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+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-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
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
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+
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+    "Everybody's Lonesome" A True Fairy Story.
+    Illustrated by A. I. Keller, 12mo, cloth, net 75c.
+
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+
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+    The Handicap
+    12mo, cloth, net $1.20.
+
+A story of a life noble in spite of environment and heredity, and a
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+win.
+
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+    A Bluestocking in India Her Medical Wards and Messages Home.
+    With Frontispiece, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00.
+
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+from India, abounding in feminine delicacy of touch and keenness of
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+
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+    Down to the Sea
+    Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00.
+
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+
+J. J. BELL
+    Wullie McWattie's Master
+    Uniform, with "Oh! Christina!" Illustrated, net 60c.
+
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+    Miss 318 and Mr. 37
+    Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net 75c.
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+
+MARY ELIZABETH SMITH
+    In Bethany House
+    A Story of Social Service. 12mo, cloth, net $1.25.
+
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+earnestness, its seriousness of purpose, its health optimism, its
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+
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+    The Parish of the Pines
+    The Story of Frank Higgins, the Lumber-Jack's Sky Pilot.
+    Illustrated, 12mo, cloth, net $1.00.
+
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+    The Owl's Nest Cloth, net 75c.
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+    Goose Creek Folks
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