angel. And to think how she +kidnapped us--the old dear," and Lena went on laughing to herself. + +At the next Camp Fire meeting, Lena, with a mischievous spark in her +eyes, called out to Frances Chapin, "Say, Frances, Eva and I took one of +your old ladies to the picture show the other night." + +Frances looked distinctly disapproving. "I think you might have made a +better use of your money," she returned. + +"I don't, then!" retorted Lena, and thereupon she told the story of +Nancy's Sunday kidnapping, and of what had happened at the picture show. +Her graphic wording held the girls breathless with interest. + +"Well!" commented Louise Johnson, "I'd like to see that old lady of +yours, Lena." + +"She's worth seeing." This from Eva. + +A week later Louise announced that she had seen Lena's old lady. "Saw +her at the Home yesterday. I like her. She sure is a peach." + +"Isn't she just?" Lena responded, her face lighting up. "And did you see +Frances' angel-all-but-the-wings old lady too?" + +"Yes, and she's a peach also, but a different variety," Louise answered +with a laugh. "I gave your Miss Rextrew some mint gum and she popped it +into her mouth as handily as if she'd chewed gum all her life." + +Lena nodded. "She wanted to try it. She wants to try everything that is +going. She's a live wire, that's what she is--good old Nancy!" + +"We went the rounds--Annie Pearson and I," Louise continued. "Saw all +the old ladies except one that doesn't want any visitors. Most of 'em +do, though; and say, girlies--" Louise's sweeping glance included all in +the room--"I reckon it won't hurt any of us to run up there once a month +or so when it means such a lot to those old shut-ins to have us." + +There was a swift exchange of amazed glances at this, _from Louise +Johnson_, and then a murmur of assent from several voices, before Mary +Hastings in her business-like way suggested, "Why not each of us set a +date for going? Then we won't forget--or maybe all go on the same day." + +"All right, Molly--you make out the list an' we'll all sign it," Lena +said, "and, say--make it a nickel fine for any girl that forgets her +date or fails to keep it. Does that go, girls?" + +"Unless for some good and sufficient reason that she will give at our +next meeting," Laura amended. + +Then began a new era for the old ladies at the Home. Always on Saturday +and Sunday afternoons and often on other evenings, light footsteps and +young voices were heard in the corridors and rooms of the old mansion. +Not only gentle Mrs. Barlow and eager old Nancy Rextrew, but all the +women who had drifted into this backwater of life found their dull days +wonderfully brightened by contact with these young lives. Nancy Rextrew +looked years younger than on that Sunday when she had turned kidnapper. +Naturally she was still the prime favourite with Lena and Eva, and +gloried in that fact. But there were girls "enough to go around" in more +senses than one, and most of them were faithful to their agreement, and +seldom allowed anything to keep them from the Home on the date assigned +to them. + + + + +XIII + +A CAMP FIRE CHRISTMAS + + +For over a year Olga had been working in the evening classes of the Arts +and Crafts school, and she was now doing excellent work in silver. Her +designs were so bold and original and her execution so good, that she +received from patrons of the school many orders for Christmas gifts--so +many that she gave up her other work in order to devote all her time to +this. She had now two rooms, a small bedroom and a larger room which +served as kitchen, living-room, and workroom. None of the girls had ever +been invited to these rooms, nor even Miss Laura. Elizabeth, Olga would +have welcomed there; but it was quite useless to ask her before Sadie +joined the Camp Fire. Then Olga saw her opportunity, but it was an +opportunity hampered by a very unpleasant condition, and the condition +was Sadie. Could she admit Sadie even for the sake of having Elizabeth? +Olga pondered long over that while she was teaching the girl to work +with the beads and the raffia. Sadie was an apt pupil. Those bony little +fingers of hers were deft and quick. Within a month she had made her +Camp Fire dress and her headband, and was eagerly at work over the +requirements for a Fire Maker. But, as Mary Hastings said to Rose +Anderson one day, + +"She's sharp as nails--that Sadie! I believe she can learn anything she +sets her mind on; but she's such a selfish little pig! I can't endure +her." + +"I wish I had her memory," Rose answered. "How she did reel off the Fire +Ode and the Fire Maker's desire the other night! I haven't learned that +Ode yet so that I can say it without stumbling." + +"O, Sadie can reel it off without a mistake, but she's as blind to the +meaning of it as this sidewalk. There's no _heart_ to Sadie Page. She +can thank Elizabeth that we ever voted her in." + +"Elizabeth--and Olga," Rose amended. + +"O, Olga--well, that was for Elizabeth too. Olga did it just for +her--got Sadie in, I mean." + +"She's--different--lately, don't you think, Molly?" + +"Who--Olga?" + +Rose nodded. + +"Yes, she's getting more human. She's opened her heart to Elizabeth and +she can't quite shut it against the rest of us--not quite--though she +opens it only the tiniest crack." + +"But I think it's lovely the way she is to Sadie. You know she must hate +that kind of a girl as much as we do, or more--and yet she endures and +helps her in every way just to give Elizabeth her chance. Miss Laura +says Olga is doing lovely silver work. I'd like to see some of it, but I +don't dare ask her to let me." + +"You'd better not," laughed Mary, "unless you are ready to be snubbed. +Nobody but Elizabeth will ever be privileged to that extent." + +"And Sadie." + +"Well, possibly, but not if Olga can help it." + +Yet it was Sadie and not Elizabeth who was the first of the Camp Fire +Girls to be admitted to Olga's rooms. Sadie was wild to take up the +silver work. She wanted to make herself a complete set--bracelet, ring, +pin, and hatpin, after a design she had seen. Again and again she +brought the matter up, for, once she got an idea in her head, she clung +to it with the tenacity of a limpet to a rock. + +"I think you _might_ teach me!" she cried out impatiently one day, +meeting Olga in the street. "You said you'd teach me all you know--you +did, Olga Priest--and now you won't." + +"I've taught you basket work and beadwork and embroidery, and the knots, +and the Red-Cross things, and I'm helping you to win your honours," Olga +reminded her. + +"O, I know--but I want to make the silver set just awfully. I can do +it--I know I can--and you promised, Olga Priest, you _promised_!" Sadie +repeated, half crying in her eager impatience. + +"Well," Olga said with a reluctance she did not try to conceal, "if you +hold me to that promise----" + +"I do then!" Sadie declared, her black eyes watching Olga's lips as if +she would snatch the words from them before they were spoken. + +"Then I suppose I must," Olga went on slowly. "But listen, Sadie. You +don't seem to realise what you are asking of me. I've been nearly two +years learning this work, and I paid for my lessons--a good big price, +too--yet you expect me to teach you for nothing." + +"Well, you know I've no money to pay for lessons," Sadie retorted +sulkily. + +"I know--but you see you don't _have_ to learn the silver work. There +are plenty of other things for you to learn in handcraft." + +Sadie's narrow sharp face flushed and she stamped her foot angrily. "But +I don't _want_ the other things, and I _do_ want this. I--I've just got +to have that silver set, Olga Priest." + +Olga set her lips firmly. She must draw the line somewhere, for there +seemed no limit to Sadie's demands. Then a thought occurred to her and +she said slowly, "I don't feel, Sadie, that you have any right to ask +this of me. It is different from the other things. The silver work is my +trade--the way I earn my living. But I will teach you to make your set +on one condition." + +"It's something about Elizabeth, I know," Sadie flung out with an angry +flirt. + +"No, not this time. Sadie, have you ever given any one a Christmas +present?" + +"No, of course not. I don't have any money to buy 'em." + +"Well, this is my condition. I'll teach you to make the silver set for +yourself if you will first make something for----" + +"Elizabeth!" broke in Sadie. "I said so." + +"No, not for Elizabeth--for your mother." + +Sadie stood staring, her mouth open, her eyes full of amazement. + +"What you want me to do that for?" she demanded. + +"No matter why. Will you do it?" + +Sadie wriggled her shoulders and scowled. "I want to make my set +first--then I will." + +But Olga shook her head. "No," she replied firmly, "for your mother +first, or else I'll not teach you at all." + +"But I'll have to wait so long then for mine." Sadie was half crying +now. + +"That's my offer--you can take it or leave it," Olga said. "I must go on +now. Think it over and tell me Saturday what you decide." + +"O--if I must, I must, I s'pose," Sadie yielded ungraciously. "How long +will it take me to make mother's?" + +"Depends on how quickly you learn." + +"O, I'll learn quick enough!" Sadie tossed her head as one conscious of +her powers. "When can I begin?" + +"Monday. Can you come right after school?" + +"Uh, huh," and with a brief good-bye Sadie was gone. + +Olga had no easy task with her over the making of her mother's gift. It +was to be a brass stamp box, and her only thought was to get it out of +the way so that she could begin on her own jewelry; but Olga was firm. + +"If you don't make a good job of this your lessons will end right here," +she declared, and Sadie had learned that when Olga spoke in that tone, +she must be obeyed. She gloomed and pouted, but seeing no other way to +get what she wanted she set to work in earnest. And as the work grew +under her hands, her interest in it grew. When, finally, the box was +done, it was really a creditable bit of work for the first attempt of a +girl barely fourteen, and Sadie was inordinately proud of it. + +It was December now and Christmas was the absorbing interest of the +Camp Fire Girls. They were to have a tree in the Camp Fire room, but +Laura told them to make their gifts very simple and inexpensive. + +"We must not spoil the Great Day by giving what we cannot afford," she +said. "The loving thought is the heart of Christmas giving--not the +money value. I'll get our tree, but you can help me string popcorn and +cranberries to trim it, and put up the greenery." + +"Me too--O Miss Laura, can't I help too?" Jim cried anxiously. + +"Why, of course. We couldn't get along without you, Jim," half a dozen +voices assured him before Laura could answer. + +"I wish our old ladies could come to our tree," Elsie Harding said to +Alice Reynolds. + +"They couldn't. Most of them can't go out evenings, you know. But we +might put gifts for them on the tree they have at the Home." + +"Or have them hang up stockings," suggested Louise Johnson. "Just +imagine forty long black stockings strung around those parlour walls. +Wouldn't it be a sight?" she giggled. + +"Nancy Rextrew wouldn't have her stocking hung on any parlour wall. It +would be in her own room or nowhere," put in Lena. + +"Why not get some of those red Christmas stockings from the five cent +store, and fill one for each old lady?" Mary Hastings proposed. "We +could go late, after they'd all gone to their rooms, and hang the +stockings, full, on their doorknobs." + +"Or get the superintendent to hang them early in the morning," was +Laura's suggestion. + +"Yes, we can get the stockings and the 'fillings,'" Mary Hastings went +on, "and have all sent to the superintendent's room. Then we can go +there and fill them. It won't take long if we all go." + +"And not have any tree for them?" Myra asked in a disappointed tone. + +"O, they always have a tree with candles and trimmings--the Board ladies +furnish that," Frances explained. + +The girls lingered late that night talking over Christmas plans. The air +was heavy with secrets, there were whispered conferences in corners, and +somebody was always drawing Laura aside to ask advice or help. Only +Elizabeth had no part in these mysterious whisperings. She had blossomed +into happy friendliness with all the girls now that she came regularly +to the meetings, but the old sad silence crept over her again in these +December days. It was Olga who guessed her trouble and went with it to +Sadie, drawing her away from a group of girls who were busy over crochet +work. + +"Look at Elizabeth," she began. + +Sadie stared at her sister sitting apart from the others, listlessly +gazing into the fire. "Well, what of her? What's eating her?" Sadie +demanded in her most aggravating manner. + +Olga frowned. Sadie's slang was a trial to her. + +"Elizabeth says she is not coming to the Christmas tree here." + +"Well, she don't have to, if she don't want to," Sadie retorted, but she +cast an uneasy glance at the silent figure by the fire. + +"She does want to, Sadie Page--you know she does." + +"Well, then--what's the answer?" demanded Sadie. + +"Would _you_ come if you couldn't give a single thing to any one?" Olga +asked quietly. + +"Why don't she make things then--same's I do?" Sadie's tone was sullen +now. + +"You know why. Your mother gives you a little money----" + +"Mighty little," Sadie interrupted. "I'm going to work when I'm sixteen. +Then I'll have my own money to spend." + +"And Elizabeth is nearly eighteen and can't work for herself because she +spends all her time working for the rest of you at home," said Olga. + +A startled look flashed into the sharp black eyes. Sadie had actually +never before thought of that. + +Olga went on, "I guess you'd miss Elizabeth at home if she should go +away to work, but she ought to do it as soon as she is eighteen. And if +she should, you'd have to do some of the kitchen work, wouldn't you? And +maybe then you wouldn't have a chance to go away and earn money for +yourself." + +"Is she going to do that--go off to work when she's eighteen?" Sadie +demanded, plainly disturbed at the suggestion. + +"Everybody would say she had a right to. Most girls would have gone long +ago--you know it, Sadie. You'd better make things easier for her at home +if you want to keep her there." + +"How?" Sadie's voice was despondent now. "Father gets so little +pay--we're pinched all the time." + +"Yet _you_ have good clothes and money for your silver work----" + +"Well, I have to just tease it out of mother. You don't know how I have +to tease." + +Olga could imagine. "Well," she said, "the girls all guess how it is +about Elizabeth, and, if you come to the tree and she doesn't, I shan't +envy you, that's all. You are smart enough to think up some way to help +Elizabeth out." + +"I d'know how!" grumbled Sadie. "I think you're real mean, Olga +Priest--always saying things to spoil my fun, so there!" and she whirled +around and went back to the other girls. + +"All the same," said Olga to herself, "I've set her to thinking." + +The next afternoon Sadie burst tumultuously into Olga's room crying out, +"I've thought what Elizabeth can do! She can make some cakes--she made +some for us last Christmas--awful nice ones, with nuts an' citron an' +raisins in 'em. She can put white icing over 'em an' little blobs of red +sugar for holly berries, you know, with citron leaves. I thought that up +myself, about the icing. Won't they be dandy?" + +"Fine! Good for you, Sadie!" + +Sadie accepted the approval as her due, and went on breathlessly, "I +thought it all out in school to-day. An' say, Olga--I can make baskets +of green and white crepe paper to hold three or four of the cakes, an' +stick a bit of holly in each basket. Then they can be from me an' +'Lizabeth both--how's that?" + +"Couldn't be better," Olga declared. + +"Uh huh, you see little Sadie has a head on her all right!" Sadie +exulted. But Olga could overlook her conceit since, for once, she had +taken thought for Elizabeth too. + +Laura wondered if, amid all the bustle and excitement of Christmas +planning and doing, Jim would forget about the Christmas for the +Children's Hospital, but he did not forget; and when she told him that +she was depending upon him to tell her what the boys there would like, +Jim had no trouble at all in deciding. So one Saturday Miss Laura took +him down town early before the stores were crowded and they had a +delightful time selecting books and toys. + +"My-ee!" Jim cried, as they were speeding up Connecticut Avenue, the car +piled with packages, "won't this be a splendid Christmas! Ours first at +home, and the hospital Christmas and the Camp Fire one and the old +ladies' one--it'll be four Christmases all in one year, won't it, Miss +Laura?" he exulted. + +"Besides a tree and a gift for each one in your outdoor school," Laura +added. + +Jim stared at her wide-eyed. "O, who's going to give them?" he cried. +"You?" + +"You and I and the judge, Jim. That is our thank-offering for all that +the school is doing for you--and for Jo." + +Jim moved close and hid his face for a long moment on Laura's shoulder. +She knew that he was afraid he might cry, but this time they would have +been tears of pure joy. He explained presently, when he was sure that +his eyes were all right. + +"That will be the best Christmas of all, 'cause some of the out-doorers +wouldn't have a teeny bit of Christmas at home. Jo wouldn't. He says +they never hang up stockings or anything like that at his house. He said +he didn't care, but I know he did." + +That evening Miss Laura asked, "How would you like to put something on +our tree for Jo?" + +"The Camp Fire tree--and have him come?" Jim cried eagerly. + +"Of course." + +It took three somersaults to get that out of Jim's system. When he came +up, flushed and joyful, Laura said, "I'm going to tell you a Christmas +secret, Jim. I am going to have each Camp Fire Girl invite her mother, +or any one else she likes, to come to our tree. We can't have presents +for them all, of course, but there will be ice cream and cake enough for +everybody." + +"O, Miss _Laura_!" Jim cried. "It's going to be the best Christmas that +ever was in this world!" + +And Jim was not the only one who thought so before the Great Day was +over. The tree at the outdoor school, the day before, was a splendid +surprise to every one there except the teacher and Jim, and all the +little "out-doorers," as Jim called them, went home with their hands +full. At the hospital the celebration was very quiet, but in spite of +pain and weariness, the boys in the first ward enjoyed their gifts as +much as Jim had hoped they would. And the Christmas stocking, full and +running over, that each old lady at the Home found hanging to her +doorknob, made those old children as happy as the young ones. + +Jim's stocking could not hold half his treasures, and words failed him +utterly before he had opened the last package. But the Camp Fire +celebration was the great success. The tree was a blaze of light and +colour, and the gifts which the girls had made for each other were many +and varied. Some of the beadwork and basket work was really beautiful, +and there were pretty bits of crochet and some knitted slippers--all the +work of the girls themselves. Miss Laura had begged them to give her no +gift, and hers to each of them was only a little water-colour sketch +with "Love is the joy of service," beautifully lettered, beneath it. + +Sadie's baskets of crepe paper were really very pretty, and these filled +with Elizabeth's holly cakes were one of the "successes" of the evening. +They were praised so highly that Elizabeth was quite, quite happy and +Sadie "almost too proud to live," as she confided to Olga in an excited +whisper. + +But the best of all was the pleasure of the guests of the evening--Jack +Harding and Jo Barton and David Chapin, who all came as Jim's +guests--Louise Johnson's brother, a big awkward boy of sixteen--Eva +Bicknell's mother, with her bent shoulders and rough hands, and other +mothers more or less like her. The four boys helped when the cake and +ice cream were served, and Jim whispered to Jo that he could have just +as many helpings as he wanted--Miss Laura said so--and Jo wanted +several. It was by no means a quiet occasion--there was plenty of noise +and laughter, and fun, and Laura was in the heart of it all. They closed +the evening with ten minutes of Christmas carols in which everybody +joined, and then while the girls were getting on their wraps, the +mothers crowded about Laura, and the things some of them said filled her +heart with a great joy, for they told her how much the Camp Fire was +doing for their girls--making them kinder and more helpful at home, +keeping them off the streets, teaching them so many useful and pretty +sorts of work. + +"My girl is so much happier, and more contented than she used to be," +one said. + +"Mine, too," another added. "I can't be glad enough for the Camp Fire. +Johnny's a Scout an' that's a mighty good thing, too, but for girls +there's nothing like the Camp Fire." + +"Eva used to hate housework, but now she does it thinkin' about the +beads she's getting, and she don't hardly ever fret over it," Mrs. +Bicknell confided. + +"These things you are saying are the very best Christmas gift I could +possibly have," Laura told them, with shining eyes. + +And the girls themselves, as they bade her good-night said words that +added yet more to the full cup of her Christmas joy. + +"O, it pays, father--this work with my girls," she said, when all had +gone, and they two sat together before the fire. "It has been such a +beautiful, beautiful Christmas!" + + + + +XIV + +LIZETTE + + +The last night of December brought a heavy storm of sleety rain, with a +bitter north wind. Laura, reading beside the fire, heard the doorbell +ring, and presently Olga Priest appeared. The biting wind had whipped a +fresh colour into her cheeks, and her eyes were clear and shining under +her heavy brows. + +"You aren't afraid of bad weather, Olga," Laura said as she greeted the +girl. + +"All weather is the same to me," Olga returned indifferently, but as she +sat down Laura cried out, + +"Why, child, your feet are soaking wet! Surely you did not come without +rubbers in such a storm!" + +"I forgot them. It's no matter," Olga said, drawing her wet feet under +her skirts. + +"I'll be back in a moment," Laura replied, and left the room, returning +with dry stockings and slippers. + +"Take off those wet things and heat your feet thoroughly--then put these +on," she ordered in a tone that admitted of no refusal. + +With a frown, Olga obeyed. "But it's nonsense--I never mind wet feet," +she grumbled. + +"You ought to mind them. Your health is a gift. You have no right to +throw it away--no _right_, Olga. It is yours--only to _use_--like +everything else you have." + +Olga paused, one slipper in her hand, pondering that. + +"Don't you see, Olga," Laura urged gently, "we are only stewards. +Everything we have--health, time, money, intellect--all are ours only to +use the little while we are in this world, and not to use for ourselves +alone." + +"It makes life harder if you believe that," Olga flung back defiantly. +"I want my things for myself." + +"O no, it makes life easier, and O, so big and beautiful!" Laura leaned +forward, speaking earnestly. "When we really accept this idea of +service, then 'self is forgotten.' We give as freely as we have +received." Olga shook her head with a gesture that put all that aside. + +"You said Saturday that you wanted my help----" she began. + +"Yes, I do want your help. I'll tell you how presently. Sadie Page is +doing very well in the craft work, isn't she?" + +"Yes. She can copy anything--designing is her weak point--but she is +doing very well." + +"She is improving in other ways." + +"There's room for improvement still," Olga retorted in her grimmest +voice. Then her conscience forced her to add, "But she is more +endurable. She treats Elizabeth some better than she did." + +"Yes, Elizabeth seems so happy now." + +Laura went on thoughtfully, "You are a Fire Maker. Olga, I want you for +a Torch Bearer." + +Olga stared in blank amazement, then her face darkened. "But I don't +want to be a Torch Bearer," she cried. "A Torch Bearer is a leader. I +don't want to be a leader." + +"But I need your help, and some of the girls need you. You can be a +splendid leader, if you will. Have you any right to refuse?" + +"I don't see why not." + +"If in our Camp Fire there are girls whom you might hold back from what +will harm them, or whom you could help to higher and happier living, +don't you owe it to them to do this?" + +"Why? They do nothing for me. I don't ask them to do anything for me." + +"But that is pure selfishness. That attitude is unworthy of you, Olga." + +The girl stirred restlessly. "I don't want to be responsible for other +girls," she impatiently cried out. + +"Have you any choice--you or I? We have promised to keep the law." + +"What law?" + +"The law of love and service--have you forgotten?" Miss Laura repeated +softly, "'I purpose to bring my strength, my ambition, my heart's +desire, my joy, and my sorrow, to the fire of humankind. The fire that +is called the love of man for man--the love of man for God.'" + +Then for many minutes in the room there was silence broken only by the +crackling of the fire, and the voices of the storm without. Olga sat +motionless, the old sombre shadow brooding in her eyes. At last she +stirred impatiently, and spoke. + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Have you noticed Lizette Stone lately?" Miss Laura asked. + +"No. I never notice her." + +"Poor girl, I'm afraid most of you feel that way about her," Laura said, +with infinite pity in her voice. "She never looks happy, but lately +there is something in her face that troubles me. She looks as if she had +lost hope and courage, and were simply drifting. I've tried to win her +confidence, but she will not talk with me about herself. I thought--at +least, I hoped--that you might be able to find out what is the trouble." + +"Why I, rather than any other girl?" + +"I don't know why I feel so sure that you might succeed, but I do feel +so, Olga. She may be in great trouble. If you could find out what it is, +I might be able to help her. Will you try, Olga?" + +The girl shook her head. "I can't promise, Miss Laura. I'll think about +it," was all she would concede. + +"She works in Silverstein's," Laura added, "and I think she has no +relatives in the city." + +The talk drifted then to other matters, and when Olga glanced at the +clock, Miss Laura touched a bell, and in a few minutes a maid brought up +a cup of hot clam bouillon. "You must take it, Olga, before you go out +again in this storm," Laura said, and reluctantly the girl obeyed. + +When she went away, Laura went to the door with her. The car stood +there, and before she fairly realised that it was waiting for her Olga +was inside, and the chauffeur was tucking the fur rug around her. As, +leaning back against the cushions, shielded from wet and cold, she was +borne swiftly through the storm, something hard and cold and bitter in +the girl's heart was suddenly swept away in a strong tide of feeling +quite new to her, and strangely mingled of sweet and bitter. It was +Miss Laura she was thinking of--Miss Laura who had furnished the +beautiful Camp Fire room for the girls and made them all so warmly +welcome there--who so plainly carried them all in her heart and made +their joys and sorrows, their cares and troubles, her own--as she was +making Lizette Stone's now. How good she had been to Elizabeth, how +patient and gentle with that provoking Sadie, and with careless slangy +Lena Barton and Eva! And to her--Olga thought of the dry stockings and +slippers, the hot broth, and now--the car ordered out on such a night +just for her. The girl's throat swelled, her eyes burned, and the last +vestige of bitterness was washed out of her heart in a rain of hot +tears. + +"If she can do so much for all of us I _can't_ be mean enough to shirk +any longer. I'll see Lizette to-morrow," she vowed, as the car stopped at +her door. She stood for a moment on the steps looking after it before +she went in. It had been only "common humanity" to send the girl home in +the car on that stormy night, so Miss Laura would have said. She did not +guess what it would mean to Olga and through her to other girls--many +others--before all was done. + +Silverstein's was a large department store on Seventh Street. Lizette +Stone, listlessly putting away goods the next day, stopped in surprise +at sight of Olga Priest coming towards her. + +"Almost closing time, isn't it?" Olga said, and added, as Lizette nodded +silently, "I want to speak to you--I'll wait outside." + +In five minutes Lizette joined her. "Do you walk home?" Olga asked. + +"Yes, it isn't far--Ninth Street near T." + +"We're neighbours then. I live on Eleventh." + +"I know. Saw you going in there once," Lizette replied. + +There was little talk between them as they walked. Lizette was +waiting--Olga wondering what she should say to this girl. + +"Well, here's where I hang out." In Lizette's voice there was a reckless +and bitter tone. + +"O--here!" Olga's quick glance took in the ugly house-front with its +soiled "Kensington" curtains--its door ajar showing worn oilcloth in the +hall. + +"Cheerful place--eh?" Lizette said. "Want to see the inside, or is the +outside enough?" + +"I want you to come home to supper with me--will you?" Olga said, half +against her will. + +"Do you mean it?" Lizette's hard blue eyes searched her face. "Take it +back in a hurry if you don't, for I'd accept an invitation from--anybody +to-night, rather than spend the evening here." + +"Of course, I mean it. Please come." Olga laid a compelling hand on the +other girl's arm and they went on down the street. + +"Now you are to rest while I get supper," Olga said as she threw open +her own door. "Here--give me your things." She took Lizette's hat and +coat. "Now you lie down in there until I call you." + +Without a word Lizette obeyed. + +Olga creamed some chipped beef, toasted bread, and made tea, adding a +few cakes that she had bought on the way home. When all was ready, she +stood a moment, frowning at the table. The cloth was fresh and clean, +but the dishes were cheap and ugly. She had never cared before. Now, +for this other girl, she wanted some touch of beauty. But Lizette found +nothing lacking. + +"Everything tastes so good," she said. "You sure do know how to cook, +Olga." + +"Just a few simple things. I never care much what I eat." + +"You'd care if you had to eat at Miss Rankin's table," Lizette declared. + +With a question now and then, Olga drew her on to tell of her life at +Miss Rankin's, and her work at the store. After a little she talked +freely, glad to pour the tale of her troubles into a sympathetic ear. + +"I _hate_ it all--that boarding-house, where nothing and nobody is +really clean, and the store where only the pretty girls or the extra +smart ones ever get on. The pretty girls always have chances, but +me--I'm homely as sin, and I know it; and I'm not smart, and I know +that, too. I shall get my walking ticket the first dull spell, and +then----" + +"Then, what, Lizette?" + +"The Lord knows. It's a hard world for girls, Olga." + +"You've no relatives?" + +"Only some cousins. They're all as poor as poverty too, and they don't +care a pin for me." + +"Is there any kind of work you would really like if you could do it?" + +"What's the use of talking--I can't do it." + +"But tell me," Olga urged. + +"You'll think I'm a fool." + +"No, I will not," Olga promised. + +"It seems ridiculous----" Lizette hesitated, the colour rising in her +sallow cheeks, "but I'd just _love_ to make beautiful white +things--lingerie, you know, like what I sell at the store. It would be +next best to having them to wear myself. I don't care so much about the +outside things--gowns and hats--but I think it would be just heavenly to +have all the underneath things white and lacey, and lovely--don't you +think so?" + +"I never thought of it. You see I don't care about clothes," Olga +returned. "Can you sew, Lizette?" + +Lizette hesitated, then, with a look half shamefaced and half proud, she +drew from her bag a bit of linen. + +"It was a damaged handkerchief. I got it for five cents, at a sale," she +explained. "It will make a jabot." + +"And you did this?" Olga asked. + +Lizette nodded. "I know it isn't good work, but if I had time I could +learn----" + +"Yes, you could--if you had the time and a few lessons. Are your eyes +strong?" + +The other nodded again. "Strong as they are ugly," she flung out. + +"Leave this with me for a day or two, will you, Lizette?" + +"Uh-huh," Lizette returned indifferently. "Give it to you, if you'll +take it." + +"Oh no--it's too pretty. Lizette, you hate it so at Miss Rankin's--why +don't you rent a room and get your own meals as I do?" + +"Couldn't. I'm so dead tired most nights that I'd rather go hungry than +get my own supper. Some girls don't seem to mind being on their feet +from eight to six, but I can't stand it. Sometimes I get so tired it +seems as if I'd rather _die_ than drag through another day of it! And +besides--I don't much like the other boarders at Rankin's, but they're +better than nobody. To go back at night to an empty room and sit there +till bedtime with not a soul to speak to--O, I couldn't stand it. I'd +get in a blue funk and end it all some night. I'm tempted to, as it is, +sometimes." She added, with a miserable laugh that was half a sob, +"Nobody'd care," and Olga heard her own voice saying earnestly, + +"I'd care, Lizette. You must never, _never_ think a thing like that +again!" + +Lizette searched the other's face with eyes in which sharp suspicion +gradually changed into half incredulous joy. "Well," she said slowly, +"if one living soul cares even a little bit what happens to me, I'll try +to pull through somehow. The Camp Fire's the only thing that has made +life endurable to me this past year, and I haven't enjoyed that so +awfully much, for nobody there seems to really care--I just hang on to +the edges." + +"Miss Laura cares." + +"O, in a way, because I belong to her Camp Fire--that's all," returned +Lizette moodily. + +"No, she cares--really," Olga persisted, but Lizette answered only by an +incredulous lift of her thin, sandy brows. + +"I must go now," she said, rising, and with her hands on Olga's +shoulders she added, "You don't know what this evening here has meant to +me. I--was about at the end of my rope." + +"I'm glad you came," Olga spoke heartily, "and you are coming again +Thursday. Maybe I'll have something then to tell you, but if I don't, +anyhow, we'll have supper together and a talk after it." + +To that Lizette answered nothing, but the look in her eyes sent a little +thrill of happiness through Olga's heart. + +Olga carried the bit of linen to Laura the next evening, and told her +what she had learned of Lizette's hard life. + +"Poor child!" Miss Laura said. "I imagined something like this. We must +find other work for her. Perhaps I can get her into Miss Bayly's Art +Store. She would not have to be on her feet so much there, and would +have a chance to learn embroidery if she really has any aptitude for it. +I know Miss Bayly very well, and I think I can arrange it to have +Lizette work there for six months. That would be long enough to give her +a chance." + +"Would she get any pay?" Olga asked. + +"Of course--the same she gets now," Laura returned, but Olga was sure +that the pay would not come out of Miss Bayly's purse. + +Laura went on thoughtfully, "The other matter is not so easily arranged. +Even if we get her a better boarding place, she might be just as lonely +as at Miss Rankin's. Evidently she does not make friends easily." + +"No, she is plain and unattractive and so painfully conscious of it that +she thinks nobody can want to be her friend, so she draws into herself +and--and pushes everybody away," Olga was speaking her thought +aloud--one of her thoughts--the other that had been in her heart since +her talk with Lizette, she refused to consider. But it insisted upon +being considered when she went away. It was with her in her own room +where Lizette's hopeless words seemed to echo and re-echo. Finally, in +desperation she faced it. + +"I _can't_ have her come here!" she cried aloud. "It would mean that I'd +never be sure of an hour alone. She'd be forever running in and out and +I'd feel I must be forever bracing her up--pumping hope and courage into +her. It's too much to ask of me. I'm alone in the world as she is, but +I'm not whining. I stand on my own feet and other people can stand on +theirs. I can't have that girl here and I won't--and that ends it!" But +it didn't end it. Lizette's hopeless eyes, Lizette's reckless voice, +would not be banished from her memory, and when Thursday evening the +girl herself came, Olga knew that she must yield--there was no other +way. + +Lizette paused on the threshold. "You can still back out," she said, +longing and pride mingling in her eyes. "I can get back to Rankin's in +time for my share of liver and prunes." + +Olga drew her in and shut the door. "Your days at Miss Rankin's are +numbered," she said, "that is if you will come here. There's a little +room across the hall you can have if you want it." + +Lizette dropped into a chair, the colour slowly ebbing from her sallow +cheeks. "Don't fool with me, Olga," she cried, "I'm--not up to it." + +"I'm not fooling." + +"But--I don't understand." The girl's lips were quivering. + +Olga went on, "And your days at Silverstein's are numbered too. I showed +your embroidery to Miss Laura, and she has found you a place at Bayly's +Art Store. You can go there as soon as you can leave Silverstein's," she +ended. To her utter dismay Lizette dropped her head on the table and +began to cry. Olga sat looking at her in silence. She did not know what +to do. But presently Lizette lifted her blurred and tear-stained face +and smiled through her tears. + +"You must excuse me this once," she cried. "I'm not tear-y as a general +thing, but--but, I hadn't dared to hope--for anything--and it bowled me +over. I'll promise not to do so again; but O, Olga Priest, I'll never, +_never_ forget what you've done, as long as I live!" + +"It's not I, it's Miss Laura. I couldn't have got you the place." + +"I know, and I'm grateful to Miss Laura, but that isn't half as much as +your letting me come here. I--I won't be a bother, truly I won't. But O, +it will be so heavenly good to be in reach of somebody who _cares_ even +a little bit. You shall not be sorry, Olga--I promise you that." + +"I'm not sorry. I'm glad," Olga said. "Come now and see the room." + +It was a small room--the one across the hall--and rather shabby, with +its matting soiled and torn, its cheap iron bedstead and painted +washstand and chairs. Lizette however was quite content with it. + +"It's lots better than the one I have at Rankin's," she declared. + +But the next day Laura came and saw the room, and then sent word to all +the girls except Lizette to come on Wednesday evening to the Camp Fire +room and bring their thimbles. And when they came she had some soft +curtain material to be hemmed, and some cream linen to be hemstitched. +Many fingers made light work, and all was finished that evening, and an +appointment made with two of the High School girls for the next Monday +afternoon. Then two hours of steady work transformed the bare little +room. There was fresh white matting on the floor with a new rag rug +before the white enamelled bedstead with its clean new mattress, a +chiffonier and washstand of oak, with two chairs, and a tiny round table +that could be folded to save room. The soft cream curtains that the +girls had hemmed shaded the window, and the linen covers were on the +chiffonier and washstand. + +"Doesn't it look fresh and pretty!" Alice Reynolds cried, as she looked +around, when all was done. + +"I'm sure she'll like it," Elsie Harding added. + +"Like it?" Olga spoke from the doorway. "You can't begin to know what it +will mean to her. You'd have to see her room at Rankin's to understand. +But that isn't all. Lizette will believe now that _somebody cares_." + +"O!" Elsie's eyes filled with tears. "Did she think that--that nobody +cared?" + +"She said she was 'most at the end of her rope' the first time she came +to see me." + +"She shall never again feel that nobody cares," Laura said softly. + +"Indeed, no!" echoed Alice, and added, "I'm going to bring down a few +books to put on that table." + +"I'll make a hanging shelf to hold them. That will be better than having +them on the table," Elsie said. + +"And I'll bring some growing plants for the window-sill," Laura +promised. + +"O, I hope she'll just _love_ this room," Elsie cried, when reluctantly +they turned away. + +"She will--you needn't be afraid," Olga assured her. + +But Olga was the only one privileged to see Lizette when she had her +first glimpse of the room. She stopped short inside the door and looked +around her, missing no single detail. Then she turned to Olga a face +stirred with emotion too deep for words. When she did speak it was in a +whisper. "For _me_? Olga, who did it?" + +"Miss Laura, Elsie, and Alice--and we all helped on the curtains and +covers." + +"I just can't believe it. I--I must be dreaming. Don't let me wake up +till I enjoy it a little first," she pleaded. After a moment she added, +"And this all came through the Camp Fire, and my place at Miss Bayly's +too. Olga Priest, I'm a Camp Fire Girl heart and soul and body from now +on. I've been only the shell of one before, but now--now, I've got to +pass this on somehow. I must do things for other girls that have no one +and nothing--as they've done this for me." + +And through Olga's mind floated like a glad refrain, "'Love is the joy of +service so deep that self is forgotten.'" + +Olga was glad--glad with all her heart--for Lizette, and yet that first +evening she sat in her own room dreading to hear the tap on her door +which she expected every moment. At nine o'clock, however, it had not +come, and then she went across and did the knocking herself. + +"Come in, come in," Lizette cried, as she opened her door. + +"I've been expecting you over all the evening," Olga said, "and when you +didn't come I was afraid you were sick--or something." + +Lizette looked at her with a queer little smile. "I know. You sat there +thinking that you'd never have any peace now with me so near; but you +needn't worry. I'm not going to haunt you. I've got a home corner here +all my own, and I know that you are there just across the hall, and +that's enough. It's going to _be_ enough." + +"But I don't want you to feel that way," Olga protested. "I want you to +come." + +"You _want_ to want me, you mean. O, I'm sharp enough, Olga, if I'm not +smart. I know--and I don't mean that you shall ever be sorry that you +brought me here. If I get way down in the doleful dumps some night I'll +knock at your door--perhaps. Anyhow, you're _there_, and that means a +lot to me." + +Almost every evening after that Olga heard light footsteps and voices in +the hall, and taps on Lizette's door. Elsie and Alice were determined +she should no longer feel that "nobody cared," so they were her first +callers, but others followed. Lizette welcomed them all with shining +eyes, and once she cried earnestly, "I just _love_ every one of you +girls now! And I wish I could do something for you as lovely as what you +have done for me." + +"And that's Lizette Stone!" Lena said to Eva after they left. "Who +would ever have thought she'd say a thing like that?" + +For more than a week Olga, alone in her room, listened to the merry +voices across the hall. Then one night, she put aside her work, and went +across again. + +"I've found out that I'm lonesome," she said as Lizette opened the door. +"May I come in?" + +"Well, I _guess_!" and Lizette drew her in and motioned to the bed. "You +shall have a reserved seat there with Bessie and Myra," she cried, "and +we're gladder than glad to have you." + +For a moment sheer surprise held the others silent till Olga exclaimed, +"Don't let me be a wet blanket. If you do I shall run straight back." + +The tongues were loosened then and though Olga said little, the girls +felt the difference in her attitude. She lingered a moment after the +others left, to say, "Lizette, you mustn't stay away any more. I really +want you to come to my room." + +Lizette's sharp eyes studied her face before she answered, "Yes, I see +you do now, and I'll come. I'll love to." + +Back in her own room Olga turned up the gas and stood for some minutes +looking about. Clean it was, and in immaculate order, but bare, with no +touch of beauty anywhere. The contrast with the simple beauty of +Lizette's room made her see her own in a new light. The words of the +Wood Gatherer's "Desire" came into her mind--"Seek beauty." She had not +done that. "Give service." She had given it, grudgingly at first to +Elizabeth, grudgingly all this time to Sadie, grudgingly to Lizette, and +not at all to any one else. Only one part of her promise had she kept +faithfully--to "Glorify work." She had done that, after a fashion. She +drew in her breath sharply. "Lizette is a long way ahead of me. She is +trying to be an all-around Camp Fire Girl. If I'm going to keep up with +her, I must get busy," she said to herself. "Before I can be Miss +Laura's Torch Bearer I've a lot to make up. Here I've been calling Sadie +Page a selfish little beast and all the time I've been as bad as she in +a different way. Well--we'll see." + +She went shopping the next morning. Her purchases did not cost much, but +they transformed the bare room. Cheesecloth curtains at the windows, a +green crex rug on the dull stained floor, two red geraniums, and on the +mantelpiece three brass candlesticks holding red candles. These and a +few pretty dishes were all, but she was amazed at the difference they +made. At six o'clock she set her door ajar, and when Lizette came, +called her in. + +"You are to have supper with me to-night," she said. + +"But I've had my supper. I----" Lizette began--then stopped short with a +little cry, "O, how pretty! Why, your room is lovely now, Olga." + +"You see the influence of example," replied Olga. "Yours is so pretty +that I couldn't stand the bareness of mine any longer." + +"I'm glad." Lizette spoke earnestly. "Isn't it splendid--the way the +Camp Fire ideas grow and spread? They are making me over, Olga." + +Olga nodded. "Take off your things. I'll have supper ready in two +minutes. Did you get yours at the Cafeteria?" + +"Yes, I'm getting all my meals there--ten cents apiece." + +"Ten cents. I know you don't get enough--for that, Lizette Stone." + +Lizette laughed. "It's all I can afford," she said "out of six dollars a +week. When I earn more----" + +"You can't cook for yourself as I do--you haven't room. Lizette, why +can't we co-operate?" + +"What do you mean?" breathlessly Lizette questioned. + +"I mean, take our meals together and share the expense. It won't cost +you more than thirty cents a day, and you'll have enough then." + +"But I can't cook--I don't know how," Lizette objected. + +"I'll teach you. And you've got to learn before you can be a Fire Maker, +you know." + +"Yes--I know," said Lizette slowly, "and I'd like it, but you--Olga, +you'd get sick of it. You're used to being alone. You wouldn't want any +one around every day--you know you wouldn't." + +"It would be better for me than eating alone, and better for you than +the Cafeteria. Come, Lizette, say 'yes.'" + +"Yes, then," Lizette answered. "At least--I'll try it for a month, if +you'll promise to tell me frankly at the end of the month if you'd +rather not keep on." + +"Agreed," said Olga. + +"My! But it will be good to have a change from the Cafeteria!" Lizette +admitted. + +And now, having opened her heart to the sunshine of love, Olga began to +find many pleasant things springing up there. She no longer held Miss +Laura and the girls at arm's length. They were all friends, even Lena +Barton and Eva Bicknell, whom until now she had regarded with scornful +indifference, and Sadie Page, whom she had barely tolerated for +Elizabeth's sake--even these she counted now as friends; and Laura, +noting the growing comradeship--seeing week by week the strengthening of +the bond between the girls, said to herself, joyfully, + +"It was in Olga's heart that the fire of love burst into flame, and it +has leaped from heart to heart until now I believe in all my girls it is +burning--'The love of man to man--the love of man to God.'" + + + + +XV + +AN OPEN DOOR FOR ELIZABETH + + +Sadie Page burst tumultuously into Olga's room one afternoon and hardly +waited to get inside the door before she cried out, "I've thought of +something Elizabeth can do--something splendid." + +"Well," said Olga drily, "if it is something splendid for Elizabeth, +I'll excuse you for coming in without knocking." + +"All right, please excuse me, I forgot," Sadie responded with unusual +good nature, "I was in such a hurry to tell you. It's a way Elizabeth +can earn money at home----Now, Olga Priest, I think you're real mean to +look so!" she ended with a scowl. + +"Look how?" Olga laughed. + +"You know. As if--as if I was just thinking of keeping Elizabeth at +home." + +"But weren't you?" + +"No, I _wasn't_!" Sadie retorted. "At any rate--I was thinking of +Elizabeth too. I was, honest, Olga." + +"Well, tell me," said Olga. + +"Why, you know those Christmas cakes she made?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, she can make them and other kinds to sell in one of the big +groceries. I saw some homemade cakes in Council's to-day that didn't +look half as nice as Elizabeth's and they charged a lot for them." + +Olga nodded thoughtfully. "I shouldn't wonder if you'd hit upon a good +plan, Sadie. But if she does that, you'll have to help her with the work +at home, for she has all she can do now." + +Sadie scowled. She hated housework. "Guess I have plenty to do myself," +she grumbled, "with school and my silver work and all." + +"But your silver work is just for yourself," Olga reminded her, "and +Elizabeth has no time to do anything for herself." + +"Well, anyhow, if she makes lots of cakes she'll have money for +herself." + +"And she's got to have money for herself," Olga said decidedly. "I've +been thinking about that." Sadie wriggled uneasily. She had been +thinking about it too, and that Elizabeth would be eighteen soon, and +free to go out and earn her own living, if she chose. + +"Well, I must go and tell her," she said and left abruptly. + +Elizabeth listened in silence to Sadie's eager plans, but the colour +came and went in her face and her blue eyes were full of longing. + +"O, if I could only do it--if I only _could_!" she breathed. "But I--I +couldn't go around to the stores and ask them to sell for me. I never +could do that!" + +"Well, you don't have to. I'd do that for you. I wouldn't mind it," +Sadie declared. "You just make up some of those spicy Christmas cakes +and some others, a few, you know, just for samples, and I'll take 'em +out for you. I know they'll sell." + +"I--I'm not so sure," Elizabeth faltered. + +Sadie's brows met in a black frown. "You're a regular 'fraid-cat, +'Lizabeth Page!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot. "How do you ever +expect to do _any_thing if you're scared to try! To-morrow's Sat'-day. +Can't you get up early an' make some?" + +It was settled that she should. There was little sleep for Elizabeth +that night, so eager and excited was she, and very early in the morning +she crept down to the kitchen and set to work. Before her usual rising +time, Sadie ran downstairs, buttoning her dress as she went. + +"Have you made 'em?" she demanded, her black eyes snapping. + +"Yes," Elizabeth glanced at the clock, "I'm just going to take them +out." She opened the oven door, then she gasped and her face whitened as +she drew out the pans. + +"My _goodness_!" cried Sadie. "Elizabeth Page--what ails 'em?" + +"O--_O_!" wailed Elizabeth, "I must have left out the baking powder--and +I never did before in all my life!" + +"_Well!_" Sadie exploded. "If this is the way you're going to----" Then +the misery in Elizabeth's face was too much for her. She stopped short, +biting her tongue to keep back the bitter words. + +Elizabeth crouched beside the oven, her tears dropping on the cakes. + +"O, come now--no need to cry all over 'em--they're flat enough without +any extra wetting," Sadie exclaimed after a moment's silence. "You just +fling them out an' make some more after breakfast. I bet you'll never +leave out the baking powder again." + +"I never, never _could_ again," sobbed Elizabeth. + +"O, forget it, an' come on in to breakfast," Sadie said with more +sympathy in her heart than in her words. + +"I don't want any--I couldn't eat a mouthful. You take in the coffee, +Sadie--everything else is on the table." + +"Well, you just make more cakes then. They'll be all right--the next +ones--I know they will," and coffee-pot in hand, Sadie whisked into the +dining-room. + +And the next cakes were all right. Sadie gloated over them as Elizabeth +spread the icing, and added the fancy touches with pink sugar and +citron. + +When she had gone away with the cakes Elizabeth cooked and cleaned, +washed dishes, and swept, but all the time her thoughts followed Sadie. +She dared not let herself hope, and yet the time seemed endless. But at +last the front door slammed, there were flying feet in the hall, and +Sadie burst into the kitchen, flushed and triumphant. + +"O--O Sadie--did you--will they----?" Elizabeth stumbled over the words, +her breath catching in her throat. + +Sadie tossed her basket on the table and bounced into the nearest chair. +"Did I, and will they?" she taunted gaily. "Well, I guess I _did_ and +they _will_, Elizabeth Page!" + +"O, do tell me, Sadie--quick!" Elizabeth begged, and she listened with +absorbed attention to the story of Sadie's experiences, and could hardly +believe that Mr. Burchell had really agreed to sell for her. + +"I bet Miss Laura had been talking to him," Sadie ended, "for he asked +me if I knew her and then said right away he'd take your cakes every +Wednesday and Saturday. _Now_ what you got to say?" + +"N-n-nothing," cried Elizabeth, "only--if I can really, _really_ sell +them, I'll be most too happy to live!" + +All that day Elizabeth went around with a song in her heart. The first +consignment of cakes sold promptly, and then orders began to come in. It +meant extra work for her, but if only she could keep on selling she +would not mind that. And as the weeks slipped away, every Saturday she +added to the little store of bills in her bureau drawer. Even when she +had paid for her materials and Mr. Burchell's commission, and for a girl +who helped her with the Saturday work, there was so much left that she +counted it and recounted it with almost incredulous joy. All this her +very own--she who never before had had even one dollar of her own! O, it +was a lovely world after all, Elizabeth told herself joyfully. + +But after a while she noticed a change in Sadie. She was still +interested in the cake-making, but now it seemed a cold critical +interest, lacking the warm sympathy and delight in it which she had +shown at first. Elizabeth longed to ask what was wrong but she had not +the courage, so she only questioned with her eyes. Maybe by-and-by Sadie +would tell her. If not--with a long sigh Elizabeth would leave it there, +wistfully hoping. So April came and Elizabeth was eighteen years old, +though still she looked two years younger. She did not suppose that any +one but herself would remember her birthday--no one ever had through all +the years. Sadie's glance seemed sharper and colder than usual that +morning, and Elizabeth sorrowfully wondered why. The postman came just +as Sadie was starting for school. He handed her an envelope addressed to +Elizabeth, and she carried it to the kitchen. + +"For _me?_" Elizabeth cried, hastily taking her hands from the +dish-water. She drew from the envelope a birthday card in water-colour +with Laura's initials in one corner. + +"O, isn't it lovely!" she cried. "I never had a +birthday--anything--before. Isn't it beautiful, Sadie?" + +"Uh-huh," was all Sadie's response, but her lack of enthusiasm could not +spoil Elizabeth's pleasure in the gift. Somebody remembered--Miss Laura +remembered and made that just for her, and joy sang in her heart all +day. And in the evening Olga came bringing a little silver pin. +Elizabeth looked at it with incredulous delight. + +"For _me_!" she said again. "O Olga, did you really make this for me?" + +Olga laughed. "Why not?" + +"I--I can't find anything to say--I want to say so much," Elizabeth +cried, her lips quivering. + +Olga leaned over and kissed her. "I just enjoyed making it--for you," +she said. + +She was almost startled at the radiance in Elizabeth's eyes then. "It +has been the loveliest day of all my life!" she whispered. "I----" + +They were in Elizabeth's little room, and now hurried footsteps sounded +on the stairs, and Sadie pushed open the door. + +"That yours?" she demanded, her sharp eyes on the pin. + +Elizabeth held it towards her with a happy smile. "Olga made it for me. +Isn't it lovely?" + +Sadie did not answer, but plumped herself down on the narrow cot. When +Olga had gone, Sadie still sat there, her black eyes cold and +unfriendly. "Don't see why you lugged Olga up here," she began. + +"She asked me to." + +"Humph!" Sadie grunted. + +"Sadie," Elizabeth said, gently, "what is the matter? Have I done +anything you don't like?" + +"I didn't say so." + +"No, but you've been different to me lately, and I don't know why. You +were so nice a few weeks ago--you don't know how glad it made me. I +hoped we were going to be real sisters, but now," she drew a long +sorrowful breath, "it is as it used to be." + +Sadie, swinging one foot, gnawed at a fingernail. Finally, "I helped you +start the cake-making," she reminded. + +"I know--I never forget it," Elizabeth said warmly. + +"You've made a lot of money----" + +"It seems a lot to me--forty-seven dollars--just think of it! I haven't +spent any except for materials." + +"And you'll make more." + +"Yes, but Mr. Burchell says cakes don't sell after it gets hot. He won't +want any after May." + +"That's four or five weeks longer. You'll have enough to get you heaps +of fine clothes," Sadie flung out enviously, with one of her +needle-sharp glances. + +"O--clothes!" returned Elizabeth slightingly. "I suppose I must have a +few--shoes, and a plain hat and a blue serge skirt, and some +blouses--they won't cost much." + +"Then what _are_ you going to do with all that money?" Sadie blurted +out the question impatiently. + +Elizabeth smiled into the frowning face--a beautiful happy smile--as she +answered gently, "I'll tell you, Sadie. I've been longing to tell you +only--only you've held me off so lately. I'm going to send two girls to +Camp Nepahwin for three weeks in August. I'm one of the girls and--you +are the other." + +For once in her life Sadie Page was genuinely astonished and genuinely +ashamed. For a long moment she sat quite still, the colour slowly +mounting in her face until it flamed. Then, all the sharpness gone from +her voice, she stammered, "I--I--Elizabeth, I never _thought_ of such a +thing as you paying for me. I--think you're real good!" and she was +gone. + +Elizabeth looked after her with a smile, all the shadows gone from her +blue eyes. + +One hot evening a week later, Elizabeth and Sadie met Lizette at Olga's +door. She silently led the way to her own room. + +"Olga's sick," she said, dropping wearily down on the bed. + +"What's the matter?" Sadie demanded before Elizabeth could speak. + +"It's a fever. The doctor can't tell yet whether it's typhoid or +malarial, but she's very sick. The doctor has sent a nurse to take care +of her." + +"I wish I could help take care of her," Elizabeth said earnestly. + +"Well, you can't!" Sadie snapped out. "And, anyhow, she doesn't need you +if she has a nurse." + +"But the nurse must sleep sometimes--I could help then. O Lizette, ask +Olga to let me," Elizabeth pleaded. + +"She won't." Lizette shook her head. "Much as ever she'll let me do +anything. I get the meals for the nurse--Olga takes only milk. The nurse +says she can do with only four hours' sleep, and I can see to Olga that +little time." + +"No," Elizabeth said decidedly, "no, Lizette, you have your work at the +shop and the cooking. You mustn't do more than that. I can come after +supper--at eight o'clock--and stay till twelve----" + +"You couldn't go home all alone at midnight--you know you couldn't," +Sadie interrupted. + +"I needn't to. I could sleep in a chair till morning." + +"As to that, you could sleep on the nurse's cot, I guess," Lizette +admitted. "Well, if Olga will let you--I'll ask her." + +But as she started up Elizabeth gently pushed her back. "No, don't ask +her. I'll just come to-morrow night, anyway." + +"Let it go so, then," Lizette answered. "Maybe it will be best, for I'm +pretty well tired out myself with the heat, and worrying over Olga, and +all. I knew she was overworking but I couldn't help it." + +On the way home Elizabeth was silent until Sadie broke out gloomily, "I +s'pose if she don't get better you won't go to the camp, 'Lizabeth." + +"O, _no_, I couldn't go away and leave her sick--of course, I couldn't." + +"Huh!" growled Sadie. "You don't think about _me_, only just about Olga, +and she isn't your sister." + +At another time Elizabeth would have smiled at this belated claim of +relationship, but now she said only, "Olga has been so good to me, +Sadie--I never can forget it--and now when I have a chance to do a +little for her, I'm so _glad_ to do it! I couldn't enjoy the camp if I +left her here sick, but it won't make any difference to you. You can go +just the same." + +Sadie's face cleared at that. "We-ell," she agreed, "I might just as +well go. I couldn't do anything much for Olga if I stayed; and maybe, +anyhow, she'll get well before the tenth. I'm most sure she will." + +"O, I hope so," Elizabeth sighed, but she was not thinking of the camp. + +Anxious weeks followed, for Olga was very sick. Day after day the fever +held her in restless misery, and when at last it yielded to the +treatment, it left her weak and worn--the shadow of her former self. + +Then one morning Miss Laura came, and carried her and the nurse off to +the yacht, and there followed quiet, restful, beautiful days for +Olga--such days as she had never dreamed of. Judge Haven and Jim, and Jo +Barton were on the yacht, but she saw little of any one except Miss +Laura and the nurse, and day by day strength came back to her body as +the joy of life flooded her soul. + +One night sitting on deck in the moonlight, she said suddenly, "Miss +Laura, I'm glad of this sickness." + +"Why?" + +"Because I've learned a big lesson. I've learned why Camp Fire Girls +must 'Hold on to health.' I didn't know before, else I would not have +been so careless--so wicked. I see now that it was all my own fault. I +should not have been sick if I had taken care of myself--if I had held +on to my health as you tried so hard to make me do." + +"Yes, dear, you had to have a hard lesson because you had always had +such splendid health that you didn't know what it would mean to lose +it." + +"Yes," Olga agreed, "I didn't believe that I could get sick--I was so +strong. And down in my heart I really half believed that people need not +be sick--that it was mostly imagination. I shall not be so uncharitable +after this." + +"Girls need not be sick many times when they are," Laura said, "if they +would be more careful and reasonable." + +"I know. I won't go with wet feet any more," Olga promised, "and I won't +work fourteen hours a day and go without eating, as I've been doing this +summer. You see, Miss Laura, when I got the order for all that silver +work, I knew that if I could fill it satisfactorily, it would mean many +other orders. And I did--I finished the last piece the day I was taken +sick. But now the money I got for it will go to the doctor and the +nurse, and I've lost all this time and other work. And that isn't all. +My sickness made it harder for Lizette and Elizabeth. I can't forgive +myself for that. They were so good to me, and so were all the Camp Fire +Girls! Every single one of them came to see me, some of them many times, +and they brought so many things, and all wanted to stay and help--O, +they are the dearest girls!" + +Laura's eyes searched the eyes of the other in the moonlight. + +"Olga, are you happy?" she asked softly. + +Olga caught her breath and for a moment was silent. When she spoke there +was wonder and a great joy in her voice. "O, I am--I am!" she said. +"And--and I believe I have been for a long time, but I never realised +it till this minute. I didn't _want_ to be happy--I didn't mean to +be--after mother died. I shut my heart tight and wouldn't see anything +pleasant or happy in all my world. It was so when I went to the camp +last year. I went just to please Miss Grandis because she had gotten me +into the Arts and Crafts work, and though I wanted to refuse, I +couldn't, when she asked me to go. But I'm so glad now that I went--so +_glad_! Just think if I had not gone, and had never known you and +Elizabeth, and Lizette, and the others! Miss Laura, I can't ever be half +glad enough for all that the Camp Fire has done for me." + +"You will pay it all back--to others, Olga," Laura said gently, her eyes +shining. "When I made you my Torch Bearer, you did not realise the +importance of holding on to health, nor the duty as well as privilege of +being happy. Now you do." + +"O, I do--I _do_!" the girl cried earnestly. + +"So now my Torch Bearer is ready to lead others." + +"I'll be glad to do it now. I want to 'pass on' all that you and the +girls have done for me. It will take a lifetime to do it, though. +And--I'm not half good enough for a Torch Bearer, Miss Laura." + +"If you thought you were good enough I shouldn't want you to be one," +Laura answered. + + + + +XVI + +CAMP FIRE GIRLS AND THE FLAG + + +Miss Laura's girls had been at the camp a few days when Sadie Page one +morning raced breathlessly up to a group of them, crying out, "There's a +big white yacht coming--I saw it from the Lookout. Do you s'pose it's +Judge Haven's?" + +"Won't it be splendid if it is--if it's bringing Miss Laura and Olga!" +Frances Chapin cried. "Could you see the name, Sadie?" + +"No, it was too far off." + +"Let's borrow Miss Anne's glass," cried two or three voices, and Frances +ran off in search of Anne Wentworth. When she returned with the glass, +they all rushed over to the Lookout. The yacht was just dropping anchor +as they turned the glass upon it and Frances cried out, + +"O, it is--it is! I can read the name easily. Here, look!" she +surrendered the glass to Elsie. + +"It _is_ the Sea Gull," Elsie confirmed her, "and they are lowering a +boat already." + +"O, tell us if Miss Laura gets into it, and Olga," cried Lizette. + +"Two men--sailors, I suppose, two girls, and two boys," Elsie announced. + +"Then it's Miss Laura and Olga and Jim and Jo Barton," Frances cried +joyfully. + +[Illustration: A favorite rendezvous at the camp] + +"Let's hurry down to the landing to meet them," Mary Hastings proposed, +and instantly the whole group turned and raced back to camp to leave the +glass, with the joyous announcement, "Miss Laura's coming, and Olga. +We're going to the landing to meet them." And waiting for no response +they sped through the pines to the landing-steps, Elsie snatching up a +flag as she passed her own tent. + +"Let's all go," one of the other girls cried, but Miss Anne said, + +"No, let Miss Laura's girls have the first greeting--they all love her +so! But we might go to the Lookout and wave her a welcome from there." + +"What shall we wave?" some one asked, and another cried, "O, towels, +handkerchiefs--anything. But _hurry_!" and they did, reaching the +Lookout breathless and laughing, to see the yacht resting like a great +bird on the blue water, and the small boat already nearing the point. + +"Get your breath, girls, then--the wohelo cheer," said Miss Anne. + +Two score young voices followed her lead, and as they chanted, the white +banners fluttered in the breeze. Instantly there came a response from +the boat in fluttering handkerchiefs and waving caps, while the girls +below on the landing echoed back the wohelo greeting. + +But when the boat rounded the point the voices of those on the landing +wavered into silence. They were too glad to sing as they saw Laura and +Olga coming back to them--they could only wait in silence. Lizette's +lips were quivering nervously and Elizabeth's blue eyes were full of +happy tears. Even Sadie for once was silent, but she waved her +handkerchief frantically to the two boys who were gaily swinging their +caps. When the boat reached the landing, however, and the girls crowded +about Laura and Olga, tongues were loosened, and everybody talked. + +"How well Olga looks!" Mary cried. + +"Doesn't she? I'm so proud of her for gaining so fast!" Laura laughed. + +"I couldn't help gaining with all she has done for me," Olga said with a +grateful glance. + +"And you've come to stay? Do say you have, Miss Laura," the girls +begged. + +"Of course, we're going to stay--we've been homesick for the camp," +Laura answered. + +"That's splendid. We've missed you so!" they cried. + +"The camp's fine. I'm having the time of my life!" Sadie declared, and +added, "Elizabeth, you haven't said one word." + +"She doesn't need to," Olga put in quickly, her hand on Elizabeth's +shoulder. + +They were climbing the steps now, and at the camp they were greeted with +another song of welcome from the Guardians and the rest of the girls, +and then Laura put Olga into the most comfortable hammock to rest and, +leaving Elizabeth beside her, carried the others off for a talk. + +That night the supper was a festival. The girls had gathered masses of +purple asters with which they had filled every available dish to +decorate the tables, the mantelpiece, and even the tents where the +newcomers were to sleep. Miss Anne had brought to camp a big box of tiny +tapers, and these stuck in yellow apples made a glow of light along the +tables. + +Nobody appreciated all this more than Jim. With his hands in his +pockets he stood looking about admiringly, and finally expressed his +opinion thus: "Gee, but it's pretty! Camp Fire Girls beat the Scouts +some ways, if they ain't so patriotic." + +Instantly there was an outburst of reproach and denial from Miss Laura's +girls. + +"O, come, Jim, that's not fair!" + +"We're _just_ as patriotic as the Scouts!" + +"Boy Scouts can't hold a candle to Camp Fire Girls _any_ way!" + +"We'll put you out if you go back on Camp Fire Girls, Jim." + +Jim, flushed and a little bewildered at the storm he had raised, +instinctively sidled towards Laura, while Jo, close behind him, +chuckled, "Started a hornets' nest that time, ol' feller." + +Laura, her arm about the boy's shoulders, quickly interposed. "We'll let +Jim explain another time. I know he thinks Camp Fire Girls are the +nicest girls there are, don't you, Jim?" + +"Sure!" Jim assented hastily, and peace was restored--for the time. + +But the girls did not forget nor allow Jim to. The next night after +supper they swooped down on him. + +"Now tell us, Jim," Lena Barton began, "why you think Boy Scoots are +more patriotic than we are." + +"'Tisn't Boy _Scoots_--you know it isn't," Jim countered, flushing. + +"O, excuse me." Lena bowed politely. "I only had one letter wrong, and, +anyhow, they do scoot, don't they? Well, Boy Scouts then, if you like +that better." + +"They love the flag better'n you do--_lots_ better!" Jim declared with +conviction. + +"Prove it! Prove it!" cried half a dozen voices. + +"Er--er----" Jim choked and stammered, searching desperately for words. +"You've got an awful nice Camp Fire room at Miss Laura's, but you +haven't even a little teeny flag in it, and Scouts _always_ have a flag +in their rooms--don't they, Jo?" he ended in triumph. + +"You bet they do!" Jo stoutly supported his friend. + +"Ho! That doesn't prove anything. Besides, we'll _have_ a flag when we +go back," Lena asserted promptly. + +"Well, anyhow, girls an' women can't fight for the flag, so of course, +they _can't_ be so patriotic," Jim declared. + +"Can't, eh? How about the women that go to nurse the wounded men?" said +Mary. + +"And the women that send their husbands and sons to fight?" added Elsie. + +"And how about----" began another girl, but Laura's hand falling lightly +on her lips, cut short the question, and then Laura dropped down on the +grass pulling Jim down beside her. Holding his hand in both hers, and +softly patting it, she said, "Sit down, girls, and we'll talk this +matter over. Jim's hardly big enough or old enough to face you all at +once. But, honestly, don't you think there is some truth in what he +says? As Camp Fire Girls, do we think as much about patriotism as the +Scouts do? Elsie, you have a Scout brother, what do you think about it?" + +Elsie laughed but flushed a little too as she answered, "I hate to admit +it, but I don't think we do." + +"Time we did then. We can't have any Boy Scouts getting ahead of us," +Lena declared emphatically. + +Jim, gathering courage from Miss Laura's championship, looked up with a +mischievous smile. "Bet you can't tell about the stars and stripes in +the flag," he said. + +"Can you? How many can?" Miss Laura looked about the group. "Elsie, +Frances--and Mary--I see you can, and nobody else is sure. How does it +happen?" There was a twinkle now in her eyes. "Is there any special +reason for you three being better posted than the others?" + +The three girls exchanged smiling glances, and Elsie admitted +reluctantly, "I think there is--a Boy Scout reason--isn't there, Mary?" +and as Mary Hastings nodded, Elsie went on, "You know my brother Jack is +the most loyal of Scouts, and before he was old enough to be one, he had +learned all the things that a boy has to know to join--and to describe +the flag is one of those things. He discovered one day that I didn't +know how many stars there are on it and how they are arranged, and he +was so dreadfully distressed and mortified at my ignorance that I had to +take a flag lesson from him on the spot--and it was a thorough one." + +"Uh huh!" Jim triumphed under his breath, but the girls heard and there +was a shout of laughter. Over the boy's head Laura's laughing eyes swept +the group. + +"Jim," she said, "will you ask Miss Anne to lend us her flag for a few +minutes?" + +"Won't ours do? Jo'n' I've got one," Jim cried instantly, and as Miss +Laura nodded, he scampered off. + +"I think Jim has won, girls," she said, and then the laughter dying out +of her eyes, added gravely, "Really I quite agree with him. I think +we--I mean our own Camp Fire--have not given as much thought to +patriotism as we ought. There have been so many things for us to talk +about and work for! But we'll learn the flag to-day, and when we go +home, it may be well for us to arrange a sort of 'course' in patriotism +for the coming year. Of all girls in America, those who live in +Washington ought to be the most interested in their own country. We will +all be more patriotic--better Americans--a year from now." + +Jim came running back with a small silk flag. He held it up proudly for +the inspection of the girls, and it was safe to say that they would all +remember that brief object lesson. It was Lena whose eyes lingered +longest on the boy's eager face as he looked at the flag. + +"He does--he really _loves_ it," she said wonderingly to Elsie standing +beside her. "He's right. We girls don't care for it that way--honest we +don't." + +"Maybe not just for the flag," Elsie admitted, "but we care just as much +as boys do for our country. Don't you think we do, Miss Laura?" + +"I'm not sure, Elsie. You see many boys look forward to a soldier's +life, and most of them feel that they may some time have to fight for +their flag--their country--and so perhaps they think more about it than +girls do. And patriotism is made prominent among the Scouts." + +"They always salute the flag wherever they see it," Mary said. + +"Must keep 'em busy in Washington," Lena observed. + +"It does. Jim is forever saluting it when he is out with me," Laura +replied, "but he never seems to tire of it, and I like to see him do +it." + +"The girls salute it in the schools--you know we have Flag Day every +year," Frances added. + +"Yes, and it is a good thing. There is no danger of any of us caring too +much for our country or the flag that represents it. When I catch sight +of our flag in a foreign land I always want to kiss it." + +"Can't we have one in our Camp Fire room when we go back?" Lena asked. + +"We surely will. I'm really quite ashamed of myself for not having one +long ago. We owe something--do we not?--to a going-to-be Boy Scout for +reminding us?" Laura said. + +They admitted that they did. "But, anyhow," Frances Chapin added, "even +if they do think more about the _flag_, I won't admit that Scouts love +their country any more than we Camp Fire Girls do. We are _quite_ as +patriotic as any Boy Scouts." + +"And that's right!" Lena flung out as the group separated. + + + + +XVII + +SONIA + + +"O dear, I did hope it wouldn't be awfully hot when we got back, but it +is," Lizette Stone sighed on the day they returned from camp. "Just +think of the breeze on the Lookout this very minute!" + +Olga glanced over her shoulder with a smile as she threw open her door. +"Let's pretend it's cool here too," she said. "I'm so thankful to be +well and strong again that I'm determined to be satisfied with things as +they are. The camp was lovely and Miss Laura and the girls were dear, +but this is home, and my work is waiting for me, and I'm _able to do +it_. And you have your lovely work too, Lizette, and your home corner +across the hall." + +Lizette looked at her half wondering, half envious, as she slowly pulled +out her hatpins. "I never knew a fever to change a girl as that one +changed you, Olga Priest," she said. + +"Is the change for the better?" + +"Yes, it is, but----" + +"But what?" Olga questioned, half laughing, yet a little curious too. + +[Illustration: "Just think of the Lookout this very minute!"] + +"Well--all is, I can't keep up with you," Lizette dropped unconsciously +into one of her country phrasings. "I can't help getting into the +doleful dumps sometimes, and I can't--I just _can't_ be happy and +contented with the mercury at ninety-three. I guess it's easier for some +folks to stand the heat than it is for others." + +"I think it is," Olga admitted. "Give me your hat. Now take that fan and +sit there by the window till I come back. I'm not so tired as you are, +and I must get something for our supper." + +While she was gone Lizette sat thinking of the Camp with its shady woods +and blue water and wishing herself back there. She had had three weeks +there, but a hateful little imp was whispering in her ear that some of +the girls were staying four or five weeks, and it wasn't fair--it wasn't +_fair_! Of course it was better to earn her living doing embroidery than +in Goldstein's store, but still, some girls didn't have to earn their +living at all, and---- + +The door opened and Olga came breezily in, her hands full of bundles. "I +really ought to have taken a basket," she said. "There's the nicest +little home bakery opened just around the corner--I got bread there." + +"I'm not a bit hungry," Lizette said listlessly, then started up, crying +out, "Well, I am ashamed of myself! I meant to have the table set when +you came back, and I forgot all about it." + +"Never mind--I'll have it ready in a minute. Sit still, Lizette." + +But Lizette insisted upon helping, and her face brightened as Olga set +forth fresh bread, nut cakes, ice cold milk, and a dish of sliced +peaches. + +"Weren't you mistaken?" Olga asked with a laugh. "Aren't you a little +bit hungry?" + +"Yes, I am. How good that bread looks--and the peaches." + +"After all it is rather nice to be back here at our own little table, +isn't it?" Olga asked as they lingered over the meal. + +Lizette looked at her curiously. "Olga Priest, what makes you so happy +to-night?" she demanded. "I never saw you so before." + +"Maybe not quite so happy, but wasn't I happy all the time at camp? +Wasn't I, Lizette?" + +"Yes--yes, you were, only I didn't notice it so much there with all the +girls, and something always going on. You never were so here before. +Sometimes you wouldn't smile for days at a time." + +"I know. I hadn't realised then that I could be happy if I'd let myself +be--and that I had no right not to." + +"No _right_ not to," Lizette echoed with a puzzled frown. "I don't see +_that_. I should think anybody might have the privilege of being blue if +she likes." + +"No." Olga shook her head with decision. "No, not when she has health, +and work that she likes, and friends. A girl has no right to be unhappy +under those conditions--and I've found it out at last. I'm going to keep +my Camp Fire promises now as I never have done." + +After a little silence she went on, "I've such beautiful plans for our +Camp Fire this year! One of them is to learn all we can about our +country. We can't have Jim," laughter flashed into her eyes as she +thought of him, "thinking us less patriotic than his beloved Scouts. And +we can see and learn so much right here in Washington! I'm ashamed to +think how little I know about this beautiful city where I've lived all +my life. I mean to 'know my Washington' thoroughly before I'm a year +older." + +Lizette did not seem much interested in patriotism, but she laughed over +the remembrance of the indignation of the girls at Jim's remark about +their lack of it. "He did look so plucky, facing us all that day, didn't +he!" she said. "And he was scared too at the rumpus he had raised; but +all the same he didn't back down." + +"No, Jim wouldn't back down if he thought he was right no matter how +scared he might be inside." + +"Well," Lizette yawned, "I'm so sleepy I can hardly hold my eyes open. +Let's wash the dishes and then I'm going straight to bed." + +She came in to breakfast the next morning in a different mood. + +"Didn't we have a glorious rain in the night!" she cried gaily. "And it +left a lovely cool breeze behind it. Last night I felt like a wet rag, +but this morning I'm a different creature. It _is_ good to be 'home' +again, Olga, and I don't mind going back to the shop." + +"That's good!" Olga's eyes were shining as they had shone the night +before. + +The two set off together after breakfast, and wished each other good +luck as they parted at the door of Miss Bayly's shop. Lizette came back +at night jubilant. "I got my good luck, Olga," she cried. "I'm to have +eight a week now. Isn't that fine?" + +"Indeed it is--congratulations, Lizette. And I had my good luck +too--better than I dared hope for--two splendid orders. Now we can both +settle down to work and get a nice start before the next Camp Fire +meeting. I'm going to try to keep half a day a week free for our +'learning Washington' trips." + +"Personally conducted?" Lizette laughed. + +"Personally conducted. Your company is solicited, Miss Stone, whenever +your other engagements will permit." + +Over the tea-table they talked of work and Camp Fire plans, and then +Lizette went off to her own "corner" and Olga took up a book. She had +been reading for an hour when her quick ears caught the sound of +hesitating steps outside her door--steps that seemed to linger +uncertainly. Thinking that some stranger might have wandered in from the +street, she rose and quietly slipped her bolt. As she did so there came +a knock at the door. She stood still, listening intently. No one ever +came to her door except the landlady or the Camp Fire Girls, and none of +them would knock in this hesitating fashion. She was not in the least +timid, and when the knock was repeated she opened the door. She found +herself facing a woman, young, in a soiled and wrinkled dress and shabby +hat, and carrying a baby in her arms. + +"Olga--it is Olga?" the woman exclaimed half doubtfully. + +Olga did not answer. She stood staring into the woman's face and +suddenly her own whitened and her eyes widened with dismay. + +"You?" she said under her breath. "_You!_" + +"Yes, I--Sonia. Aren't you going to let me in?" + +For an instant Olga hesitated, then she stood aside, but in that moment +all the happy hopefulness seemed to melt out of her heart. It was as if +a black shadow of disaster had entered the quiet room at the heels of +the draggled woman and her child. + +"This is a warm welcome, I must say, to your own sister," Sonia said in +a querulous tone, as she dropped into the easiest chair and laid the +child across her knees. It made no sound, but lay as it was placed, its +eyes half closed and its tiny face pinched and colourless. + +"I--I can't realise that it is really--you," Olga said. "Where did you +come from, and how did you find me?" + +"I came from--many places. As to finding you--that was easy. You are not +so far from the old neighbourhood where I left you." + +"Yes--you left me," Olga echoed slowly, her face dark with the old +sombre gloom. "You left me, a child of thirteen, with no money, and +mother--dying!" + +"I suppose it was rather hard on you, but you were always a plucky one, +and I knew well enough you would pull through somehow. As to mother, of +course I didn't know--she'd been ailing so long," Sonia defended +herself, "and Dick wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I _had_ to go with +him." + +Olga was silent, but in her heart a fierce battle was raging. She knew +her sister--knew her selfish disregard of the rights or wishes of +others, and she realised that much might depend on what was said now. + +"Well?" Sonia questioned, breaking the silence abruptly. + +Olga drew a long weary breath. "I--I can't think, Sonia," she said. +"You have taken me so by surprise. I don't know what to say." + +"I suppose you're not going to turn us into the street to-night--the +baby and me?" + +"Of course not," Olga answered, and added, "Is the baby sick?" + +Sonia's eyes rested for a moment on the small pallid face, but there was +no softening in them when she looked up again. "She's never been well. +The first one died--the boy. This one cried day and night for weeks +after she came. Dick couldn't stand it, and no wonder. That's the reason +he cleared out--one reason." + +"His own child!" cried Olga indignantly, and as she looked at the +pitiful white face her heart warmed towards the little creature, She +held out her hands. "Let me take her." + +Sonia promptly transferred the baby to her sister's arms, and rising, +crossed to the small sleeping-room. + +"You're pretty well fixed here, with two rooms," she remarked. + +"It's hardly more than one--the bedroom is so small." + +"What do you do for a living?" Sonia demanded. + +Olga told her. + +"Hm. Any money in it?" + +"I make a living, but I had a long sickness last summer and it took all +I had and more to pay the bills." + +"O well," replied Sonia carelessly, "you'll earn more. You look well +enough now." She stretched her arms and yawned. "I'm dead tired. How +about sleeping? That single bed won't hold the three of us." + +"You can sleep there--I'll sleep on the floor to-night. There's no +other way," Olga answered. + +"All right then. I'll get to bed in a hurry," and taking the child from +her sister, Sonia undressed it as carelessly as if it had been a doll. +The baby half opened its heavy eyes and whimpered a little, but did not +really awaken. + +When Sonia and the child were in bed, Olga went across to Lizette's +room. Lizette's welcoming smile vanished at sight of the stern set face, +and she drew Olga quickly in and shut the door. + +"O, what is it? What has happened, Olga?" she cried anxiously. + +"My sister has come with her baby. I don't know how long she will stay." +Olga spoke in a dull lifeless voice. "I came to tell you, so that you +could get your breakfast somewhere else. You wouldn't enjoy having it +with me--now." + +"O Olga, I'm so sorry--so _sorry_!" Lizette cried, her hands on her +friend's shoulders, her voice full of warm sympathy. + +"I know, Lizette," Olga answered, a quivering smile stirring for an +instant the old hard line of her set lips. Then she turned away, +forgetting to say good-night. When the door closed behind her, Lizette's +eyes were full of tears. + +"O, it's a shame--a shame!" she said aloud. "To think how happy she was +only last night, and now--now she looks as she did a year ago before +Elizabeth went to the camp. O, I wonder why that sister had to come +back!" + +Lizette lay awake long that night, her heart full of sympathy for her +friend, and Olga, lying on her hard bed on the floor, did not sleep at +all. She went out early to the market, and coming back, prepared +breakfast, but when she called her sister, Sonia answered drowsily: + +"I'm too tired to get up, Olga. Bring me some coffee and toast here, +will you?" + +Olga carried her a tray, and Sonia ate and drank and then turned over +and went to sleep again, and Olga, having washed the dishes, went off to +the school. All day she worked steadily, forcing back the thoughts that +crowded continually into her mind; but when she turned homewards the +dark thoughts swooped down upon her like a flock of ravens, blotting out +all her happy hopes and joyous plans, for she knew--only too well she +knew--what she had to expect if Sonia remained. + +"Well, you've come at last!" was her sister's greeting. "I hope you've +brought something nice for supper. I'm nearly starved. And you didn't +leave half enough milk for the baby." + +"I left plenty for your dinner," Olga answered, "and I thought you could +get more milk for the baby if you wanted it." + +"Get more! How could I get it without money? And you didn't leave me a +penny," Sonia complained. + +Olga brought out a bottle of malted milk. "That will do for to-night, +won't it?" she said, trying to speak cheerfully. + +"I don't know anything about this stuff." Sonia was reading the label +with a scowl. "You'll have to fix it; and do hurry, for she's been +fretting for an hour." + +Without a word, Olga prepared the food and handed it to her sister; +then she set about getting supper; but when it was ready she felt +suddenly too tired to eat. Sonia ate heartily, however, remarking with a +glance at Olga's empty plate, "I suppose you got a good dinner down +town." + +"I haven't eaten a mouthful since breakfast," Olga told her wearily. + +"O well," Sonia returned, "some folks don't need much food, but I do. If +I don't have three solid meals a day I'm not fit for anything." Then +looking at the baby lying on a pillow in a chair beside her, she added, +"Really she seems to like that malted stuff. You'd better bring back +another bottle to-morrow. There isn't much left in this one." + +"Isn't that my dress you have on?" Olga asked suddenly. + +"Yes, I had to have something fresh--mine was so mussed and dirty," +Sonia replied lightly. "Lucky for me we're about the same size." + +"But not lucky for me," was Olga's thought. + +For a week things went on so--Sonia occasionally offering to wash the +dishes, but leaving her sister to do everything else. Then one night +Olga found her best suit in a heap on the closet floor. Picking it up +she spoke sharply. "Sonia, have you been wearing this suit of mine?" + +"Well, what if I have? You needn't look so savage about it!" Sonia +retorted. "I have to have something decent to wear on the street, don't +I?" + +"Not if you have nothing decent of your own," Olga flashed back. "Sonia, +you have no _right_ to wear my things so--without asking!" + +With a provoking smile Sonia responded, "I knew better than to ask. I +knew you'd make a fuss about it. If you don't want me to wear your +clothes why don't you give me money to buy something decent for myself? +Then I wouldn't need to borrow." + +Olga's thoughts were in such an angry whirl that for a moment she dared +not trust herself to speak. She shook out the suit and hung it up, then +she went slowly across the room and sat down facing her sister. + +"Sonia," she began, "we can't go on in this way--I cannot endure it. Now +let us have a plain understanding. You came here of your own choice--not +on my invitation. What are your plans? Do you mean to stay on here +indefinitely?" + +"Why, of course. Where else should I stay?" + +"Then," said Olga decidedly, "you must help pay our expenses. You are +well and strong. Why should you expect me to support you?" + +"Why? Because you have a trade and I have not, for one reason. And +besides, there's the baby--I can't leave her to go out to work." There +was a note of triumph in Sonia's voice. + +"You could get work to do at home--sewing, embroidery, knitting--or +something." + +"'Or something!'" There was fretful impatience now in Sonia's tone. "I +hate sewing--any kind of sewing. You know I always did." + +"Then what will you do?" + +Sonia sat looking down in sulky silence at the baby. + +Olga went on, "If there is no work you can do at home, you must find +something outside. You can go into a store as you did before you were +married." + +"And I guess," Sonia broke out angrily, "if you'd ever stood behind a +counter from eight in the morning to six at night, you'd know how nice +_that_ is! You earn enough. I think it's real mean and stingy of you to +grudge a share of it to this poor sick baby--and me. I do so!" + +"I don't grudge anything to the baby, Sonia, though I do think it is +your business to provide for her, not mine. But I say again it is not +right for me to have to support you, and I am not willing to do it. It +is best to speak plainly once for all." + +"Well, I should say you _were_ speaking plainly," Sonia flung out with +an unpleasant smile. She rocked with a quick motion, her brows drawn +into a frown. "How can I go into a store, even if I could get a place? I +couldn't take the baby with me," she muttered. + +"I could bring my work home--most of it--and you could leave the baby +with me." + +"Ah ha! I knew it. I knew you could do your work here if you wanted to," +Sonia triumphed, pointing to the bench in the corner. "You just don't +want to stay here with me." Olga made no denial and her sister went on +in a complaining tone, "Anyhow I'd like to know how I'm going to get a +place anywhere when I've no decent clothes. You know it makes all the +difference how one is dressed." + +"That is true," Olga admitted, "but, Sonia, I cannot buy you a suit. I +haven't the money." + +"You could borrow it." + +Olga's face flushed. "I've never borrowed a cent in my life or bought +_any_thing on credit, except--mother's coffin," she said passionately. +"And I did night work till I paid for that. I cannot run in debt. I +_will_ not!" + +Sonia shrugged her shoulders. "Well then, if you want me to get a +place, you'll just have to let me wear that suit of yours that you are +so choice of." + +Olga was silent. It was true that Sonia's chance of securing employment +would be small if she sought it in the shabby clothes which she had. But +Olga needed that suit. The money which would have bought a new one had +paid her doctor's bill. Still--the important thing was to get Sonia to +work. "I suppose," she said slowly, "I shall have to let you wear it, +but, Sonia, you _must_ realise how it is, and do your best to find a +place soon. Will you do that?" + +"Why, of course," returned Sonia with the light laugh that always +irritated her sister. "You don't suppose I like being dependent on you, +do you?" + +"I don't think you'd mind, if I would give you money whenever you want +it." + +Again Sonia laughed. "But that's not imaginable, you know," she answered +airily. "It's like drawing eyeteeth to get a dollar out of you. You're a +perfect miser, Olga Priest." + +Olga let that pass. "I had intended to keep my suit in Lizette's closet +after this, but I will leave it here if you will promise to begin +to-morrow to look for work. Will you promise?" + +"You certainly are the limit!" Sonia cried impatiently. "I believe you +grudge me every mouthful I eat, and the baby her milk too--poor little +soul!" She caught up the baby and kissed it. + +"Will you promise, Sonia?" Olga repeated. + +Sonia dropped the baby on her lap again. "Of _course_ I promise. I told +you so before. Now for pity's sake give me a little peace!" she +exclaimed. + + + + +XVIII + +THE TORCH UPLIFTED + + +So the next day Olga brought home her work, and Sonia, wearing not only +her sister's best suit but her hat, shoes, and gloves as well, set off +down town. She departed with a distinctly holiday air, tossing from the +doorway a kiss to the baby and a good-bye to Olga. But Olga cherished +small hope of her success. She felt no confidence in her sister's +sincerity, and did not believe that she really wanted to find work. + +For once the baby was awake--usually she seemed half asleep, lying where +she was put, and only stirring occasionally with weak whimpering cries. +But this morning the blue eyes were open, and Olga stopped beside the +chair in which the baby was lying and looked down at the small face, so +pathetically grave and quiet. + +"You poor little mortal," she said, "I wonder what life holds for +you--if you live. I almost hope you won't, for it doesn't seem as if +there's much chance for you." + +The solemn blue eyes stared up at her as if the baby too were wondering +what chance there was for her. Olga laid her face for a moment against +one little white cheek; then pulling out her bench she set to work. + +At twelve o'clock Sonia came back. "O dear!" she exclaimed with a swift +glance around the room, "I hoped you'd have dinner ready, Olga. I'm +tired to death." + +Without a word Olga put aside her work and went to the gas stove. Sonia +pulled off her shoes--Olga's shoes--and took off Olga's hat, and rocked +until the meal was ready. + +"What luck did you have?" Olga inquired when they were at the table. + +"Not a bit. I tell you, Olga, you're a mighty lucky girl to have that +work to do." She nodded towards the bench. + +Olga ignored that. "Where did you try?" she asked. + +"Well, I tried at Woodward & Lothrop's." Sonia's tone was distinctly +sulky. "They hadn't any vacancy--or anyhow they said so." + +"They always have a long waiting-list, I know. Did you leave your name?" + +"No, I didn't. What was the use with scores ahead of me?" + +"And where else did you try?" + +"I didn't try _any_where else!" Sonia said with a defiant lift of her +chin. "You needn't think, Olga, that you can drive me like a slave just +because I am staying with you. I'm going to take my time about this +business, and don't you forget it!" + +Olga waited until she could speak quietly; then she said, "Sonia, there +is one thing you've got to understand. I _must_ have peace. I cannot do +my work if there is to be discord and friction all the time between you +and me." + +"It's your own fault," Sonia retorted. "I'm peaceful enough if I'm let +alone. I let you alone." + +"But, Sonia, don't you see that we can't go on this way?" Olga pleaded. +"Don't you feel that you ought to pay half our expenses if you stay with +me?" + +"No, I don't. Why should I pay half?" Sonia demanded. "Your rent is no +higher because I am here." + +"No, but I have to sleep on the floor, and it is not very restful as you +would find if you tried it once." + +"Well, why don't you buy a cot then? You could get one for two dollars." + +"I need the two dollars for other things," Olga answered wearily. "Do +you mean, Sonia, that you are not going to look for a place anywhere +else?" + +"O, I'll look--but I won't be hurried about it," Sonia declared moodily. + +"Well," Olga spoke with deliberation, "if that is your attitude, there +is but one thing for me to do, and that is to go away from here." + +"Olga! You couldn't be that _mean_!" Sonia sat up straight and stared +with startled eyes at the grave face opposite her. + +"Think, Sonia," said Olga in a low voice, though her heart was beating +furiously, "how it would seem to you if I should refuse to work and +expect you to support me." + +"That's different," Sonia muttered sullenly. + +"How is it different?" + +"Because you've got your work--I haven't any." + +"But you might have if you would." + +"Much you know about it! Did you ever try to find a place in a store?" + +"When I was thirteen and you left mother and me"--Olga's voice was very +low now, but it thrilled with bitter memories--"I walked the streets for +three long days hunting for work, and I found it at last in a laundry +where I stood from seven in the morning till six at night, with only +fifteen minutes at noon. And I stayed there while mother lived, going +back to her to care for her through those long dreadful nights of +misery. That is what I know about hard work, Sonia!" + +It was Sonia's turn now to be silent. There was something in Olga's +white face and blazing eyes that stilled even her flippant tongue. For a +moment her thoughts drifted back, and perhaps for the first time she +fully realised what her going then had meant to the little sister upon +whose shoulders she had left the heavy burden. But she banished these +unpleasant memories with a shrug. "O well, all that's past and gone--no +use in raking it up again," she declared. + +"No, no use," Olga admitted. "But, Sonia, I want you to realise that I +mean just what I say. You have come here of your own accord. If you stay +you must share our expenses. If you will not, I surely shall go away, +and leave you to pay all yourself." + +Seeing that her sister was determined, Sonia suddenly melted into weak +tears. "You are so hard, Olga!" she sobbed. "I don't believe you have +any heart at all." + +"Maybe not," was the grim response. "I've thought sometimes it was +broken--or frozen--five years ago." + +"You keep harking back to that!" Sonia moaned. "I'm not the first girl +that has gone away with the man she loved. You have no sympathy--you +make no allowances. And I didn't realise how sick mother was. If I +had----" + +"If you had," Olga interrupted, "you would have done exactly the same. +But let that pass. Are you going to give me the promise that I ask?" + +"What do you want me to promise?" Sonia evaded. + +"I want you to promise that you will go out every week day and look for +work--that you will keep trying until you do find it. Will you?" + +"It seems I can't help myself." Sonia's voice was still sulky. + +"Will you? I must have your promise," Olga insisted, and finally Sonia +flung out an angry, + +"Yes!" + +Thereafter Olga worked at home and her sister went out morning or +afternoon--sometimes both; but she found no position. + +"They all want younger girls--chits of sixteen or seventeen," she +complained, "or else those who have had large experience. They won't +give me a chance." + +Olga crowded down her doubts. Perhaps it was all true--perhaps Sonia +really had honestly tried, but the doubts would return, for she felt +that her sister was quite content to let things remain as they were as +long as Olga made no further protest. But others were not content with +things as they were. Elizabeth was not, nor Lizette. Laura met Lizette +on the street one day and learned all that the girl could tell her of +Olga's trouble. + +"She's so changed!" Lizette said, her eyes filling. "When we came home +she was so happy, and so full of plans for Camp Fire work, and now--now +she takes no interest in it at all. She won't talk about it, or hardly +listen when I talk." + +"I must see her," Laura said. "I'll take you home now," and when they +reached the house, Lizette ran eagerly up the stairs to give Miss +Laura's message. + +"I've come to invite you to another tea party--with Jim and me," Laura +said when Olga appeared. "You will come--to-morrow night?" + +"Thank you, but I can't," the girl answered gravely. + +"Why can't you, Olga? I want you very much," Laura urged. + +"My sister is with me now. I cannot leave her." + +"But just this once--please, Olga." + +Laura's eyes--warm, loving, compelling--looked into Olga's, dark, +sombre, and miserable; and suddenly with a little gasping sob the girl +yielded because she knew if she stood there another minute she would +break down. + +"I'll--come," she promised, and without another word turned and hurried +back into the house. + +Laura was half afraid that she would not keep her promise, but at six +o'clock she appeared. Jim fell upon her with a gleeful welcome, and she +tried to answer gaily, but the effort with which she did it was evident, +and earlier than usual Laura took the boy off to bed. + +"Something is troubling Olga," she whispered as she tucked him in, "and +I'm going to try to find a way to help her." + +"You will," he said confidently. "You're the best ever for helping +folks," and he pulled her face down to give one of his rare kisses. + +Laura, going back to the other room, drew the girl down beside her. +"Now, child," she said, her voice full of tenderest persuasion, "let us +talk over your problems and find the way out." + +For a moment the old proud reserve held the girl, but it melted under +the tender sympathy in the eyes looking into hers. She drew a long +breath. "It seems somehow wrong to talk about it even to you," she said. +"Sonia is my sister." + +"I know, dear, but sisters are not always--sisters," Laura replied, "and +you are very much alone in the world. I am more truly your sister--am I +not, Olga--your elder sister who loves you and wants to help?" + +"O yes, yes!" the girl cried. "But I've felt I must not tell _any_ +one--even you--and I've crowded it all down in my heart until----" + +"Until you are worn out with the strain of it all," Laura said as Olga +paused. "Now tell me the whole just as if I were your sister in very +fact." + +And Olga told it all, from Sonia's unexpected arrival that September +night to the present--of the failure of her efforts to get her sister to +do some kind of work, and of Sonia's constant demands for money and +clothes. + +"Do you think she has really tried to get a place in a store, Olga?" + +"I don't know. She says she has, but I can't feel that she really wants +to do anything, or that she will ever find a place as long as I let her +stay on with me. Of course I could support her, though it would not be +easy, for she is hard on clothes. She doesn't take care of them and she +wears them out much faster than I do. She has almost worn out my best +shoes already, and my gloves, as well as my hat and suit, and she uses +my handkerchiefs and--and everything, just as if they were her own. I +can't earn enough to clothe her and keep myself decent." She glanced +down at the old serge skirt she wore. "Miss Laura, tell me--what shall I +do? Would it be right for me to leave her? The continual fret and worry +of it all are wearing me out." + +"I know it, dear--that is why I felt you must come and talk it all over +with me." + +Olga went on, "It isn't only a matter of money--and clothes, but I have +_nothing_ left. If I go out evenings--even across to Lizette's room--she +wants to go too, or else she goes off somewhere as soon as I am out of +sight, and leaves the baby shut up all alone. That's why I can't go +anywhere--not even to the Camp Fire meetings. And, O Miss Laura, I was +so happy when I came back from camp--I had so many lovely plans for Camp +Fire work! I did mean to be a good Torch Bearer--I _did_!" + +"I know you did." + +"And now it's all spoilt. I can't do a single bit of Camp Fire work," +she ended sadly. + +"Olga," Laura's arm was around the girl's shoulders, her voice very low +and tender, "you say that now you cannot do a single bit of Camp Fire +work?" + +Olga looked up in surprise. "How can I--when I can't be with the girls +at all, nor attend the meetings?" + +"Do you know what I think is the best Camp Fire service the girls have +done? It is the work in their own homes. Mrs. Bicknell says that Eva is +getting to be a real comfort to her. She helps with the housework and +the younger children as she never used to do, and her influence is +making the younger ones so much easier to manage." + +"But, Miss Laura, I don't see how that is _Camp Fire_ work," Olga said. + +"Don't you?" Very softly Laura repeated, "'Love is the _joy of service_ +so deep that self is forgotten.' And isn't the home the place above all +others where Camp Fire Girls should render service?" + +"I--never--thought of it--that way," Olga said very slowly. + +"But isn't it so?" Laura persisted. "Think now." + +"Yes--of course it is so. Miss Laura, it will--it _will_ make it easier +to think of it as Camp Fire service, for I did so hate to be out of it +all--all the Camp Fire work, I mean. I'll try to think of it that way +after this. And--and I guess there isn't any way out. I suppose I ought +not to long so for a way out, if I am going to be a faithful Torch +Bearer." She made a brave attempt to smile. + +"There is a way out--I am sure of it, but we may not find it just at +once. Meantime you have a great opportunity, Olga. Don't you see? It is +easy to be happy as you were in August at the camp, when you were +growing stronger every day, and had just begun to realise what Camp Fire +might mean to you in your service for and with the girls, and their love +for you. Once you had opened your heart, you could not help being happy. +But now it is different. Now you must be happy not because of, but in +spite of, circumstances. And so if you keep the law of the Camp Fire to +give service--a service that it is very hard for you to give--and to be +happy in spite of the trying things in your life--don't you see how much +more your happiness will mean--how much deeper and stronger and finer +it will be?" + +"Yes, I see." + +"And the girls will see too, Olga. You know how quick they are. You +could not deceive them if you tried--Lena, Sadie, Louise Johnson--they +will all be watching you--weighing you; and if they see that, in spite +of the hard things, you are really and truly happy--that you have really +found the 'joy in service so deep that _self is forgotten_'--don't you +see how much stronger your influence over them will be--how immensely +stronger?" + +Slowly, thoughtfully, Olga nodded, her eyes on the glowing embers in the +fireplace. + +"So all these things that are making your life now so hard, are your +great opportunity, dear," the low voice went on. "If in spite of all, +you can hold high the torch of love and happiness, every girl in our +Camp Fire will gladly follow her Torch Bearer." + +Olga looked up, and now her eyes were shining. "_You_ are the real Torch +Bearer, Miss Laura!" she cried. "You have shown me the light to-night +when I didn't think there was any." + +"I've shown you how to keep your torch burning--that is all. Now you +must hold it high to light the way for others; for you know, dear, there +are others in our Camp Fire who are stumbling in dark and stony +pathways, and we--you and I--must help them too, to find the lighted +way." + +"O, I'll try, Miss Laura, I will," Olga promised, and in her voice now +there was determination as well as humility. + + + + +XIX + +CLEAR SHINING AFTER DARKNESS + + +Sonia was an adept in thinking up remarks that carried a taunt or a +sting, and she had one ready to greet her sister that night on her +return; but as she looked up, she saw in Olga's face something that held +back the provoking words trembling on her tongue. Instead she said, half +enviously, "You look as if you'd had a fine time. What you been doing?" + +"Nothing but having a firelight talk with Miss Laura. That always does +me good." + +"Hm!" returned Sonia. She wondered what kind of a talk it could have +been to drive away the sullen gloom that had darkened her sister's face +for days, and bring that strange shining look into her eyes. Sonia +shrugged her shoulders. At least, Olga wouldn't hound her about finding +work--not while she had that look in her eyes--and, with a mind at ease, +Sonia went off to bed. + +She went out the next morning, but came back in the middle of the +afternoon in a gay mood. "I didn't find any place," she announced, "but +I had a good dinner for once. I met--an old friend." + +Something in her voice and her heightened colour awakened an indefinite +suspicion in Olga's mind. "Who was it? Any one I know?" she asked. + +Sonia made no reply. She had gone into the bedroom to put away her hat +and jacket. When she came back she spoke of something else, but all that +evening there was a curious air of repressed excitement about her. + +"Oh, I forgot--the postman gave me a letter for you. It's in my bag," +she exclaimed later, and bringing it from the other room, tossed it +carelessly into her sister's lap. + +Olga read it and handed it back. "It concerns you. O, I do hope you'll +get the place," she said. + +The note was from Miss Laura to say that the manager of one of the large +department stores had promised to employ Sonia if she applied at once. + +"Isn't that fine!" Olga cried. + +"O--perhaps," Sonia returned with a chilling lack of enthusiasm. + +"O Sonia, don't act so about it," Olga pleaded. "You know you must get +something to do. You will go to-morrow and see the manager, won't +you--after Miss Laura has taken so much trouble for you?" + +"For _me_!" There was a sneer in Sonia's voice. "Much she cares for me. +She did it for you--you know she did. You needn't pretend anything +else." + +"I don't pretend--anything," Olga said, the brightness dying out of her +face. + +In the morning she watched her sister with intense anxiety, but she +dared not urge her further, and Sonia seemed possessed by some imp of +perversity to do everything in her power to prolong Olga's suspense. She +stayed in bed till the last minute, dawdled over her breakfast, insisted +upon giving the baby her bath--a task which she usually left to her +sister--and when at last she was ready to go out it was nearly noon. + +"You'll have to give me money to get something to eat down town, Olga," +she said then. "It will be noon by the time I get to that store, and I +can't talk business on an empty stomach. I'd be sure to make a bad +impression if I did. Half a dollar will do." + +With a sigh Olga handed her the money. Sonia took it with a mocking +little laugh, and was gone at last. + +"O, I wonder--I _wonder_ if she will really try to get the place," Olga +said to herself as the door closed. She set to work then, but her +restless anxiety affected her nerves and the work did not go well. The +baby too fretted and required more attention than usual. As the day wore +on Olga began to worry about the baby--her small face was so pinched, +and the blue shadows under her eyes were more noticeable than usual; so +it was with an exclamation of relief that, opening the door in response +to a knock in the late afternoon, she saw the nurse who had taken care +of her in the summer. + +"O, I'm so glad it's you, Miss Kennan!" she cried. "Do come in and tell +me what ails this baby." + +"A _baby_! Whose is it?" the nurse asked; but as she looked at the +child, she forgot her question. "The poor little soul!" she exclaimed. +Then with a quick sharp glance at the girl, "What have you been giving +it?" + +"Giving it?" Olga echoed. "Why, nothing except her food." + +"What kind of food--milk?" + +"Milk, and this." Olga brought a bottle of the malted food. + +"That's all right. Let me see some of the milk," the nurse ordered. + +She looked at the milk, smelt it, tasted it. "That seems all right too," +she declared. "And you've put nothing--no medicine of any sort--in her +food?" + +"Why, of course not." + +"Do you prepare her food always?" + +"Not always. Her mother--my sister--fixes it some times." + +"Ah!" said the nurse. + +"What do you mean, Miss Kennan? What is the matter with the baby?" + +"She's been doped," answered the nurse shortly. "Soothing syrup or +something probably, to keep her quiet. Sleeps a lot, doesn't she?" + +"Yes. She never seems really awake. O Miss Kennan, I never knew----" + +"I see. Well, you'll have to know now. Find out what has been given her, +and fix all her food after this, yourself. Can you?" + +"I don't know. I'll try to." + +"If you don't, she won't need food much longer," said the nurse. + +"O, how can any one be so wicked!" cried Olga. + +"It isn't wickedness--it's ignorance mostly--laziness sometimes, when a +mother doesn't want to be troubled with the care of a baby. Probably +this one had an overdose this morning." + +Olga stood silently thinking. Yes, Sonia had given the baby her bottle +that morning, and always gave it to her at night. She went into the +bedroom and searched the closet and the bed. Sonia usually made the bed. +Under the pillow Olga found a bottle which she handed without a word, +to the nurse. Miss Kennan nodded. + +"That's it," she said briefly. + +Opening the window Olga flung the bottle passionately into the street. + +"Can't you do anything to--to counteract it?" she questioned, her face +as white as the child's. + +"I'll bring you something," the nurse said, "and now you must stop +worrying. You can't take proper care of this baby if you are in a white +heat--she'll feel the mental atmosphere. I wish I could take her home +with me to-night." + +"You can. I wish you would. I'd feel safer about her," said Olga. + +"And her mother?" the nurse questioned with a searching look. + +"I won't tell her where you live. You can bring the baby back in the +morning if she's better--if not, keep her till she is. I'll pay +you--when I can." + +"This isn't a pay-case," the nurse said in her crisp way, "it's a case +of life-saving. Then I'll take her away now, before--anybody--comes to +interfere." + +An hour later Sonia came home. In her absorption over the baby, Olga had +quite forgotten about Laura's note, and she asked no questions. That +puzzled Sonia. + +"What's happened?" she demanded abruptly. "You look as if you'd seen a +ghost." + +"I feel as if I had," Olga answered gravely. + +"What do you mean, Olga?" + +"The baby is sick." + +"The baby?" Sonia cast a swift glance about, then hurried to the +bedroom. "Where is she? What have you done with her?" she cried. + +"Sonia, a nurse came here this afternoon, and she said some one had +been poisoning the baby with soothing syrup." + +"Poisoning her!" Sonia echoed under her breath. + +"She had had an overdose," said Olga. "O Sonia, how _could_ you give her +that dangerous stuff?" + +"How'd I know it was dangerous? An old nurse told me it was harmless," +Sonia defended herself, but the colour had faded out of her face and her +eyes were full of terror. + +Olga told her what the nurse had said. "I asked her to take the baby +home with her to-night. I knew that she would take better care of her +than we could," she ended. + +Sonia was too frightened to object. "I didn't know. Of course I wouldn't +have given her the stuff if I had known," she said again and again, and +finally to turn her thoughts to something else, Olga asked about the +place. + +"Yes, they took me. I am to begin Monday," Sonia answered briefly. + +Neither of them slept much that night, and immediately after breakfast +Olga hurried over to Miss Kennan's. The nurse met her with a smile. + +"She's better--she'll pull through--and she's a darling of a baby, +Olga," she said. "But you'll have to watch her closely for a while. That +deadly stuff has weakened her so!" + +"O, I will, I will!" Olga promised. A great love for the little creature +filled her heart, as she stooped to kiss her. + +For a month after this, things went better. Sonia was at the store from +eight to six, and Olga in her quiet rooms, worked steadily except when +the baby claimed her attention. The baby wanted more and more attention +as the days went by. She no longer lay limp and half unconscious, but +awoke from sleep, laughing and crowing, to stretch and roll and kick +like any healthy baby. She took many precious moments of Olga's time, +but Olga did not grudge them. In that one day of fear and dread, the +baby had established herself once for all in the girl's heart. If things +could only go on as they were--if Sonia would earn her own clothes even, +and be content to stay on and leave the baby to her care, Olga felt that +she could be quite happy. But she had her misgivings in regard to Sonia. +There was about her at times an air of mystery and of suppressed +excitement that puzzled her sister. She spent many evenings out--with +friends, she said, but she never told who the friends were. Still Olga +was happy. Her work, her baby (she thought of it always now as hers), +and the Camp Fire friends--these filled her days, and she put aside +resolutely her misgivings in regard to her sister, worked doubly hard to +pay the extra bills, and endured without complaint the discomfort of her +crowded rooms where Sonia claimed and kept the most and best of +everything. There was a cheery old lady in the room below--an old lady +who dearly loved to get hold of a baby, and with her Olga left her +little niece on Camp Fire nights, and when she went to market or to the +school. The girls began to drop in again evenings, now that Sonia was so +seldom there, and Olga welcomed them with shining eyes. The baby soon +had all the girls at her feet. They called her "The Camp Fire Baby" and +would have adopted her forthwith, but Olga would not agree to that. + +"You can play with her and love her as much as you like, but she's my +very own," she told them. + +But with her delight in the child was always mingled a haunting fear +that Sonia would some day snatch her up and disappear with her as +suddenly as she had come. + +It was in December that the blow fell. Sonia had not come back to +supper, and Olga left the baby with old Mrs. Morris, and set off with +Lizette for the Camp Fire meeting. It was a delightful meeting, and Olga +enjoyed every minute of it, and the walk home with Elizabeth afterwards, +while Sadie followed with Lizette. + +"Come down soon and see my baby--and me," she said, as Elizabeth and +Sadie turned off at their own corner, and she went on with Lizette. + +Before she could knock at Mrs. Morris's door, it was opened by the old +lady. "I've been watching for you----" she began, and instantly Olga +read the truth in her troubled face. + +"My--baby----" she gasped. + +"She's gone, dearie--her mother took her away," the old lady said, her +arms about the girl. "I tried to make her wait till you came, but she +wouldn't." + +"Gone--for good, you mean?" It was Lizette who questioned. + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Morris, "she said so. She said you'd find a note +upstairs. Here's your key. I'm so sorry for you, child--O, so sorry!" + +Olga made no reply--she could not find words then. She went slowly up +the stairs, Lizette following. Lighting the gas, she flashed a swift +glance about the room. The note lay on her workbench. She snatched it up +and read: + + "I'm going with Dick--he came back a month ago. He says he's + turned over a new leaf, and he's got a job in New York. I've + always wanted to live in New York. Good-bye, Olga--be good to + yourself. Baby sends bye-bye to auntie. + + "Sonia." + +She handed the note to Lizette, who read it with a scowl. "Well, of all +the----" she began, but a glance from Olga stopped her. "Isn't there +_any_thing I can do?" she begged, her eyes full of tears. + +"Nothing, thank you. I'll--I'll brace up as--as soon as I can, Lizette. +Good-night," Olga said gently, and Lizette went away, her honest heart +aching with sympathy for her friend, and Olga was alone in the place +that seemed so appallingly empty because a little child had gone out of +it. + +But the next morning when Lizette came in Olga met her with a smile. + +"I'm all right," she said. "I miss my baby every minute, but, Lizette, I +mean to be happy in spite of it, and I know you'll help me. Breakfast is +ready--you won't leave me to eat it alone?" Her brave smile brought a +lump into Lizette's throat. + +So they dropped back into their old pleasant companionship, and the +girls came more often than before evenings, and Olga threw herself +whole-heartedly into Camp Fire work, seeking opportunities for service. +And the days slipped away and it was Christmas Eve again. Olga had spent +the evening in the Camp Fire room helping to put up greens and trim the +tree. She had a smile and a helping hand for every one, and Laura, +watching her, said to herself, "She is holding her torch high--the dear +child." + +But it had not been easy--holding the torch high. On the way home the +reaction came, and Olga was silent. In the merry crowd, however, only +Elizabeth and Lizette noticed her silence, for Laura had sent them all +home in the car, and the swift flight through the snowy streets was +exciting and exhilarating. The others called gay greetings and farewells +as they rolled away, leaving Olga and Lizette on the steps in the +moonlight. + +At Lizette's door Olga said good-night and went across to her own room. +Closing the door behind her she dropped into a chair by the window, and +suddenly she realised that she was very tired and O, so lonely! She +longed for the pressure of a little head on her arm--for tiny fingers +curling about hers--she wanted her baby. + +"O, why couldn't I keep her? Sonia doesn't care for her--she doesn't! +And I do. I want my baby!" she cried into the night. + +But again after a little she caught back her courage. "I'm +ashamed--ashamed!" she said aloud. "I'm not playing fair. I've got to be +happy if I can't have my baby, and I will. But, O, if I were only sure +that she is cared for!" + +At that moment there came a low rap on her door. Going to it, she +called, "Who is it? Who is there?" but she did not open the door. + +There was no reply, only the sound of soft retreating footsteps. + +"Somebody going by," she said, turning away, but as she did so she +thought she heard a little whimpering cry outside. Instantly she flung +the door open, and there in a basket lay her baby. + +"It--it _can't_ be!" Olga cried out, incredulous. Then she caught up the +baby and hugged her till the little thing whimpered again, half afraid. +"O, it is--it _is_!" Olga cried. "You blessed darling--if I could only +keep you forever!" Still holding the child close, she snatched up the +basket, shut the door, and lit the gas. In the basket she found a note +from her sister. + + "I'm sending back the baby [it read]; I only took her to scare + you--just to pay you off for nagging me so about work. You can + have her now for keeps. Dick doesn't care for children and they + are an awful bother, and you've spoiled this one anyhow, fussing + so over her. I reckon you and I aren't exactly congenial, and I + shan't trouble you any more unless Dick goes back on me again, + and I don't think he will. + + "Sonia." + +Through the still night air came the sound of bells--Christmas bells +ringing in the Great Day. To Olga they seemed to call softly: + +"'Love is the joy of service so deep that self is forgotten.'" + + + + +Printed in the United States of America + + + * * * * * * + + +FICTION, JUVENILE, Etc. + +CLARA E. LAUGHLIN + "Everybody's Lonesome" A True Fairy Story. + Illustrated by A. I. Keller, 12mo, cloth, net 75c. + +Every new story by the author of "Evolution of a Girl's Ideal" may be +truthfully called her best work. No one who feels the charm of her +latest, will question the assertion. Old and young alike will feel its +enchantment and in unfolding her secret to our heroine the god-mother +invariably proves a fairy god-mother to those who read. + +ROBERT E. KNOWLES + The Handicap + 12mo, cloth, net $1.20. + +A story of a life noble in spite of environment and heredity, and a +struggle against odds which will appeal to all who love the elements of +strength in life. The handicap is the weight which both the appealing +heroine and hero of this story bear up under, and, carrying which, they +win. + +WINIFRED HESTON, M. D. + A Bluestocking in India Her Medical Wards and Messages Home. + With Frontispiece, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00. + +A charming little story told in letters written by a medical missionary +from India, abounding in feminine delicacy of touch and keenness of +insight, and a very unusual and refreshing sense of humor. + +WILFRED T. GRENFELL + Down to the Sea + Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00. + +A new volume of Dr. Grenfell's adventures in Labrador. 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The narrative is full of the same characters, humor, +department store lingo and vital human interest of MISS 318. + +MARY ELIZABETH SMITH + In Bethany House + A Story of Social Service. 12mo, cloth, net $1.25. + +"Without any plot at all the book would still be worth reading; with its +earnestness, its seriousness of purpose, its health optimism, its +breadth of outlook, and its sympathetic insight into the depths of the +human heart."--N. Y. Times + +MARGARET E. SANGSTER + Eastover Parish Cloth, net $1.00. + +A new story by Margaret Sangster is an "event" among a wide circle of +readers. Mary E. Wilkins places Mrs. Sangster as "a legitimate successor +to Louise M. Alcott as a writer of meritorious books for girls, combining +absorbing story and high moral tone." Her new book is a story of "real +life and real people, of incidents that have actually happened in Mrs. +Sangster's life." + +THOMAS D. 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